Tag Archives: German Humor

Denglish 86: My German Wife Warns Me About the Mythological Beast in Our Bathtub

Has your spouse ever shrieked about a spider running across the living room floor? Has he or she called to you for help because a big, disgusting moth came in the window? What about larger problems, like birds or bats trapped in the house? And heaven forbid a true monster ever claws its way into your precious domicile; something which absolutely cannot be subdued with a wad of squeamishly-handled tissue paper or a phone book wielded with a grossly unnecessary amount of killing power.

No, a real beast would make anyone freak right the hell out, so imagine the terror I experienced when my German wife entered our bathroom and cried out to me:

THE WIFE: “There is a thousand-feet worm in the bathtub!”*

*It was a centipede, or “Tausendfüßler.”

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Denglish 70: My German Wife Complains About Our American Chores

During the year in which my wife and I shared a car, worked full time, prepared for our upcoming move to Germany and planned our wedding, our list of nightly chores seemed overwhelming. I’m not suggesting we were any busier than you, Dear Reader, but I suspect we were bigger pussies about it.

Each evening after arriving home from work, we opened the mail, prepared our lunches for the next day, cooked dinner, sorted the recycling, went over our wedding budget and task list, did the laundry, set out our exercise clothes for the morning and cleaned up around the house. This may not sound like much, especially if at any point you lost your mind and had children, but we were lucky to find half an hour each night in which to relax in front of the TV with a DVD from Netflix.

As I’ve said before, my wife’s English is fantastic; she’s better at both written and spoken English than any other native German I’ve ever met. However, while complaining about our nightly to-do list back in the winter of 2011, she dropped this little gem on me:

THE WIFE: *sigh* “There is always so much choreses to do.”

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Denglish 69: My German Wife Finds My Old Dungeons and Dragons Stuff

Dungeons & Dragons (abbreviated as D&D, AD&D or DnD) is a fantasy role-playing game typically enjoyed by, but not limited to, young men in their teenage years. It involves dice, character sheets, maps, drawings and a variety of rulebooks. One person is the Dungeon Master (or DM), and he or she is in charge of the storyline in which the other players operate. Players engage in adventures across a quasi-medieval world, battling dragons, orcs and other monsters while advancing their characters toward increasingly powerful levels of experience.

Dungeons & Dragons carries a massive social stigma, especially when played by adults. Even mentioning its name will garner eye rolling and sighs of disapproval, followed closely by slander against your level of social maturity, physical development and sexual prowess. Typically, people who insult adult D&D gamers have never played the game themselves; they are dicks and they lack the requisite imagination to wage a successful campaign in a land rife with magic and sorcery. (And they’ve probably never even heard of Raistlin Majere. *snort*)

One of the funnest parts of the game is creating your character. After you’ve chosen a race (human, dwarf, elf, etc.) and a class (fighter, thief, magic user, etc.), you then get to choose an alignment. Character alignment is defined by 3 primary options: Good, Neutral and Evil. There are sub alignments to choose from as well, like Lawful Good, Neutral Good and Chaotic Good. I won’t get into the specifics of character alignment here, because I can feel my body slipping back into pubescent dorkdom, but I want to stress the fact that I used to love this aspect of Dungeons & Dragons in particular.

So, back in December or 2011, my wife and I were clearing some room in a closet when we came upon a relic from my past; a dusty copy of Advanced Dungeons & Dragons, 2nd Edition, Player’s Handbook. I was visibly excited, flipping through the pages with my wife looking over my shoulder. When we reached the chapter on character alignment, I began explaining why Neutral Evil was my favorite role to play.

ME: “It’s so fun! Your character is always causing trouble! You can be a villain, like an assassin, a henchman or a mercenary or something, and just do whatever you want! I always chose to be a magic user, see, because—”

THE WIFE: “What does alijenmint mean?”

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Denglish 68: My German Wife Describes an Instance of American Flatulence

If you are a regular reader of our blog, you know my wife and I are not the least bit shy about ripping ass in front of each other. We think it’s hilarious, and we even compliment one another on the volume level, duration and bass of our flatulence. We have an especially good time breaking wind in bed, where we are more likely to be entangled in a close embrace from which neither of us can escape. And this is the reason why, back in October of 2011, I grabbed my wife’s wrist and rolled over onto my side so she was forced to spoon me. I then proceeded to rip a healthy amount of ass directly against her legs, to which my wife replied…

THE WIFE: “I felt your fart on my knees. You flexed your butt muscle.”

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Denglish 67: A German Teacher on Child Discipline

My wife is a Gymnasium teacher, which, in American terms, means she works with students from 5th grade all the way up through high school. She’s basically a really high-end prep school teacher, and her students are some of the best and brightest Germany has to offer. Additionally, these students want to be in school; acceptance into a Gymnasium is based upon academic merit, and students must graduate from a Gymnasium before they are allowed to attend a university. Combined, these factors contribute to a focused educational environment without much need for corporal punishment.

My wife, however, spent the last year in the United States as an assistant teacher at a primary school, where she worked with children from kindergarten through 5th grade. You can imagine the stark contrast in maturity she experienced working with a bunch of snot-nosed ankle biters in America. Although she is not a fan of physical punishment, my wife voiced her frustration with one of the more unruly children thusly:

THE WIFE: “I am not saying to spank the child, but sometimes diamonds are made under pressure.”

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Denglish 60: Why I Cringe When a German Wins a Fight

The Wife and I got into some kind of argument back in February of 2011. I can’t even remember what it was about, but I know it was relatively minor, with only the slightest bit of temper flaring involved. (In all likelihood, we were quarreling over the answer to Bertrand Russell’s Barber paradox using first-order logic… or maybe it was because my wife doesn’t think it’s funny when I hang my dirty undies from the ceiling fan.)

Anyway, when it was over, after we’d both made our points and reached a civil, respectful compromise, I declared our argument a success, explaining, “We were both half right — about 50/50. I made some good points and so did you.”

THE WIFE: “Our fight was 70/30 in my favor plus two fingers up your butt without Vaseline.”

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Denglish 59: Are All German Women Freakishly Strong?

Like many young, amorous couples, my wife and I engage in the occasional tickle fight. You know — a bit of the ol’ “Slap and Tickle” — though, as a German-American couple, we most often refer to these encounters as “World War III.”

Our tickle fights involve a lot of wrist grabs, leg locks and general vying for physical dominance. And, as a man, I naturally expect to triumph over my wife with laughable ease; I should have complete and effortless control over these struggles — using a clearly restrained amount of force to succeed — but this is not the case. I actually have to try to win, and I have to try hard — but not too hard, you see; I would never forgive myself if I accidentally injured my little Frau.

And this is why, during a particularly intense World War III on our couch back in February of 2012, I warned my wife not to struggle too hard. She relaxed, releasing her thighs from the vice-like grip they held around my abdomen, and offered a theatrical sigh:

THE WIFE: “You are right. I should not use all my strength. I don’t want to hurt you.”

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Denglish 58: My German Wife and the Freakishly Unsettling Way She Eats Bananas

There are a variety of methods for banana consumption. You can bite off a chunk, chew it and swallow it. You can cut the banana into slices and use a fork to place them in your mouth. Hell, you can even cram that mother down your throat and swallow it whole like Jenna Jameson in one of those stag films I keep hearing so much about. I consider all of these examples perfectly acceptable — especially that last one — but my wife does not eat bananas in any such ways as these; she likes to place the first few inches in her mouth and then shave the underside with her lower teeth as she withdraws the fruit. This shaving action produces pulp — something like a banana mousse — which piles up at the base of her mouth. She then swallows this frothy white load and resumes the process anew. (Again, a lot like Jenna Jameson.)

Now, as a straight male watching a beautiful young woman consume a banana, I cannot help but imagine trading places with said piece of fruit; it’s a guy thing, and I am not ashamed to admit it. However, my wife’s fruit scouring habit not only destroys this fantasy, but leaves me wondering just how much pain and lasting tissue damage it would inflict upon my little German helmet.

But you know what else is a guy thing? One of which we should never, ever, feel ashamed? Ripping ass in front of our wives. Hey, we’re married and everyone farts — it’s okay to fire off a round or two and make no effort whatsoever to conceal it. Why, just the other day, in fact, I broke wind and sat down next to my wife as she was consuming a banana in the disturbingly toothy manner described above. “Awww…” I groaned, “You’re doing it again,” — to which she offered an abundantly dismissive shrug:

THE WIFE: “You farted in front of me. I can scrape my banana.”

Click here to learn more about the term “Denglish.”

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Denglish 57: A German Method for Stress Management

My wife and I have been through some stressful times. We’ve experienced the logistical nightmares of a long-distance relationship and the heart-wrenching uncertainties of being an international couple attempting to plan a life together. We met up in New York for a romantic tryst, which resulted in both of us acquiring a now legendary case of food poisoning. We arranged a year-long work visa for her in the States, during which we both worked full-time, shared one car, supported each other through family health crises on both sides and planned our own wedding simultaneously.

Needless to say, our stress levels have known some impressive heights. At times, we were so stressed out we had tearful meltdowns, trouble falling (or staying) asleep, and our skin broke out in pimples unseen since adolescence. However, with my blind, American optimism and my wife’s depressing, German pragmatism, we managed to turn our stress into something we could joke about by personifying it as a little red devil-creature — one which grows fatter the more stress we feed him. At times he has been emaciated, and at times he has been obese, but he will always have the name my wife gave him when I asked, “This stress demon of ours… what should we call him?”

THE WIFE: “Alberto Fummelotz.”

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Denglish 56: My German Wife’s Well-Intentioned Fitness Goals

My wife and I are fairly healthy people and we like to keep ourselves in shape. However, before we were married, my wife came to live with me while teaching primary school in the United States for a year; a 12-month span in which spare time became one hell of a valuable commodity. Between the two of us working full-time, planning our marriage, sharing one car, preparing our lunches in advance each evening, my German classes and her doctorate degree research, our exercise options were pretty much limited to joining a fitness club, where we hoped the financial commitment would guilt us into lifting something heavier than our totally awesome beer steins.

So, The Wife and I went back and forth over the issue of jogging around the neighborhood for free, or paying money to sweat it out with a bunch of grunting Philistines. My wife articulated her point thusly:

THE WIFE: “I really like the idea of gym membership right now because I wanna work out with you and then we both look incredible and feel healthy as shit!”

Click here to learn more about the term “Denglish.”

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