Today was interesting. Foregoing my usual editorial duties (after spending yesterday translating a 1,500-word story from German to English, a process about which the less said the better), I actually got to play reporter again, doing interviews for the next issue of my magazine (Which I will be leaving within a very short period of time. Know of any jobs?)

The next Oskars title story is on youth cliques or groups, looking at the various sub-cutures that young people assign themselves to. For the section on bohemian/hippy/artsy-type folk, I was forced today to head down to the hip part of town, sit in the sunshine, drink coffee and chat with people who sport hair of colors not seen in nature. Oh, the pain I undergo for my profession …

So, here’s what I learned today:

All hippies have dogs.

I think this is true in America as well, but it’s way more evident here, since more Germans have dogs and they bring those dogs frickin’ everywhere. And I do mean everywhere: when I got home yesterday, I found a dog in my bathroom using the toilet. OK, maybe not that level of ubiquity, but close. Hunde ride the subway, wander through shops and traipse in and out of restaurants — many of which stock water dishes for the beasts. There’s few things creepier than having a strange mutt beseech you for handouts when you’re trying to eat. I usually end up giving them a few sips of scotch, just to see what happens.

Back to the hippies — every collection of wacky haired, funky clothed, ganja-smoke-wreathed youths I’ve seen in this country has at least one dog hanging out with them. Where do they get them? How do they feed them? The only thing I can figure, especially after looking at the amount of taxes taken from my last paycheck, is that you get issued a dog when you go on welfare, and the government picks up the feed bill. I tell you, it’s the only thing that makes sense.

Red is the new black.

I think … although I’m not actually sure what that means. I think either brown or blue was the new black last year (the year before? I dunno; it’s not like I’m really trying to keep up on this), which I’d think would mean that red is now the new blue — but somehow that makes even less sense. The only reason I even know the phrase “the new black” is ‘cause I keep on waiting to read that white is the new black, a statement that would no doubt precede somebody declaring that down is the new up — and when that happens, I can go around quoting Douglas Adams and George Orwell, impressing … errr, ok, impressing nobody, really — but it’ll make me happy. And that’s what matters here.

While sitting around watching the hipsters parade by, I saw more red — red socks, red shoes, red jackets, red bags, red pants and shirts — then I’ve ever observed in such a small area at one time. I love when everybody tries to be different by dressing the same.

That style with the skimpy t-shirt and bell-bottoms …

Works well on some women. Doesn’t on others. My point here: You should figure out which you are before leaving the house. This is a public service announcement. Thank you for your attention.

Uhhh … I’m sure I learned other things today (oh, yeah, I found out that I was using the German word for pencil when I meant pen, a discovery that gave me quite a red face, so at least I fit in with all the other red-wearers), but those are the highlights. So, in closing — and totally non sequitur-ously, Happy Cheeseweasel Day! (Oh, and the guestbook is back up.)