(Frisbeers? Frisbeeians? What does one call a frisbee player?) I think I joined a club or something because I keep getting invited back to play Frisbee. And not to toot my own horn, but I'm not too shabby. Not too shabby enough to have people complain about the other team gettting me and being guarded during games. Who gets guarded during an Ultimate Frisbee match? This kid. (Please don't take me too seriously, I just want to be good at a sport. Even if that sport consists of flying plastic disks.)
After the last game I went to, I was invited along afterward for a barbeque. Probably because of my extreme Frisbee throwing skills. In Germany, barbeques are just parties, but for some reason they like to say barbeque. Egal, there was much man-portioned meat and drinks to go around. I decided I would also contribute to the gluttony and baked cookies. I would say they went over pretty well.
You know that saying that money can't buy happiness? Perhaps true; however, cookies can buy friends. It was like Germans have never eaten a bunch of sugar and chocolate together. I couldn't understand it, until I saw this:
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| Let's play Spot the American! |
You poor, poor German souls. How could you consider this a party with so many vegetables?? I'll give credit where credit is due, we ate and drank without stop until around ten at night and at the end of the night cooked bananas in the fire with chocolate shoved inside, and although delicious, a sorry excuse for sweets really. Because honestly, check out the plate. That's how they looked.
Next barbeque I'm going to introduce the s'more.
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