The Van’s A Rockin’
Posted by Aurora Night in Travel on June 15, 2013
I just have to go see this! This video takes about 5 minutes to watch, but this place is COOL! You won’t believe how much it cost to build the model airport.
(And don’t forget to look for the rockin’ van!)
No Vuvuzelas or Silly String
Posted by Aurora Night in Travel on June 12, 2013
It may be Europe’s most far-out celebration of the year.
This July, travelers from across Europe will descend on Essen, Germany for an out-of-this-world party in honor of what some would call the greatest saga of all time.
But travelers beware…
Leave your Vuvuzelas and Silly String at home.
If you don’t, you may be subject to punishment of galactic dimensions.
Due to the nature of this event, a very specific weapons policy has been devised.
Party-goers accustomed to bringing along their daggers, hatchets, knives, kunai, shuriken, swords, and sword canes will have to leave them behind.
That goes for slingshots and water balloons, too.
Why?
Because we’re not talking about any ordinary party.
We’re talking about an inter-galactic nerd-fest:
But before you get your Jedi Underoos in a bunch, the organizers assure fans they’re not trying to dissuade anyone’s costuming passion, they just had to draw the line at projectile, metal, and chemical weapons.
I think that rules out blasters, but as far as I can tell… light sabers are okay.
By the way, if you’re wondering what a Vuvuzela is, join the club.
I had to look it up:
Now I see why these weapons are banned!
Sci-Fi Dad is Why I Travel
Posted by Aurora Night in Life on June 6, 2013
A road trip with my dad always starts like this:
Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding.
“Accelerate to attack speed!”
“Dad… Shut the car door.”
Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding.
“Dad…”
“ACCELERATE TO ATTACK SPEED!”
“Dad… we have to go.”
“RED ALERT!”
“Yes… I can see the red light flashing. That’s because you need to SHUT — THE — CAR — DOOR.”
“I need more power!”
“Dad, you’re not going to leave the driveway until I play along, are you?”
Ding, ding, ding.
“I’m an adult now, Dad. I’m too old for this.”
Ding, ding.
“FINE!!!!!! I’m givin’ her all she’s got, cap’n. There! Now can we please go?”
“I sense a disturbance in the force.”
“I’ll disturb your force, all right.”
“I am your father.”
“Okay, Darth Vader… just DRIVE THE DANG CAR!”
My dad has a Sci-Fi obsession. He loves Star Wars and Star Trek and Battlestar Galactica and pretty much anything with hot women in space suits.
I have to admit, I share the same obsession. Except for the hot women in space suits part.
Me, I’m more of a Firefly girl. I have a thing for Captain Tight Pants.
So how did growing up with a Sci-Fi Dad affect me?
Well, for as long as I can remember, I wanted to be a Big damn hero.
I wanted to Boldly go where no one has gone before and Feel the force.
I wanted to travel at light speed or warp speed or whatever speed it took to see brave new worlds.
More importantly…
I believed I could.
But now that I’m a grownup and I’ve realized that intergalactic space travel is unaffordable … and, oh yeah, not possible (yet) … I’ve substituted travel of the terrestrial variety.
It began with those road trips with my dad.
We never had a lot of money, so we didn’t fly to exotic lands. Like old episodes of Star Trek, we filmed our faraway stories in nearby places.
We climbed into my dad’s old pickup and went to the desert to camp among mesquite bushes, fish beneath cliff dwellings, and search for bits of pottery until a rattlesnake sent me screeching back to the truck.
Over the years, I ventured a little further and learned a few things along the way:
“Go where no one has gone before” doesn’t mean we have to go to a place that’s undiscovered. It means, “Go where no one you know has gone before.” It means, “Go where no one has gone before in the last hour, the last day, the last week, or the last year.”
It means explore. It means wander. It means go.
“Big damn heroes” don’t have to live in spaceships. They’re also teachers who show their students far-off worlds inside a microscope. They’re moms who take their kids for long walks in the woods. They’re dads who point out tiny flowers growing among the rocks.
“There is no try, only do” is probably the best bit of advice I’ve ever heard. Even if the advice was given to me by a little green man with a weird voice, big ears, and three toes. “Do. Or do not. There is no try.”
And so I do.
I have a pencil so I write.
I have feet so I wander.
I have a mind so I wonder.
I have a voice so I say…
“Thanks Dad… You mean the universe to me.”
(Now will you PLEASE shut the car door!)
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Life’s Too Short for the Wrong Job
Posted by Aurora Night in Life on June 4, 2013
New German ad campaign. Ever had a job like that?
See all ten ads: http://freeonlinenews.org/excellent-german-recruitment-campaign/
Gummi Playboys
Posted by Aurora Night in Life on May 31, 2013
Gummi is the German word for Rubber…
As in the material.
For instance, gummi band is the German term for rubber band.
We usually hear the word Gummi along with the German word for Bear, as in Gummi Bär … the ever popular chewy, fruity candy.
Gummy Bears were invented in Bonn, Germany in the 1920s by the founder of the Haribo company.
They made their way to the United States in 1982.
Now, Haribo produces over 80 million Gummy Bears a day for worldwide distribution.
But, alas…the times, they are a-changin.
These days, not every customer is satisfied with a cute and cuddly bear.
On my last trip to the candy store, I discovered Gummi Playboys. I just couldn’t resist buying a bag of these buff (and in-the-buff) gummi men. But I’m afraid you’ll have to buy your own if you want to see the – er -
Details.
For all you guys out there – there’s no need to despair.
They have Gummi Playgirls, too.
By the way, while I was “researching” this post, I came across this tidbit of information in an article on the history of the gummy bear:
THE BEARS GO BOOB TIME
Ever squished a gummy bear between your fingers and though, “Hmm, feels like boobies?” No? Well, me either, but evidently someone has—”gummy bear” breast implants have actually been on the market since 2005, FDA-approved since 2006. They’re not actual gummy bears, but they are made of a silicone gel material that mimics the firm but soft texture of the gummy bears.
Read the full text here: mentalfloss.com
Good news guys … those Gummi Playgirls may be more realistic than you think!
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The Bridge Monkey and the Gross Vat
Posted by Aurora Night in Travel on May 28, 2013
I bet your vision of traveling through Europe doesn’t include mounting a gross vat or groping a bridge monkey. But if you travel to Heidelberg, Germany, that might just be what you do.
The gross vat is located here, inside the Heidelberg Castle.
It’s not gross as in disgusting, but gross as in the German word for big. The vat is the world’s largest wine cask. A 130 oak trees were needed to build the vat and visitors must climb 42 steps to reach the top.
The gross vat is guarded by the famous dwarf Perkeo, a court fool who is said to have died after drinking a glass of water instead of the 18 bottles per day of wine he was used to.
After visiting the castle, make your way to the Old Bridge Gate. This is where the bridge monkey stands guard.
Touching the monkey is supposed to guarantee good luck, a safe return, and many babies. The mirror the monkey holds is meant to remind the people passing through the bridge gate to look both ahead and behind.
Just don’t get confused – if you intend to rub the monkey for good luck, I recommend approaching him from ahead and not behind!
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Give Me a Meter of Milk!
Posted by Aurora Night in Culture on May 25, 2013
I’m a gallon of milk girl.
But these days I live in Germany where they use the metric system. There’s no such thing as a gallon of milk.
I can get a bigger beer at a festival than I can a container of milk at the grocery store. While a typical carton of milk is 1 liter, a glass of beer ranges in size from 1-3 liters.
If you ask me, milk should only come in a single serving size if it’s part of a school lunch. It’s downright frustrating!
But I have a solution. Give me a meter of milk! Sound foolish?
It’s not! A meter is a bona fide serving size in Germany. Check it out:
For those watching their weight, there’s the ever-popular half-meter:
I’ll say one thing – if I ever convince the powers that be to produce a meter of milk, someone better send me a kilometer of Oreos!!
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