Monday, June 6, 2011

GIVE ME 20! (Gibt mir zwanzig!)

 I think I liked the idea of paying for my words much more when it was a bit of a vague, metaphorical or even theoretical statement.

Here’s the deal. My husband (D.), my cousin (A.) and I (C.) decided to kick start our German language skills… in the butt. On Wednesday, we committed to one week of speaking only German to each other (until 9:30 pm… which really, seems a bit late now that I’m thinking about it). Nice and easy right? Probably too easy (we innocently thought), so we all agreed on some consequences. The repercussions of disobeying the rules mentioned above are humorless, which is really saying something seeing how I find quite a few things funny. Anyway, if any of us speak any English, Spanish, or Portuguese  before 9:30 pm, we have to do 20 push-ups or 5 pull-ups for each 10 second period of English words that were spoken. I’m still in awe over the accelerated rate those 20 pushups can add up. Really, it blows my mind. I have however found one way around the rules (leave it to me… ) it’s called Gerglish. That’s what I call it anyways, I’m sure it actually has a much cooler name in real life. But really, it’s simple. You just say and English word with a German accent and then add some Scchhh sounding sounds to the end of it. Sometimes people fall for it. Sometimes you get stuck with 20 pushups. It’s a risk, but like many risks, every once in a while it pays off.

Needless to say, if I don’t stop slipping up and forgetting to speak German, I’ll be looking like a top heavy body builder by the end of the week. Maybe I should get a tan and buy some white wife-beaters. For those of you who didn’t grow up around or as Rednecks, a “wife- beater” is a (usually) tight fitting, sleeveless shirt that is worn by someone who may or may not actually physically assault women, but appears to be someone socially capable of doing such deeds. Common accessories include barbeque sauce stains, sometimes mustard, and often produce an aroma of sweat, urine and or beer.
Now that I’ve described wife beater shirts, and newly remembered how incredibly insulting on a cellular level they actually are, I’ve changed my mind about buying a few…

Really though, I’ve got to watch my words. Yesterday I had to do 80 push-ups, and today I’m already up to 100. I chose push-ups instead of pull-ups mainly because… what was it again? Oh yeah, I can actually do push-ups (not the girl ones… by the way). Pull-ups and I haven’t quite come to terms yet… I mean, just for the sake of example I’ll share with you the 8th goal on my list last week.
#8- Do 2 pull ups a day.
Pathetic right? I always say I like to set realistic goals… even if they are humiliating, but really?
Want to know what’s even more pathetic? I didn’t even do them.. or try.  Hence the 80 push-ups. I vote for new consequences. I’m legitimately concerned about this body builder thing, and I can’t get that mental image of me with a spray tan out of my head (the woes of an active imagination). Especially, considering the fact that D doesn’t need to do any pushups… not that he would even notice doing 80 push-ups(even if I was sitting on his back trying to weigh him down.. to no avail), and A. doesn’t seem to mess up very often. Maybe we should make some punishments that REALLY suck, but won’t actually physically kill you… you know, like watching the Twilight series, or something? Actually… I’d rather do the push-ups. I value the health of my brain cells too much.