Category Archives: Funny Stories

Adventures having very little to do with Germany.

10 Activities a Man Simply Cannot Perform While Retaining Any Semblance of Masculinity

A man eats a chocolate ice lolly while walking past the wall.

“Yep. That just about covers ’em all.” — Image Credit: Garry Knight (https://www.flickr.com/photos/garryknight/) — Subject to CC 2.0 License.

Masculinity is a tricky subject. We all have different ideas about what makes for a “real” man, but in our fervent scramble to attain perfect, inoffensive political correctness, we can’t even be sure masculinity is a desirable trait at all anymore. What I can tell you — as a man who has lived in two different countries — is that being seen performing any single one of the following ten activities will not only destroy your sense of manhood, but will make you look like King Titties of Pussy Mountain:

#10: Drinking Through a Straw

Image Credit: Bradley Gordon (https://www.flickr.com/photos/icanchangethisright/) -- Subject to CC 2.0 License.

“Hell YES I want to go drive some motorcycles! Let me just finish this drink first…” Image Credit: Bradley Gordon (https://www.flickr.com/photos/icanchangethisright/) — Subject to CC 2.0 License.

A man can drink from a coffee mug or a beer stein — really anything with a big, fat handle — but the moment he puckers his lips together and starts sucking on that straw, his testosterone levels drop down to zero. Imagine a huge biker thug at a dive bar. He’s drunk and hassling someone. “Hey pussy, change the channel back to Duck Dynasty. No one wants to watch that queer golf shit.” And then he wraps his mustachioed lips around a pink bendy straw and takes a dainty pull of strawberry daiquiri. Masculinity destroyed. (But that would actually be kind of awesome, so let’s table this one for now.)

#9: Wearing a Backpack (While NOT Camping, Mountain Climbing or Parachuting)

Image Credit: FaceMePLS (https://www.flickr.com/photos/faceme/) -- Subject to CC 2.0.

“So awesome, this bitch makes me TWICE as wide.” — Image Credit: FaceMePLS (https://www.flickr.com/photos/faceme/) — Subject to CC 2.0.

Camping, mountain climbing and parachuting are all manly things to do. So manly, in fact, you don’t even have to be male to look badass doing them. But wearing a backpack for almost any other purpose makes a normal man look like his body is comprised of 100% doofus. Whenever I see a dude sporting a backpack in Germany, I am forced to conclude he is one of the following: a student, someone backpacking around Europe, a homeless person, or a fashionless nerd on his way to a well-deserved ass kicking. Personally, I wear a flaming red backpack every day on my way to the gym because I’m married and I don’t give a sweet holy shit about looking cool anymore. (That, and I like to pretend my backpack is a turtle shell, and I’m going to sharpen my sweet ninja skills with Master Splinter.)

#8: Licking an Ice Cream Cone

Image Credit: Rachel Kramer (https://www.flickr.com/photos/rkramer62/) -- Subject to CC 2.0.

“Bro, don’t think I can’t start shit just because I’m holding a cone.” — Image Credit: Rachel Kramer (https://www.flickr.com/photos/rkramer62/) — Subject to CC 2.0.

Little kids, old people and hot chicks are about the only people who can get away with this one. But a dude in his physical prime — testosterone seeping from his every pore — simply cannot retain any sense of manhood while tonguing a double scoop of Rainbow Sherbet Hokey Pokey. I’m not saying a man can’t enjoy his ice cream — far from it — I’m just saying while he does it, he looks like a prancing nincompoop.

#7: Riding a Bicycle (Unless You’re Racing)

Image Credit: Alper Çuğun (https://www.flickr.com/photos/alper/) -- Subject to CC 2.0.

“So manly it’s crushing my balls.” — Image Credit: Alper Çuğun (https://www.flickr.com/photos/alper/) — Subject to CC 2.0.

We all know mountain bikers, stunt bikers and those Tour de France guys are all badass — even if they are doped to the gills. When a man is riding a souped-up racing bike, cutting through the headwind with his head down and every corded muscle jutting out like steel, he looks powerful. That’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about guys like me, who ride city bikes around town with a basket on the front to hold their groceries. Just cruising around with a big, dome-shaped helmet on, ringing the bell on their handlebars and waving to their neighbors. “Hi-diddly-ho! I’m off to the store to buy some more flour! My wife and I are baking Christmas cookies this year, and then we might even have sex! Missionary position sex!

#6: Drinking Wine

Image Credit: David, Bergin, Emmett and Elliott (https://www.flickr.com/photos/beglen/) -- Subject to CC 2.0.

“Lookout, John Belushi.” — Image Credit: David, Bergin, Emmett and Elliott (https://www.flickr.com/photos/beglen/) — Subject to CC 2.0.

Again, there’s nothing inherently wrong with this activity — drinking wine is fun — it’s just not possible for a man to do it while looking manly. I think it’s the shape of the wine glass which really destroys the masculine aura, especially if you stick your pinky finger out like I do. But it’s not like you have a lot of options here; you can’t just grip the stem of the glass in one meaty fist and slam it back like a viking. You’d need a drinking horn for that move. So assuming there are no alternatives, just go ahead and sip that wine, but remember: in that moment, you have all the masculinity of a training bra.

#5: Eating (Unless It’s with Your Hands)

Image Credit: sean_hickin (https://www.flickr.com/photos/sean_hickin/) -- Subject to CC 2.0 License.

“No no, Bob, you start with the little fork on the OUTSIDE.” — Image Credit: sean_hickin (https://www.flickr.com/photos/sean_hickin/) — Subject to CC 2.0 License.

I want you to picture a big, hairy-knuckled man, ripping into a half-pound burger with his teeth and slamming it back down so he can grab a fistful of fries as a chaser. Gross, but respectable, right? Now picture that very same man eating with silverware. Thick fingers wielding a knife and fork with the dexterity of a gentle surgeon. He lays a piece of food in his mouth with his fork — tongs up, like a gentleman — then sets it back down so he can dab at the corner of his mouth with a fine linen napkin. The immediacy of his hunger — his borderline desperation — was wiped out the instant he picked up the silverware. There is one way to use silverware and look sort of manly, however: you order a steak, stab it with a fork in one clenched fist and then violently saw it in half with your knife in the other. Yes, you’ll look like a caveman or pretty much anyone with a reality show on TLC, but at least you won’t look like a pussy, right?

#4: Picking Blackberries (or Pretty Much Any Berry)

Image Credit: David, Bergin, Emmett and Elliott (https://www.flickr.com/photos/beglen/) -- Subject to CC 2.0 License.

“I’m gonna bake this pie so hard…” — Image Credit: David, Bergin, Emmett and Elliott (https://www.flickr.com/photos/beglen/) — Subject to CC 2.0 License.

Farmers of any gender are cool. Tough, hardworking folk, and I respect them. What I find a little harder to respect is a full-grown man picking berries while on a walk through the local park on his way back to his apartment in the city. There’s a world of difference between someone picking berries for a living, and someone doing it for shits and giggles. There’s something about the delicacy of the act; it’s just so… dainty. Moving your hands slowly to avoid the thorns, trying not to get berry juice all over your nice polo shirt. Christ, my wife looks like more of a man than I do when we pick berries. No, this is task better left to professionals and small children. That said, you’ll score massive dad points if you pick berries with your kids, so just remember to bring along your favorite child if you want to come home a handful of mangled blackberries.

#3: Walking a Small Dog

Image Credit: FaceMePLS (https://www.flickr.com/photos/faceme/) -- Subject to CC 2.0 License.

“What? She’s 1/16th pitbull.” — Image Credit: FaceMePLS (https://www.flickr.com/photos/faceme/) — Subject to CC 2.0 License.

Tiny, yapping lapdogs are for two kinds of people: old women and gay men. There, I said it. Hell, when I see a yoked out gay dude carrying a Chihuahua, I almost respect him more because he clearly does not give a fuck. The annoying dog still sucks, but the man retains his masculinity. Old women can get away with it because, well, they can get away with anything; they could walk down the street shouting racial slurs while smearing butter in their hair, and people will just feel bad for them. Young women with tiny dogs look like entitled princesses, but no one will think less of them for it (assuming they’re hot). But straight men — even old, decrepit ones — all look like shameful tools when seen walking small dogs. I think it’s because the assumption is they’re walking their wife’s dog, which is somehow more emasculating than if they just proudly sauntered about town with their own shitty little Lhasa Apso in the crook of one arm.

#2: Wearing Crocs

Image Credit: Peter Dutton (https://www.flickr.com/photos/joeshlabotnik/) -- Subject to CC 2.0.

“Maybe it’s just the deathly white legs…” — Image Credit: Peter Dutton (https://www.flickr.com/photos/joeshlabotnik/) — Subject to CC 2.0.

People have been making fun of Crocs for over a decade now. They’re an easy target, especially when worn by men. Personally, I think the problem is the exposed ankle coupled with covered toes; you just don’t expect to see a manly man — from his thick, round head down to his powerful, sculpted calves — adorning his feet with foam clogs. It’s the opposite of masculine, and it just doesn’t work. It’s like when your buddy is all excited to tell you his favorite joke, but in the end it just totally sucks and no one knows what to say: “A giraffe walks into a bar and orders a high ball, and the bartender says, ‘from the looks of it, you already have two!’ ” And just like a man wearing Crocs, friends like these should be mocked openly and without mercy.

#1: Playing the Flute

"No." -- Image Credit: Darinka Maja (https://www.flickr.com/photos/darinka/) -- Subject to CC 2.0 License.

“THIS guy.” — Image Credit: Darinka Maja (https://www.flickr.com/photos/darinka/) — Subject to CC 2.0 License.

…and these guys…

:)

Thank you for reading and have an awesome new year!

 


 

Dr. Tomatolove or: How I Learned to Stop Loathing and Love the Tomato

I hate tomatoes - flipping the bird, middle finger

“You know what sucks about you guys? EVERYTHING.”

I have hated tomatoes as long as I can remember. Even as a child I cursed the name of that imp from hell who decided tomatoes should go on everything: cheeseburgers, salads, sandwiches, pizza — all ruined by this filthy vegetable. If a tomato touched one leaf of my salad, I didn’t just disregard that particular leaf, I jettisoned the entire quadrant. If there was only one pizza to be eaten, and every single piece had a slice of tomato on it, I would grab one and use my napkin to wipe that mother down until the crust showed. In college I tried to eat a cherry tomato at a party and wound up dry heaving in front of a bunch of hot chicks. Hell, even at 2am — drunk as tits and baked like a cake — I would still pick the tomato chunks out of my Taco Bell. I haaaaaaaaaated tomatoes. HATED THEM.

It’s wasn’t just the taste, and it’s wasn’t just the texture; it was the one-two punch of taste and texture. I mean, tapioca pudding has about the same mouthfeel as fish eggs and glue, but it tastes awesome. And Brussels sprouts taste like straight up poison, but they feel like baby cabbages dying inside your mouth, so they’re kinda fun. No, tomatoes ruined my day in every way they possibly could; by tasting like bloody, organic battery acid with the texture of jellied eyeballs wrapped in foreskin. God dammit! What a perfectly engineered adversary!

tomato-close-up-cherry-health

Son of a BITCH.

But in order to truly hate something, you have to be at least a little bit afraid of it, right? Isn’t that how loathing works? I honestly don’t know what tomatoes ever did to me to earn such scorn, but it must have been awful. Like, in some alternate universe, I’m probably stuck on a planet populated entirely by tomato people, and they just love to smear themselves across my naked body all day long and then fart in my mouth. It’s how they celebrate Christmas.

The point is, I’ve avoided tomatoes my entire life… until now. This past summer, I finally decided to get serious and shake hands with the red devil. And it’s not just because I moved to Germany; it’s because my wife and I live in a house with an actual yard in the back, giving us enough space to have a garden where we can grow our own vegetables. Oh, I know what my fellow tomato haters are thinking about now: “Here comes the part where you tell us fresh, vine-ripened tomatoes are different from every other tomato we’ve ever eaten. And that is stone-cold bullshit.”

You’re right; if you really can’t stand the sumbitches, it won’t matter where you get ’em. Do you know how many times my friends and family members have told me that if I just ate this one, special, super organic, jerked-off-by-Mexicans, magic tomato, it would change my attitude forever? Millions. Okay, not millions — probably closer to 5 or 6 times — but still. I understand your pain.

I’ve tried to like tomatoes. I wanted to stop fighting the good fight, but I just couldn’t do it. They were too gross. Then my wife and I started a garden, and I made two decisions:

  1. I would eat one tiny piece of tomato every single day until I learned to like it.
  2. These tomato pieces would only come from our own garden, because that’s supposed to make them taste less horrid.

And that’s exactly what I did. I slowly acclimated myself to tomatoes like a sickly goldfish in hot water. At first I was like, “NOPE. THEY STILL SUCK. THIS SUCKS.” But gradually my knee-jerk reaction weakened. I stopped gagging and was able to actually chew and swallow small pieces of raw tomato. And you know what really made the difference? The fact that when I plucked a ripe tomato right from the vine in our own garden, brought it inside, cut it up and ate a piece, it tasted sweet. Sweet like sugar — I shit you not. I’d never experienced that before! Not even from fresh tomatoes picked in the exact same way and placed in front of me at a friend’s house. Eating my own tomatoes was the key, and it actually became a pleasant experience.

Another thing which really helped were my wife’s Caprese salads. She loves ’em, but I could only ever eat the mozzarella and basil before. Now, I eat the whole thing, and the best part — I can’t believe I’m saying this — is the tomato. It’s what really ties the dish together. I’ve even graduated to eating burgers and salads with tomatoes on them, and they don’t even have to come from our own garden! (God, I seriously feel like a heathen or a traitor to my country or something.)

I’m not saying tomatoes are the greatest thing in the world, but it’s really nice not to have to pull them off everything I order at a restaurant. It’s like I’ve been at war my entire life, and I’m just now experiencing my first ceasefire. I’m not fool enough to stick my head up out of my foxhole and declare my love for the enemy just yet, but I’m not going to snipe their commanding officer either.

To be fair, I still can’t bite down on a cherry tomato without a good old fashioned dry heave — oh my Christ, the seeds just spurt inside your mouth without warning, like a rude sailor — but maybe someday I’ll get there. Maybe. In the meantime, I must grudgingly award tomatoes with a slightly nauseous 3 out of 5 Merkel Diamonds:

Merkel Diamond from Angela Merkel, Prime Minister of Germany

Thank you for reading and have a great day!

— OGM


Weather in Germany: Watching the Seasons Change with the Davis Hill Weather Stick

The-Davis-Hill-Weather-Stick-Card-Front

The Davis Hill Weather Stick: A Dark Magic Gift from Satan Himself

My wife is German, and as I’ve mentioned before, Germans tend to be a very well-traveled bunch of squares. My wife has been all over the world, and she spent a lot of time in the United States. She even traveled around New England and made a bunch of friends there. One of these friends gave her a very peculiar parting gift before she returned to Germany: The Davis Hill Weather Stick.

Weather sticks are shaved twigs from balsam trees, and they’re supposed to predict the weather by bending sharply upward or downward. With absolutely no clue where to hang this goofy thing, my wife lugged it around from apartment to apartment for the next decade until she finally met me. After we moved into a house here in Hannover, Germany, I wasted not one second nailing this thing to the wooden divider in our back yard.

The-Davis-Hill-Weather-Stick-Cover-Photo-1

THE WIFE: “Take it down. It looks like a penis.”

Here’s how the magic works, according to the back of the card:

The Weather Stick, from the folks on Davis Hill, will tell you what the weather is doing. With good weather about they will point to the sky; and when things aren’t so pleasant they will point to the ground. We don’t know why, but the old timers had faith in them and that’s good enough for us.

Mount it outdoors with the nail up. Under an eave, on a window frame, or out on the garage wall. Anywhere where you can see it from inside.

These country Weather Sticks are harvested at the right time of year and carefully prepared and dried. When first put up they will take a short while to get used to your house so be patient with them and they will serve you well for a long time.

We’ve seen sticks that are fifteen years old so you won’t need another for quite a while. However, if you’d like another you can get one at this store or write us.

THE DAVIS HILL COMPANY
P.O. BOX 44, GREENSBORO, VT 05841
(802) 533-2400

Now, I can’t find an actual website for this company, and that address and phone number are so old they probably don’t work anymore, but you can totally order the Davis Hill Weather Stick online at Amazon.com or from the Shelburne Country Store. Also, this stick doesn’t have any magical (or even mysterious) properties at all; we know exactly what makes this thing bend up and down: humidity.

The-Davis-Hill-Weather-Stick-Cover-Photo-2

ME: “Look honey! The sun is giving it a boner!”

Anyway, once I noticed the stick bending exactly as promised — and looking like the thinnest, creepiest penis in the world — I started taking pictures of it. From the fall of 2014 to the fall of 2015, I took pictures almost every day for an entire year. Then, I stitched them all together to make the animated .gif below.

Check it out, and have a great week everyone!

— OGM

The-Davis-Hill-Weather-Stick-Animation-OGMWIG-Germany

In northern Germany, we don’t need devil sticks to tell us the sky is about to piss rain.

 


 

Best WhatsApp Messages: The Top 10 Funniest Messages Between an American Expat and His German Wife

WhatsApp Free Smart Phone Instant Messenger

“Hang on honey, I’m sending you a super romantic picture of my junk…” — Image Credit: downloadsource.fr (https://www.flickr.com/photos/downloadsourcefr/) — Subject to CC 2.0 License

You’ve probably already heard of WhatsApp Messenger — the free instant messenger app for smart phones — but you may not fully appreciate it for the worldwide savior of long distance relationships it is. (After Skype, of course, but nobody likes a smart ass.)

Only those of us who have fallen in love with someone living too far away to visit on a regular basis know what heartache really is. (Unless your lover is in the middle of some god-awful war zone on the other side of the world. Then you should probably be watching the news instead of dicking around on your iPhone.)

For the rest of us, WhatsApp is the magic spell which keeps the cold, wretched fingers of loneliness at bay. And once you’ve beaten the longing and outlasted the heartache — broken through the distance which separates you from your loved one and managed to begin a real life together — you can start using WhatsApp for an even more noble purpose: dick and fart jokes.

What follows is a gallery of screenshots taken from messages exchanged between my German wife and I over the past few years. Click one of the thumbnail images below to start the slideshow:

Summary:

Although I HATE the fact that WhatsApp is now owned by Facebook, I have to award the instant messenger service itself with a grudgingly-deserved 4 out of 5 Merkel Diamonds:

Merkel Diamond from Angela Merkel, Prime Minister of Germany

What about you? Are you a WhatsApp user like us? We’d love to hear from you in the comments section below!


Graphic Designer in Portland, Oregon and Hannover, Germany - Grafikdesigner Illustrator Copywriter

Why American Expats Like Me Should NEVER Become English Teachers in Germany

Bad Teacher

“Do you have a learning disability? Because you should just KNOW this shit.” — Image Credit: Patrick Bell (https://www.flickr.com/photos/druidicparadise/) – Subject to CC 2.0 License.

As I’ve said many times before, my wife is German and she is a Gymnasium teacher here in Hannover, Germany. As such, she teaches two primary academic subjects, but she is also required to conduct elective classes. These classes are usually fun things, like arts and crafts, sports or cooking. (But not beer drinking. I checked.)

Not long ago, my wife was tasked with teaching an elective baking class to a bunch of snot-nosed 8th graders. They were going to make a Black Forest Cake, also known as a Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte. Now, I don’t know why, but my wife wanted the recipe to be in English, so she downloaded one from the internet — which had clearly been translated from German into English — and asked me to proofread it for spelling and grammar mistakes.

What I found was an absolute clusterfuck of linguistic crimes, any one of which would — in an ideal world — warrant death by hanging. (Followed by the deceased author’s body being dragged through the streets and beaten with rubber mallets, then thrown into a pit of acid-spitting vipers which reduce the corpse to rendered lard, thereby enabling it to be molded into tiny, adorable birthday candles.)

Below is the Black Forest Cake recipe from the internet, complete with my edits indicated in red. ***WARNING*** Contains swearing and one rather graphic illustration. (Click image to enlarge.)

German and English Language Editing - Schwarzwalder Kirschtorte (Black Forest Cake) Funny Recipe Corrections

Summary:

Look, if the situation were reversed and I had to write this cake recipe in German, I would fail so hard I would have to throw myself off a cliff. Still, I cannot excuse such heinous linguistic crimes. This is why I must award this recipe with a despicable 1 out of 5 Merkel Diamonds:

Merkel Diamond from Angela Merkel, Prime Minister of Germany

Would you be a good English teacher? Have you ever had a particularly good or bad language teacher? We’d love to hear all about your experience in the comments section below…


Graphic Designer in Portland, Oregon and Hannover, Germany - Grafikdesigner Illustrator Copywriter

Twitching Eyelid: American Expat in Germany Suffers Two Months of Ocular Mortification

eye scared close up Twitching-Eyelid-Spasm-Eye-Funny-Pictures

“For the love of all that is good and holy, please HOLD STILL.”

For over two months, my upper right eyelid twitched all day, every day, and made me look like a man on the verge of an explosive emotional breakdown. Now, I’m not talking about the harmless little ticks and occasional spasms of the eyelid we all experience from time to time — the ones no one else can really see — I’m talking about violent contractions of the muscles above my eye, obvious enough to cause my wife to laugh at me and my German language classmates to recoil from my very presence in fear and confusion.

According to every masochistic Google health search I performed, the main causes of twitching eyelids are:

  1. Stress
  2. Eye Strain
  3. Tiredness
  4. Caffeine
  5. Alcohol
  6. Allergies
  7. Dry Eyes
  8. Debris Beneath the Eyelid
  9. Nutritional Imbalances

So that pretty much covers everything! I mean, as a freelance graphic designer, I am always stressed about where my next paycheck is coming from, and I spend all day straining my eyes in front of my computer monitor. I get up early and hit the gym every day, so I’m often very tired. I drink a fat mug of instant coffee every morning — at least two scoops — so my heart runs double-time. I drink heroic amounts of German beer on the weekends because German beer is awesome. I have powerful pollen allergies, which cause dry, itchy eyes and no-doubt pack all kinds of filthy shit beneath my eyelids. And as for nutritional imbalances? Well, I do eat a lot of disgusting German meat products.

zungenwurst-tongue-sausage-german-food-deli

“Taste the horror.”

When my wife and I visited the United States for Spring Break, we went to a huge party filled with doctors and medical professionals of all kinds. (It was an older crowd, but we still partied our asses off.) Anyway, I ran into my optometrist — a man I’d known my entire life — and showed him my freakish eye problem. Here’s how our conversation went, word for word:

ME: *Beer in hand* “See?! Did you see that?!”

DOCTOR: “Yes. That’s called ‘myokymia.’ It’s harmless.”

ME: “But it’s been going on for months now. Oh God, it’s a brain tumor, isn’t it.

DOCTOR: *Laughing* “No, no — it’s very common. Persistent twitching like that can last hours, days, months… sometimes even years.”

ME: “Years?! Holy Christ. But you’re absolutely sure it’s not a brain tumor, right?”

DOCTOR: “Right. It’s not a tumor.”

ME: *Eyeing him suspiciously and taking another swig of beer* “You’re sure?”

DOCTOR: “Yes. I’m sure”

headache funny kid with sword through head

“Oh good. I feel much better now.” — Image courtesy of Wapster (http://www.flickr.com/photos/wapster/) – Subject to CC 2.0 Generic Copyright

A week later, we returned to our home in Hannover, Germany, and my twitching eyelid continued to embarrass me like a dog licking his butt hole at a cocktail party. At a loss for any real solutions or cures, I began keeping track of my problem and its progress. Here are the complete, unabridged entries from my journal:

  • March 6th: Upper right eyelid began twitching very hard, off and on, throughout the day. Especially from mid-morning through early evening.
  • March 20th: Still twitching.
  • April 15th: Still twitching.
  • April 27th: Still twitching, but the twitches are weaker. I have been using allergy eye drops every day the last few weeks. Could be the answer!
  • May 5th: Nope. Eyelid is still twitching hard as fuck.
  • May 6th: Twitching has been going on for exactly 2 months now.
  • May 14th: Still twitching. Out of desperation, I have stopped drinking instant coffee and switched to black tea.
  • May 21st: Oh holy Christ on rice, my eyelid hasn’t twitched at all for a week!
  • May 31st: Apparently cutting out the absurdly strong instant coffee was the answer. I am a complete and total moron.
Folgers-Instant-Coffee-Jars-Cans

“Wait, is this too much?” — Image Credit: Mike Mozart (https://www.flickr.com/photos/jeepersmedia/) — Subject to CC 2.0 Generic Copyright

Wow. So just cutting back on caffeine was the answer? Clearly I am the smartest man alive. So, overall, I have to rate my experience with eyelid twitching — and my own complete disregard for its most obvious solution — with 1 out of 5 Merkel Diamonds:

Merkel-Diamonds-1-of-5

If you liked this post, there’s a solid chance you’ll dig this one too: My German Wife Attempts to Reheat A Soft Boiled Egg in the Microwave

 


 

The Perfect Latte Macchiato: My German Wife’s Top 10 Attempts to Make This Elusive Coffee Beverage

The term latte macchiato translates disturbingly to stained milk. It is a coffee beverage prepared by adding espresso to foamed milk, and true coffee nerds like to pour the espresso in gently, so it floats between the liquid milk below and the frothed milk above. When done correctly, the layers stay separate, like an adorable little metaphor for racial segregation. You can buy these cups of Apartheid for $5.00+ at Starbucks, or you can just make them yourself at home. (Or you can be like me, and not drink them at all because you don’t give one piece of flying monkey shit about coffee anyway.)

My wife takes great pride in preparing her own latte macchiatos. (And then telling me how much money she’s saving every… single… time.) She uses this little reverse espresso thingie, which sits directly on the stove and bubbles the water up through the grounds. Check it out:

italian-espresso-maker

But the problem has always been how to properly froth the milk. My wife started out using an absolute piece of garbage milk foamer, which looked like this:

handheld-milk-foamer-device

…but the foaming process took so long our breakfast would get cold and then I’d get all hungry and pissed off, like a little bitch. So thankfully, my wife graduated to a real milk foamer, which looks like this:

tchibo-milk-foamer-milchschaumer

Aww yeah! This thing can foam the shit out of some milk. It’s from a chain of German coffee retailers called Tchibo, which, inexplicably, sells completely unrelated products as well. One week you can roll into Tchibo for some coffee and a complete set of running gear, and the next you’ll get your coffee while enjoying a sale on electronic gadgets. Makes no sense to me. All I know is the logo — which is supposed to be a steaming coffee bean — looks more like a smoking vagina after a particularly exhausting porno shoot.

 

So anyway, my wife has been making these stupid coffee drinks for herself every weekend since we moved into our new house. She’s the only one who drinks them; I just take pictures of her efforts so I can mock them. What follows is a list of my German wife’s top 10 attempts to make the perfect latte macchiato:

#10

Perfect-Latte-Macchiato-10

Oh come on, honey! That looks like a glass full of toilet water! There’s hardly even any foam on top, and that gradient from milk to espresso… for shame. I cannot award this attempt with anything higher than 1 out of 5 Merkel Diamonds:

Merkel-Diamonds-1-of-5

#9

Perfect-Latte-Macchiato-9

Dear God, this one’s about to spill over! And I bet I’ll be the one to clean it up! What is that coming out of the top anyway? A stool sample from the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man? 1 out of 5 Merkel Diamonds for you!

Merkel Diamond from Angela Merkel, Prime Minister of Germany

#8

Perfect-Latte-Macchiato-8

Alright, now this one is lookin’ better. I don’t see any spillage, and the foam has a nice, non-fecal shape. But dude, there’s more espresso in there than milk! The ideal proportions should be 1:1, or so say the rules I just totally made up. This one scores 2 out of 5 Merkel Diamonds.

Merkel Diamond from Angela Merkel, Prime Minister of Germany

#7

Perfect-Latte-Macchiato-7

Now we’re gettin’ somewhere. Nice rounded foam top. Visible gradient lines between milk and espresso. The ratio is still off, however, and I know you’re better than that. Again, 2 out of 5 Merkel Diamonds.

Merkel Diamond from Angela Merkel, Prime Minister of Germany

#6

Perfect-Latte-Macchiato-6

Wow! Excellent foam, better ratio. Your technique has really improved, my dear. But what is that brown streak running down the side? Looks like a skid mark. Filthy, but much improved. You’ve earned 3 out of 5 Merkel Diamonds with this one.

Merkel Diamond from Angela Merkel, Prime Minister of Germany

#5

Perfect-Latte-Macchiato-5

Solid foam top, distinct layering and a decent milk-to-espresso ratio — although a bit heavy on the espresso. But my main concern is THAT GIANT FESTERING TUMOR ON THE SIDE. Are you really gonna drink that, honey? Better lance it first and then cauterize the wound. Jesus Christ. 3 out of 5 Merkel Diamonds.

Merkel Diamond from Angela Merkel, Prime Minister of Germany

#4

Perfect-Latte-Macchiato-4

I like where your head is at: good ratios, graceful foam formation and no malignant tumors. But what’s with the turbo skid mark? Looks like my undies after an hour on the stationary bike. “Honey, I sure hope today is laundry day!”

This one kicks it up a notch to 4 out of 5 Merkel Diamonds.

Merkel Diamond from Angela Merkel, Prime Minister of Germany

#3

Perfect-Latte-Macchiato-3

Again, I’m not a big fan of the skid marks down the side, but I must applaud your attention to detail. The foam comes to a pleasing apex, and the espresso is clearly separate from the milk. (Though you’re still using enough milk to drown a dairy cow.) 4 out of 5 Merkel Diamonds.

Merkel Diamond from Angela Merkel, Prime Minister of Germany

#2

Perfect-Latte-Macchiato-2

Oooo! Now that looks professional! I hate to see that little brown star on the side, and the milk could be in better balance with the espresso, but still, great work! The ratio is still too heavy on the milk, however, and the German I married would never settle for second best. That’s why you get 4 out of 5 Merkel Diamonds, mein Schatz.

Merkel Diamond from Angela Merkel, Prime Minister of Germany

#1

Perfect-Latte-Macchiato-1

Ahhhh, perfection. Look at that generous heap of milk foam. It’s like a pile of baby dreams. And the milk-to-espresso ratio? Perfect. Why, you can even see two distinct layers in the coffee. It’s a two-tone work of art! Congratulations, my little German wife, you’ve finally achieved 5 out of 5 Merkel Diamonds.

Merkel Diamond from Angela Merkel, Prime Minister of Germany

But what do you think, Dear Reader? Which of these 10 latte macchiatos is the best one? The comment section is open, and we’ve even got a survey in which to make your preference known!

 

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