My mate Julie and I bought tickets to go see Liverpool play Hertha here in Berlin at the Olympia Stadium. Last time I was there was a couple summers ago to see the Stones. I actually saw Liverpool FC play there before, think it was August 1993. So fun to watch them play. They are amazing. AND The Beatles come from Liverpool, so naturally I am going to support them. Their color is RED, so my gal pal and I wore red.
Tickets were only 25 euros ($35?), which is pretty fair. This was just a "friendly" match, nothing big at risk. Everyone was super relaxed (read:drunk) and having a great time.
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| Olympia Stadium, Berlin (not taken day of game fyi) |
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Our seats weren't that great, or even next to each other, but we managed to find an easy going security guard who went against the strict German rules and let us in a section that wasn't *gasp* the one on our ticket. We wanted to sit with Liverpool supporters (where the most red shirts were). As I said in my video, above, we soon found out, that just because they were wearing red and supporting Liverpool, doesn't mean they are FROM Liverpool, or even the UK. There were all East Germans, yes, I know, there is no more "East or West" officially, but mentally, it's still here. The "Ossi's hate the Wessi's" etc.. Anyways, the East Germans HATE Hertha (Berlin's Football club) so much because they are "West" that they would rather support the "Inselaffen" as they call the Brits (the Island Apes, because the UK is an island, blah blah).
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Lots of players falling down and lots of "ecken" (corners?) wtf does that mean? I admit, I don't know all the football lingo and all, but it's even worse trying to figure out the football lingo in another language. I can speak and read (and write) German, but these sport terms had me confused.
We did the wave a few times. I love that. We all sang the football songs, and Julie told me as I walked up to have a slash (piss) the guys were singing "Get your tits out" but I didn't even notice because I thought it was just another football chant and blocked it out. ha ha.
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These lads sat two rows in front of us and asked us to pose for pictures like 10 times. They are from East Germany too.
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Julies perky tits are a bit hidden here… I guess I squashed them. Sorry Julie. Word: Underwire Bra.
A sporty sausage fest.
Julie and I were asked by at least 50 guys to pose with them for a picture. So, why not ask them to take one of us? Julie was like "wot the FUCK Dot? Why are all these people asking us for pictures??". A couple of the German guys asked me if I was 'Dr. Dot' and one said he saw me on TV, one on Big Brother (I was in the BIg Brother container for one whole day a few years ago massaging all the peeps. You can see pics at www.puredrdot.com click on LINKS and see Big Brother banner). It was actually getting embarrassing as people were trying to watch the game and there was this massive hoopla around us, omfg. I am UNDER exaggerating. Seriously. Wish Julie would put her two cents it. She is a writer too, so perhaps she will blog too. The girls seated a few rows up from us were shooting daggers at us with there eyes. Hey, get yourself a red dress. Red is THE color apparently.
Julie and I took a taxi to the game to save time, but decided to take the S-Bahn (over ground train) towards home. It was so fucking packed outside the Olympia Stadium anyways, that no taxi would ever get through. So we plowed along with the hordes of football fans (some hooligans too) and squeezed onto the train. I usually never take public transport here (used to years ago) because you can basically walk anywhere in Berlin (keeps legs slim), rollerblade or walk. PLUS, Germans fucking STARE. I mean they REALLY do not know the difference between an innocent glance and an outright 5 minute long stare. No one has ever taught them that it's kinda rude. lol. I remember dating a massive brick layer from London named Kevin years ago, like hmmm, 1993, here in Berlin. He was a weight lifter and built like a brick shit house (normally not my type, but he loved Elvis, so that won him brownie points). Anyways, I remember my fling with Kevin didn't last long because every time we went somewhere in public, like a pub or the underground train, Germans would stare at us (I was doing Madonna dopple-gaenger shows (impersonations) for money because I could not speak German yet and so I had a short white wavy bob (like her Blonde Ambition tour cut) and super thin eyebrows and he looked like a fucking wrestler. Anyways, they would stare and he was so aggressive (he told me he took steroids to get bigger muscles ) he would SCREAM at all the Germans who looked at us, which of course, brought more attention to us, and then more aggression from him towards them. Omfg. Nightmare. Anyways, Germans stare and I was dressed in red, as you can see, and had the cleavage on at full force (hey, we only live once, let them breath. Someday they will shrivel up and rot, so for now, they are out).
The guys on the train heard Julie and I talking in English (we can both speak fluent German) so the lads didn't know we could understand them at all. The train was PACKED and they were making LOUD, obnoxious comments about her skirt, her tits, my tits, my dress, etc. We just smile to each other and kept on talking. After a few stops, some seats became available and she and I sat across from one another and the hooligans sat next to us (there were loads of them). The train got a bit quiet when they sat down next to us and they kept on talking about how they would LOVE to do this and that to us. They suddenly I turned to the loudest one and in perfect German, loud enough for everyone to hear, I asked "So what was that you said awhile ago about my tits?". His jaw hit the floor. They all turned bright red (guessing they were around 20 years old). The whole train, apart from them, was laughing their asses off. Snap.
I wasn't offended or pissed, I mean, if you dress that way, you have to expect some flack (got it every day in High School when I was dating Joey Ramone, but instead of Red, I was wearing PINK every day (hate pink now, would never wear it again). Most of the time, I wear sporty clothes, but sometimes I like to vamp it up. SO bring it on, I have a massive sense of humor and a sharp tongue. What was that one of my friends called me the other night "Tornado Tongue." hmmmm. heh heh.
Well, neither Julie nor I are BVG (Berliner public transportation) savvy, so we got off at the Hauptbahnhof (main train station) and were both so famished we would have eating the South end of a North bound skunk at that point. We scarfed down some amazing German bread (Germans make the BEST fucking bread I have ever had) and then headed over to Murry's Irish Pub (used to be the Emerald Isle). My mate Steve is the cook there (he is from Dublin and is engaged to a German lady). A lot of the English speaking community of Berlin hangs here at Murry's. Hey, if you feel like just speaking English, you hang out with fellow English speakers. So we do.
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| Great BOWIE shirt, no? |
Sid and Nancy in Berlin? ^ |
This is "Beano" and he is from Ireland and reminds me of Sid Vicious . He sings with a punk band too. The blond girl (Anne) is his German pal. All of us English mother tongue folk all see each other about town, drink at the same places and basically all know each other. Most of us all get along.
Two English regulars (guy at far left if Graham) and Steve (did his hair blond recently) and Julie. Dam I wish I could remember everyone's names. Why can't people wear name tags? heh.
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Steve and I ^ My neck looks like one of the Olsen twins in this pic. sigh.
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Another blog, another morning that I am STILL up at 9am. Seriously thinking of going to Thailand for Christmas and New Years. Just a random thought. I need something new; always going to the same places. Just a tad afraid of the mosquitos(sp?), American haters (will I get kid naped and decapitated live on TV? Will a hurricane wash me away? What a pussy I am turning into lately.). If you have been to Thailand, tpell me, where did you go? Where is the best place to go? Not into lady boys and shopping. Clean beaches, good hotels and mostly, where one can feel safe. Yawn, off to bed.
x
Dr. Dot
