nature

An intern at Volkswagen actually behind the emissions scandal

Wolfsburg, Germany- In the midst of finger-pointing exchanges, it seems that the truth about who is actually behind the emissions scandal at Volkswagen is finally coming to surface. After the chief executive Winterkorn resigned “in the interest of the company” and denied any wrongdoing and not knowing anything about the “diesel dupe,” it seems that he may have been telling the truth.

Markus Schneider, 22, was hired on as an intern at Volkswagen as part of the HR team. His tasks primarily entailed bringing coffee to his boss, making copies and answering phones in a true polite manner.

But Markus wanted more; he wanted to leave his mark at Volkswagen. On his own, he came up with the “Diesel Dupe”, a device that was put in diesel engines and could detect when they were being tested, changing the performance accordingly to improve results.

“The CEO’s didn’t know about it, of course not,” Markus told us in a confidential interview. “I acted on my own. I went to the designers and manufacturers and told them that this new device is mandatory in every vehicle. As an intern, they all knew the power I had and didn’t question my orders. Within weeks, they started installing the diesel dupe. I was very proud of myself.”

The recent scandal, however, upsets Markus very much. “I was hoping to get a promotion, you know. It is a brilliant scamming technique and I fooled everyone at Volkswagen. Now, everyone is resigning and I am out of job. It definitely didn’t turn out how I wanted it to.”

Inspired by The Onion

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I’m a murderer. Vicious, vicious plant murderer.

I dread this time of year. Dread it. Anyone who has any vacation days left is hopping off on a flight to Dominican resort or is boarding the party cruise-line…. and who do they ask to “keep an eye on” their plants? ME!

I hate watering plants for people. Give me a hamster to feed, a cat to cuddle with or a dog to take out. But plants? I forget about plants. I don’t know how much water they need. I don’t know their types. I don’t know their survival requirements. I know nothing! By having to (not) water them, you turn me into a murderer. A terminator! A liquidator! Pure and simple, a killer.

My sister is the one that dumps them on me. I reluctantly agree, of course. I can take care of her daughters when they are at my place, how could I not take care of plants then? Maybe I will do better this time!

At first, the plants seem fine. I try talking to them. Sing to them. I try to make them happy. I diligently read the list on how much water they need and how often they should be watered. Next few days, I forget they are there. Because they are so quiet, I don’t notice their presence. I watch TV, I write my blogs, I go to work without a single thought regarding the plants.

Then I come home one day, and I suddenly notice almost like a trail of shedding leaves. Then, as I glance to see if there are any survivals left, only few, sad, wilting leaves are staring at me. “You did this to us!” they scream. Then I notice spots and brown patches on stems. “Please forgive me!” I cry. I give them so much water their little pot is overflowing. I don’t know what to do. I add more fertilizer. I put them in a warmer place. I blast Mozart and Vivaldi through the house. I stay up late to talk to them and make sure they will make it through the night.

By the time my sister comes back, sun-kissed and reborn from her vacation, I manage to kill half her plants. She grabs whatever plants are still half-alive and storms out- saying she will never trust me with them ever again. I pour myself a glass of wine and cheer to the plants I killed. I’m a plant murderer.

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Hate running and do it with a passion

Running doesn’t keep me happy. I don’t care if they have cute running clothes to make me look like I am dying less when I run. Nor do I care for the positive brain effects and endorphin that release as I run. Ok? I couldn’t care less.

I have no love for running whatsoever. I do it purely and solely because it is good for my health. There is no love relationship with it; I am not passionate for the sweating and the huffing and puffing I go through every-time. I am not a fan of having to convince myself from not stopping all the time. It is a constant mental battle and constant fighting with my body. Because, I guess, some people have bodies which are in dying need of running. My body is in dying need of couch-ing. When I run, I am like a nagging wife who constantly reminds her husband to do something. “Don’t stop, run faster, don’t stop, think positive, you can do this, don’t stop, pick up the pace, yes you can do another five minutes, don’t stop, didn’t I tell you not to stop?!”

But, as I tell all my friends who find running to be “boring” and hate to do it… You probably don’t like to go to work everyday either and yet…. you go. You make yourself do it. Why? Because you get paid. If you go running, you are compensated with good/better health. It’s boring, yes, but how many things in life are beautifully boring and yet a major part of our lives? So do it, be passionate about your hate for running and go sweat your butt off.

P.S: Thanks for reading my post, now share your thoughts on running with me 🙂

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Dinners on plastic plates

The first time I was ever almost stoned to death because I brought plastic plates for dinner was during my first dinner in France. Growing up, my mother stored all the fancy china Grandma inherited in a special cabinet, while she made all of us use plastic plates. I did not think anything of it- Mom did not have a dish washer and -therefore-logical thinking- we used plastic plates so she did not have to clean the dishes after.

And then I came to France. Study abroad and all, with people from all over the world (which btw, my book on the study abroad is available on Amazon). Anyway, we were almost like representatives from the United Nations or something, gathered behind a tiny table. Trying to be helpful, I brought plastic plates, plastic cups and plastic silverware to eat with. It was not cheap either, so I really thought I was doing everyone a favor. Well, I guessed wrong. Needless to say, most attacks came from the Germans and the nature-loving Scandinavians. I think I had to listen to “how wasteful” Americans are through the whole dinner. I never felt so judged. Is it really so wrong to use plastic plates? Isn’t using a dish washers equally wasteful? Why I am such a horrible person?

The type of treatment I received was more than brutal. Even the Canadians loved to bash my wastefulness and hatefulness for nature. But I did not care- all I kept thinking was my Mom, and how many nights those plastic plates saved her from being the dishwasher. Instead of cleaning the dishes for half hour, she was able to sit down, relax and talk to her kids. That’s worth something too, right?

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No, thanks- you can keep the pill that will make me live longer

As I was reading the daily gossip news on Yahoo (yes, some people still use Yahoo), I came across an article about a pill which could prolong our lives to 120 years. Now, it sounds nice in theory, but do you really want to live to be 120?

Getting old sucks! Why don’t they find a way to prolong our youth (wink, wink) because that is when the good stuff is happening. Your skin is elastic, you don’t have back pain, you don’t have to take naps in the afternoon, you are excited about change, you actually want to do things…. What good will it do me if I am 120 years old suffering from Osteoporosis/Dementia/Parkinson’s and I’m in pain?

Being old is not fun. Visiting my Grandma, who is in her eighties and lives in a home, is a painful experience. I love seeing her, but knowing who she used to be and how she is now and how tiring life is for her… It’s terrible.

I guess what I am trying to say is I won’t take the pill if it ever becomes available. I don’t care if they slow down the process of aging- it is still not worth it to me. I will be happy with the amount of time I was given on this planet and will try to make the best of it. Without chemistry. With nature.

What about you? Would you take the pill?

P.S: Thanks for taking the time to read this blog! Much appreciated! ❤

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Incinerated four-leaf clover

Sometimes bad luck lasts a couple of days, but this one has been dragging around for a while. As I was sitting on the couch earlier, contemplating why and how I deserve this bad time in my life (there is nothing wrong with a little self-pity), I suddenly noticed the “Surviving the French Revolution” book.

It was given to me by a friend, and I only opened it once….a while ago….to make a herbarium out of a four-leaf clover. Suddenly it hit me. Perhaps the 1:10,000 chance in finding a four-leaf clover does not bless you with good luck, but perhaps with bad luck too. Did I bring my own misfortune disguised in a leafy green clover?

I had to do something about it. Throwing it away would mean it is still there, just in a different location. Instead, I found a pair of matches in the kitchen cabinet and lit it on fire. It had to be incinerated, only that way it can stop jinxing my life. I hope from now on my bad luck is gone.

Are you guys superstitious? Do you think a clover or a lucky charm truly bring good luck? Am I a little crazy for doing this? Share your thoughts with me  

P.S: Thank you everyone who took the time to get my special offer on Amazon a few days ago. I am thrilled some people out there are reading what I wrote….IT MEANS THE WORLD! And please leave a review or comment, love it or hate it.

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7 years of hoping

“Jake Hudson, the perpetual thought in my head and a recurring topic of conversation in our family. It’s my fault, really. For the last seven years, I have been hopelessly in love with Jake; he’s my friend, the boy of my dreams and the man I hope to marry one day- he just doesn’t know it yet.” -Jenna Gunner

Today I’m posting about love, since I am in the mood to bash the stupid things our hearts do when we are in love (not talking from a personal experience at all, akhem…. )

Jenna Gunner’s biggest flop, if you want to call it that way, has been her devoted love for a guy who never promised her anything. Granted, her poor teen brain is filling her up with hormones which lack the ability to think rationally, but I see this happen with adults too. All the time. Has it ever happened to you?

In our minds we create silly delusions and block the reality from ever entering our brains. Every psychologist would say it’s a defense mechanism but I think at some point it is stupidity. Just how stupid can we get when we are in love, and just how much can we suffer when our love is unrequited? The simplest solution is just to get things straight….ask the person and be done with it!

 Anyone has good stories about unrequited love? Tell me all about them! 😀

Oh, and THANK YOU for the likes and new followers, I am so excited!!! Please, share your COMMENTS too, I feel like I am talking to myself otherwise XD

P.S: If you have Kindle Unlimited, my book is free…Check it out!