Did he just say, Puppenkiste? You mean the dolls with strings?

Hey gang,
I just came off a killer weekend of wild partying. It was sick! It started off light with a movie and a drink, went straight through to mozart youth concert and ended up at the theatre, puppet theatre, Yo!

Friday I saw Walk to Line, IN GERMAN. WOOT! Hallo. Ich bin Johnny Cash. Then, I drank some wine and had a great talk with my new (and only) girlfriend here in Germany. No worries. She is seriously awesome. I adore her. Saturday the party continued as we went to see a youth orchestra play mozart. One of Alexander's friends was the conductor. Dirigent in German. For the last piece, there was a clarinet soloist who was so nervous he had to wipe the sweat off his instrument. Yeah, that one. I developed a gross- teenaged acne- so-nervous-that-he's-sweating and-shaking-sympathy crush on the poor guy until our friend the conductor told us later that he is (freaking) 23 and plays professionally. That sort of ruined the mystique. Then, he was just a 23 year old musician with zits and a profuse sweating problem.

But the big party came on Sunday. What? No. Not the Superbowl party. There's no Superbowl in Germany. I'm talking about Puppenkiste. That's puppet theatre for all you Anglos. You have not lived until you've seen the ugly duckling performed with dolls on strings. They sing, they dance, they do everything real actors do except less annoying. There were two ducks one named 'Gunsy' and the other one, 'Roses' for Guns and Roses. They were the rebels. And the little pig baby was named 'Specky' which means bacon. How mean is that? Still, I am thinking of naming my first child Specky if she's chubby. You know, start the torment early and all. The momma pig even had nipples that clacked on the floor when she moved around.

The kids loved it. Oh, not my kids. We had some friends come into town for the day yesterday. They had no reaction, but just about every other kid in the place was eating it up.

Later.