I received a phishing email over the weekend and decided to show it to my freshman class so they could see how deceptive some of these emails can be. This particular email allegedly came from a bank and asked me to update all my account information, including my mother’s maiden name.
This led to a discussion about why someone might want to know your mother’s maiden name. Then a student, trying to be clever, raised his hand and asked:
“Mr. Klein, what’s your maiden name?”
to which another student replied:
“Duh. He doesn’t have a maiden name. He’s not married.”
Paint Dry Sport (n) – Any sport that is about as exciting to watch as paint drying.
Almost two weeks ago I had just gotten home from the airport and was trying to stay up late enough to dull the effects of jet lag. My roommate had to go out to give a tour to the new staff in the early afternoon, so I flipped on the TV to see if I could find something exciting enough to keep me awake.
One of the channels we get in English here is British Eurosport, which is also commonly referred to as Paint Dry Sports Channel.
When I first flipped it on, they were broadcasting a ski jumping competition. And no, this wasn’t a rerun from December. It was live. And they weren’t jumping on a snow-covered peak, they were landing on something resembling AstroTurf. Now maybe I’m just narrow-minded, but winter sports have a clearly defined season…It’s called winter. I realize that ski jumping is one of the few sports that Austrians are actually good at, but seriously…
I waited out the ski jumping and was rewarded with…wait for it…wait for it…race walking. Now you should know that I number among those who consider it a travesty race walking is considered a competitive sport by anyone. It ranks right up there with synchronized diving and rhythmic gymnastics as sports people should not have won Olympic medals for. I mean the very term “Race Walking” is an oxymoron. It’s not a race if you’re walking! Race walking is what 3rd graders do when you tell them not to run in the hall. You should not get a medal for that. Ever. And even if you are misguided enough to give people medals for walking fast, you should never, ever show these “competitions” on tv. I would seriously rather watch sprinters warm up for the 200 meter dash. Guess what’s on next?
*Sigh* I miss ESPN.
I arrived back in Vienna on August 9th, narrowly and thankfully avoiding the whole British liquid explosive situation. The summer was good, but busy, taking me across the Atlantic four times.
I thoroughly enjoyed seeing many friends and my family during the brief periods I was back in the US, including my little brother’s wedding. In between my time in the US I spent a month in Plymouth, England (about 4 hours WSW of London) starting in on a Master’s degree in Educational Technology. I really enjoyed year one of the program and met some really great people along the way. Afterwards I was able to enjoy a little downtime at my parent’s home in Florida before heading back to Austria.
I spent my first week back in the deathgrip of jetlag, tossing and turning through many sleepless nights, trying to grasp my current time zone. After two weeks, I think I’ve caught up on enough of my sleep to function properly, so that’s good.
I’ve also enjoyed getting to know some of the new staff at school this year. They all seem like really great people who bring a lot to the table and I’m looking forward to getting to know them more as the year progresses. It’s always amazing to see how God blesses VCS through the people he brings here.
It’s hard to believe that school starts up again on Thursday. There’s still a lot to do before then, so please keep me in your prayers.
On my list of things to do today was to deposit some extra pounds into my bank account. No, not those pounds…British Pounds. It’s money. So I wait patiently in line and finally get to the counter and ask to change my British money to American money and deposit it in my account.
The teller looked at the colorful money and said, “We don’t do that here.” I gave her a puzzled look which prompted her to ask the teller next to her, who confirmed that they did not, in fact, change foreign currency.
My teller then told me that I needed to go to bank to make my transaction.
I said, “This isn’t a bank?”
“No sir, this is a Credit Union. You’ll have to go to a real bank to change currency.”
“A real bank?”, I asked, still not convinced that I wasn’t standing in one.
“Yes, a real bank. You know, like Wachovia or Bank of America. This is a credit union. We can’t do that type of thing here.”
So apparently dealing with foreign currency is a pretty big deal around here…One advantage to Austrian banks is that you can walk into pretty much any of them and trade currency. That might actually be the only good thing about Austrian banks, which are open daily from 8:00-3:00, taking an hour and a half lunch break. That’s right, the banks are closed at any and every moment you aren’t working. Thursdays they stay open late…til 5:00. Weekend hours? You must be joking.
I suppose I can’t complain too much, though, since the $5 I needed to open my credit union account is the minimum balance I have to keep in there.
Last week I was running through my parents subdivision in the heat and humidity of the Florida sun. It was my first run through the neighborhood, and I was not quite acclimated to life-sucking heat and humidity here. So on the way back I was feeling a little woozy and dehydrated.
It was then I saw what I believed to be a female peacock…just walking down the road right past me. I slowed, turned, and watched baffled as it waddled into someone’s front lawn. A peacock?!? I thought I’d better get home quick. No telling what I’ll see next. So I turned around to see what I was sure to be a male peacock following the path of his little girlfriend.
Still not quite sure if I was haluccinating or not, I quickly ran the rest of the way home. Later I asked my mom about it and she assured me that there was a whole ostentation of them living out in the back of the neighborhood. Yep, ostentation. That’s what a group of peacocks is called. You could also say muster. A muster of peacocks. I think I prefer ostentation…it makes you sound smarter.
The next morning I saw about 10 of them roaming around. For a big bird, they sure scare easily.
Or maybe more like Rai-eeeeee-aiaiaiaiaiain. Isn’t it ironic? Rain on your wedding day is supposed to be good luck, I think.
Well, we arrived at the church in the midst of a thunderstorm, but like most summer storms in Florida, it didn’t last too long. By the end of the reception, it was nothing more than puddles and damp grass.
So I married off my youngest brother yesterday in what was both an amusing and beautiful ceremony. And yes, that means the wedding was on a Monday.
Q: Who gets married on a Monday?
A: My brother, Jon.
The evening wedding took place at a small church in Tampa and was attended predominantly by family of the bride and presided by the bride’s uncle. The groom’s family consisted of my parents, my brother Josh and his wife, my uncle Dick and aunt Tica, and me. Let’s just say pictures went a lot faster with the Klein side of the family.
The reception was good, too. The DJ did a good job even though she was old enough to be my grandmother. So the jokes were kind of what you would expect from Grandma and Grandpa, as well as the music selection, but the humor and music suited the evening just fine. The bride and groom smeared icing on each other’s faces, the flower girls caught the bouquet, and I couldn’t quite snag the garter out of the air.
And speaking of garters, there’s something a bit unnerving about said DJ exclaiming, “Real men do it with their teeth!” as my brother started to reach up his new bride’s dress(pictured). *shudder*
Good luck and God bless, little brother. I pray many happy days await you and Sarah.
Or maybe more like Rai-eeeeee-aiaiaiaiaiain. Isn’t it ironic? Rain on your wedding day is supposed to be good luck, I think.
Well, we arrived at the church in the midst of a thunderstorm, but like most summer storms in Florida, it didn’t last too long. By the end of the reception, it was nothing more than puddles and damp grass.
So I married off my youngest brother yesterday in what was both an amusing and beautiful ceremony. And yes, that means the wedding was on a Monday.
Q: Who gets married on a Monday?
A: My brother, Jon.
The evening wedding took place at a small church in Tampa and was attended predominantly by family of the bride and presided by the bride’s uncle. The groom’s family consisted of my parents, my brother Josh and his wife, my uncle Dick and aunt Tica, and me. Let’s just say pictures went a lot faster with the Klein side of the family.
The reception was good, too. The DJ did a good job even though she was old enough to be my grandmother. So the jokes were kind of what you would expect from Grandma and Grandpa, as well as the music selection, but the humor and music suited the evening just fine. The bride and groom smeared icing on each other’s faces, the flower girls caught the bouquet, and I couldn’t quite snag the garter out of the air.
And speaking of garters, there’s something a bit unnerving about said DJ exclaiming, “Real men do it with their teeth!” as my brother started to reach up his new bride’s dress(pictured). *shudder*
Good luck and God bless, little brother. I pray many happy days await you and Sarah.
