Weekend Update with Marina

Warning:  total photo overload.

You know what constitutes the best day ever?  When your mother's package, AND Sam's letter, AND your bank card, AND Marina all arrive in the same day.  Which is exactly what happened on Saturday.  First, my mom is brilliant and sent me a package of all things I forgot, PLUS a surprise package of Wheat Thins which made me so excited I didn't know what to do with myself.  So I'm rationing them.  AND SAM SENT ME A LETTER THAT I LOVED, complete with poems, Where's Waldo, and an informative sheet on worm mating habits!  And I have a response in the works for you, woman!  And the bank card means that I can get paid.

Then, Marina came!  And it was wonderful!  We immediately set out into town, where we were determined to do every exciting thing there is to do in Celle, and all in the six hours or so we had before the grill party the family was throwing that evening.  Because writing it all out in complete sentences would keep you here until tomorrow, I'm going to list everything.  And attach pictures.

Every Cool Thing There Is To Do In Celle:

First, we walked around and looked at buildings.

and Marina posed with statues:

and I was so happy, I couldn't contain myself:

We took a picture with a guy dressed up as a raven, and gave two random girls who stopped us marriage advice for a video they were making for the one girl's friend.  My advice was "Be nice."  Profound, really.

Then we did a horse-drawn tour of the city,

followed by GERMAN MEGA ICE CREAM!

We took awkward group shots by the castle...

and eventually went inside, where we were so bored, we took pictures of dogs outside.

We goofed on on the castle grounds for a bit:

and then went back into town, where we got our styles pimped,

almost had our souls saved,

and hung out with statues.

Eventually it started to rain, so we decided to climb the church tower, for a nice view over Celle.

It was rainy...

and also

Then we saw what I call the sperm fountain, so named because the water shoots out of these,

played on jousting stick things,

and hung out in the French Gardens.

Then, we came home, grilled with the family and friends, played with my favorite six-year old ever (who's the daughter of She of the Infamous Crepes Station), before heading back out into town, to drink these:

I would like to say that while I was at no point drunk, I did eventually start making WWII jokes, before I lost my ability to speak English completely.  This was a poor idea, because, in the words of the ever-amazing Mike H. "You look like the star of the Lisbon Repertory Company's production of The Diary Of Anne Frank."  Also, the guys next to us were scandalized enough to leave.  My bad.

Eventually we came home and ate Gone with the Wind (Vom Winde Verweht) ice cream that I had bought.  It's chocolate pieces in raspberry ice cream, topped with white chocolate bits in strawberry sauce.  Also, it has a picture of Vivien Leigh and Clark Gable staring at each other passionately.  It's also delicious.  

Then, this morning we were woken up at an ungodly hour by Schützenfest, which is some celebration that apparently involves a parade at 6.30 AM.  We slept for another hour before waking up, and heading off to the train station, where we were bound for the nearby town of HAMELN.  Which has nothing going for it, except that it's the town the Pied Piper saved from the rats.  Also, there's a store that will buy your gold, even if the teeth are still attached:

Okay, so Hameln.  There are rats embossed on every surface, including little rat stones in the street.

But the buildings are lovely!

And did I mention there were rats everywhere?

The biggest drawn for Hameln is that every Sunday, they host a play-reenaction-thing of the Pied Piper coming to Hameln, drowning the rats, and then getting fucked over by the townspeople when they refuse to pay him.  So instead of charming the money out of their pockets, he charms all the children into the hills, where they all disappear, with the exception of a blind one and a deaf one, neither of which can tell the townspeople what happened because sign language was apparently not invented in those days. The moral of the story is a) never trust a man who plays a pansy instrument like the flute, b) rat poison makes everyone's lives easier AND stops the spread of the plague, and c) if you can't hear, learn sign language already, so you can tell people where the pansy flute asshole took everybody.  And now for more pictures:

"We hate rats."

"I take out my anger at never learning a manly instrument on various household pests."

"I'm a dick, and possibly a pedophile."

All in all, it was wonderful fun.  I've missed Marina like a fiend the last few years, and it was just wonderful to see her again.  We danced, we spilled things, we practiced each other's accents, and it was brilliant.  Just divine, dahling.  

That's all for now folks, hope your weekend was BANGIN.

Adios!

EDIT:  In case I did not make myself clear, I rather like the flute.  But when it's paired with Joseph's Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, I gain the right to make as many pansy jokes as I damn well please.