Molar your own American

Our second (!) dinner party has just ended, and our housemates are back upstairs singing and hollering at the TV as they watch soccer commentary. We get such a kick out of them, and they seem to enjoy hanging out with us as well, though our interests are about as different as you can get.

We had planned to serve them authentic Mexican, or at least Texan, fare, but grocery options here are limited. After substituting kidney beans for black ones, basmati rice for, um, whatever the right kind of rice is, and Gouda for a Mexican cheese blend, the whole thing was a bust, authentistically speaking. Still, it tasted good, and since they opened and distributed a bottle of chardonnay while we were still drinking beer, our taste buds were pretty much shot anyhow. Plus, holy shit, Corona costs 7.59 euros for a six-pack, compared to 3.50-ish for the Dutch stuff, so we weren’t even drinking the right kind of beer. (Sidebar: I remember drinking Desperados back in 2001 at the Heimbar in my German dorm for a euro a bottle. Ah, there’s nothing like state-subsidized adult beverages. Even cheaper than vending machine beer.)

Afterwards, Remco insisted on doing the dishes. Rock on.

I tried to be helpful, drying a few dishes and pitching the accumulated mound of advertisements as we chatted about his recent vacations to Kenya and Venezuala (take note, brother – you two would get along). I’m beginning to think I shouldn’t trust Yahoo Babelfish for any more of my translations. The following ad is rendered “Molar your own American,” though it ACTUALLY says “Choose your own American.”

Heaven knows I’d rather choose Kentucky Straight Bourbon Whiskey for President over our current dismal options any day.


~ by themeansister on October 29, 2008.

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