I will work for money and expenses, I will be happy to get fired if any of DW’s or any other agencies sets up a ruckus, like I care, and wonders, I will also be happy to print retractions or remonstrations, with the proviso that I put the original statement as is, and then explain who required me to make what remonstration or retraction. I think that is perfeckly fair.
I don’t have time to look up Rudy’s number or anything, but the good thang is he is in the Washington DC office, so there should be no problem his hiring or renting my American ass.
Stupid man Shane Frankhauser, the massive idiot, kept thinking I wanna job in GERMANY. Man, that would suck big time, thas why the last time I was in Hamburg and the natives bothered my damn ass, and I couldn’t find DW on the TV dial, did I tell ya, the nitwits cant get the time of day in their own country, hahahhahahahahahahha.
Well, I was in Hamburg, being lured to Germany by the thought of so many sexy people in DW, although they are wily, manipulative and frequently nazis, but there I was, and then I discover that stupid asses aren’t even broadcast in their own country, imagine fucking that.
Peter Dolle gets very upset when I keep bringing it up, but it is no small thing to be the national tv channel and then ya cant even get seen.
Then I went to this store on Monckebergstrasse and says, I wants to buy me the little portable tv in the winder, just like in the song, and the man, Bamberg is his name, goes all trembly and nuts and says, oh I don’t know if we have it, I said, I can see it on your walls and you have it in your show winder, then he says, we don’t take credit cards, so I says fine, I have a debit card and then he pooh poohs that becoz it has it a mastercard on the logo, so what, it’s a debit card from Citibank and I just got money from the bank TWICE on it, but he insists it’s a debit card, so I finally count out all the Euros I have, my Dad made me buy some with Indian Rupees, so I have some left over from the cab ride home and the coffee I bought at the airport and I had some from the stuff I withdrew and voila, I had the Euro 189.99 that they was asking for the bitty little Roadstar TV and Bamberg looked better when he heard I was gonna be looking for DW tv and not some Nazi station, but they was all shaking like a leaf, lemme tell y a.
And I was wearing my American badge that says home of the free and land of the brave and I was bawling, I didn’t come from the home of the free and the land of the brave to get rolled over in every store in this Nazi town.
And my country liberated your country, so there.
I can tell ya it was quite a scene, but I was Mad as Hell and not gonna take it anymore, coz the lady in the telephone store first acted all high handed with me, then I says I wanna buy a telephone on which you can watch TV and see, see, Peter Dolle already said streaming video is what they are longing with all their lusty loins to provide, but the lady started barking NO TV, NO TV and then she bawled me out coz I wasn’t carrying my passport, which I kept in the hotel for safety, for fuck’s sake, I wanted to get pickpocketed or something. So who knew.
Yeah, so I was mad as heck and I already knew Reliance TV wanted to give us what they call 3G product, or video and TV on our phones and I was steadily buying phones with the hopes of getting to see different services and I had already bought 3 baseline extra phones in the US and I couldn’t see what the fuss was and why Bamberg was shaking like a leaf and then the lady at the desk handed me my TV after I proudly and ceremoniously counted out the Euro 190 to be sure I had handed her the right amount and the Nazis didn’t try to pull another fast one on me.
And then I bawled all the way to the hotel, except a nice lady called Remi sold me a lovely sandwich and some nice bread, which always calms me down and then I went back to the hotel and sat down and ate something, so I felt better, then I tried to hook up the wretched Roadstar and guess what, we cant even get DW or Dee Vee Tee Fowl on it. Imagine that.
Bah humbug, I bawled out Peter at least 5 consecutive times the following week, and for once he forgot his smooth moves and he complained to Konrad Pohl on air that I was fixated on it, he made his finger pointy and jabbed it up and down in hilarious exasperation.
But the guys and one lady called Andrea on German TV were chuckling and delighted that I had raised a ruckus and demanded my right to buy a TV to see my own TV station, as I lovingly call Dee Vee Tee Fowl, becoz of all the sexy boys and pretty chicks on it, even though at least half are Nazis and the rest are expats, who are very patient with me.
Thursday, September 6, 2007
Today I continued to explicate Not Drivel and had the blessed idea to talk to Rudy Lentiger at DW TV about it, wee hours of my time zone, but not his
9.7.07 in my time zone, 3.28 am
How to fund this blog called Mostly NotDrivel, which it may or may not be, is always a question and most bloggers are proudly and defiantly impecunious and those that aren’t are frequently morons or simpleminded or toadies.
I was not gonna fund it to tell the truth, but cadge off people and churn my credit accounts over and over to wring out a wee bit of the green to live to write another page.
Or on the other hand, I could go bust, which I have been hysterically threatening to do, to all the people who freeload my product off of my butt, and live like a large community of barnacles, minnows and leeches off of me as I float around listlessly or furiously as the day may be, like a large sea mammal. Whale would be too easy, manatee would be closer especially since buxomness has always been a major feature.
So I had no plans to fund it as laughably it may be termed, but tonite I noticed Rudy Lentz or Rudiger Lentz or Rudi Lentziger, one of those three from Deutsche Welle TV looking at me like a sad daschund. Since he has one of those daschund looks chronically, this was not a stretch, but in my imagination I heard the sound of loud bawling.
Foolishly and fantastically, I attributed it to my short term boyfriend, the very sexy and iron pex, rock hard abs Peter Dolle.
This too is not a stretch since handsome Peter often does pretend bawling. I suspect this is a long stand trick of his to get what he wants from females aged 19-99. Also looking endearingly at their knees. I did not know how efficacious these two self evident and obvious tricks could be, and Tom Arnold could certainly use them, also Jay Leno, but Peter Dolle has them down pat.
These TV anchor and reporter boys have learnt a array of tricks which they practice and share on me. This includes the fake bawling, the remorseful yet reproachful glance, the what query glance, the aforesaid knee gazing, which Michael Holmes duly pulled on me, right after Peter Dolle, did, the lil minx, and the reproachful adjustment of the collar to indicate that whew they are feeling the heat.
Which being little rascal reporters, I can guarantee ya ass, dollars to holes in the mud, that they chuckle over as soon as they get their desired object or issue settled their way.
To their immense sorrow, I am either extremely dense or extremely wily, dense is more likely, and some how, managed to bypass many of their tricks, but I regularly fall for a few of them, so do not imagine I am patting myself or anything. Feeling rue is more like it for being fat, friendless and moneyless, so there ya go Rudy.
How to fund this blog called Mostly NotDrivel, which it may or may not be, is always a question and most bloggers are proudly and defiantly impecunious and those that aren’t are frequently morons or simpleminded or toadies.
I was not gonna fund it to tell the truth, but cadge off people and churn my credit accounts over and over to wring out a wee bit of the green to live to write another page.
Or on the other hand, I could go bust, which I have been hysterically threatening to do, to all the people who freeload my product off of my butt, and live like a large community of barnacles, minnows and leeches off of me as I float around listlessly or furiously as the day may be, like a large sea mammal. Whale would be too easy, manatee would be closer especially since buxomness has always been a major feature.
So I had no plans to fund it as laughably it may be termed, but tonite I noticed Rudy Lentz or Rudiger Lentz or Rudi Lentziger, one of those three from Deutsche Welle TV looking at me like a sad daschund. Since he has one of those daschund looks chronically, this was not a stretch, but in my imagination I heard the sound of loud bawling.
Foolishly and fantastically, I attributed it to my short term boyfriend, the very sexy and iron pex, rock hard abs Peter Dolle.
This too is not a stretch since handsome Peter often does pretend bawling. I suspect this is a long stand trick of his to get what he wants from females aged 19-99. Also looking endearingly at their knees. I did not know how efficacious these two self evident and obvious tricks could be, and Tom Arnold could certainly use them, also Jay Leno, but Peter Dolle has them down pat.
These TV anchor and reporter boys have learnt a array of tricks which they practice and share on me. This includes the fake bawling, the remorseful yet reproachful glance, the what query glance, the aforesaid knee gazing, which Michael Holmes duly pulled on me, right after Peter Dolle, did, the lil minx, and the reproachful adjustment of the collar to indicate that whew they are feeling the heat.
Which being little rascal reporters, I can guarantee ya ass, dollars to holes in the mud, that they chuckle over as soon as they get their desired object or issue settled their way.
To their immense sorrow, I am either extremely dense or extremely wily, dense is more likely, and some how, managed to bypass many of their tricks, but I regularly fall for a few of them, so do not imagine I am patting myself or anything. Feeling rue is more like it for being fat, friendless and moneyless, so there ya go Rudy.
How this blog started and I named it Mostly Not Drivel on 8.26.07 in the wee hours of my time zone
This is a blog called Mostly Not Drivel, which is not to say it is not drivel, hahahahahahha, if you actually believe that. It only hopes to be Mostly Not Drivel, or pretends it is Mostly Not Drivel, when most of the time it is.
It is authored by the famous international courtesan, dominatrix, persecuted spy, called Completely Surreal.
Completely Surreal is really my name, really, you must believe this totally and completely or Tinkerbelle and Andromeda will fall from the sky, so pay attention.
I started this blog becoz I want to attend the Presidential Primaries, if I can, particularly since there are a large number of Press obsessed with my ass.
Politicians are also obsessed with my ass, but I don’t care. I know I should, but I have hots for mainly sexy people in the Press. This could be my major undoing, becoz they are spies, liars, alkies, unreliables, philanderers and also gay. I just put that in to annoy people and fool them. All the hot ones are mostly gay and totally unreliable and mean.
Yes, they are, you can tell them I told you, they don’t care, the heck they do, they just laugh at me all the time, the hot ones are gay and the gay ones are totally unreliable and mean. To me especially.
So being hot for them is really stupid of me as you can see, but I have not thus far claimed in any way or shape to be smart, so you see, it all turns out alright.
I have no interest in what is quaintly called Issues in Presidential Primaries. I just wanna go what I call Heartland of America, which I love and eat Heartland food, only if it is Vegetarian and search for faked up meat and turkey and chicken in the supermarkets and eat macaroni spinach and cheese and mashed taters and broccoli and beer soup and gorgeous food like that, which all the ninny ass press loathe and barf on, everyday, becoz they are spoilt as hell and do not know what is good for them.
Obviously they suspect I do know what is good for them, so even though they loathe and fear me, they stick to my ass like glue. I would be happy to have them buzz off, and do the primaries on my own, but I have no idea what is possible or not.
I also like to sleep in motels and shop in strip malls, so you can see, I have Presidential Primary blogger written all over me.
Do not expect any crap about the inane stuff called Issues from me, I already debunked that ludicrous notion.
I will write about the food I ate and the bathrooms and the clothes I see and who I have the hots for on any day.
In between I will take the time to educate your sorry asses about never getting involved in stupid places like Darfur or the Mideast and tell you why Angela Merkel and the total ass Steinmeir are both fucking asses, he looks like an aging English stage star slightly less annoying than Gielgud or O Toole, but only slightly and if they didn’t hate me before, they sure gonna hate me now.
I am already starting off my planned trip to Berlin in an excellent way, I can see. Hahahahhahahahaha.
Stupid louts in my building compound and moronically heterero starved sexual ethnic groups seem to think when I lay in my couch and play alchemy and board games on my phone or pda, I am thinking about sex.
Hahhahahahahahahahhaah, nothing could be further from the truth. I am plotting how to take over America and plant Bill Richardson as the next president and also eat as much mac and cheese and broccoli and beer soup and only occasionally plot if I can get laid, but since my boyfriends are all gay, that is a complete and total joke. I might however buy some dildos and break the law in Heartland of America in my plot to overthrow Bush and install Bill Richardson.
I forgot that Bush is supposed to go anyway, but I keep suspecting he is plotting a dynastic rule and Suzanne Malveaux and Elaine Chiano are his secret helpling concubine princesses, so I feel we should be ready to overthrow him, should he and his 4 biyotch princesses attempt a dynastic succession.
In any case, mac and cheese, beer and broccoli soup, and strip malls are always good for you and gay hot reporters are also always good for you, even if they are liars and alkies and philanderers, in fact, even better.
If you believe all of the above, you are apparently all ready ready to become a friend of this blog, called Mostly Not Drivel, a name used with deep and hysterically hilarious irony, as you can see.
Bye bye
It is authored by the famous international courtesan, dominatrix, persecuted spy, called Completely Surreal.
Completely Surreal is really my name, really, you must believe this totally and completely or Tinkerbelle and Andromeda will fall from the sky, so pay attention.
I started this blog becoz I want to attend the Presidential Primaries, if I can, particularly since there are a large number of Press obsessed with my ass.
Politicians are also obsessed with my ass, but I don’t care. I know I should, but I have hots for mainly sexy people in the Press. This could be my major undoing, becoz they are spies, liars, alkies, unreliables, philanderers and also gay. I just put that in to annoy people and fool them. All the hot ones are mostly gay and totally unreliable and mean.
Yes, they are, you can tell them I told you, they don’t care, the heck they do, they just laugh at me all the time, the hot ones are gay and the gay ones are totally unreliable and mean. To me especially.
So being hot for them is really stupid of me as you can see, but I have not thus far claimed in any way or shape to be smart, so you see, it all turns out alright.
I have no interest in what is quaintly called Issues in Presidential Primaries. I just wanna go what I call Heartland of America, which I love and eat Heartland food, only if it is Vegetarian and search for faked up meat and turkey and chicken in the supermarkets and eat macaroni spinach and cheese and mashed taters and broccoli and beer soup and gorgeous food like that, which all the ninny ass press loathe and barf on, everyday, becoz they are spoilt as hell and do not know what is good for them.
Obviously they suspect I do know what is good for them, so even though they loathe and fear me, they stick to my ass like glue. I would be happy to have them buzz off, and do the primaries on my own, but I have no idea what is possible or not.
I also like to sleep in motels and shop in strip malls, so you can see, I have Presidential Primary blogger written all over me.
Do not expect any crap about the inane stuff called Issues from me, I already debunked that ludicrous notion.
I will write about the food I ate and the bathrooms and the clothes I see and who I have the hots for on any day.
In between I will take the time to educate your sorry asses about never getting involved in stupid places like Darfur or the Mideast and tell you why Angela Merkel and the total ass Steinmeir are both fucking asses, he looks like an aging English stage star slightly less annoying than Gielgud or O Toole, but only slightly and if they didn’t hate me before, they sure gonna hate me now.
I am already starting off my planned trip to Berlin in an excellent way, I can see. Hahahahhahahahaha.
Stupid louts in my building compound and moronically heterero starved sexual ethnic groups seem to think when I lay in my couch and play alchemy and board games on my phone or pda, I am thinking about sex.
Hahhahahahahahahahhaah, nothing could be further from the truth. I am plotting how to take over America and plant Bill Richardson as the next president and also eat as much mac and cheese and broccoli and beer soup and only occasionally plot if I can get laid, but since my boyfriends are all gay, that is a complete and total joke. I might however buy some dildos and break the law in Heartland of America in my plot to overthrow Bush and install Bill Richardson.
I forgot that Bush is supposed to go anyway, but I keep suspecting he is plotting a dynastic rule and Suzanne Malveaux and Elaine Chiano are his secret helpling concubine princesses, so I feel we should be ready to overthrow him, should he and his 4 biyotch princesses attempt a dynastic succession.
In any case, mac and cheese, beer and broccoli soup, and strip malls are always good for you and gay hot reporters are also always good for you, even if they are liars and alkies and philanderers, in fact, even better.
If you believe all of the above, you are apparently all ready ready to become a friend of this blog, called Mostly Not Drivel, a name used with deep and hysterically hilarious irony, as you can see.
Bye bye
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