Caller Id Block Rogers

The new generation of Blind Dating

Times change. The practice of dating are changing. Blind Dating has been around a long time, it was an advertisement, it reacted someone out, they met without knowing each other or to know what the other one. This can go well, the powerful can go in your pants. I've always wondered why they should, as doing something, I would be too uncertain, that you are at all well understood. But these days there is hardly anything yet. Today, there are also the Internet (TM). 47% of Germans go on the internet looking for a partner. 6 million couples have so found. Sounds promising, right? I believe no longer that of the cliché is something to it that only desperate, ugly and crazy people look around the internet for a partner. I wanted to but it still does not. Of course there are huge advantages over the old newspaper ads: you can talk before, virtually "sniff" and also exchange pictures. Even video telephony is. And then you can take so and see if you get along well. Nevertheless, I would find it strange from the outset rumzustöbern the internet in search of a man who I like. And there is so much, the voice (not electronically distorted), the appearance (not dressed for a photo), style of dress, the movements of the body, and above all, the smell of it! was indeed some studies have already shown that that the odor in mate choice is very important because you are looking for a partner with subliminally, preferably of different DNA to their own. Can happen, for it to be "no smell", when people meet. That would be all awkward and complicated. Although I must have more than just such a Blind Date to have had to admit ... Thanks
PartnerbörseVZ StudiVZ, where I was contacted a couple of times by intrusive attentive young men and after calming me a few times too small ever to have had wide strike to dating. It was nice to be chatting to understand understand each other in the real life, no question. But that was about it, these dates brought no great feelings with him or something. But that was already in sight when you look closer. Since even before there was not really great potential ... and this is often just as in real life. But actually I would have to then save the rest ... and my dear friend E - uh, we call them Jaqueline, there can also sing a song like this. Online dating is usually unnecessary. There is not much more promising than any dates with any types, one has to know somewhere random. I would even say almost less promising, because it takes a lot more frogs and perhaps even more often times say yes to a date. But I do not want to do very poorly, a date with an Internet acquaintance I had, that was fantastic. But it is also likely to remain the ultimate date with an Internet acquaintance. Go Real Life!

What Would You Name Your Son

"For the sake of a little bit of meat ..."

a veterinary student at the slaughterhouse

" will be accepted only animals that are transported humanely and properly marked are"

on the sign of the concrete ramp .

At the end of the ramp, is stiff and pale, a dead pig.

" Yes, some die during transport. Circulatory collapse. "

Experience and written by Christiane M. Haupt

How lucky that I have taken the old jacket. Although only in early October, it is bitterly cold, but I'm cold not only because of that. I bury my hands in my pockets, forced me to a friendly face and to listen to the director of the slaughterhouse, which I just explained that it does not make long live more investigation, only a living animal.

700 pigs per day, as should go.

"There are no sick eh Animals there. We would return immediately, and that costs the deliverer of a sensitive sentence. This makes the once and never again "

I nod dutifully -. By, hold only, you must bring these six weeks behind you - what happens to sick pigs?

"There is a very special slaughterhouse."

I know a lot about the transport regulations, and how much better you take it today with the protection of animals.

The Word spoken in this place sounds macabre.

In the meantime, the grunting and squealing polyphonic Double Deck Transporter of us to heranrangiert to the ramp. Details can be identified in the early morning darkness hardly the scenery is something surreal and reminiscent of those ghostly newsreels from the war, are driven to gray car full of rows of pale, anxious faces of a loading ramp, crouched on the crowds of gun-bearing men.

Suddenly I'm in the middle.

Something you dream in evil Dreams that make you tremble with sweat: Amidst billowing fog, bitter cold and dirty in the twilight of this unspeakably evil building, this flat, anonymous block of concrete and steel and white tiles on the back edge of the forest frosterstarrten; happens here the unspeakable, of which no one wants to know.

The screams are the first thing I hear on that morning when I arrive to take up an internship,

whose refusal for lost me five years of study and the failure of all plans for the future would mean.

But everything in me - every fiber, every thought - is denial, is disgust and horror and awareness not rise adjustable impotence: Watching must be able to do anything, and they will force you to join us up also to defile with blood.

From far away, when I get off the bus, the screams of the pigs like a knife. Six weeks later they will have me tingle in the ears, hour after hour, without ceasing.

persevere. is

up for It eventually ended. For the animals before.

A bare courtyard, some ice cream truck, sides of pork on the hook in a brightly lit door.

Everything clean embarrassing. This is the front.

I am looking for the entrance, is located on the side. Two cattle trucks go past me, yellow lights in the morning mist. Mir has a pale light the way, lighted window. A few steps, then I'm inside, and now everything is just white-tiled. Not a soul to be seen. A white round - there, the dressing room for ladies. Almost seven clock, I'm moving: white, black, white. The borrowed helmet grotesque rocks on the smooth hair. The boots are too big. I shuffle back into the hall, come up against almost together with the responsible veterinarian.

-like welcome. "I am the new intern."

Before we start, the formalities.

"Put on something warm to, go to the director and give out your health certificate. Dr. XX will tell you where you start. "

The Director is a jovial gentleman who told me once about the good old days when the slaughterhouse was not privatized.

Then he hears it and unfortunately it decides to carry me around in person.

And so I come to the ramp.

right hand barren concrete square, surrounded by icy steel rods. Some are already filled with pigs.

"We begin here by five clock in the morning."

shoving here and there crawling land, a few curious snout to slide through the grill, clever eyes, others restless and confused. A large sow is persistently go to another, and the Director to Marry a stick and hits her repeatedly on the head.

"The bite is usually very bad."

bottom, the vans pulled down the wooden door, the foremost pig shy away from the rickety and steep transition, but from the back will push ahead, because a driver has climbed between them and distributes powerful blows with a rubber hose.

I will not subsequently be surprised at the many red welts on the sides of pork.

"The stun baton is now banned for pigs" , teaches the Director.

Some animals dare stumbling and uncertain first steps, then surging behind the rest, one slip with the leg between the door and the ramp comes up again, limping on. They find themselves between the steel beams which they lead inescapably to a still-empty pen. When it comes to a corner to wedge the front pigs, all stuck, and the driver cursing furiously thrashing and a behind most of those who are trying frantically to jump on their fellow sufferers.

The director shakes his head. "brainless. Simply brainless. How many times have I already said that it does not matter, the very last beat of '

pursuing While I was still frozen in this play - which is intended not all true - you carrier circumstances -

he turns away and greeted the driver of another transport, has gone along with the other and now prepares to unload.

Why it's here a lot faster, but also with a lot more screaming CARRIED, I realize, as behind the rise stumbling pigs a second man from the hold appears, for what is not fast enough, is endowed by him with electric shocks .

I stare at the man, then the director, and this once again shakes his head: "Well, you know, this is for pigs now prohibited, "

The man looks in disbelief, then puts the device in his pocket.

people talk about the intelligence and curiosity in the eyes of a pig? From behind me a little nudge in the knees, I turn around and look in two awake blue eyes.

Many animal lovers I know who rave enthusiastically about the oh-so soulful cat's eyes, the faithful puppy dog eyes - who speaks of the intelligence and curiosity in the eyes of a pig?

these eyes I'll be very soon or otherwise meet: silent before screaming fear, the pain dull, unseeing, and then broken torn from their sockets, kollernd on the bloodstained ground.

Cutting edge touches me a thought that I monotone in the following weeks to repeat hundreds of times in the Spirit:

eating meat is a crime - a crime ...

After a brief tour of the slaughterhouse, starting in the break room. An open window towards the slaughter hall, floating in an infinite sequence on the assembly line pale and bloody pig halves over. Nevertheless, two employees are having breakfast.

sausage bread. The white coats of the two are covered in blood, under a rubber boot is a scrap of meat. Here the noise is still steamed inhuman, contrary to propose to me soon after deafening, as I am led into the slaughter hall. I go back, because a half pig whistles sharply around the corner and splashes against the next. It has touched me, warm and doughy.

That's not true - the is absurd - impossible.

come crashing in on me at once. Cutting screams. The screech of machines. Tin rattle. The pungent stench of burnt hair and burnt skin. The haze of blood and hot water. Carefree laughter, shouts. Flashing knives, meat hooks drilled through tendons, hanging out with half the animals without eyes and twitching muscles. Chunks of meat and organs that fall splashing in a blood-filled gutter, so that the ugly South splashes on me. Fatty meat fibers on the ground on which you slip.

people Weiss, runs the blood of their coats under their helmets, or caps faces as you meet them everywhere: in the subway, cinema, supermarket.

involuntarily expected monster, but it is the nice grandpa next door, the offhand young man in the street, well-groomed gentleman from the bank.

I'm greeted friendly.

The director shows me even more quickly today empty cattle slaughter hall:

"cattle are Tuesdays turn!"

- passes me a lady and hurry away, and he has to do. "The killing Hall, you could even see time in peace."

it will take three weeks, before I tell you overcome.

is the first day for me yet reprieve. I'm sitting in a small room next to the break room and hour by hour Slice meat from a small bucket of samples, which regularly top up a bloody hand from the slaughter hall. Each piece - an animal. The whole is then portions chaffed, set with hydrochloric acid and boiled for trichinosis. The lady shows me everything. One never finds trichinosis, but it is required.

The next day I will own a part of the huge fragmentation machinery.

A quick introduction: "Here, the rest of the tonsillar ring cut and remove the mandibular lymph nodes. Sometimes a shoe horn attached to the claws, then arrange the "

-. And I cut At it, it must go fast, the band continues on and on. About me other parts of the carcass to be removed. Does Mr peppy, or accumulates in the gutter of me too much bloody Sud injected the slurry to me in the face. I try to avoid the other side, but since

be cut with a huge, sparkling water saw the pigs, you can not possibly be here without getting wet to the bone. With gritted teeth I saber on, yet I have to rush me too much to think about all the horror can and also devilishly careful not to cut into my finger.

The next day, I borrow from a fellow student who has been behind the whole thing is a chain glove. And you must stop to count the pigs, glide past the dripping on me.

Also rubber gloves I use anymore. While it is horrible, with bare hands in the warm corpses to rummage, but since you inevitably smeared up to his shoulders, is the sticky mixture of body fluids already in the gloves to go in, that they can save too.

What are they still turning horror movies, if that is here?

The real monsters are those who give this mass murder on a daily basis in order.

Soon the knife is blunt. "Enter ago - I will once the loop!"

The nice grandpa, in truth, a veteran inspectors, winks at me. After he returned to the sharpened knife, he babbles a bit around, I tell a joke and goes back to work. He takes me to continue a bit under his wing and show me some little trick that facilitates the assembly line.

"Gell? You like it here, not everything. I see it. But since you have to times by now. "

I can not find it disagreeable, he gives great trouble to me to cheer up a bit. Most of the other are very ready to help, and certainly they make fun of the many interns who come here and go, the first-shocked serve it with clenched teeth, their time.

But they do it good-naturedly, harassment does not exist.

It makes me think that I - with a few rare exceptions - the people who work here can not feel as brutes, they are just jaded, as I also own over time. This is self-protection. It can not endure otherwise.

No, the real monsters are those who give this mass murder every day in order, by their greed for meat animals to a miserable existence and a more miserable end - force - and other people in a degrading and brutalizing work.

Slowly I am a small cog in this huge automatic death.

some point during the seemingly endless hours, the monotonous handles mechanical, and laborious. Almost suffocated by the deafening cacophony and ubiquity of indescribable horror, the mind digs up from the depths stunned senses and begins to function again. Differentiated, classified, trying to . Understand But this is impossible.

When I consciously detected for the first time - on the second or third day - that bled, shrugging off flared up and sawed pigs, and wiggle his tail, I'm not able to move.

"They - they shrug it ..." , I say, although I know that it is only the nerves, temporarily suspended a veterinarian.

The grins "Damn, is there a 'nen Mistake - that's not really dead " Spooky pulse trembles in animal halves, anywhere!. A chamber of horrors. I am cold to the core.

"Do not look unfriendly. Smile again. You wanted to be sure the vet. "

Back home I lay on my bed and stare at the ceiling. Hour by hour. Every day. My next environment reacts irritated.

"Do not look unfriendly. Smile again. You wanted absolutely become a veterinarian. "

veterinarian. Non-animal slaughter. I can not stand it. These comments. This indifference. This obvious murder. I would like, I must speak, I speak from the soul. I choke on it.

from the pig I want to talk, walk that could no longer sat with gegrätschen hind legs. They were long, and beat until they had it beaten into the Tötungsbox. I looked behind me, as it cut commuting over to me, both sides Muscle tear on the inner thighs. Battle number 530 that day, never I forget that number

I want to tell of the cattle slaughter days, from the gentle brown eyes that are so full of panic.

Of the attempts to escape from all the blows and curses, until the unfortunate beast at last in the iron pen to the captive bolt is available with a panoramic view of the hall where the other dogs are skinned and dismembered - then the fatal shot, the next moment the chain on the back foot, which the decisive end, writhing animal in the air moves, while the head is already down abgesäbelt.

And still, headless, spewing rivers of blood, the body rears up, the legs connect to the ...

telling of the awful-smacking sound when a winch pulls the skin from the body, from the automated rolling motion of the fingers with which to cover the eyeballs - the twisted, rotgeä , modified, bulging - pick out from the eye sockets and into a hole in the ground, throw in the disappearing of the "waste". From the smeared aluminum slide, landing on the all offal, which are torn from the huge headless corpse, and then, except for liver, heart, lung and tongue - disappear in a sort of garbage chute - suitable for human consumption.

would tell me that again and again to find the middle of this slimy, bloody mountain, a pregnant uterus is that I have seen small, quite finished looking calves in all sizes, soft and naked and with closed eyes in their protective Amniotic sacs, they were not able to protect - the smallest tiny as a newborn kitten and yet a real miniature cow, the largest hair soft, white against brown and with long silky eyelashes, a few weeks of birth.

"Is not it a miracle, which creates the natural way?"

says the vet, who on duty that day, including the fetus in the uterus and pushes the gurgling Mü ; llschlucker.

And now I know for sure that there is no God may be, for no flash drives come down from heaven to avenge this crime that takes its course, again and again.

Also for the pathetic skinny cow, which, as I am in the morning at seven, is spasmodic twitching in the icy, windswept course just before the Tötungsbox,

there is no God

and anyone who has mercy on her in the form of a quick profit. First, the other slaughter animals are handled. When I go to lunch, she lies still, twitches, no one, despite repeated requests, has redeemed them. I have the halter, which cut sharply into their flesh relentlessly relaxed and stroked her forehead.

She looks at me with her huge big eyes, and I experience now saying that cows can cry.

The debt to witness a crime do nothing weighs so heavy as to commit it.

I feel so very guilty.

My hands, gowns, aprons and boots are stained with the blood of their fellows, for hours I have to the band stood, cut the heart and lungs and livers -

"The cattle saut one is always totally a" , I have been already warned.

This is it, what I would like to report in order to not have to bear alone, - but basically no one wants to hear. Not that I'm not asked often enough during this time.

"How is it so in the slaughterhouse? So, I could not do! "

I dig your fingernails sharp crescents in the palms, not to beat in this compassionate faces, or not to throw the phone receiver out the window.

screaming I want but has long since all that I witness every day, every cry choked in his throat.

No one asked if I can. Reactions to even the most meager answers reveal whether discomfort of the subject.

"Yes, this is terrible, and we rarely eat meat."

I am often inspired: "Grit your teeth, you have to go through it, and soon you have it behind you so!"

For me, one of the worst, most heartless and most ignorant comments, because the massacre continues, day after day.

I do not think anyone has realized that my problem was less to do to survive these six weeks, but that this enormous mass murder happens millions of times - for every happens to eat the meat.

particularly those meat eaters who claim to be, animal lovers will be for me now completely untrustworthy.

"Stop - do not spoil my appetite!"

am also so I have more stalls than once rigorously followed by the increase: "You are a Terrorist! Every normal person laughs you out of it! "

As one can imagine only in such moments.

now and then I look at the little cow fetus, which I have taken home and placed in formalin. Memento mori.

Let them laugh, "normal people". Eyes I can never forget everything, eyes, should see that everyone, which it calls for meat.

Things abstract when you're surrounded by so much violent death, your life seems endless meaningless.

some point you look at the anonymous ranks of dismembered pigs that run meander through the hall, and ask yourself: Would it different if people were hanging here?

particular, the rear anatomy of animals, fat and pimply and red-spotted reminds amazing in what oozes greasy on sunny vacation beaches in tight swimming trunks.

The unending cries over the tingle from the slaughter hall when feeling the pig's death could come from women or children.

blunting is inevitable.

some point I think just stop, it is to end, I hope he makes fast with the electric guns, so it to end.

"Many can not be heard before him" , said one of the veterinarians once "others are just there and cry for no reason. "

I look at even that - as they stand and scream for no reason."

More than half of the internship is over, when I finally in the slaughter hall going to be able to say:

. I've seen "

This closes the path that starts at the front of the loading ramp. The bald course, lead to all the pens, tapering and a door leads into a small Wartepferch for four or five pigs.

Should I ever the term "fear" depict, I would draw the pigs, the issue here with the door closed behind them zusammendrängen, ich würde ihre Augen zeichnen.

Augen, die ich niemals mehr vergessen kann.

Augen, in die jeder sehen sollte, den es nach Fleisch verlangt.

Mit Hilfe eines Gummischlauches werden die Schweine separiert.

Eines wird nach vorn in einen Stand getrieben, der es von allen Seiten umschliesst. Es schreit, versucht nach hinten auszubrechen, und häufig hat der Treiber alle Hände voll zu tun, ehe er endlich mit einem elektrischen Schieber den Stand schliessen kann.

of a button, the floor of the state is replaced by a kind of wheeled carriage on which the pig finds astride a second slide before it opens, and the slide with the animal glides over to another box.

The coarse butcher next to it - I did it secretly always called Frankenstein '- is where the electrodes, a stunning three-point, as the director once said to me. You see the pig rearing in the box, then folded away, the carriage, and the twitching animal strikes bloodied on a Slide up and kicked out his legs.

Again, wait a coarse butcher knife unerringly true under the right front leg, a gush of dark blood forth shoots, and the body slips further.

has seconds later, have already concluded an iron chain around one hind leg and pulled up the animal, and the coarse butcher puts the knife, grabs a smeared Cola bottle, which is several centimeters thick on the with clotted blood covered floor , and approved a sip.

fire flares up, and for several seconds, the Body shake and seem a grotesque jumping dance.

I follow the dangling on the hook and hemorrhaging carcasses in the "hell". So I called the next room. He is tall and black, full of soot, stench and fire. After several bloody curves reached the pigs set a kind of huge oven. Here is entborstet. From above, the animals fall into a collection hopper and slide into the interior of the machine. You can see inside.

fire flares up, and for several seconds, the body shake and seem a grotesque jumping dance. Then they clap on the other side on a large table, to be immediately seized by two rough butchers, scrape down the remaining bristles, tear out your eyeballs and separate the shoes from the horn mouth. For a moment only lasts all of this, here are working in the chord. Hook through the tendons of the hind legs, even the dead animals hanging back and are now gliding to a steel frame, like a flame thrower is designed: a barking noise, and the carcass is of a dozen flames wrapped and flamed for a few seconds. The assembly line setzt sich wieder in Bewegung, führt in die nächste Halle, – jene, wo ich schon drei Wochen lang gestanden habe.

Die Organe werden entnommen und auf dem oberen Fliessband bearbeitet: Zunge durchtasten, Mandeln und Speiseröhre abtrennen und fortwerfen, Lymphknoten anschneiden, Lunge zum Abfall, Luftröhre und Herz eröffnen, Trichinenprobe entnehmen, Gallenblase entfernen und Leber auf Wurmknoten untersuche. Viele Schweine sind verwurmt, ihre Lebern sind von Wurmknoten durchsetzt und müssen weggeworfen werden. Alle übrigen Organe wie Magen, Darm und Geschlechtsapparat landen im Abfall.

At the lower conveyor belt the residual body is made ready for use: cut, cut joints, anus, kidney and subcutaneous fat removed, the brain and spinal cord removed by suction, etc., then stamp on shoulder, neck, loin, belly and leg applied weighed and transported in the cold storage.

not fit for human consumption animals are "confiscated temporarily. The stamps for the inexperienced welding work, the warm, slippery carcass hanging out at the end of the strip is very high, and you do not want to be killed by them, must to hurry, because the balance before clapping the two halves together with much force. I feel as if this defilement and the smell will cling to me forever.

addition, just go out ...

How many times my eyes wandered in all these days at the clock hanging in the break room, I can not say. Certainly no clock is slower around the world than this.

Every morning at half-time allowed a pause, a sigh of relief I rush to the washroom, I barely clean of blood and pieces of flesh, I feel as if this taint and smell of always stick to me.

addition, only addition.

I have in this house never eat even a bite. Either I spend my break, so cold it may be, outside, walk ahead to the barbed wire fence and stare across the fields and woods, watching the crows. Or I go to the shopping center located across the street, there is a small bakery, where you can warm up with a cup of coffee.

Twenty minutes later returned to the assembly line.

Eating meat is a crime.

No meat eaters can ever be my friend. Never. Never again.

everyone, I think each of the meat eating should be sent to here, everyone should see, from beginning to end.

I am here not because I want to be veterinarian, but because people think they have to eat meat.

And not only that alone

Also because they are cowards.

The sterile welded chips in the supermarket has no eyes, which overflowed with naked fear of death, it no longer screams.

All this and save themselves, all those who feed on corpses desecrated:

"Well, I could not do that!"

Then one day comes, a farmer and takes samples for meat trichinosis. His little boy accompanied him, ten or eleven years old perhaps. I see how the child expresses his nose flattened against the window and think: When the children saw it, all this horror, all the killed animals, there were not any hope? I can hear exactly how the boy calls his father. "Daddy, look! Geil! This large saw there. - Aktenzeichen XY "

the evening, on TV, says" unresolved "about the crime at a young girl who was murdered and dismembered, and the unspeakable horror and disgust of Bevo ; Lkerung to this atrocity.

"So I did something similar this Weeks witnessed 3.700mal ", I interject.

Now I'm no longer a terrorist, but on top of that sick in the head. Because I horror and disgust not only for murder of a man feel, but also because of the thousands of feet came the murder of animals: 3,700 times in just this one week only in that a slaughterhouse.

be human - that is not to say no and refuse to be a client of a mass murder - for a piece of meat?

strange new world.

had perhaps the tiny, torn from its mother of calves that died before they were born, the best lot of all of us.

is some point of all this came last never-ending days. At some point I think the internship confirmation in his hands a scrap of paper,

paid dearer than I've ever paid for anything.

The door closes, led me to a tentative November sun on the bare courtyard bus.

screams and machinery noise will be quieter.

As I cross the street, a large cattle truck with a trailer turns into a driveway to the slaughterhouse.

pigs on two floors, crowded.

I go back without a glance, for I have borne witness
and now I will try to forget to live further.

now fighting like others, they took me in that house the power to
the will the joy of life, and they exchanged guilt and paralyzing sadness.
Hell is below us, many thousands of times, day after day.

One always remains, each of us:

to say no.

No, no and again no!

Personal report from Christiane M. Haupt Copyright by:
http://www.stop-abus-animal.com/bulletin/bulletin-aoutE.htm
http://www.vegetarismus .ch/heft/98-2/schlacht.htm

Sore Throat And Lymphoma

pastime

What do you do during the holidays, when it becomes boring and all my friends are too far away? Apart from the phone. Quite simply, it makes nonsense on the web. I recently discovered a new Stuss, the insane amount of fun making, may bring new insights into the personality and produces pretty pictures.
following instructions: first
You start to second http://bighugelabs.com/flickr/mosaic.php
You go to www.flickr.com
third You pick from one of the below questionnaire and put the mosaic according to one, for example, on 3x3 with 9 questions
4th One after another, answer questions and look for the answer in Flickr. looking out from the first page is a beautiful picture, paste the link to it on the Mosaic Maker site
5th In the end, click on Create to finish!

questionnaire:

The simplest:

1. What is your first name?
   2. What is your favorite food?
   3. What high school did you attend?
   4. What is your favorite color?
   5. Who is your celebrity crush?
   6. Favorite drink?
   7. Dream vacation?
   8. Favorite dessert?
   9. What do you want to be when you grow up?
   10.What do you love most in life?
   11. One word to describe you.
   12. Your Flickr name.
    

   

Der Geschmackssoundtrack deines Lebens:

1. der Geschmack deiner ersten großen Love

2. to taste what the perfect summer?

3. for what tastes the best kiss?

4. the taste of really awful heartache

5. the taste of a best friendship

6. to what tastes vacation?

7. the taste of the 18th Birthday

8. the taste of childhood

9. for what tastes the future?

   

When I ... would

1. a flower

2. a garment

3. feeling

4. color

5. instrument

6. dining

7. animal

8. Game / Driving

9. body part

Maybe on occasion I explained once more what I was thinking at the individual things like this ... no longer: D

Heat Pump Runs But No Heat Comes Out

Things I Learned

Hula-Hoop! It took a long time coming, but finally I manage to keep the tires five minutes in the air. Juhu! And you feel like less bad if you make an hour times as silly stuff, as the whole day sitting around and eating in between times. The following is a list of things I did in the holidays already (productive, "shopping" is not as newfangled or so, and only roughly):
- Homepage finished and uploaded (www.infamous-sisters.de , visit allowed;)
- about 350 lines of Java code produced
- a drawing with various graphics programs
colored - a Film as a surprise for Eva
cut and edited - a few photos artistic value processed
- one of my two major seminar paper read
- with a wrong shell command used my Eee PC destroyed and re-directed
- designed a wedding magazine in a hurry and completed
- submitted a request GEZ Liberation

So now that I've now listed all things I am not nearly as passive as it was five minutes. And to learn and I'm still, after all ... oh, six weeks;)