I went to Munich for a 10 hour party, and all I got was:

• the longest journey of my life due to 6 other freaks in the van singing *NSync songs and philosophing about how to get drunk the cheapest way and getting lost because despite GPS, we are too fucking stupid to even navigate to the closest McDonald's, let alone the city and the club we're looking for.
• a humiliating scenario with a bouncer who wouldn't let me in ("Look, I know I'm 17, but I look 18, SO WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM!")
• rain. RAIN. My haircut is NOT in tolerance of rain. Rain = Evil.
• minus 10 bucks on my account and owing my brother half of my soul because not only did he stop for me to go to the rest room, but he also paid for my tampons.
• a bust by the cops. The 7 of us plus 2 other native Munichans (I always wanted to use that word) were in the van looking for the next best place to hit (that would not check my fake ID so intensly) when Italiano, squeezed tight to the door, accidentially lifted his head. There were sirens everywhere, they stopped us, asked us what the fuck we were doing with 9 people in a van, gave us some bullshit about responsability and showed us the way to the coolest Hip Hop club in town.
• my brother fucking his ex-girlfriend in the van (while the rest of us were in the club)
• me looking like Medusa the snake head.
• seeing The Company hooking up with The Diva.

Amusing, isn't it.

That last one though, that really hit home. And maybe, probably, I have no right to be pissed off, but come on. It's just not right for them to make out. I slept with this guy. He is my best mate. She is as close to me as the herpes on my inner labia (well, she does sometimes pretend to be. It's less gross and more sexual than it probably sounds). I am invoking the unwritten rules here.

Funny enough, I am not angry at him at all. Misogynic behaviour? I don't think so. Having a secret crush on her? Maybe.
No way. At least not for the next couple of days.

It was like in a movie: I was talking to my brother at the bar about where all the people went, we cracked some jokes, danced a little and finally got some beer. We searched our friends seperately, and I ended up at the terrace. I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw them locked in a tight embrace and.. and.. drooling all over each other. I really couldn't take it. I spilled the holy water of yeast and ran outside the club.

Yes. Me. Cool Fucking Sara, I just flee from the spot and never mention it again. I still can't get that picture of spit swapping out of my head. It's gross.

They never talked to me about it, either. There was no "Hey Sara, look how funny, we made out last night, ha ha!". There was no "Oh my God I was so drunk...". Nothing. Just no word about it.

I don't know what that means. I'm slightly disappointed, but certainly pissed. The Diva, as her name might reveal, is a conceited, arrogant bitch. She's also smart, kinda cute, and seems sincerely interested in me, which in return makes me a) treat her shittier than I usually would and b) makes me feel bad.

Last night I realised she would cross just about any line to feel admired and loved, no matter who she has to make out with- she will do it to be assured of her achievement. I feel repelled by this behaviour. I know I might be misjudging her here, and maybe we have a different take on things- but I would never, EVER betray a girlfriend like that. The Company and me were never exclusive, so who cares about him making out. I can see her in my inner eye shouting "OMG NOW THERE ARE THREE DIFFERENT GUYS IN OUR GROUP OF MUTUAL FRIENDS WHO LIKE ME!!!111! W00t!1!" I mean, she would totally say that if she were a MySpace emo whore- let's just pretend.

Tomorrow I'll be another 4 hours en train to Munich- The Cucumber invited me over til Wednesday (I know it sounds retarded. "Sara, you've already been in Munich today. Why did you leave in the first place if you're going to return tomorrow, anyway?" That's because my parents didn't know we took their car and went away 450 kilometres with 5 other kids. And also because I already bought the expensive train ticket. Who knew we were going to go to fucking Munich for a party?). Tomorrow's her last examn and her campus is throwing this big summer half term party where I get free drinks. Free drinks? Did anyone say free drinks?

I haven't slept properly in approximately 55 hours, after dancing, cleaning the whole house up, getting really wasted (not last night, though)-- did I mention I'm totally beyond broke? I've made it a profession living off other people's wage, except I used to balance it karma-wise. Now, there's NOTHING to give back save my company, and dude, you'd rather have a hooker on your lap instead having me burning up your stash.

Seriously. My fucking pride is on vacation.

Also, here is a video of the Sloth and Italiano getting into a stupid fight about.. well, I don't know. But they're funny idiots, Beavis & Butthead style. Only German speakers will understand, but you can hear me laughing like a tool in the background.

I don't really know who had the idea in the first place, but me, my brother and 5 friends are going to Munich tonight for clubbing, and return tomorrow morning. That's a 4 hour party drive.

My parents are out for the weekend so we can do whatever the fuck we want. We threw a party last night, the house is a wreck, I haven't slept more than 1 hour and I'm still on it.

Funny enough, I've been asking my parents for two weeks now to let me go to Munich to visit The Cucumber. Last week they bought me the train tickets and on Monday, I'm officially in Munich, again.

Best summer vacation ever.

My brother dragged me along to a concert last night. I thought it was going to suck, so I took The Company who would at least keep me smiling and drinking. In fact, I only went because my brother was willing to pay me the entry, so yeah. I think my only real aim in life is to claim my personal suggar daddy. I'd be happy til the end of times.

Anyway, it was a German band called "Bosse". And guess what? I totally fell in love.

See, there's one thing about Germany you should know: We are so sick of ourselves that we lean towards other nation's cultural activities. Movies? Music? Literature? Everything is foreign. The only thing we're proud of here is soccer and cars, the rest is, in simple words: crap.

When it comes to music I usually think that the German language should be banned. It is grotesque. Never wondered why Rammstein were so successful? They use as few words as possible. Meanwhile, other rather popular music acts in Germany are "ghetto rap artists", which basically means that they're dumb, stupid and usually, they don't even come from the block and they've never been to jail, either. Man, Jack Johnson is more ghetto than they are. MTV and TRL are fed with new stuff from overseas. My interest in music is huge, but I seldomly find a band that convinces me. Last time it was Panic! At The Disco, this time? Bosse. A German rock band.

I suck at explaining and doing resumés. All I know is that they were amazing, sounding like a mixture of Queens of The Stone Age and Social Distortion with a hint Goo Goo Dolls. I might be completely wrong, though. I was also standing right behind the amplifiers. I didn't hear all that well.

They were funny, too. Told us a story to every of their songs, made us rock the evening. I never had so much fun in two hours. They had me crying, laughing, shocked, inspired.. aah.

Enough with the cheese. I'm going to put a song up as soon as I have the album (there are some things in this world that are worthy of spending money).

Bosse put a smile upon my face. =)

I've always been a wakeful person. Not in a permanent, insomniac way, merely phases of stress and emotional crisis. I'd get used to it, and soon enough I'd be back to routine- my minimum in school days is about 3 hours of sleep, on weekends maybe 8, 10 or 17, depending on how much I drank the night before. But this, right now? It's driving me out of my fucking mind.

I've tried counting sheep. I'm restlessly throwing myself from side to side. There's not one sleeping position I haven't been into. It's 3 AM, I'm dead tired, but I can't drift away. I get up to get some chocolate. I read boring Hemingway. I listen to soothing Mozart and Bach. I listen to Emo music (it didn't work. But then, Emo is generally useless). I dream up my entire future, #1. I dream up my entire future, #2, this time in a realistic manner, but it only depresses me. I text message people in Australia to keep me up. I listen to a story on tape. It's 6 AM by now and I'm listening to birds. I do advanced calculus in my head*. I wrote this blog entry in my mind. I listen to my dad using the bathroom, going downstairs and preparing the daily caffeine injection. I create & solve various Sudoku puzzles. I masturbate. Very often. I get sore and sour. I recite old Buffy quotes. I try to imagine a hook up between me and Keira Knightley. I fan fiction the upcoming events at Alias. I pray - if that doesn't prove my fucked up state of mind, then I don't know what will. It's 8 AM, the garbage truck is passing beneath my window. I think about what I could sell and possible money plans and savings (I came up with no great business ideas and I'm still skint- in fact, I have even less money. Must've spent my last bucks on the hypothetical date with Keira. She's a greedy bitch, you know). I try to compose a song and add some funky lyrics to it. I hear my brother leaving the house, so I go downstairs, turn on the PC and resume my downloads. I get back to bed. I play the association game, which is pretty boring when you do it by yourself.

Finally, at 11 AM, I fall asleep.

At 1 PM, in deep sleep and finally being able to relax, my brother storms into my room - and I mean literally storms into my room, the door had to be fixed later - because The Diva called up and convinced me brother to wake me up. He was sick of calling upstairs so he just ran inside which caused me, by the age of almost-18, to have a stroke.

This has been going on for 10 days in a row and I just can't help myself anymore. I'm on holidays, for God's sake, I should be sleeping 14 hours MINIMUM a day. Last night I felt so tired and strung out that I took some Codein, which knocked me out for a couple of hours but made me feel sick and worn in the morning. We used to take it after acid trips to lower down and ever since I'm a little sensitive to it.

In effect, I can't help jumping at anyone who provokes me in the least. Or even if they don't. I. Just. Can't. Take. It. Anymore.

*2+2=4, 4-2=2, 3+8=11, 22-10=12...

It took me exactly 2 days and 2 nights to watch Alias: Season 2. I am obsessed again. Although I'd watched the episodes before, I just couldn't help being caught up in it again. I wasn't even intending to get so sucked into it. Tecker's Girlfriend lend me the box and in a moment of boredom, I decided to watch one or two episodes. Well, 48 hours later, I'm hanging on like a junkie on turkey to get S3. TG is in Toscany right now, so either I'll have to wait another wait to get my fix, or I can just download 3,6 GB worth of breath taking tension.

Guess what I'm doing right now.

Anyway, one thing that amuses me alot in American shows is how they profile other countries and their behaviour, as well as reflect foreign nations so unprofessionally, it cracks me up every time.

Germans, for instance, are always the villains that don't succeed. Always. They usually have blonde, wavy hair, relatively long, wear glasses and look like they just dropped out of WWII. I swear I haven't seen any German look like this, and I'm sure I never will.

Most importantly, they usually use their own (American) actors to speak German. The thick accent is unmistakable. How hard could it possibly be to find a German speaking extra to fit the job?

Oh and, I never thought that Jennifer Garner was hot. On stills, she looks skinny, childish... cute, but not hot. Same goes for Micheal Vartan. Interesting how my opinion changes after 22 episodes... hot, hot, hot. Except, the final left me crying. And I'm still shaking. I need my fix. Now.

I went to an anti war demonstration with my parents today. About 200 of Arabic and German people gathered in downtown Frankfurt (Hauptwache) and listened to speeches held about the war, the US, the harmed children- it was harsh and honest- you could literally feel the pain under your skin- and just so perfectly timed, with the Christopher Street Day parade in the background.

It went like this:

Spokesperson: "Let us pray for the health of the civilians and for the humanity of our fellow Arabs..."
Gay naked guy in background: "ANAL PENETRATION!"
Spokesperson: "... and let us please not forget to pray for Allah to make this war stop and give us peace again for our brothers and sisters.."
Hardcore lesbian fingering her girlfriend: "WE ARE CUMMING!"
Spokesperson: "... and unite the country again.."
Parade: *techno techno techno* *beer beer beer*

Well, yeah. It left quite an impression.

Later that day me and The Company went to the Traffic Jam Festival, an annual big party in the sun for those who can't afford the "real" deal with major line-ups, like Southside, Rock am Ring or Hurricane- I thought it was going to be all raggae and spliffs, but it turned out to be majorly unknown shoutcore metal bands and a bandwagon full of wasted punks and emos. Beautiful lyrical outpouring. All I got from the songs was "BWAAAH, BWAHA BAHA BWAAAAH"- but I'm quite unsure.
Although I must admit there was one guy who was funny as hell. Funny in a "beer coming out of your nose" way. It was only him and his guitar. Jack Johnson for Germany, only maybe a notch more into weed and alcohol.

Best line I overheard tonight:

Drunk guy: "Who here .. has... tele-- tel- telekenetik powers? RAISE MY HAND!"

Best. Video. Ever.

This is one of these posts I wouldn't dare to publish on a relatively known blog. Maybe one of these days I'll tell my friends everything about me, but just right now, it seems like all they can do is raise their eyebrows and look at me as if I'm a ho. Not to mention the teachers who still have my URL (don't ask me HOW they got it, but sometimes they approach me saying "hey good job, I like your writing" and I totally freak out. Particularly during my L-Word obsession. I'm not just a weirdo, I'm officially gay, too. Way to screw my grades!).

About a week ago some friends of my parents stopped by for lunch, and they brought along their son, my Permanent Crush from the age of 9 until I was about 13. I didn't see him often, so every two months I'd fall in love again. He is two years older than me, and we would only get to see each other on big family or Syrian or Islam gatherings. You know, the cultural bullshit I'd pay money to avoid.

He's Half American, Half Syrian, living in Germany- he deals with the same shit as I do, partly ignorant parents who want him to be a perfect Muslim (much like his two older siblings are- Jehovas Witnesses couldn't be more fanatic). This is what brought us closer in the first place, and the chronic absence of my older brother who still went to boarding school back then.

When I was 15, we were hanging outside of a building where 30 or 40 families celebrated the end of Ramadan. He bored the crap out of me and I think I wasn't helping the situation, so one thing led to another and we had a good loving in his brother's car. It was tense and exciting, and to know I got someone I used to want- pushed me way up on the ego scale. He's decent looking and smells good and knows how to make a girl enjoy herself.

Ever since, whenever we saw each other and couldn't fight the urge to kill boredom, we'd fuck. He is an arrogant player and really doesn't give a shit about whether I'm having a good time or not, and it's exactly this attitude that gives me the kinks. No foreplay, no fussing- just hitting it. I don't know if he ever noticed how good he is, I'm not a big moaner, but he is 2nd place on my Top 7 list of people I've slept with.

Two years ago, I randomly met him in Syria- his first time in Damascus- and we spent 6 weeks together. Six weeks, and I don't know the smallest detail of his private life. Sure, the music and movies he likes, some of his dreams- but we were usually pretty caught up. Once, we tried to have a threesome with an American chick who lives one flat beneath us in Damascus, but she was knocked out after the first round of shots and so fucking was no option. I don't mind it didn't happen-- if the first experience with a girl is going to be a threesome, my life is determined to suck.

Anyway- when I met him last week, he told me that now he's done with school and going to leave for Australia. Surprisingly, he asked if I would like a date with him before he leaves. I was irritated, because we had never been on the level of dating. I agreed, and last night we met. We had a drink, and he spilled out something I would've never even dared to assume: He loves me. He said he couldn't stop thinking of me- last time we saw each other was March, and ever since he's just out of his mind because he's leaving so soon.

He took my hands, looked into my eyes and said, "Sara- I'm not asking you to wait for me. Just please don't forget there's someone who wants, and needs you. And maybe when I come back, we're both ready for a relationship." Or something along these lines, anyway.

I felt completely exhausted. Not because of his confession, but because there's nothing even close to love that I feel for him. Nothing. And there's absolutely noone else either.. except.. maybe.. but that's another story.

We went outside of the bar and started to kiss. And ended up in his car again. I feel guilty, but he actually thanked me afterwards. Okay, fellas, if there's one thing you really shouldn't say after a quickie, it's thank you. She'll feel like a cheap whore, although I understood where he was coming from. It was saying goodbye to an old friend, and it was also saying goodbye to an old part of me- the part that doesn't know shit about guys and relationships. Hey, now there's more space for the part of me who has no fucking clue what I want. Life's a bitch.

It wasn't a sad date. It was sweet and comfortable, and he isn't devastated at all- no pity me scene, no "please come with me", nothing like that. We both know we're no relationship material, at least for now we're not, and that there are plenty other things to care about. It's kind of the same situation with The Company, the guy I hang out with almost every day. I know he wants to be with me romantically - he told me- but I drew a line. There's no chemistry, so why play it out? And as opposed to what I did with Permanent Crush, The Company and I stopped having sex or anything else altogether. There's enough fuss already.

I really think it's time to fall in love again.

This video is a killer. Literally.

I should really go to England someday- seems like the stereotype is true, the British chicks are up for anything.