Saturday, February 17, 2007


Zwiebeln schneiden und mit etwas Öl und Knoblauch glasig dünsten.
Das geschnittene Rindfleisch zugeben und auf großer Hitze scharf anbraten, dabei mit Salz und Pfeffer würzen.
Das Fleisch mit trockenem Rotwein begießen, bis es komplett bedeckt ist, und eine Zweig Rosmarin, Möhrenscheibchen und gewürfelte Süßkartoffeln zugeben. Köcheln lassen.
Den Rest des Rotweins auf Ex trinken und den Eintopf mit etwas Weißbrot und einer zweiten Flasche Wein genießen.

(Insider-Tip: Anschließend den Kolumbianer Kaffee für alle kochen lassen!)

Weitere News: Aufgrund meines extrem ereignisreichen Lebens hier werde ich demnächst meine Autobiographie veröffentlichen. Wahrscheinlich auf einem Bierdeckel.

Aber schöne Fotos gibt es auch: Meine wissenschaftliche Errungenschaft ist es, ein Dopamin-Anfärbe-Protokoll für den Nemtoden Caenorhabditis Elegans (Dat is'n Wurm) auf Fliegenhirne umzuarbeiten. Schick, ne? Die kleinen blauen Kleckse sind Dopaminerge Neuronen, also genau die Teile des Hirns, die bei Parkinson verloren gehen.
Außerdem: Das Antioxidans Glutathion schützt Fliegen vor Parkinson-assoziiertem oxidativem Stress.

Cut onions and heat in oil, possibly with a little garlic.
Add the cut beef and roast shortly. Add salt and pepper.
Cover the beef with red wine, add carrot slices, rosemary, and diced sweet potatoes. Cook on medium heat and stir occasionallly.
Have the rest of the wine and enjoy the stew with a second bottle and some white bread.

(Insider tip: have the Colombian make coffee for all afterwards!)

In other news: Due to my fast-lane life here, I will be publishing my autobiography shortly. Most likely on a beer coaster.

But some nice photos to look at: I successfully adapted a dopamine-staining protocol for C. Elegans for fly brains. the blue spots are clusters of dopamineric neurons, which will be lost during Parkinson's disease.
Also, antioxidans glutathione protects from Parkinsonism-associated oxidative stress!

Wednesday, February 14, 2007

My Funny Valentine

I am just coming from the IHouse Valentine's Day party, which incorporated mandatory high-pressure-dance classes. Up until now, Salsa -to me- meant "delicious dip to be enjoyed with freshly purchased nacho chips". Sometimes, I like to submerge a nacho chip into the jar and pretend it's the fin of a salsa shark. As of today, "salsa" also means "White boy can't move his legs while counting". It's a good thing we did calculus in school while being seated, if I had to move at the same time, I would have failed that class like there's no tomorrow.
My dance partner, whom, in absence of a real name, I have cleverly nicknamed "cheerful California girl", was able to fake her way through the moves, but me, with no hand-eye-foot-mouth-coordination (meaning the respective activities are mutually exclusive, i.e. I can't walk and talk, or see and catch, or clip my toenails), it was Mike's Movement Mayhem.
Actually, if I ever start a dance company, that's what we'll be called. Also, we'll be avantgarde. Definitly.
Now here is a joke that won't work spelled out.
Why is six afraid of seven? Because seven ate nine. (Say it fast.) (Do it.)

Sunday, February 11, 2007

Cook the Kiss

I don't feel like writing anything. Also, I don't feel like translating into German right now. Maybe tomorrow. Deal with it.

My neighbours hooked me up with blastin' Japanese HipHop, which I enjoy. I never realized: HipHop is nice when you don't have to put up with detailed descriptions of how much money and bi-atches someone has at his/sometimes her disposal. It's got a soothing ring to it. Kinda like the chatting of ducks at the pond. Except they will not go upside yo head if you try and feed them breadcrumbs.
Here are pictures of people.
Andres joined us for some food.

I don't know what's wrong with Einan (far right). Gus (middle) is unaffected. Jetze (left) claimed to be demonstrating what gesture all asians make when you take their picture.

To test the hypothesis, I took a picture of Ming. Hypothesis discarded.

Fair Amy reads the blog.

Yours truly doesn't get out much these days. The outside world has yet to complain about that.

In other news, we ventured into "Trader Joe's", America's favourite organic marketplace. It's all the fun of buying at an untreated-wood-paneled WalMart while paying "this better be solid gold"-prices. How is nutrition related to Disneyland-styled food display booths?
I would have told them that to their receding-hairline-yet-ponytail-embellished faces, but I was afraid to get run over by a hybrid in the parking lot as retribution. TJ's customers look like a vindictive bunch.
Sell-outs like me will have to resort to next-door's "Trailor Joe's" foir their fix of microwaveable pizza and PBR.