Dear old Sir,

thank you kindly for telling me “I wish you cancer”, while you saw me smoking a couple of metres away from the other people. Unfortunately you did not have the courage to get off your bike and wait for my answer. You probably only heard my “Why thank you”, but i would like to extend my honest gratitude towards you with a few written words.

First i would like to tell you that it is indeed none of your concern if i smoke and risk my life, you old perverted pedophile piece of ugly shit.
Second thing i would like to tell you, i do not smoke in public spaces when there are non smokers near me.
Furthermore i would like you to know that i am really sorry you were such a coward and hurrying down the street, and i didn’t feel like running after you. Unlike you, you sorry ass, i have to work 10hour shifts and not live on welfare. Actually, my ability to work assures intolerant half dead humam beings like you to get food and still be able to insult strangers.

I look forward to meet your sorry ass again, and tell you personally how happy i am to know that you are already half rotten and see the graveyard ages before me.

with kind regards,
me.

Disclaimer:
I do not hate old people. I spend my whole weekend with my grandmother, and i am usually overly polite when i meet old people. What i do hate is intolerance against any kind of human being. I do understand that it upsets you that smokers wallow their vice near you, which is not healthy for you. But please, dont get all stupid and risk a heartattack if tolerant smokers like me are enjoying the first cigarette since hours after a long working day. Dont insult every smoker you see without any reason. I dont tell you that you smell like a piece of shit and make me vomit cause youre using the most disgusting perfume on the planet. I dont tell you that i would like to shove that Kebab up your ass cause it disgusts me when the subway smells of dead rotten lambs.
I am fully aware that non-smokers can be affected by the smoke, but for heavens sake, if i stand 5 metres away from you, you should be more concerned about the evil cars with their semi-cancerish fumes or the mobile phone that seems to be clued to your ear.

Thank you, old dickhead for ruining my evening. May i extinguish my cigarette on your grave! HUZZA!

Within seconds that butterfly was on my hand, crawling up and down, tickling my fingers, opening its wings once in a while. I was grinning like an idiot, and so were the people that saw me sitting there with that cute little thing on my hand. Needless to say i had my problems to shoot holding the camera with one hand (mind you, it is indeed a heavy one!). One time it decided to check out the butt of the girl sitting next to me. I didnt want to take a photo of her butt, so i just smiled at her and pointed at the butterfly. She smiled and asked: “Do you want him back?” and allowed me to touch her butt with one finger. The loyal little white thing crawled back on my hand (and i got to touch a stranger’s butt!) and stayed there. Once a train stopped and the conductor smiled at me and said “He obviously likes you.” and i only nodded. He probably thought i am a weirdo, or a kid. (And i got to touch the butt of a young lady!)

My train arrived, and it was impossible to make the butterfly fly away or sit on the bench. I pondered. Knowing that when i am starting to ponder hours can fade without a good idea, i stopped it and simply took the butterfly with me. I sat down, and he instantly flew on the window and stared outside. I kept taking photos, listening to Elysian Fields while he was there. Once he flew on my shoulder, and one time on my nose. I can only imagine what the man sitting in front of me thought, when i talked to the butterfly. I bet he only had good thoughts about me! (Yeah riiiight.)

He definetely loved to sit on my hand, which was good cause the tickling on my shoulder was not really bearable. Even though it was bad, cause i had to hold the camera with one hand again. I kept talking to him, and the conductor only arched a brow. It is obviously not normal when someone talks to a butterfly, even though everyone can see the butterfly (and not only the talking person, which would be indeed strange), so i decided to shut my mouth until we got to my station. I was worried that Mr. Butterfly wouldnt keep sitting on my shoulder as soon as i would try to open the door, but he was lovely and sweet and didnt move.

Funny enough, i couldnt make him sit in the gras cause he would try to get back on me again. It was a long and heartwrenching fight, i tell you. It was THAT difficult to make him get off me, but in the end he realised that it would be better this way. We couldnt marry, we wouldnt be a great couple, he knew it. So he stayed in the fine huge green gras, that was finer and greener than the gras in Handelskai. Goodbye, Mr. Butterfly!

Meh.

The first thought i had was:
Well, since Haider (Tintifax) was a good buddy of Saddam Hussein, i shouldnt be suprised that Kasperl Schuessel bakes a Sacher Torte for Bush.

There are loads of protests planed.
One of them is by the Socialistic Youth of Austria. Or they are part of it.
“Bush go home”. I am not sure if they already officially announced their protest. Anyways, i am quite sure i dont want to be part of that protest. Thats the bad thing about such situations.. Many political parties use a protest to get publicity, and i dont want to be mistaken as one of them.

To go or not to go.
Well, i plan on bringing my nikon and take photos, just for the fun of it. We will see, we will see.
Anyone else with a camera who would like to join?

Now there is a test to check how good your viennese slang is!

Clickety Click

I guess the test only makes sense for german readers.
But to give the english readers a few examples (they probably want make you laugh though):

Nymphomaniac: “Nudlfriedhof” = Noodle-Cemetery
VW beetle: “Asphalt-Tuttl” = Asphalt-Boob (tit)

My score was beyond bad. I admit it.

U6 Station “Strandbäder”

I think there is a second one on the other side of the station, but i cant find the photo anymore.
Does someone know who made those fisherman things? An Art group? I doubt it was the idea of the Wiener Linien.

You can see old sailors (Nick Cave’s “Ship Song” started in my head when i saw this man) walking along the danube. I wonder what he was thinking about.

Not only that, you can find young people too! Of course you can. Some of them are playing instruments. Oh my gosh!

Film-Noir styled couples escaping the… uhm… evil people, you know, film noir style!
The couple was sweet, seriously. The man waved at us, and got a huge grin on his face. (Who wouldnt with such a boat and nice lady on board?)

Others simply sit there and ponder. Probably about really interesting things, but asking them would be unpolite, somewhat scary, and surely would destroy the pondering within a second. I like pondering too. And wondering.

The old ships are funny too. Crows were sitting there, and the ducks kept trying to get on the ship. I can only assume how long those ships have been there without moving a few metres. Poor abandoned ships. Where is the Captain? Gone? Damn.

Of course dogs are there too. They make it rather impossible to sit in the gras. Why? If you dont like sitting on dog shit, you’d better find a bench or some other seat. Did i mention that i dislike dogs in the city? Well, i do. Very much so. In every park you can be sure to find dog shit. Heck, even on the streets, in front of your door, you name it.

Romance everywhere! (Besides of the dog shit.)

There is this place where you can jump around. I guess you have to pay for it, but it sure looks like fun!

The Donauinsel is a quite nice place. Sometimes more, sometimes less.
At least its better than the parks, which i already know way too well. At least the ones near my district.
Sometimes i just need fresh air and the walking around aimlessly, and watching other people and hum a little song.

Sweet idea!
a sugarpacket with funny things on it.
This one:
“Invite someone to a little game (and a coffee)”
There was another one about telling your neighbour that she/he is beautiful.

(At a little italian Cafe near the Votiv Kirche)

At work, i require the ID data if i make a payment for a customer. The customer goes to a bank, the bank calls me, and i ask for the ID data. no faxing, just adding the ID number etc. into my programm.
So, a customer went to a bank and wanted to receive money. Thats good.
I asked the bank colleague for the ID data of the customer. He asked the woman for her passport. She got totally mad and asked why the heck we need her ID? The bank colleague didnt want to get into a fight and let the woman talk to me on the phone.

“I need your ID data, cause its a requirement of the system.”
“You are only asking for my ID cause i am a foreigner!”
“No, i ask for the ID of everyone. No matter what nationality they have.”
“You lie!”
“No, i dont.”
“You are a racist!”
“excuse me?”
“A fucking racistt! last time i didnt need an ID.”

So i am obviously a racist because i ask for the ID. I dont give a flying fuck if you are austrian, or mongolian, or from djibouti. I need the ID. Otherwise the program will block me and i wont be able to do anything with the money.
Since when did it became trendy to call someone a racist? I really dont know. Sometimes i would so love to tell the customers what i think if they are going all nuts about an ID. I need an ID as well. Everyone needs one.

The other time, someone called me cause they fucked up something with a currency. I asked them which currency they would like to have paid out. “Well, according to your last name you’re not austrian. In Austria, you know, we are using Euros.” Wow. I so didnt know that! Well, dammit! My answer: “I am astonished by your ability to judge if i am austrian or not, but you are right, my last name is polish. But if you have issues with that, i am sure i can find a typical Aryan to make sure that everything will be done in the correct austrian way.”
That got me into a little bit of trouble. I didnt care. Sometimes it is just too much. .

Second Story
or
“Silence at the airport”

My mother told me a nice story about a colleague of hers. Like always, if i havent been there myself and witnessed it, i cannot guarantee you that everything happened exactly this way. But i trust my mother, and i hope she trusts the sanity of her colleague.
So, this colleague went to the Viennese Airport and got himself a “Schnitzel” at the local restaurant. If you know the airport, there is one restaurant where you need to get your meal from the counter. He put the Schnitzel on a table, and realised he forgot the fork and knife. He went back to the counter, got his instruments and went back to the table. At the table, an african young man sat and ate his Schnitzel. With a mumbled “What the fuck?” he sat down, staring at the young man eating his meal. Knowing his flight would leave really soon, he just calmed down, without saying a word, and ate too. The same Schnitzel. After the Schnitzel was gone, the stranger got up and got a dessert. He put it on the table and moved it into the middle. Both ate the dessert. Without saying a word.
Now, the dessert was eaten, and the stranger got up and left. The colleague as well, and then (now its getting interesting) realised that he didnt sit down at his table. His Schnitzel was untouched and lonely at a table in the other corner. He ate the Schnitzel and Dessert of the stranger.
The moral? Figure it out for yourself, yesyes?
EDIT: this story has obviously been published in a newspaper, and most likely did not happen to this colleague. i am so going to call that bastard..

Third Story
or
“Conspiracy versus Truth”

I read an article about the Flex here
According to Zara, the Flex staff refused africans the entry to the club.
There have been a couple of emails to Zara claiming that the bouncers of the Flex didnt let them in, because they are black. Zara contacted the Flex owner Thomas Eller and asked him why his bouncers are acting like racists. His answer: The flex is sieged with drug dealers.
When he got asked why turkish and african people are refused to get in, he simply calls this statement stupid and said that there are many black people in the Flex.
You can read a statement of Zara here. (It’s a .pfd file and written in german)
Eller said that the people that didnt get in have been known as drug dealers. According to Zara its racist to say that every african man/woman is a drug dealer.
If you read the comments on the Standard article, the Flex has been known as a rather left winged club. I cant really say if thats true, cause the last time i have been there was something anno 2000.

If youre using the U6 right now, i pity you.
I just used it, and usually it takes around 10-15 minutes to get home. Not today. According to the nnouncement there is some fire or something at the U6 station Längenfeldgasse, which causes the traffic to go damn slow. Like… DAMN slow.

At every station we had to wait for like 15 minutes, and the train was of course crowded. There is just something weird about being stuck between people you never met before, smelling them, being touched by them (no no, not a softcore porno!), and listen to what they are chit chatting about. This can be interesting, but not if you are up since 4am, running around and working until 4pm. I wasnt in my best mood, actually, the mood could be described as: annoyed and not really friendly or social.
While Turbonegro calmed me with their song “final warning”, a young woman and her kid (they got on the train at the same station like me and continued to stay very darn close to me) stood next to me. The kid was adorable, and usually i am not very fond of them. Anyways, i was ready to get out of the train and walk the 5 stations home, no matter what. I was deeply annoyed, tired, overworked and stressed out. I sighed more than one time, and tried to lean against the moveable middlepart - wall of the train, which nearly caused me to slip, which didnt really make me more happy. So, while the last part of my patience comitted suicide due the strong force of annoyance, something sweet happened. The little girl, a kid not older than probably 3 years, grabbed my finger. The mother was shocked first, surely because of my not so happy face. But the kid kept clinging to my finger and smiling like i am the Easter Bunny himself. I had to smile too, which is uncommon when i am turning into a furious mindless bitch. So, instead of jumping out and scream and bitch about the whole situation i stood there, smiling, and playing with the little girl. For a long long time. She didnt get bored, neither did i, and the mother was happy that she was able to talk on the mobile while i distracted her little daughter.

So, you might ask what’s the point of this post?
Another rant?
Naw.
Even as a moody bitch like i am you can find a some sort of happy relief if you stop drowning in anger and simply look around and calm down.
Fascinating thing. Really. Even more since a 3 year old girl showed me how to get over a fucked up situation.

Thank you, little cute girl.