Über den Tellerrand April 14, 2006Posted by BiB in Uncategorized.
It’s the accidental discovery’s wot’s dunnit. Realising that I can now e-mail direct to my blog has liberated me from the shackles of my living room – sorry, our office space – and I’m now casting all caution to the wind and have actually, for the first time in BiB’s short history – I think we’re technically known as a start-up, still – decided to try and blog from elsewhere. So here I am… only fucking blogging from the kitchen!
Darlings, but this growth and progress comes at a price. Namely, to my conscience. You see, the thing is, this household is in possession of a laptop computer. It was decided it was a necessary addition to our technological portfolio back in January before I went on a junket to New Zealand as I didn’t want to be uninformed about market movements as I lounged around by swimming pools and drank fantastic local wine. Obviously, it wasn’t used for a single second and even now mostly sits dustily by the bed at BiB inc.’s Berlin office, but have one nonetheless we do. But the conscience thing… The thing is, we don’t have wireless in this flat. But someone else in the house does, obviously. And I do own that spatula thing that you can stick in the back of your computer to pick up wireless if it’s to be had in the environs. Darlings, is this theft? Is BiB inc. going to be taken to court and sued for theft of something or other? Or does etiquette mean I’m allowed to ponce someone else’s bandwidth? It feels awfully naughty. Thankfully, I don’t do it often, as, I repeat, the laptop mostly sits dustily by the bed, ignored. But the new-found freedom of realising I can e-mail my blog means I just have to try new things.
So here I am in the kitchen. I’m looking for kitchen inspiration. We’ve got an awfully nice kitchen table, in an awfully nice blue. It was found on the street (the table, not the blue. We never just find random splashes of colour for keeps on the street). It Paddington-bearishly had a bit of paper tacked to it, saying, “Rescue me,” or something along those lines (and in German). Rescue it we did, got the bastard home, painted it blue and here it now is, jerking – not in the American sense – violently as I tap away clumsily.
(Darlings, live experiment happening this second. Here I am, surreptitiously blogging, and the Russian has come in, cast a glance at the computer-screen and clearly thinks I’m writing to my old aunt Ethel in Tonbridge Wells. Brilliant. It’s working a treat, this ruse.)
OK, this is too much excitement and too much trickery for one experimental blog-post. I’ll be going to Potsdamer Platz soon to wankily post there (all the while pretending to be impressed by the architecture and that cunting fountain). And I so wanted to tell you about a new Eurovision site I’d discovered. Soon, soon…