Thursday, September 27, 2007

I live in a shit hole. It's just that simple. I had thought about writing something clever here, something pithy that would display not only my "gift with words," but also my resiliance in the face of adversity. Sadly, they, it, has all fallen away to reveal this one simple sentence: I live in a shit hole. Now, you may be asking yourselves, "how do you live in a shit hole," and you'd be right in doing so, because what do I know about living in holes of shit. The answer to that question is: a lot more than I did yesterday.

First off, there's no internet. I know, I know, what a piece of 21st century bitching, right? I admit it, always expecting to have internet is ridiculous, especially when you don't have direct control over whether and when it gets installed, but I do suscribe to the rather outlandish idea that a building contructed to house COLLEGE STUDENTS should have internet. Telling college students they don't have internet is like telling a hemophile you're against bandages. Before I go any further, I should confess that the dorm does technically have internet connections, they're just broken, but that in no way excuses the fact that I am writing this perched on a stool in the corner of a Pizza Hut in the Hauptbahnhof. That's € 3,00 that place as cost me. Then again, nothing inspires journal writing like a deep dish pepperoni pizza with cheese-stuffed crust and a drink.

Of course, you wouldn't really catch me writing this IN the dorm, either, since I have come to loathe it and all it stands for, which basically translates into college students. I can't live with them anymore. I can't live in a dorm, on a hall, where doors slam and people scream until 2.00 in the morning. I can't live with seven people (five of which are women) with only one bathroom, and I'm tired of having to shut doors to get some private space. Dammit, I'm past this shit! Yes, that's right: I've grown up some. I don't want to live like a student anymore, and the fact that I feel like I've fallen through some foul smelling hellmouth\time portal everytime I unlock the door to the hallway only serves to reinforce that fact.

And while we're on the topic of time travel, let me just say that my little section of Berlin is eerily reminiscent of my little section of island last time around. I could go into every snarky detail of the place's provencial charm, but allow me to sum it up for you in two words: wild boars. That's right, my little corner of western Berlin (and form East Germany), in the only place in this thriving metropolis where you can see wild boars. If I see one on my 15 minute walk to the S-bahn that I have to take to do ANYTHING, I'll let you know. Oh, don't laugh, I'm not joking. I have to take the S-bahn one stop, then a bus, to go grocery shopping. Grocery shopping. Seriously. What the hell is this? Even Burg wasn't that lame. Even in Burg I could walk five minutes to get food and watch a movie, but not in Berlin! Oh, no, that'll take you about 30 to get to the grocery store. And a movie in Alexanderplatz, that's a forty minute odyssey.

Of course, not everything isn't bad here: like all frothing pits of human waste, it's warm, and I have a TV. Oh, wait, no I don't. Five of my other room mates are girls from Spain. Oh, they don't speak any Germany and are freshmen? Hmmmm. The weather's nice. Nice try, jackass, this is Germany. Damn, you're right. OK, so I'll get back to you on the good things about my room. Then again, by then I'll have an apartment further in the city, so it'll be a moot point, God willing. Of course, I could stay. I could. I could also bath my genitals is cow's blood and stand nude in the tiger enclosure at the zoo. I could do both of those things, but why would I?

Stay tuned next week for Adventurs in German Bureaucracy, and remember to take your vitamins!