Greetings followers,
This week your leader has learnt first-hand a powerful lesson. That lesson is the pain that is comeuppance.
When you were all rugged up in August in the Motherland and I was gloating about my newfound ability to tan in the Northern Hemisphere, the thought of seasonal reversal did briefly cross my mind. However, I did a little victory dance anyway that was not quite in the spirit of being a good winner. I will have you know that I am still dancing, but now it is out of necessity rather than glee. I need these sweet sweet dance moves to keep warm. I just did a walking tour in NEGATIVE TWELVE DEGREES CELSIUS. I am practically an Eskimo. The fact that it snowed on November 6th should have been a warning to me. You are all immediately called upon to send your leader supplies; blankets, mittens, Milo etcetera. Ask not what your Stephanie can do for you, but rather, what your Stephanie will do TO you if you don’t do all you can for her in this time of need. The shock of this unforgiving climate has lead me on two adventures in recent months in search of warmth.
I firstly explored the landscapes of Madrid and Barcelona, and soaked up the Vitamin D heaven that was supplied by 25 degree days in October. Quite the improvement on two degrees with zero degree wind chill that we were already experiencing in Berlin at the time. To better research the tourists I subliminally recruit to our armed forces each day through my work in Berlin, I played quite the tourist myself. Walking tours, bus tours, tapas tours… that’s right, I found a tour that allowed me to drink sangria. I am currently working on integrating this into my tours in Berlin. Putting the FUN back in FUNdamentals of German history I say.
I then made a journey to Deputy Dave (my deputy named Dave - a cunning alias) in London, via bird murdering sustained through bird strike on my flight from Barcelona to the English capital, complete with emergency brace position. Exciting. I was somewhat alarmed to discover that London was quite warm in contrast to Berlin. You know you’re in trouble when the city you live in is colder than London. Phase two of world domination will involve large heating devices strategically placed around Berlin. These devices will also dispense sangria. Handy.
After two weeks back in freezing Berlin I said “proverbial this!” and fled to Milan. Milan was also playing host to my Cabinet, the All Blacks (minus Sivivatu - that guy can’t perform under the high ball. I’m not putting him in charge of anything in the Empire, except for maybe Citizen’s Rights or Leader of the Opposition). Luckily, I managed to get a ticket to the game a few hours before it started (thanks Renny and James! Free air travel, health benefits and harems for you two in the Empire) and got to enjoy the ABs from an exceptionally handy location. I remarked to one Italian man that Italian fans are the nicest, politest and most gracious in the world. His reply? “Nah, we just don’t care about rugby. Most of these people are only here for the haka.” Still, I found the Italians lovely. Apart from one. Yes, there is always one…
This *expletive* man wouldn’t allow me to enter the cathedral because I was wearing a skirt above the knee. And not too far above the knee mind you. Doesn’t he know God loves all his children, even those with cold legs? Now Italy is in the Empire that dude might find himself doing Cathedral line control in a BIKINI! Mwah ha ha. Seriously though, I felt like quite the whore being humiliated and refused entry due to my skirt. First Mary Magdalene, now me. Girl power Madge, girl power. We will have our revenge. Me with world domination, you with a film starring Tom Hanks.
My only criticism of Milan other than Skirty McHate-a-lot was the fact that I think the transit system is set up to confuse tourists. True story. Where does this tram go? How do I get to Stazione Centrale? Where can I buy a ticket? I spent two days searching out transit maps and wondering where the tram I was on stopped, to no avail. I strongly suspect that the locals have secret maps on them and hidden in password protected false stones on the walls.
“Hey, this train goes to Greco right? Let’s look at the map.”
“NO! STOP! For the love of skirt-hating God, there’s a tourist right there! Put it away!”
Perhaps the secrecy surrounding the public transport is to allow cab drivers to charge extortionate rates for the people who give up. Perhaps it is for the daily amusement that is confused tourists storming around Milan in circles. Perhaps it is because, to Italians, it’s jut not logical to be able to buy a tram ticket anywhere near the vicinity of the tram itself. I’m not sure. But every crime needs its punishment, and Milan’s is going to be having their public transport privileges revoked. Help yourself to that extra slice of pizza Luigi, because YOU are going on foot.
So back to Berlin we go, where public transport is so easy a retarded stick could use it. To celebrate the wonder that is Berlin’s transit system, and in conjunction with the 20 year anniversary of some bit of concrete that came down, allegedly due to David Hasslehoff’s magical pipes (good one Hoff), we had a bit of a shindig in the German capital on November 9th.
Seriously though, the Berlin Wall anniversary was incredible. I cried talking about it in my tours in the lead up to the anniversary. I filed into Pariser Platz in the freezing rain six hours before the event began to commemorate it. I detoured tours for like a week to accommodate it. And do you know what my reward was for bawling like a small child while losing feeling in my feet when they were discussing the beauty of unity during the event? Having to witness a giant map of the world (read: my world) going up WITHOUT NEW ZEALAND ON IT.
Stop. Press. You read that right. A deliberate slight against the new leader. Here is an actual account of my dialogue at this juncture.
“(Sob) it’s so amazing! (Sob) families put back together! (Sob) YES we can be as one together! (Sob) YES the way forward for the future is unity! (Sob) Well, maybe people won’t live under dictators in a perfect world, unless that dictator is me. (Sob) YES the world needs to work together as one peop- WAIT. Wait wait wait. WHERE'S NEW ZEALAND ON YOUR MAP YOU GERMAN ASSH*LES?!”
Colour me displeased.
It was almost enough to make me rethink a decision I made recently. Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, subjects and limbless insubordinates, I am staying in Berlin an extra six months. In short, my book, entitled, “How to take over the world in 12 months by Stephanie Taylor,” has fallen behind schedule, and so TV3 and the ever more amazing Roger Beaumont have agreed to give me time to work on the reworked edition, “How to take over the world in 18 months by Stephanie Foxworth.” (Note the name change - I think it’s dynamic). The upside for you guys is that with this extension we should be able to add Greece, Ireland, Scotland, Holland and Croatia to the Empire by June next year! Ancient relics of marijuana-smoking, potato-eating, kilt-wearing… um, Croatians for all of us! Unfortunately it does mean that I will be away from the Kiwi Motherland for Christmas, but after the church’s recent slight on me and my skirt I might be abolishing that particular holiday anyway. I will however, be home for a three week dose of skin cancer in January and February, so like the reunification of Berlin and Germany, we will be reunified also. I will start asking you all now to begin work on presentations for new slogans for our empire. I have seen some cracker slogans this year, including the one for Welsh lamb (“Welsh lamb; from Wales”) so the bar has already been set pretty high.
Merry Stephanie-mas (take that Jesus - who‘s laughing at whose wardrobe now?) and Happy New Year to you all. Looking forward to hugs, kisses and submission beatings in January!
Stephanie the Cold xo
P.S. Those of you who are keeping up with my domination by recording which musical acts I have seen, I have a new one to add to your list. Thanks again to my beloved Tali, the other night I got to see - for free no less - the Backstreet Boys! Laugh it up, I’m not even ashamed. They were awesome. Anyone who gets the opportunity to see them in Auckland next year should immediately take it and wear your “I want you that way” t-shirts proudly. The attendance of this concert also had the additional benefit of finally convincing my work that it is NOT a good idea for a girl whose personal slogan is “proudly mainstream” to learn a tour called the Alternative Tour. The highlights in my hair weren’t quite enough to convince them, but seeing Nick Carter in concert was. Paris Hilton might not appreciate you Nick, but now I do.
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