Tyrol birthday party, weird unclish collateral damage and showering insect flatmates

On friday a good friend of mine celebrated his birthday in the Tyrol. I planned to attend this fine party with Philipp, but he got sick and therefore wasn’t really in the mood to drive 450km, party hard and drive all the way back. So the plan was kind of screwed, but when I then got home in the evening and Julia had already plans to go out I decided to go anyways, jumped on the next train and off I went.

The train was an ICE, german stuff, and whilest it’s fast it totally sucks from a comfort point of view. I got a ticket for riding trains all over austria, so I didn’t have to pay for that ride. Therefore I decided to take the 7 euro 1st-class-upgrade, just because. Turns out that I’d have needed it anyways – ICE’s don’t offer power supply for your very laptop in second class, greedy bastards, and furthermore the 1st class in ICE’s sucks in general.

I became uncle just a few days ago and the clinic has a website where they put up photos of all the newborns, which then the whole family-and-friends-gang can comment on. Funny enough my father, now being grandfather, commented there, too. But not just him, also his new wife. Comment was signed with: “Grandpa Peter and Granny Renate”. Funny fact for you to know: When my brother and I were around 4 or 5 my father kicked us out of home. Not in a “get-a-job-finally-lazy-bastards” kind of kicking 4 or 5 year olds out of home, but more in a “see everyone, that’s Renate the bitch I fuck from now on and therefore mummy and you will have to leave us alone so we can fuck in a private kind of way”. Actually he didn’t say bitch, but I think it would have been more appropriate.

Now despite he tried to get this done, no one of us likes that Renate-person, out of rather obvious reasons I guess. The persons-not-liking-renate-bitch include my brother, so this “Granny Renate” thing is just wrong, no matter how you turn it. Everyone knows that, except our deligthful father. Kind of gives a nice impression on how different his point of view on the whole “reality”-thing is to the majority of the family’s point of view. I guess you have to decline truth and pretend everything’s fine, you know, you’d really have to spit on yourself everyday when you look into the mirror if your reality would keep the picture of “I kicked out my wife with two little children (my own, btw) because of an affair and then those unthankful bastards really try to force me to actually pay them alimonies”.

Today, when I had a shower to wash all the sweating-from-1st-class-leather-seats sweat off my perfectly shaped body, I realized that there’s a cricket in the shower. You know, not that I was too surprised. We do have a lot of cricket-roommates because crickets are small, neither eat much, nor take a lot of space but they really got the business-thing going and pay a fair amount of the rent. But being paying roommates doesn’t really give them the right to join me in the shower. So I took this little fella to task and yelled at him to get the fuck out and wait for me to finish, then take a shower on his own. He didn’t respond at all. No apology, no excuse. Turns out little mr. pervert-cricket was dead. Dead animals are rude I tell you. Flushed the nastard down the toilet.