“Oh look, he’s got your mother’s tail…” — Photo Credit: Bernt Rostad (https://www.flickr.com/photos/brostad/) — Image cropped from original and blurred — Subject to copyright (CC Attribution 2.0 Generic)
My wife and I are part of that stubborn group of married people who ask not when, but if we will have a baby. We’re very focused on our careers at present, and yet, most of our friends already have kids — or plan on having them just as soon as their swollen genitals will allow. Naturally, this generates a great many conversations about the subject (babies, not genitals), all of which end with my wife or I mocking children, their parents, or the baby-making industry as a whole.
Now, at this point, I need to remind you I am a graphic designer and I work from home. For me, this means two things: 1.) I don’t give a shit about kids, and 2.) I sit in my tiny office in front of my computer all day long, wearing my favorite black Electric Six sweatshirt with the hood pulled up over my head. Keep in mind, wearing a hoodie for 8 hours straight will trap the body heat against your ears and turns them bright red. Like, dog penis red.
So, back in April of 2013, my wife and I were in the bathroom brushing our teeth before bed — probably discussing the latest birth among our circle of friends — when we started joking around about the half-breed German-American monstrosity we would produce if we ever decided to have a child of our own. (I think it would have claws like a gremlin and speak in Denglish riddles. My wife simply thinks it would be an amalgamation of all our least desirable genetic traits.) I pulled the hood of my sweatshirt back to spit a mouthful of toothpaste into the sink and revealed my freakishly red ears throbbing beneath the harsh overhead light. That’s when my wife laughed and pinched one of them, asking:
“When we have a little goblin baby, can we eat the ears first?”
If you would like to read another post about my wife’s unique attitude toward having kids, check this one out: My German Wife Shops for American Baby Gifts
Posted in Denglish
Tagged Denglish, Deutschland, English, Germany, Humor, Language, Love, Marriage, Parenting, Starting a Family, Translation, Vocabulary
Back in March of 2012, my wife and I were in the kitchen cooking chili. (And not just any chili, but ultra spicy, bowel shivering, anus puckering death chili.)
During the course of the food preparation, we struck up a conversation about German vocabulary. Specifically, she taught me how to say the word “television,” which is “der Fernseher.” Literally, “Fernseher” translates into English as “far seer.” I nodded and stroked my chin, and we both took a moment to enjoy the blatantly obvious logic behind this discovery. Then my wife smiled and gestured with a large wooden spoon in her hand, swirling it in the air like a magic wand of knowledge, declaring:
“I like when we speak German together so that we are both learning. Like Tarzan and Jane.”*
*Guess which one of us is the cultured debutante, and which one is the talking monkeyboy in a loincloth…
If you would like to read another post about my German wife’s wonderful talent for unique articulation, check out this other gem: Coastal Breezes at the Oregon Coast Affect Exactly ONE Part of My German Wife’s Body
Posted in Denglish
Tagged Deutschland, Expat Life in Germany, German Language, Germany, How to Learn German, Humor, Love, Marriage, Raised in the Wild, Tarzan and Jane, Translation, Vocabulary
Back in February of 2013, my German wife and I were driving through a small village in Niedersachsen when we decided to stop and take a look around (which obviously means she made us stop so she could do some window shopping.) And as usual, my wife was behind the wheel because, A: just looking at the Autobahn gives me a panic attack, and B: I haven’t driven a stick shift since I was 16 years old, so the clutch would probably detonate the moment my foot touched it.
As she parked the car, I noticed my wife reaching for something under the seat; a rectangular piece of paperboard with a rotating dial on the front indicating the time of day. She spun the dial and set it on the dashboard facing outward. I climbed out of the passenger seat, looked through the windshield and saw she’d set the dial to the exact time we’d arrived.
“Honey, I know you’re a good person and all, but now is not the time for honesty.”
Now, there were absolutely no other cars to be seen. No people around either. In fact, the whole place seemed to be asleep. (Asleep or dead. It’s hard to tell with these village Germans.) I couldn’t understand why it would matter how long we parked there, or if some parking inspector would actually be dick enough to check our dial and ticket us for staying too long. Furthermore, I could not understand my wife’s reluctance to take full advantage of a rule system so naive it actually bases itself on trust. Holy shit, I wanted to spin that dial so hard it would say we got there tomorrow.
Anyway, I pointed to the dashboard and said to my wife, “Why not just crank that thing super late, so if you’re asked, you can say, ‘I’m just a silly little German. I made a mistake.’ ”
Without even looking, she dropped her keys in her purse, stepped up onto the sidewalk and said, “Germans don’t make mistakes.”
Posted in Denglish
Tagged Disc Parking, Driving in Europe, Expat, Germany, Humor, Living in Germany, Love, Parkuhr, Relationships, Tips, Travel