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"You really should be more prepared for an occasion like that."
Secretary of the Abroad departement, Universität Trier.
Chapter 1
How to get there – Office insanity takes over
I was looking at the pokerface of the middle-aged secretary in a little office in the study abroad department of Universität Trier in Midsummer 2008, 38 degree on the thermometer, trying to understand what she was trying to tell me and just by the faded memory I got now of this moment, I think she could tell that I didn't quite know what she was talking about. “Oh, I think I forgot about that...”, I said, smiling and trying to look apologetic and casual at the same time. But even if I succeeded in that which I definitely would not bet on, my brain was going mental, shouting at me: ”What the fuck is she talking about?? What bloody paper? The fucking deadline is in two days, what the fuck is going on??” I was slightly panicking, I must admit. Actually, I was absolutely horrified for I already saw my year abroad waving at me whilst sitting in the train I apparently just missed. If I could have at least read what it's destination was I would've been able catch the next one, but I was completely lost. On that time, I've already been running around for at least two week to get all that shit for the application form together and now that happens? I didn't spend that long a time running around offices and copy shops when I could've aswell, I don't know, slept or had a wank... But I was trying to calm the fuck down to find out what this slightly intimidating lady was talking about in the first place, so I asked her very politely: “What the hell are you talking about?” She wasn't quite keen to hear that and even less to give me further information but in the end she told me what to do and I started to run around to get all that shit for my application form together again, but now with the feeling that I actually knew what I was doing, at least slightly. And the best thing was, it wasn't even that much left to do so I had enough time to sleep and have wanks. That's nice, isn't it?
When I finally had my shit together and the application was packed up and sent in, a terrible era of waiting for an answer began. I had chosen Dublin, Reading and Colchester as the three Universities that should be lucky enough to teach me lessons in language and life. I don't know if it was the fact that they didn't really feel that lucky about it or that there where more than twice as many people as there were places at the Unis, but somehow, a couple of weeks later, I got a letter which said I was denied from going abroad. Silly fuckers, everyone should be pleased to have me. They apparently weren't. So I said good-bye to my wonderful plans and started to do again what I do best: absolutely nothing. If they don't let me go right now, I'll go next semester, fuck that, they will see what they get when sending one of the geeks.
A few days later though, my “fuck-it” - attitude slightly changed to a “fuck-them” - attitude and I was thinking about starting to do prank calls and write bizarre complaints to the people that dared to deny me, but that never happened, probably due to my laziness. So I just got back to everyday life.
But of course, you wouldn't be able to read this now if there wasn't a time for wonders. Or little cunts dropping out of the programme because they wet their panties. What apparently happened two weeks after I got my letter of denial, was that the boy who stole my place (yes, that's how I still refer to that, he fucking stole it by being a geek and scoring more than 40% in the exams and essays that silly boy) at Essex University finally bitched out, probably because he read about the increasing number of people getting knifed in England or the decreasing number of mothers who already reached puberty, especially in Essex. But that's speculation right there, probably he just had the swine flu or something. However, what really counts here is the fact that now I had my ticket to ride and would make damn sure to use it properly. I hoped for England that they were prepared. It turned out, they not really were.
Secretary of the Abroad departement, Universität Trier.
Chapter 1
How to get there – Office insanity takes over
I was looking at the pokerface of the middle-aged secretary in a little office in the study abroad department of Universität Trier in Midsummer 2008, 38 degree on the thermometer, trying to understand what she was trying to tell me and just by the faded memory I got now of this moment, I think she could tell that I didn't quite know what she was talking about. “Oh, I think I forgot about that...”, I said, smiling and trying to look apologetic and casual at the same time. But even if I succeeded in that which I definitely would not bet on, my brain was going mental, shouting at me: ”What the fuck is she talking about?? What bloody paper? The fucking deadline is in two days, what the fuck is going on??” I was slightly panicking, I must admit. Actually, I was absolutely horrified for I already saw my year abroad waving at me whilst sitting in the train I apparently just missed. If I could have at least read what it's destination was I would've been able catch the next one, but I was completely lost. On that time, I've already been running around for at least two week to get all that shit for the application form together and now that happens? I didn't spend that long a time running around offices and copy shops when I could've aswell, I don't know, slept or had a wank... But I was trying to calm the fuck down to find out what this slightly intimidating lady was talking about in the first place, so I asked her very politely: “What the hell are you talking about?” She wasn't quite keen to hear that and even less to give me further information but in the end she told me what to do and I started to run around to get all that shit for my application form together again, but now with the feeling that I actually knew what I was doing, at least slightly. And the best thing was, it wasn't even that much left to do so I had enough time to sleep and have wanks. That's nice, isn't it?
When I finally had my shit together and the application was packed up and sent in, a terrible era of waiting for an answer began. I had chosen Dublin, Reading and Colchester as the three Universities that should be lucky enough to teach me lessons in language and life. I don't know if it was the fact that they didn't really feel that lucky about it or that there where more than twice as many people as there were places at the Unis, but somehow, a couple of weeks later, I got a letter which said I was denied from going abroad. Silly fuckers, everyone should be pleased to have me. They apparently weren't. So I said good-bye to my wonderful plans and started to do again what I do best: absolutely nothing. If they don't let me go right now, I'll go next semester, fuck that, they will see what they get when sending one of the geeks.
A few days later though, my “fuck-it” - attitude slightly changed to a “fuck-them” - attitude and I was thinking about starting to do prank calls and write bizarre complaints to the people that dared to deny me, but that never happened, probably due to my laziness. So I just got back to everyday life.
But of course, you wouldn't be able to read this now if there wasn't a time for wonders. Or little cunts dropping out of the programme because they wet their panties. What apparently happened two weeks after I got my letter of denial, was that the boy who stole my place (yes, that's how I still refer to that, he fucking stole it by being a geek and scoring more than 40% in the exams and essays that silly boy) at Essex University finally bitched out, probably because he read about the increasing number of people getting knifed in England or the decreasing number of mothers who already reached puberty, especially in Essex. But that's speculation right there, probably he just had the swine flu or something. However, what really counts here is the fact that now I had my ticket to ride and would make damn sure to use it properly. I hoped for England that they were prepared. It turned out, they not really were.
Der Anti-Blog-Blog - 8. Sep, 16:56