Gossip Girl Grief

Sue,

I can't remember if you even own a TV or not, so my current state of total devastation might mean nothing to you. But please, just give me a moment to indulge in my Gossip Girl grief.

I have been living here in the UK for almost nine months now (Biological Clock! I order you to cease and desist! Do NOT think about what else could have been happening in that amount of time!) and there are a lot of things I like about being here. For example:

London...

• is not disgustingly sweltering in the summer.
  
• is home to Colossus, the Trainer of Dreams (seriously you should feel my butt these days).
  
• is a 90-minute flight to the Hofbrauhaus.
  
• contains more Nutella per capita than anywhere else in the world.*
  

However, London has one ghastly fault:

London, tease that she is, does not air Gossip Girl when the US does. She airs it, alright, but - later. An unspecified amount of time later.

Thus the reason for my dark pashmina of mourning today. As season two of GG airs in the States, I will be - well, technically, I will be asleep, but also - praying for a swift deliverance of "series two" (as they dub it here) to the British airwaves.

What's the big deal, you ask? Let me break it down for you, oh unenlightened one:

Gossip Girl...

• is fashionista porn!
  
• is mayjah dramz!
  
• is metrosexual eye candy!
  
• is camptastic!
  

I am not exaggerating when I say that it was the highlight of my spring when, in one of her scenes last season, Georgina (evil bitch that she was) carried the same bag The Lawyer bought me for our anniversary. I have rarely felt so fashionable. And downright awesome.

So Sue, if you do have a TV, please tune in for me. Gals everywhere, reap every morsel of enjoyment out of the second seasoning.

You know you love me.

XOXO

DomestiGirl

*Ok, made that one up. But it sure feels true when you've outlawed Nutella until your honeymoon!

My Ancestral Awakening (Don't Tell Colossus!)

Fraulein Sue,

I have had an ancestral awakening. I have never been so proud of the fact that my last name ends in two - not one, but TWO - "n"'s. For real. I feel connected to my German heritage for the first time since being forced to act excited about it for "Ethnicity Day" in fourth grade.

Let me explain.

The BF and I needed to leave the country so I could come back in and validate my student visa. The perfect excuse for a Munich mini-break, no?

Mind you, I was not particularly interested in going to Germany. I had never been that enthused about my German roots. The language gets caught in your throat, the people seem a bit harsh and overly brawny, and the beer-guzzling is so not conducive to looking hot in a wedding dress. But seeing as we are only a two-hour jetlagless flight away from my ancestral home, there was really no excuse.

I have no idea where in Germany my family is actually from, but I have hereby embraced Munich as the land of my forefathers. What a great town! 

The glockenspiel! 

Underwhelming and overrated, yet nevertheless endearing!

The dirndls! 

I am set for slutty - I mean, traditional - Halloween costumes for life!

The weisswursts! 

I was in hog heaven (literally). 

Also? My new obsession now that the Olympics are over: Hofbrauhaus. Beers and pretzels as big as your head. Definitely not Colossus-sanctioned but a to the mazing. Not to mention the effortlessly fabulosity-oozing locals:

I am desperately hoping this man is my long-lost great-uncle.

My new affinity for my native culture does not mean we will be giving away beer steins as wedding favors, nor will the dress code be changed to "Lederhosen Chic." But still. I am thrilled to have discovered that I do feel connected to my beer-guzzling, big-boned ethnic roots after all.

Auf Wiedersehen,

Fraulein Jen