Tag Archives: Blogging

Reader Survey: Should I Self-Publish a Book Based upon My Blog, ‘Oh God, My Wife Is German.’?

bad writing writers block funny frustrated author

“Help me. Oh please God help me.” — Image Credit: Drew Coffman (https://www.flickr.com/photos/drewcoffman/) — Image subject to CC 2.0 License.

Hello, my dear, devoted and totally awesome readers. I need your help:

For a few years now, I’ve been considering writing a self-published book stemming from this blog, but I need some information from you first before I embark on such a ridiculous adventure. Below is a survey which will help me out a lot as I make my decision. Would you mind taking like 5 seconds out of your day to answer a few questions?

If so: you rule. If not: that’s okay too (dick). But as you answer, please assume the following:

  1. The book would contain 100% sarcastic humor, just like this blog.
  2. It would tell the story beginning from the moment my German wife and I met in the United States, right on up to today, as we live together in Hannover, Germany.
  3. It would contain several of my wife’s very best Denglish quotes. (A ‘greatest hits’ type section, if you will.)
  4. It would weave my most traumatic culture shock experiences throughout the story.
  5. It would NOT be a simple regurgitation of the posts you’ve already read on this blog.
  6. It would be completely hilarious. (I hope. Because if it’s not, I will throw myself off the nearest bridge.)

With these things in mind, here we go!


That’s it! So, uh… thank you very much for your time!

Bunny with a pancake on its head

“Seriously though: THANK YOU. You guys rock.” — Image Credit: Andreas Matern (https://www.flickr.com/photos/amatern/) — Subject to CC 2.0 License. (Text added by me, though it is hardly original.)

Oh, and if you can think of anything else I’ve forgotten or might consider in terms of self-publishing, please leave me a note in the comments section below.

Have an awesome week everyone! YEAH!!


The Top 10 Funniest (and Most Bizarre) Google Search Engine Terms Used to Find Our Blog


“Delete. History. NOW.” — Image Credit: Libelul (https://www.flickr.com/photos/libelul60/) Subject to CC 2.0 License.

Until recently, I assumed people came to our blog for a quick laugh. Maybe to read one of my wife’s Denglish quotes, or perhaps to read about the culture shock I’ve experienced as an American expat in Germany. What I did not expect, however, was the sheer number of people who’ve accidentally stumbled across our blog due to misdirected Google searches. (And oh holy Christ, the Internet really is fueled by porn, isn’t it…)

For this post, I’ve taken screenshots of the latest search terms used to land people on our site and highlighted my favorites in yellow. Please click the first thumbnail image below to start the slideshow. (WARNING: Many contain sexually explicit or otherwise hilarious terminology):

… and of course, way down at the bottom, is my favorite search term of all time:



I have to give it to our accidental blog visitors; they do find creative ways to find us. There’s at least one every day who makes me laugh, and for that, I must award these Google search engine terms with a strong 4 out of 5 Merkel Diamonds:

Merkel Diamond from Angela Merkel, Prime Minister of Germany

What about you? Which search terms put a naughty little smile on your face? The comments section is open as hell.

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

When Your German Wife Makes More Money than You: Lessons from an American Expat in Germany


“It’s not a contest, Dear.” — Photo Credit:
Vladimir Pustovit (https://www.flickr.com/photos/pustovit/) — Subject to CC 2.0 Copyright.

As you know, I am a graphic designer from Portland, Oregon. After my German wife and I were married, I dropped everything — including a house, car and full-time job — and moved with her to Hannover, Germany. Overnight, I morphed from a gainfully employed agency designer to a nervously self-employed freelance designer, complete with panic attacks and night terrors in which my home mortgage  — personified by an accountant with the head of a bull — would chase me down and stab me repeatedly with a rolled-up copy of my credit report: “You’re gonna miss your next payment, you little bitch. And you’ll probably miss the one after that too, because you don’t have a steady source of income. You’re just a worthless little piece of monkey shit, aren’t you? And your wife is too nice to tell you, but your breath always sucks.”

Luckily, it all worked out. I built up a client base filled with awesome, inspirational people — most of whom found me through this blog — and I’m enjoying the hell out of working for myself. (Company policies include: “Casual Monday-through-Friday,” “Pantless Skype Sessions” and “Mandatory Pilsner Sensitivity Training.” [Our HR department has been trying to crush this last one for years.])

You know what else came as a pleasant surprise? When my wife finished her Referendariat training and landed a job as a full-time Gymnasium teacher. That’s when her income level shot past mine like a lubed-up piglet on its way to the teet. Not only did she earn more money in Euros — which, at the time, were way stronger than US Dollars — but she earned more after taxes. (Unsolicited Expat Tip of the Day: Most Germans think of their paychecks in terms of net income. They lack the requisite sense of entitlement to think of pretax money as their money. We Americans like to focus on the exact amount Uncle Sam is stealing from us, crank up our blood pressure a notch or two, then simmer through the rest of the day in impotent rage. It’s tradition.)

Anyway, when my wife landed her job, suddenly she was the primary earner, and I became a trophy wife with fake tits and an adorable hobby / business venture. You might think this would crush a real man’s ego, but if you’ve read this blog before, you know I’m not a real man at all. I loved her new pay grade! Where we simply split our financial obligations before, now we could do things on a sliding scale. And the peace of mind was the best part; I knew if I ever had a bad month, she could cover the difference and save me from taking it in the shorts.

Of course, the power dynamic has shifted a little; I can’t just shoot down every purchase decision and Ebinizer Scrooge my way through life anymore. My wife has her own money, so the other day when she suggested we get our wedding rings engraved, I refused, saying I would not be spending any more money that month. To this, she replied:

“But maybe I can spend money. I am the bread maker now.”*

*Of course she meant “bread winner,” but I like her expression way better. 

If you would like to read another classic Denglish post, check this one out: My German Wife Explains the Optimal Weather Conditions for Seasonal Allergy Attacks

A Year in Review: American Expat in Germany Looks Back at Blogging in 2014


2014 was pretty sweet. My wife started working as a full-time Gymnasium teacher, and I enjoyed some modest success as a self-employed graphic designer. We moved out of our affordable (yet questionable) apartment and joined the Stepford Wives by moving into a house way out in suburbia. Overall, it was a great year; one in which my wife and I both felt as if we’d taken a big step forward. The only bad thing that happened was when some drunken idiots tried to steal my bike, failed, and proceeded to beat the everloving shit out of it.

But you know what’s really cool? What just rules entirely? You do. Our readers. You’re so positive and encouraging — you’ve really helped make this blog the humorous refuge it was always meant to be.

We would like to sincerely thank you for reading and invite you to take a look at some cool blogging information from this past year, including:

  • Funny Statistics
  • Our Most Popular Post from 2014
  • The Countries Where Our Readers Come From
    …and of course…
  • Our Top 5 Blog Commenters of the Year

Here’s an excerpt:

The Louvre Museum has 8.5 million visitors per year. This blog was viewed about 400,000 times in 2014. If it were an exhibit at the Louvre Museum, it would take about 17 days for that many people to see it.

Click here to see the complete 2014 report for Oh God, My Wife Is German.


American Expat Celebrates 2nd Year Living in Germany


“Every party has its casualties.”

Holy monkey! It’s been 2 years since I packed up all my crap and flew to Germany. Honestly, I thought I’d been here for 3 years, but my German wife reminded me it only feels that way. Anyway, to celebrate last night, we made a pizza, uncorked a bottle of wine and watched a movie. (Which actually means we tossed some extra onions on a frozen pizza, unscrewed a €2 euro bottle of Merlot while the movie started playing and then passed right the fuck out.)

Early the next morning, my wife interrupted my precious Earl Grey time by attempting to show me how I would be cleaning the house after she starts teaching again next week. She pushed a broom around the living room, explaining how I would actually need to lift the furniture in order to sweep beneath it. That’s when she knocked the broom handle into one of our empty wine glasses from the night before. *DONG, smash!* The sound it made as it shattered was like music to my ears.

“HAW HAW!” I laughed, pointing. “Do you realize if I had done that, you would be all super pissed right now? But look at me! I don’t even care! Please learn from my example.” That earned a grudging smile and a quiet chuckle from my wife as she continued sweeping, albeit without the verbal instruction. (Gentlemen readers, I ask you to examine the picture above. Notice how perfectly the glass shattered, yet retained its overall shape? This is the most beautiful example of household justice you will ever see.)

The past 24 months here in Hannover, Germany, have been filled with moments like this; funny occurrences, jam-packed with adorable Denglish quotes and mortifying culture shock encounters. I can honestly say I have yet to experience even one dull moment in this fine country. Every day brought something new. There was that mandatory integration class to deal with, a terribly frustrating visit to the dentist, a surprise delivery from the mailman, the omnipresence of our evil old neighbors, and two memorable trips to the zoo. These are just a few of the adventures described here at Oh God, My Wife Is German, and you, my awesome readers, have been so gracious as to share them with us.

Thank you for reading and for always being so supportive. You’re just the best audience ever, and I look forward to (attempting) to make you laugh for years to come.

Enjoy the rest of your summer!


NOTE: If you have been reading this blog and commenting on our posts for a long time, please send me an email and let me know, because I would like to make sure I have a link to the blog or website of your choice in the sidebar section titled OUR FRIENDS.


My German Wife Somehow Equates Past Grieviances with the Making of a Sandwich


“German mayonnaise… you’ll never forget it.” — Photo by Renzelle Mae Abasolo – Subject to copyright — (https://www.flickr.com/photos/maehabasolo/)

My wife has an old friend named Killjoy McBittertits. That’s not really her name, but I think it does a great job of summarizing my overall impression of her. You see, Killjoy is the kind of person who keeps track of every little good or service exchanged over the course of a friendship: the number of gifts given, the gallons of gas used, and even the number of cups of coffee shared. All of this information goes into the great empty pit where her heart should be, and fuses together into a lump of bitterness which can be thrown like a projectile weapon whenever someone pisses her off.

My wife somehow managed to anger this woman many years ago, and she has recounted the tale to me several times since. They were in Killjoy’s apartment, Killjoy was in her normal emotional state (simmering fury), and my wife decided to have a second cup of coffee. Since helping yourself to a friend’s coffee pot is obviously reason enough to eviscerate them emotionally, Killjoy decided to list off every single thing she had purchased over the course of their friendship — like she’d been keeping track of each perceived offense on a list hidden beneath her pillowcase, written in pig blood.

If there’s one thing my wife is not, it’s a freeloader. The insinuation makes her very mad. So when she told me this story — describing each insult and retort in detail — she spoke as if she were snapping back at Killjoy herself:

THE WIFE: “Sorry you feel that way, but don’t smear this on my bread!”*

*Translated from the German expression, “Schmier mir das nicht aufs Brot,” which figuratively means, “Quit bringing up the past.”




My German Wife Complains About Getting Cramps While Jogging

funny jogging picture of a woman running alone

“Wait up, Honey! I just blew chunks all over this new shirt your mother bought me!” — Photo by rosmary — Subject to copyright — (https://www.flickr.com/photos/rvoegtli/)

As you may already know, I often jog around the Maschsee here in Hannover, Germany. It’s about 3.9 miles in circumference (6.3 km), which is a pretty good bit of exercise for someone who sits in front of the computer all day long making pretty things for money. The first time I successfully ran the Maschsee, I wanted to throw up as hard as possible. I wanted to vomit like a dog who’s been gorging on something nasty it found in the garbage — back all hunched over real tight, mouth open and drooling, making that awful, full-body dry heaving sound, like, AHYUK-KA YUK-KA YUK-KA — and then BAM! Paydirt.

Although jogging the Maschsee has become progressively easier each time I’ve done it, there is one thing which still challenges me: talking while running. It gives some people cramps or stitches in their sides, but personally, I just don’t have the cardiovascular fortitude for it. Not after the first minute into the run or so. After that, it’s a test of willpower and socially acceptable masochism, and wasting oxygen is like spitting in the eye of the exercise gods. I’m pretty sure every dude who ever dropped dead while jogging was trying to hold a conversation at the same time, like it was no big deal. But oh, it was a big deal, for Lord Cardio the Spiteful is a god who demands your full attention, lest he become jealous and smite thee with a cataclysmic aneurysm.


“Welcome to your new home, big mouth.” — Photo by Martin Pettitt — Image subject to copyright — (https://www.flickr.com/photos/mdpettitt/)

So back in the winter of 2012, my wife actually joined me for a jog around the Maschsee. (A rare occasion, as my wife is a teacher, and teachers work way more hours after class than you might think.) We managed to go most of the way around before we decided to walk. As we were walking, we were passed by another couple — a man and woman with superior thighs and exemplary calf muscles — who were running at a good clip while conducting an effortless conversation. I mentioned to my wife how impressive I found this, to which she replied:

THE WIFE: “If I try to talk while I run, I get these horrible side-bites.”*

*I think she was translating the German word, “Seitenstiche,” or “side stitches.”