DON'T be funny on the radio!

There's something Germans just can't do. They are a complete disaster in it.

They just don't know how to make good radio.

Sitting in my car for hours, I just want some good music. No talking. Sing-along-songs-for-the-car. But trying to find the right music on the German radio, I get talking... And they won't stop...

It even gets worse when they start joking.

Already getting itchy from it too? Some bloke at the radio talking for hours. About absolutely nothing. In a foreign language. Then starts joking. And the only one really having a laugh with this stupid I-love-listening-to-myself-guy, is the I-love-listening-to-myself-guy. And he laughs out loud!

I even noticed it's not only me. When, in the morning, some bloke starts pretending he's Bruce Willis at the radio, even My Own German puts the radio off... I-love-listening-to-myself-guy can't even make his own people laugh.

No, Germies, if it comes to radio...please take some lessons from other European stations, or ... Just put some music on. Sing-along-songs. For the car.

Happy Birthday to all my friends!

Talking about cultural differences, there's another one I discovered! And I just love it!

Germans never forget birthdays.

Where I come from it's "normal" to forget birthdays. And I suppose I'm pretty normal.

My own birthday is still doable. I can remember that one.

My parents get their birthday wished in the evening. Or the very next day.

My sis -fortunately- lives abroad. No need to wish her "happy birthday" untill the next visit to the country.

And my friends... ai, my friends... I just can't remember it. Or way to late.

But they know I'm "normal". And so are they.

Germans never forget birthdays.

Jihaaa! My own German has daily phone calls to make. To other Germans. On their birthday. He's an amazing database of birth dates. And congratulations.

I can't wait untill my birthday. Having new German friends who all remember my birthday. I'll get SMS. And e-mail. Digital birtday cards. Maybe even flowers. A whole day long.

So, I have been deciding to be German. At least, when it comes to birthdays.

Dear friends - I will not forget your birthday anymore.

Well... I'll try to. Oke?

The next big German Superstar

You probably have them too. These television or radio programs to find the next super star. To catch a talent. To discover the next super model.

So, I'm listening to this new German version. And I tell you, it is hilarious. I just like the German version more than any other one.

Bürgermeister-Karaoke. Karaoke for Mayors.

Who does invent this?

Your own mayor. A bit big. With his best suit on. And dancing shoes. Shaking away on some rock 'n roll dance music. Thinking he's Elvis Presley. Don't you just love it?

I can not wait untill it starts. And I definitly want to meet the winner. Cause I am convinced that man will make me smile. Will make the world smile...

Just wait...The next big super star is from Germany.

It's the Karaoke-singing-Bürgermeister.

Bankrupcy for hairdressers

Is it not suprising that German hairdressers survive? I always wonder what they do. To earn their money. Cause if you look around in Germany, everyone seems to have long, blond hair. No hairdresser needed for a fresh, short "coupe". No fancy coloring. So, no work... and no money, I would say.

My own German did not believe me when I said this. So I took him into town for breakfast. On a terrace. In that last bit of sunshine before the winter cold steps into the day. And we count.

We opt for the young ladies. One. Long, blond hair. Two. Long, blond hair. Three. Long, blond hair. By nine out of ten, my own German falls from his chair. Indeed. Young, German women have long, blond hair. He never noticed.

So, now we wonder both. Over breakfast. How do German hairdressers survive?

Alice

PS: Maybe it's a marketing issue. With a name as "Hairkiller", I would also be carefull getting my hair done.

http://www.hairkiller.com/

Sexy Mama

If you're a German mum, this blog is not for you. Or maybe it is. Especially for you. It can save your marriage.

My own German and I don't agree on kids. Or better, on mums. Cause my own German thinks women change after a child. They become big. And not sexy.

I don't agree. Oke, without a child it's easy to say you like to look sexy. But so do all the mums around me. My girlfriends at home are super mums. Careers. High heels. And lipstick. Big? Slim jeans is in fashion, man! And so they wear it. Big?!

But there's something right in his arguments...It is the German mum. I look around when walking in the city. Jogging trousers. Sport shoes. T-shirts. No make-up. And big. The number of tiny, sexy mamas is definitly smaller than in my home country.

So, I tried to understand. And I think I found it. It's all the mistake of the German politician.

The German governement takes too well care of their families. Garantueed jobs by law, a good amount of money and a very, very, very long birth vacation - does it really runs up to three years?!

So why would you starve yourself, get high heels on and put lipstick on your face?! You do not need to go to work, and the only person you see all day is a baby?!

Oke, the government takes good care of you. But dear German politician, it's time to tell your mums to go on a diet. Put high heels on. And lipstick. I bet the number of divorces will go down.

And I can finally convince my own German that the tiny, sexy mama exist!

Never lonely for dinner with a German man

I am with my own German in town. At 12 he points out we're having dinner at 6. With friends. We need to speed up.

Hello?! Speed up?! Where I come from six hours is a day. Even two if you count you'll be late. Shopping can't be over yet!

But shopping really is over with an own German at my side. At 12 you start looking every 10 minutes at your watch. Ensuring that you are not late. At 6.

I always believed it was charming for a woman to come too late. Having a man waiting for you on a table is so much nicer than waiting on your own. But for one reason or the other it just does not work in Germany.

I came late once. After that one -very stressfull occasion for my own German- things changed. Says we need to be there by 6, while dinner is in-real-time at 7. Or stresses me at 12. For dinner at 6. No matter how hard I try. There is no way of coming too late these days.

But there's one good thing about this all...

I never arrive at an empty table. There's just always a German in time.

Dangerous Germans

I am reading this English book. Says the woman to the man: "Seen that German? So dangerous. Germans always are."

Every culture seems to have their little "typical particularities". But I need some help on understanding this one. Maybe I have just not been here long enough. There was no time yet to meet the dangerous German. Not that I really want to. I am fine with the nice Germans around me.

My home town is rewarded with the title "most dangerous city of Europe". As a woman on her own, I got in the statistics. Every six months. I saw thiefs in house, in the car and in my handbag. I never saw an agent. Not before I cried. And not afterwards.

Not that there is no crime in Germany. Read the newspaper. And I don't live in Frankfurt, Munchen or Berlin. I just live too much in "the middle of nowhere".

Maybe a dangerous German is one like my own German?

One who looks you deep in the eyes and smiles. I feel in danger then.