If you can imagine it, it has been done.

Krock on! Before I start let me just once again stress how relentlessly hot it is over here. Upon stepping put of the door, the heat hits you right on the face, it keeps you close to the ground and makes even me, generally a hater of air conditioning praise its inventor. The 2 or 4 poeple who read this must by know have found out that we did end up not going to Montreal so staying in Rochester obviously had to be enhanced by some activities. I woke up at the Amicos where I had pretty much crashed after the Harry Potter marathon the night before and Beth drove me over to Margarets where I unpacked and got myself ready for the planned visit to Syracuse mall, where we were going to blow some money. I did, however, not take my camera, otherwise could have shown you photos of the fantastic sign at Victoria’s secret that promise you a pink dog stuffed animal with every purchase of dog lingery, the amazing lighting at the Hollister store (which, I am not at ashamed to say this, earned my true affection today). That store messed with my mind. Everything was darkened, and he walls were woodish, the light was pleasant beyond all and in the fitting rooms you look like you are tan as hell due to the light. Is it love? Perhaps, i defintely need to go back to the one in Rochester for photo purposes. And yess, i did give in and got that jcrew sweater. in case you care.

Anyway, we left Syracuse and went half an hour on the Thruway until we reached a little town where the so called “K-Rockathon”, also referred to as “krockathon” was taking place and were we had tickets for because Cake was playing. Yes, that very band that wrote Comfort Eagle.
Neither I nor Margaret had yet seen such an amount of white trash ina long time. I don’t know about her, but for me this was the ultimate contrast porgram to the finney-ish christian bubble and was pretty horrifying, though I liked to see cake.
the whole thing took place on a racing ring in the bazing heat. we had overcast, yet it was at least 35 degrees out there. shortly after arrival we alarmed the security guard about a man who had passed out in a muddy puddle due to high alcohol intake and that was only a sign of what was to come. The crowd consited of trashily-dressed girls with cigarettes in their hands, sunburned males who wore either wifebreaters (feinrip-unterhemden) or had the worst farmer’s tans ever. pretty much 90% of the people there were tatooed and equipped with beer and walking around restlessly on the dry ground near the stage. free condom samples littered the ground and the us army, air force and the marine corps had sent recruters to complete the picture. imagine camouflaged young men, swetay and sunburned beyond all, standing around, talking to the people who were there; a couple of testosterone-filled boys next to them engaging in various sporty exercises under the banner “the power to be your best” under which drunk males filled out forms to order info material to join the marines. it was scary and just showed that america is in many respects no different than germany. it may seem like that if you attend finney and hang around nice people; yet there are tons of other people out there who behave just like drunk germans.

the worst thing was, however, the tshirts with bad saying on them reaching from “shut up!” to “vote for beer” up to such geniusly rhymed pearls as “rock out with your cock out”. my definite favorite was yet a disabled guy in a wheelchair who wore a shirt that said “my penis still works” and thereby knocked out every competing atrocity on a shirt.

cake eventually started playing, after margaret had been hit on by various men. unfortunately they only played 6 songs, so we were kinda disappointed and left afterwards, sweaty and dirty, disgusting and wet.. but that did not stop us form hitting the factory outlet mall where I, lars m., gave into fashion and shopped at calvin klein where the clothing was priced at the level of h&m. viva la factory outlet.

we got back to rochester and since we were starving we cleaned ourselves and margaret took me to tapas, a bar/restaurant sort of place in the city where my life was permanentely changed by the incredible amazingness of the food there. i can hardly put it in words, but my tastebuds are spoiled now. YUM.

then, just until half an hour ago we watched a movie called sideways.. which i am too tired to desribe right now. thanks for putting up with my writing about consumer obsession.