Our Blog's Big in Germany

Looking at the statistics of our thought temple, the online medium into which we pour our wisdom, authentically thinging the thing itself, the very blog, into the very essence of what it really is, I noticed that we were quite the trendy option among the knowledgable elite readership in die Mannschaft. The Rhineland loves the Tingy Wingys, and we respect that. We love Germany too. Particularly a club called the Matrix. You have to go under a highway through this tunnel to get there, this is where our Bar-hop leader pretended to run away once. I also remember crossing over it on the way back, the highway that is, although this is probably just the poor continuity of a hazy, drunk mind, climbing the stairs of a crazy kind of cement maze crossing over the roadway and winding back to the ground on the other side. I also remember there being a hot dog stand on the top and I ate a hot dog. I'd been to the outskirts of Berlin with a young girl I'd met at the club. I say young, not underage. Although I know I was the senior of the relationship. I'd been doing Johnny Wilkinson rugby free kicks on the dance floor all night (clenching my two fists direcly in front of me, squatting, and charging forward before gracefully transitioning into a looping, Tiger Woods like stroke of my golden left leg) and she was interested. I'd fallen on my face once or twice. Now she was brining me somewhere, I couldn't be sure where, but stop after stop rolled by. Or maybe I was following her. I can't be sure. But we did have an intimate moment in one of those Train Stations, and I remember that German Train Stations have one of the strangest stenches mine nose has ever smelt, like putting a tire in a waffle maker. But it was 5 in the morning and I had to go home. she gave me her number and I made a couple lucky guesses at different stops. People were heading to work and I was enthusiastically conveying my appreciation of all things Germany but also my frustration about an uncalled handball by the German Frings almost 10 years previously. I landed at what I believed to recall as our area. I couldn't find her number on my person anymore. I stumbled home and slept outside the hostel door with my knees at my chest, a ball, a ball of new experiences. Yes, we love Germany. The blog exists not only because you and I witness it, the blog exists unto itself for it is made of matter built of the most important fabrics, the fabric of great Germans.

For all the German readers I'd also like some help: there is a beer there with no words on it. the label is merely a man sitting outside of a mountain home on a wooden chair with a giant pipe and a mug filled with beer. This was the greatest beer I have ever had. What the hell was it??!! Vas is das.