I’ve been exhausted all through the week. I mostly blame the weather.
It’s been an extraordinary and unusually sunny and warm summer so far. The thing is that where I live you never know what summer is going to be like. It can be all from cold and rainy to sunny and hot. There’s just no predicting.

Anyway, I don’t mind the weather. I hate it when people complain about it. We should all be happy that we actually do have a real summer, and not bitch about how now it’s too hot and too humid and too sunny. Now if we could only have snow in winter I’d be thrilled.

The bad thing is that I can’t really sleep. The windows in our apartment are open all through the day (and the night), but it never ever cools down. Worst of all I just can’t seem to get tired enough. Every night when I go to bed I just can’t get to sleep. I feel like talking and staying up longer, doing things. And then in the morning when I have to get up I just want to stay in bed and sleep. My whole sleep-rhythms been affected by summer warmth.

Then I eat nothing during the day and am too lazy to fix something healthy or at least halfway dinner-appropriate at night. Everything’s a mess, but mostly I’m just happy because we have a real summer for once.

Speaking of food, I bought a nice bottle of slightly expensive olive oil yesterday. It was 3.25 Euro for 100 ml, just in case someone wants to know, but it was good. We had it for starters, just warm bread with olive oil and a drop of vinegar and then we ordered pizza.
My bento box hasn’t gotten here yet. I guess it’s gonna take some time coming all the way from Japan, but I’m so impatient, I want to have it now! I keep on browsing through cooking magazines and books for inspiration. I also need onigiri molds and all my happiness depends on those rabbit and bear shaped egg molds. I’m crazy. I also infected Andreas with the bento madness and now we can talk about bentos all day long. He’s crazy too, in case you hadn’t noticed.

I miss my Ehle. I think my AIM is about to die of boredom.

My loveliest white dress is ruined and will never be white again. I don’t know which color it will be in the near future, but definitely not white.

We were at a party on a Friday and it was all fun and great, except nobody had a bottle opener so they kept opening their beer bottles with other things, mostly other beer bottles and lighters. I can’t do that, I always need a proper tool for opening bottles, but then again, I couldn’t drink since I was the designated driver (for more people than I ever could imagine, but that’s another story).

Anyway, it was around 1 or 1:30 when someone smart decided to accidentally pick a plastic printer cartridge filled with bright red ink and open his bottle with that. Guess what gave in first? I’ll give you a hint: It was NOT the bottle. Of course, I was the one standing right next to the guy so I was just sprinkled with red ink all over. It came right off my skin, but I pretty much knew right away that it would not come off my dress. My beautiful white „I-could-marry-in-that“ dress.

So, you might be able to imagine how thrilled I was. The party was over anyway, so I just wanted to get home. It was just an accident, so I tried to appear like I didn’t mind that much, when in fact I did. I minded a lot. I love that dress. But okay, I try to make the best out of most everything, so I’ll just try to bleach and die the dress. It will still be wonderful in another darker color, so I’ll get over it. It still was not fun when it happened.

By the way, we learned that if absolutely necessary we can transport six people with our car. This requires however that four of the six have to be relatively small and pretty drunk, so they don’t mind or even more probable don’t even notice that their extremities are squished together.

Important question: What is the difference between a cupcake and a muffin?

What defines a cupcake and what defines a muffin? Are they like siblings or otherwise related? Can they be the same? I mean, they look pretty similar.

Please enlighten me.

And whose fault is that…? Well, I’ll tell you later.

I now know that it’s easily possible to spend a whole morning clicking through all the pictures of the bentobox Flickr group. It also makes your body produce endless amounts of saliva, so you end up drooling in front of your computer. At work.

Funny, no?

Anyway. I want a bento box. I don’t know where I can get one, but I will find out and I will get a great one. Plus, maybe one for the husband. I don’t know if he really needs one though. It just seems fair.

I already ordered a bento cook book. And I can’t stop myself from clicking on and on through all the pictures. So good. So tasty.

So, whose fault was it? Srah’s, of course.

Andreas and I just realized we may be the world’s most boring people¹. We have absolutely nothing to say lately, not even to each other. It seems like there’s nothing even remotely interesting happening in our life, so we basically just try to see who will bore the other to death first.

And mighty big fun that is.

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¹ Feel free to disagree. Actually it is encouraged.

We finally booked a small house in Southern France, where we will forget there actually is a rest of the world for two weeks in early September.

And just because I know you will hate me for it, here is a link to the actual village we’ll be staying.

So? Jealous yet?

I just realize I’d be forever busy if I pointed you to every celebrity that needs to eat more than a single fricking tic-tac every day. It’s sad.

I’m not sure what it is that makes these women go from fit and gorgeous to weary and skeletal. I wish it would stop. I just hope that American Idol’s Katherine doesn’t give in to the weird temptation, since one of the things I always adored about her (aside from the fact that she could, you know, sing) was that she actually had curves. Like real-life natural curves assuring you that if you ever had lunch with her you’d not be the one feeling bad, because you had a hamburger and fries as opposed to her green salad with no dressing. Because she’d probably have a hamburger, too.

The same goes for Victoria „Posh Spice“ Beckham. Not sexy. Not cool.

Eat something, goddamnit!

Can someone please feed Keira Knightley? Please? I mean, it’s like, for everybody’s good.

I mean there’s a difference between being skinny and just not eating. Just as there is a difference between being flat-chested and actually remembering having breasts.

You can see why here.