Tuesday, January 25, 2011

I hate Tuesdays (and other tales of woe)

I hate Tuesdays. I have always hated Tuesdays. Tuesdays could be my least favorite day ever. Even more so than Mondays. I mean, Monday at least feels like a fresh start...like Sunday. But Tuesdays? There is nothing good about Tuesdays. Crappy television, shitty drink specials. Basically, Tuesday ist schei├če.

I especially hate Tuesdays where I wake up and think "oh, fuck me. This is not going to be a good day." Anyone here take Ambien? Or any sort of sleeping aide? And you know, when it wears off after four hours, and you're awake at five a.m., groggy and feeling like someone has slipped something in your drink, and you feel that way for the rest of the morning? Yup, THAT is how my morning started out. Feeling like, I am sure, Lindsay Lohan feels every morning. Like the world has just shoved a large, barbed-wire wrapped bat up my hoohah. Fuck you, Ambien. Work like you are supposed to!

So an update on my money. The money was found. YAY! Apparently my mother, after asking my father to which account she should transfer the money, sent it to the University. (insert groan here). So yesterday evening, I received an email from my father informing me that I needed to go to the University and have them wire the lump sum to my account, because, well, it did not belong to them. I would like to thank my father for providing me with what I have deemed "learning opportunities" in Germany. Whereby fuck all happens and I have to try to fix it with a fucking language barrier and a short fuse. So thanks, pops! You are the best.

I met up with Katrin because, heaven forbid, I find myself in a situation where I am trying to play charades with some woman who doesn't speak English. Thankfully, one of the girls in the office did speak English. When I went in and told her I had a problem, she asked me what my name was. "Sarah Ober," I replied. She looked at me and said, "oh, your father has given us a great deal of money!" Wait, what?? These bitches knew that they had my money, on accident, and no one thought to contact me?? What the fuck is that?? So she led us down a hallway to another office, with two other women in it, and in German (by the way, I can understand German now) said "Oh, this is Sarah Ober." And the women in the office laughed. And she said "you are quite famous here." Fantastic. In addition to being groggy and irritable, I was now being openly mocked by German women.

With the click of a button, another women transferred all my money to MY German bank account. Why they could not have just called me last week and informed me of the snafoo, I do not know. Maybe because they, too, wanted to provide me with ample learning opportunities in Deutschland. Like trying to communicate with Stapler-dude at the bank. So far, I am down two points.

I managed to make it to class on time, which was good since I seem to be having quite a difficult time with that, and all things were going well. I even spoke GERMAN in my listening comprehension class. I was feeling quite proud of myself, like I was a fucking Deutsch God, until my grammar class. I think Frau Grigorieva just has a knack for bringing me down off Cloud 9 and bitch-slapping me in the taco (thanks, Glee, for my new favorite saying).

In four weeks, we have what the Studienkolleg calls the "E-test." This is very similar to the test I had at the beginning of the term back in August whereby they gauge our German comprehension and place us in a level of German accordingly. I would just like to state that despite the fact that my speaking skills may not be all that great (I hear my German friends snickering right now), I can actually read and write fairly proficiently. Understanding grammar rules has never been a problem of mine. Chalk it up to the English nerd in me. Once I learn a grammar rule, it usually sticks (at least as far as writing goes). So I know that, since August, I have become much better with German. Or at least so I thought. Frau Grigorieva handed out this sample test from 1994, just so we could get a feel for it, and I just stared at it, mouth agape. You know that fish market in Seattle on the Pier? Where they will throw a giant fish at you should you ask, in hopes that you will catch it just so you can say, fuck yes I caught a giant fish! Okay, now imagine that someone hurls a massive fucking 50 pound fish at you and instead of catching it, it hits you in the face. And you are left standing there, stunned with fish slime dripping down your face, reeking of two-week old vag...

That is how I felt at that exact moment.

WHAT THE FUCK DID THIS TEST EVEN SAY???

There were no words. No words. I wasnt even entirely sure what the directions were telling me. So I did what I do in all situations that I find uncomfortable: I started laughing uncontrollably. And Frau Grigorieva just looked at me and asked (I think, because it was auf Deutsch and I am far from a Deutsch God) "what is wrong, Sarah? A catastrophe? Why are you laughing?" Why am I laughing?? Why am I laughing?? Because my soul is slowly leaking out my butt! Because my will to live has been crushed! Because you are ruining my life woman!

So I am basically fucked. I hope I get placed at least a little bit above the level I am currently in. Maybe I should spend the month of February actually studying, and reading things other than Cosmo in German. Dammit all.

I was pretty much so distraught after my class that I did not want to leave my room. I wanted to hole up and watch "Bones" with my fucking rainbow chip frosting and perhaps a bottle of wine. Estelle invited me over, though, and made me dinner, which pretty much made me super, super happy (um, there were mashed potatoes involved. SUPER good mashed potatoes). And even though she told me that I am like a guy (pardon me?? Just because I cannot cook for shit, and maybe I fall asleep after I eat, does not mean that I do not have other valuable domestic skills. I can vacuum and dust like a mother fucker, thank you) I am feeling a little bit better about life, though I still think I am about to run a train on this can of frosting.


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