I don't know what it is: Because I speak too fast to fit in as many words per minute as possible? Or does it just happen that way? Because sometimes, in the midst of a flood of words, the wrong word escapes my lips. In itself no problem – but unfortunately some confusions have it in itself and the fate takes then its course. The first time I noticed it was during a chat with my neighbor Mr. Brock, an old German teacher. I told him that I would like to buy a drone, but that it would probably tear too big a hole in my bidet. But one should not always pay attention only to the disdainful mammoth. Because he, as a conifer in his field, would also spend a lot of money on his textbooks. As a good teacher, he corrected me immediately, of course, and said with a pitying look that three mistakes in two sentences mean an even six and that, by the way, it means budget, mammon and luminary. Embarrassed, I said to him that I didn't know how to get out of the atmosphere. The second time a misnomer fell on my feet was when I wanted to distinguish myself with a relief campaign for neglected children and asked the well-connected Mrs. Huschke to organize a charitable collection in my name. And lo and behold – many beautiful cartoons about neglected children and overtaxed parents came together as well. Since the auction of these pictures brought a whole lump of money, I came on detours nevertheless still to the goal of my small donation action. By the way, it is called malapropism, if one unintentionally uses a similar sounding, but from the intention wrong word. Since this kept happening to me, I decided to be as autistic as possible in the future and make fun of deliberately using the words incorrectly. I noticed that most of my interlocutors also had difficulties with foreign words. Because hardly anyone seemed to notice my deliberate distortions. Trudchen from across the street could only confirm that I am technically served. Mr. Blum agreed with me that most topics are highly sterilized by the press. In addition, he noted that I sometimes react too implosively to such questions – I swear, that was not meant ironically. Mrs. Mockers decided to go to church on Saturday, when I told her how a Hormonium concert had awakened my maternal feelings there the other day. I was flabbergasted when Mrs. Zunk said that people who use foreign words incorrectly were stupid – at least that was her mortgage. I have never believed that I am all alone – but that there are so many of us would not have occurred to me either! Well – if you can't handle foreign words, you'll just have to live with the frequencies. To relax I'm going to get a latte machojato and flambe a bit in the Fennpfuhlpark. Thereby I can consider if becoming a success couch is an option for me.