I'm no Kobe, but I know a triple-double-entendre when I see one. This particula' trifecta describes last weekend to a T.
It kicked off early with a Thursday-night outing to a Mexican restaurant with the colleagues. I flexed my taste-buds, ordering a Chimichanga - extra Scharf (spicy) and followed Erwin's example by washing it down with a Panache (beer with lemonade, also known as Radler and Alsterwasser in the non-Saarland parts of Germany...we're so French). Chilling outside of work with the colleagues is great. Getting to know their personal lives gave me a hint at what mine could be like in a couple years if I continue with this research stuff.
Ah, the research stuff. On Friday, I struggled to diagnose my sick circuit. The dual analog inputs were causing problems; apparently they were interfering with one another, and I had to call German tech-support to decipher why the Spannung (voltage) was abnormally high. It apparently had something to do with "cross-talk" or "ghosting", but since technical German is pretty much lost on me and it isn't anywhere near Halloween, I left it to Monday.
Consequently, the Spannung (also: tension) remained elevated. I went jogging to combat the two Goodbye-Cakes at work ;.( no more Jan) and strayed off the beaten path in search of the setting sun. A poetic run resembled an extended metaphor after I got lost in the woods. When I finally reached civilization, I thought to myself, "Oh, Scheidt!". I was in the neighboring town, facing a green sign that read "St. Ingbert 5 km". My foot was killing me. Without money for a bus, I hobbled to the next green sign: "St. Ingbert 4,7 km". Ouch. And the next green sign: "St. Ingbert 4,7 km". Huh?! When I finally got to the WG, my foot tut Weh from gehing, so much so that I was afraid my Saturday on the Salsa Ship was in jeopardy.
Das Salsa-Schiff (Fanfare Please)
I had been looking forward to the Salsa Ship all month. Every Wednesday I attended Salsa-Tanzschule (dance lessons) to prepare myself for a glorious evening on the Saar. To remedy my ailing foot, I visited an Apotheke (pharmacy) for pain-killers and improvised with some tape and a couple extra socks. It was gonna take more than some aches and pains to stop this Queen from spreading his spice on the dance flo'.
In spite of the weekend's tribulations, the evening was a great success. Imagine a floating Diskothek with higher mean age and mean dancing ability. It was by far the most funked-up ship that ever sailed the Saar. I accomplished my objective of showing those Germans the true meaning of "panache" and got flagged down by an Italian man who told me to dance more "macho".
Dance Partnerin - wawaweewa
Italian Man
Home-Dawg Klaus with Band
No, I may not have seen the sunset, but above the Saar the stars were aligned.
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