A cake baking sherlock is spying on the Loveparade...or what?

It is friday. Another one of this very strange and emotionally disturbing weeks comes to an end. What did I actually do so far? Not much. I...
... bake a cake. Which is something I do when I'm stressed out and unhappy. So that's what I did monday while I waited for the results of my mother's surgery. My dad later gave the cake to the nurses at the hospital...
... went not to one but to two openings of art exhibits. I'm an widely interested individual. Tuesday they had free cocktails and beer plus some photographs. Wednesday they had sparkling wine, coffee (both I don't like very much), beer and lots of fancy little food bits and very loud electronic music. And a BBQ. And photographs and drawings and some kind of sculpture. I felt slightly out of place and actually enjoyed it.
... read three Sherlock Holmes short stories. I'm just a sucker for detective stories, and preferably those that are set between the worldwars in rural England. Or Conan Doyle. Did anyone ever notice that his "deductions" are about as ridiculous as those of the Vincent D'Onofrio character in that Law & Order spin-off? What's it called again? "Criminal Intend" or something? In a similar way to Mac Gyver who could build about everything from a piece of tape and a paperclip this officer can deduct your childhood tradgedies from the way you button your shirt. MacGyverism of the mind, I'd say. Just as old Sherlock. But for whatever reason Sherlok was more believable than Vincent D'Onofrio... I actually took a class in college once that dealt with Conan Doyle, and the first thing the professor said was: "Well everybody, from my experiences as a teacher I want to set one thing straight right away: Sherlock Holmes did not live. He is purely fictional." Some of us had rather a blank look on their faces. People seem to have a tendency to believe he was real. Just as my colleague at work last night. He argued that he actually had been to Bakerstreet. Maybe he's right, and Sherlock's greates deed was to trick us all into believing he wasn't real. Gosh, I'm talking bullshit here. Sorry. So what else did I do? I...
... raided my sisters place yesterday. I have a key, and I go there to do my laundry after my own washing machine died on my causing a bit of a pandemonium in my building. Deatails of that sad story involve peeling paint and garstly specks of wetness on the ceiling one storey below. That was about ten month ago. Nobody made me pay anything so far, and I won't complain. So I actually could have gotten a relatively new washing machine a while ago, I sort of inherited it from my aunt (yes, there have been other tradgedies in my family this year. In fact about half of my extended family simply died in 2008. I started out having four aunts and 3 uncles, am down to 2 uncles and two aunts including one with bad cancer. Not to mention my mom. But, as you see, this would deserve a posting of it's own. Maybe later sometime. You never know, but I just guess this year won't exactly make it to the Top Ten list of favorite years... ) I just have to pick it up AND find somebody help me carring it up to the fourth floor. Which is a problem. But I wanted to tell a different story. That of my sister's appartment. I went there to get all my laundry done, and usually I call her in advance to let her know that I'm gonna be there while she is at work. Just didn't do it this time. I got so bored there, she does have the slowest machine ever. I couldn't really make up my mind wether to have a peek at everything and rearranging things just a tiny bit so that she would get slightly confused on her return. Or go through all her stuff and putting an extreme effort in leaving everything exactly as ist was. Which is a more challenging task. Therefore more fun. So I did it. Did it but got a bit dissapointed. That's what you get for being a noisy bastard. It was pretty uniteresting after all. My sister is a tidy person and her (relatively new) place looks like one pictured in a interior design magazine. She owns a white sofa, which is actally clean. I own a dark blue one that looks like shit from all the dirt. In her place: all's very clean and very empty, with few places to hide secrets. Those few: free of secrets. Or maybe I am just a miserable spy and she, on the other hand, is a great keeper of secrets. I ended up stealing a fucking euro from her just because I was anoyed by how casually she spreads her spare change around. Jealousy, I'm afraid. I am a bad person, now you know.

As things are I'm putting all hope on the weekend. Which is never a good idea, chances are I'll be dissapointed badly. BUT there is the show tomorrow: World/Inferno Friendship Society! I'm really excited about this one. And there is LOVEPARADE festival in my city. I don't kow if anybody outside Germany even knows about this. Well, the dutch do, they always come. But anybody else? Don't know. I probably will tell you when it's over. I'm a bit scared. They are expecting a fucking million people to visit. WHAT! There are about 600.000 living here so we'll have three times the people wanderin' about for just one day. Sounds crazy. And full. I'll tell you about it...