However, Mr. H took this picture yesterday and sent it to me after he gave Moxie a bath. Honestly, if this picture of my pitiful little buddy doesn’t make you laugh, I don’t know what will.

She couldn't possibly look more miserable

Tomorrow morning, I’m headed to Bratislava for 8 days.

During my 8 days, I’ll be surrounded by hundreds of people from thirty or so different countries. I’m sure something is bound to happen that will be worth sharing…

Then I head to Vienna with the Mr. for a two day visit.

While there, we plan on visiting the fancy horses, listening to the Vienna Choir Boys and touring the city for lots of pictures.

Should be a fun week. I’ll be sure to update as much as I can!

Seriously, that kid must have had a really tough flight home.

But yes, I’m pumped that my Pats are in the Super Bowl. Do we deserve to be there? No, I don’t think so. Do I care? No, I don’t.

What do I care about? Well, maybe just this today. Because really, being able to tell Rex Ryan to shut the hell up is so much better than….well, than a whole lot of things.

My paint skills are getting so much better, NO?

And no, while I’m still fired up, there’s this:

Eli, you are NEXT. It’s going to be brutal in two weeks and I look forward to it.

Happy Monday, everyone.

Wes, I'm all yours. Please don't leave us. Oh, and fuck off Jets.

If I were living back home right now, I’d be in the middle of cup and snack making for a playoff party we’d host, but I’m stuck here while all my New England friends are painting their faces, tailgating on couches and getting ready for the big game tonight. DAMN YOU GERMANY FOR BEING SO FAR AWAY FROM NEW ENGLAND. Hpmh.

So anyway. In keeping busy over here, I’ve been mindlessly watching youtube videos. I know these “shit people say” videos are old but I don’t care. Every time I watch these, I die laughing and everyone needs something stupid and funny to watch today, right?

Also, now I want to make one. Would Shit Germans Say be a bad idea? Probably. A, Shit Americans Say While Visiting Europe, would be easy, but would further prove that we sound like morons. Hmmm. I’ll have to make a list of all of my new video ideas. Might be time to add Vlogs to the Chronicles.

Enough rambling, already. These videos are a riot. Enjoy!

Shit Girls Say to Gay Guys. REALLY true. And hysterical.

Shit Girls Say, Episode 1. All true. Sad, but true.

Even BETTER, Shit Black Girls Say. Seriously, black women are the best.

And one of my newest favorites…for all my DC friends.
Shit People in DC Say. As a previous resident, these are all true.

But I will today, when it comes to safety on the road and road signs.

It’s no surprise the Germans are much better drivers than Americans. I’d even go as far to say as much better than most of the world. They have great cars and this little thing called the Autobahn and there is no fucking around on the road in Germany. People are doing 200 mph to get to nowhere. There is no such thing as being an oblivious asshole in the left lane looking at the scenery because you don’t want to be in the right lane doing 60 mph where you belong. Or you can do this and just realize all of a sudden that a German is screaming up on you going 200 and he is not slowing down.

Because he doesn’t have to. You’re the moron in the wrong lane and you better get the fuck out of the way before you cause an accident…So that’s the logic in Germany. You get to drive insanely fast because you know how to drive and people follow the rules to a tee. I’ve seen MAYBE three accidents total on the highway in over two years here. I’d see that between Old Town and DC in ten minutes if I were still living back home, most likely caused by sunshine or texting. Seriously. You have no idea how many times I sat on 395 in DC for hours because some moron hit the person in front of him after he reach the top of the hill and the sun blinded him. Really.awesome.DC.drivers.

But anyway, these are not the reasons the Germans are bad ass in this case. The reasons they are awesome is because they take driving responsibly so seriously, they are going to scare you and your children into following the rules with their billboards and road signs.

Why fuck around with something worthless Americans would put out, like “Click it or Ticket”, which really, does that even get anyone to put your seat belt on? The rhyme is stupid and a ticket isn’t going to make me go out of my way to follow a law on the American streets.

No. If you want something done, the Germans know that reminding everyone about this little thing called death is the best way to handle things. Tossing in some sad kids crying is just brilliant. This is one of my favorites.

Lars is NOT happy.

Then we have a worthless sign from the States.

Not sure if the sign is referring to Jesus or the cops but either way, worthless sign.

Hmm. Which signs would work more? Kids crying about people on clouds, or a picture of an unused seat belt.

Then we have Lea, who is also wicked sad.

And lastly, they brought the grandparents into this.
Poor Opa is burning in the car while Max is watching. Now THAT is tragic.

Personally, I love these signs, which yes, I’m sure makes me twisted and all levels of wrong. In the U.S., they simply wouldn’t exist. They are too real, too graphic and too scary for the type of children that are being raised back home. One of these signs would pop up on the streets and shit would just go crazy. Groups like MOTHERS AGAINST SCARY STREET SIGNS would pop up, blindfolds would be put on children or shades would be pulled down on car windows.

And so, in the case of WHO HAS BETTER ROAD SIGNS the score is: Germans 1, Americans, 0.

***All German road sign pics are compliments of my lovely friend Tracy. Click on them to see them close-up. It’s worth it, I promise.

I went into the weekend loving this.

Which obviously meant I wore all of my Pats gear all weekend long. And thank GOD I had my Pats sweats back. I had left them at a hotel I stayed at in Lithuania and it cost $70 to ship me back my $50 sweats but they were on my ass all weekend, which is all that really counts.

Then I went here, which yes, I was obviously all class this weekend. My mistake was wine drinking and watching a Top Chef episode on Friday night that featured a BBQ challenge which led me to shout, WE ARE SO GOING TO DRIVE AN HOUR TO HOOTERS TOMORROW AND YOU CANNOT DENY ME MY RIGHT TO TITS AND WINGS. First, the Mr. isn’t a fan of Hooters and second, I didn’t care. Wings were calling, though looking back, they actually have nothing to do with a Texas BBQ challenge. Who cares.

Slamming back too many wings sent me into relaxation time, which is also known as Gin time and an episode I like to call, Heather Drunk Dials Her Friends and Family…which is always a fun time. I would have stayed off the phone and just gone to bed but I was SURE I could stay up and make it to watch the Pats game. I didn’t. Gin won and instead, I woke up and watched the game, sure not to check the internet or fb or my phone for texts.

Then I got to be all happy about this.

Some came to just play the game Saturday. Brady came to set records.

Also, I was pretty happy about these as well. So happy, in fact, that I ordered mmmm, 15 boxes. That should really help my ass when I start consuming half a box a day AFTER I finish my juice cleanse.

So, that was my riveting weekend. Hope everyone that has off today is celebrating the life of MLK or just day drinking. Treat yourself.

**Both Pats pictures this week come from Masshole Sports. If you love New England sports and sarcastic commentary, check it out. If not, you probably suck at life.

First of all, I’m at war again with Dante, our 14-year-old dog, and it’s my damned fault. For weeks he was lying around the house, barely able to get up, peeing himself and generally acting like he was dying. I could see the light at the end of the tunnel but felt guilty about all the death stuff because I’ve never actually had a pet die on me and burial of pets just seems AWFUL and messy and I remember the last time one of my mother’s animals died the whole family had to get involved and there was screaming and crying and blood and holy shit, no thanks. So. Because I felt bad and inconvenienced by the excessive use of paper towels I was using to clean up his messes, I made an appointment at the vet.

Then the vet gave Dante magic pills that gave him all his powers back, turned him into a galloping horse and also makes him shit on the floor 90 times a day out of excitement and so while I think it’s best to now maybe toss out all the magic pills, I give them to him anyway because the Mr. is happy that his best friend isn’t acting like Captain Death anymore but I swear, whenever Mr. H leaves the room, Dante shits on the floor, looks at me, winks and whispers, YOU FUCKING LOSE.

So there’s that going on this week.

Then yesterday was complete shit and the badness has just snowballed from there. I had to finally make the appointment to have the kitchen people come to view the results of my cooking skills (which you can re-read here if you so desire), as I finally told my landlord, who was completely fine about it and more concerned with my health, if I was hurt and how my Christmas was.

Which means she’s not German. She cannot be German because her first instinct was not to punish me or teach me a lesson or turn on me. It was like a hug through email and now I feel like I owe her a goddamned gift for not kicking me out of her house.

Anyway. I should have figured that it wasn’t a brilliant idea to have the Kutchen Grob people come to my house at 9am to look around, tell me how I’ve damaged the house, how they’re going to fix it and how much it’ll cost me. No sane person starts their week with that sort of torment.

“You know they’re going to make you pay for a whole new kitchen,” was everyone’s very helpful commentary last week when I said I would be dealing with this on Monday. They being Germans in general because they all (Yes, I am going to generalize like an asshole. I don’t care) would rather you fix anything broken it its entirety than just the piece that’s broken. The lightbulb in the fridge is broken? Start hunting for a new cooling system. Stained the floor due to flooding? Don’t wash it. Buy a new damned floor. Broke your finger? Your whole damned arm is going in a cast. The Germans refuse to do anything half-assed and this always has a way of testing my sanity and my checkbook.

The man who came to look at my kitchen shook his head when he saw the burn.

“This is not good.” He sighed.

I know it’s not fucking good, which is why it’s been hiding under a pretty place mat thing and flowers for months.

“You are going to need a whole new kitchen.” He was not even apologetic by this. I was going to smash something.

“Why.” I asked flatly and with a hint of I THINK YOU ARE FUCKING BULLSHIT. When the Germans lay down the law, I don’t even expect a compromise. I just want the details so I have a reason to start hating.

“Because if we try to just fix that piece, we will not be able to fit it all back together.”
Apparently carpentry or remodeling or PUZZLE MAKING was not a strong point for this company.

“So the whole thing?” I looked around. My landlord was going to be pumped about her new kitchen.

“Or we can make that piece into a marble cutting board for her and no new counters.” Well, now there was an idea. A fancy cutting board right next to the stove. Somehow I had a feeling my landlord would choose the new kitchen.

“How much?”

“We’ll do work in three weeks. 2100 euro.” Which is like a million dollars.

So fuck me. Fuck me and fuck this week already. I will never use appliances again.

Now. To make myself feel better, I googled, “Ryan Gosling topless from Crazy, Stupid, Love.” Yes, topless men tend to cheer me up. Topless Ryan Gosling makes me want to diddle myself. And so. It was either that or Chow dog puppies and I felt like today I deserved to see some goddamned pecs and sex tunnels. So kill me.

Ladies, you're welcome.

I sent this survey to every cousin, sibling, parents, grandparent, in-law and cousin in-law that I have. The purpose of the survey is to give your story and your memories and a photo or two while you’re still in your prime. I would say before anyone has lost their mind but its a bit too late for that in most cases of the people I’m working with and so we’ll keep with the “in your prime” idea.

It sets me off slightly that no one ever researches family history or makes a family tree until people die. Then the grandparents of grandparents are long gone and no one remembers anything about where they’re from or what Crazy Aunt Betty was really like. I asked our parents last year to tell me to name their grandparents and great grandparents and tell me where they’re from and in some cases, too many cases, they had no answers but weren’t that apologetic about it. Like it didn’t matter that they couldn’t remember someone who was only one leaf above them in the tree. This is really unsettling to me. Also, my family is bat ass crazy and Mr. H’s has it’s moments too and I’d like people to remember all of us without having to try hard. So. I’m going to take the responsibility of organizing it and then pretty-ing it up later and then the whole world can thank me for leaving our legacies behind, with photos.

In the email I sent out to our families, I offered up a bribe to every one of them. It’s the only way I can get any of them to type something. First five (of 30) to send the questionnaire back to me gets a very nice and fancy gift from Europe. Not one of them has responded and they’re about to get their week reminder. My family just LOVESmy demands and my *patience.

But seriously. Could I make it any easier on people? Fill out a questionnaire and no one will forget you. The questions aren’t all boring, either. I want things like favorite quote, first car, favorite book, dream job, greatest accomplishment, nickname, favorite cocktail, best memory, biggest regret, favorite vacation spot and use three adjectives to describe yourself to all be a part of their stories. To me, those things are far more important than the school they graduated from and how many siblings they had. And besides, my follow-up question would be WHICH sibling do you love the most and which do you wish would drown?

Oh, I’m sorry. You don’t wish death on anyone in your family? Huh. Weird.

So since all of my family members have so far ignored my request or avoided talking to me about it, I am going to fill out mine and then email it to all 30 of them as a reminder that they are lazy and they will not win this battle. They will give me their stories or I will put them on the phone and do it that way.

And I know. I sound a bit crazy. But am I the only person that is absolutely terrified of being forgotten?

First, I should note that I like a good sig block. However, I do not like it when people add a salutation or closing to it. That means every damned email and reply you ever send includes a closing, which is too much. If I send an email to one of my girlfriends saying I need a drink, it does not have to be signed.

Acceptable email coming from me:
Caroline,
This staff meeting I’m sitting in is going to make my head explode. Please bring me vodka STAT. Seriously.

Heather Hopkins
Event Coordinator
company
phone/email

See? My sig block (which is actually much better than that one vague one I just included) is still on the email but my friend doesn’t need me to sign her email.

Unacceptable email sent from me:
Caroline,
This staff meeting I’m sitting in is going to make my head explode. Please bring me vodka STAT. Seriously.

Best,
Heather

Heather Hopkins
Event Coordinator
company
phone/email

Sometimes, you just don’t have to close, which is why I hate the automatic, always included closing.

Which leads me to today’s harassment session.

All of a sudden, Mr. H’s emails to me included a very vile closing IN EVERY ONE OF HIS EMAILS, right above his signature block. I can’t quite pinpoint why I hate this particular closing so much, but maybe because when I picture him saying it out loud, it sounds awful.

Kindest regards,
Mr. H

Instead of harassing him directly at first, I decided that in my next email to him, I was going to end with my very own closing and see if he noticed.

Mr. H,
Do you want to go to lunch off base somewhere? I’m tired and bored. Chinese buffet. Woo.

With hateful intentions,
Heather Renee Smith Hopkins

He did not find this amusing and gave me the nice version of fuck off and told me it’s in all of his signature blocks now.

Dear Mr. H,
That’s EVEN WORSE.
You sound light in your loafers. Or like an eager old woman. Leave it at regards.

With sunshine and glitter and warm cupcakes,
The one and only Mrs. H

He wasn’t even laughing. Instead he just ignored me and made a lunch suggestion. With a closing, of course.

Do you want to get Mexican for lunch?
Kindest regards,
Mr. H

Now I was so tickled with myself that I kept going.

Yes, Mexican. I’m in.

With dreams of pretty things and obviously ponies,
Heather S. Hopkins

He was starting to draw the line with my boredom fueled antics.

Enough of the bullshit tag lines, Heather.
Kindest regards,
Mr. H

Not until I say stop, Mr. H, and I was not done. I carried it into lunch.

What’s so wrong with it? he asked and crossed his arms.

It’s stupid. You sound too eager. You don’t have to tell me you’re being kind. You sound like a girl. I figured I would keep it simple.

Then what? What closing should I use then? Hmph. He didn’t really want my opinion. We all know that. I think he was trying to trick me into proving I had nothing better.

But I did. I always do.

What’s wrong with “best wishes” or how about just “best”? That’s what I use. Seems to work well and it doesn’t sound stupid. Also, you could go all in and sign your shit “high five!” Yes, high five. That’s awesome. I’ve done it many times and it always brightens a day or two. Try that one, even though it’s mine.

I am such a giver.

He was going to keep fighting me on this.

No. I’ve tried “best” before and I’m over it. It’s so 90s. At this I rolled my eyes because it is so NOT 90s. He carried on.

But I agree with you on the high five. I just can’t, though. It’s not professional enough.

I had to agree slightly but then no, I thought better of giving in.
No, I disagree. Anyone that doesn’t like a high five can fuck themselves. Do you see how fucking excited people get to give and receive a high five? It’s like hand slapping magic. Who doesn’t like a high five? And a virtual, through email high five? Awesome. Great way to end an email. And I don’t care how high up you are or professional you are. If you can’t appreciate a fucking high five at the end of an email, then I am not emailing you anymore.

Seriously, how happy are these people?

Which is the moral of this very long story I’ve just told. If you don’t appreciate the value of a high five used as a closing for email, then sorry, but you can go to hell.

If this doesn't help my argument, nothing will

Any writer loves words. Declaring you love words is worse than declaring you love lamp. Loving lamp is at least awesome.

But, I am breaking my own rules about saying stupid things.

I do love words. You would not believe how excited I get when someone gives me a thesaurus as a gift. It’s pathetic how happy I become, almost orgasmic, when in establishments that are built to hold words–libraries, stationery stores, bookstores, etc. Christ, last month I went into my favorite book/stationery shop in France and became so overwhelmed with joy that my hands were shaking and I almost had a moment and cried.

Yeah, I’m that fucking annoying and unstable.

So, yes, I’ve decided to take on a word related project this year. Not this one, over at SMITH MAGAZINE, which I submit to from time to time because I really love it…

But this one, from Ali Edwards. I’m going to do the One Little Word Project.

It wasn’t hard for me to pick my word for the year. It’s supposed to be your mantra, something you relate to all the different parts to your life. The word should be something powerful for you, something you can apply daily, something you can find a way to document.

For 2012, I chose SIMPLIFY.

Nothing about my life is ever simple, but that’s the point. This year, it’s going to be, and I’m looking forward to it.