Jan. 13th, 2004

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Finally, my hair doesn't look anymore like some strange kind of weed growing out of my head

Which means that I finally made it to the hairdesser's after a shamefully long period of three months. To illustrate the absurdity a little better: the hairdresser is next door.
But now they're dyed afresh and cut. Not too much, because it's winter and I hate it when my ears suddenly feel cold after a more drastic haircut. So it remains down to my earlobes.

Desperation led to inspiration: I bought a very beautiful mocca cup for the gracious hostess (and one for myself, because I collect mocca cups).

The evening was pleasant, except for one bit. There weren't only my friends (Carmen and Moreno--Carmen's the Austrian) and Carmen's mother, but also 2 of Carmen's brothers (both a little older than she) and one of her cousins. The conversation was quite lively, and everybody was enjoying themselves. Only it seems inavoidable for conversations to turn to everyday topics, and one everyday topic the Viennese seem to enjoy a lot is immigrants and the like. So, one of the brothers told that, near where he lives, there's a Jewish school, the students of which are taken there and back home by bus (for security reasons, I suppose). The driver, who ought to park the coach in a spot reserved for him, usually doesn't use it but merely remains in the middle of the street, thus hindering the traffic. So the brother, according to his own words, one day had had enough of this--admittedly irregular--behaviour, went there and said to the driver, "You have one minute to move that damned coach out of the way, or I'm going to pack you into my car and we drive straight to Mauthausen." (Mauthausen was the Austrian concentration camp).
Now, if there is anything I absolutely can't tolerate, it's racism and anti-Semitism. I just can't stomach it.
Only, what was I to do? Usually, if there were no friends involved, I'd give the person a piece of my mind, rise and leave the table. But I'm genuinely fond of Carmen and Moreno, and I didn't want to hurt *their* feelings by telling that brute what exactly I thought of him. So I merely observed that he was lucky, because the driver might have called the police and have him arrested (which is true, because in Austria there's a law against 'Wiederbetaetigung', i.e., repeating the Nazis' actions in word or deed. Something like the Mauthausen quote might have earned him a few hundred Euros fine or a week or two in jail).
But I didn't feel very much at my ease after that, simply because I don't like sitting at the same table and eating the same bread as people who are openly and nonchalanty anti-semitic. Not to mention that the fact that Carmen didn't say anything to her brother left me with a slightly bitter aftertaste.

It seems that my older nephew might move into the house. Janine (who owns the house) offered him a small flat, maybe 32m2, which won't be renovated now together with the rest, and therefore it's quite cheap. He and my brother are coming tomorrow to have a look. I'm looking forward to Markus living here, and not only because he's tall and can change my light bulbs. We haven't seen each other too often lately, so it's going to be nice having him over now and again.
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I'm feeling so terribly, terribly accomplished, because I just finished answering all my mail. My mailbox is in such a blissful state of virginal emptiness... This feels like the ephemeral moment after cleaning the flat, when ze boyz haven't yet started leaving pawprints all over the kitchen floor. Definitely a Petunia moment :))))

Right now, they're both curled up on my orthopaedic cushion, doing a very good impression of two entwined, furry croissants. Sweeeeet!
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Cats have furry faces, right? Their faces are completely covered in fur, aren't they? So why can Cornelius manage facial expressions? Sometimes, he's round-faced and looks like a silly little owl. And then, he has this gaunt, hollow-cheeked Egyptian face. I just don't get it.
He's now looking totally Egyptian, and I'm scratching him behind the ears, telling him that he's a stupid, obnoxious, ugly boy, and he looks at me, Egyptian-ly, out of eyes that are 3000 years old and wise, and I can practically hear him tell me to fuck off and stop talking nonsense.

This is very, very unnerving.
I'm being told off by a cat.

Serves me right, probably.
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Almost everybody does it. So many people do it that I'm beginning to doubt my language competence. But I bloody *know* it's wrong. The sentence “Miss Granger would you care to join Draco and I for dinner tomorrow evening?” is WRONG! It's 'would you care to join Draco and me for dinner tomorrow evening?' Because 'and' always connects identical elements, in this case
two bloody accusatives.
*tears out hair*
This seems to be some kind of overreaction of people finding out that they've always used 'me' ('him' and 'her' and 'them' too, BTW) where they ought to use 'I'. And now, they think they always have to use 'I'. I'm already waiting to read "Would you like to have dinner with I?"
*throws nervous fit*

Voldemort: Come to I, Severus, come to I...
Snape: The... er, left eye, my Lord, or the right one?
Voldemort: Crucio!
Snape: Don't do this to I, My Lord, please!

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