Yearly archives of “2012

All adventurous women and me do

girls hboIf you know me personally you’re probably aware of my passion insane obsession for HBO show Girls.

It started slowly a couple of months ago: when my friend Simone introduced me to the pilot I got really engaged and could easily identify with the themes of the series. The main character Hannah, in particular, was clearly a more tattoed, less dressed up (not as in elegant, but as in naked) version of me.  So I started doing normal fan stuff like quoting the show with my friends, searching information on the internet and asking to be called Hannah during intercourse.

Everything was normal, but then it escalated.

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Me — Desperate Hipster Attempt Edition

There was a time when I was pretty intolerant towards hipsters. For no particular reason, actually, other than in Berlin being against hipsters is possibly trendier than being a hipster yourself.  But then I ran into an interesting post about being a hipster written by my friend Adam and a whole new world disclosed before my eyes.

Being a hipster was suddenly this enriching, proactive, positive way of living your life, and of course I needed to try that. But how to start? Was it an inside process or the outside part was relevant too? I decided to start working on my image ’cause hey, I’m a superficial person, and I happened to have just won a Hipster Kit from a website called Hipstery, through a contest hosted on Uberlin.

hipster fede

The result (see photo) made me die inside. It’s worse than the time I tried to drink Club Mate (which I won’t ever ever do again) and I think it made pretty clear that glasses, a big moustache and my own real nose don’t really look good on my face.

The good news is that if I ever get to rob a bank I already know how to dress up.

About Memory

Riccardo: I always do that when I’m in Bologna, especially with the guys of the memory training. “Hi, this is an invitation for a memory training!”….”Hi, this is an invitation to go to hell!”.
Fede: What? poor things!
Riccardo: Whatever. The next day they’re still there, saying the same thing. It’s the proof that that training doesn’t work.

From the bottom of my heart. And Penis.

Ten days ago I turned six million years old and my colleagues baked me cakes. Since sugar is clearly my soulmate (and also the reason why I’ll be forever alone) this made me extremely happy. The spanish team and the italian one opted for some crunchy chocolate cake and a delicate strawberry one.


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Bananasunday – a definition

The term Bananasunday indicates one of those Sundays when you’re not in the mood to eat out, your fridge is empty (except for that yogurt that expired four months ago), you don’t have cash for pizza delivery and the only edible thing in your house is a banana.

The day ends often (but not always) with an attempt to eat toothpaste.


Monumental Breakdowns #1 – Bebelplatz


I would have set on fire every word you’ve ever told me. Starting with the W of  What’s your name? ’til the Y of I’m sorry. Dipped your voice in gasoline and watched every letter of every lie coming out of your mouth as it would burn to the ground. They were as empty as these shelves, and still I wanted to escape their meaning.

pic by Scott Cawley


Monuments are built to maintain and arise collective memories. But personal memories, even microscopic ones, are somehow stronger and can infiltrate the intents of a monument, hijack its meaning or maybe merge with the history we know.

The Farewell Cake or “The Life and trials of Steffi Love”

So what happened in the office is that Laura, a french intern, ended her time in the company. We wanted to do something special for her farewell party, something unique, something that would leave her good memories of us traumatize her forever.

Nat (blogger and evil genius) had the right idea, but she needed a doll to put it in action. The casting went on for days: we were looking for a fresh face, someone the audience would like and who could bear the complex, tortured role we had in mind. When my little helpers sent me a picture of Steffi Love (directly from a shelf in Woolworth, the new place to be in Berlin) I knew she was the one.


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