English Comedy in Hamburg

This month, we combined the German Kaffeeklatsch und the English tea time and did a Sonntagsspaziergang to an English Stand-up comedyshow called “Ladies of Laughter”. It took place Sunday afternoon at 4pm and was it’s first of a kind. Our location Haus 73, Hamburg’s alternative heart pacer, served tea, coffee, beer and cake. My “comedy brother” Khalid (for some reasons, he refers to me as “sister”, so I give him back the favor) organized the show and booking, did a guest set and brought Rwandan comedian Michael with him, who happened to hang out in Hamburg.  I had fun hosting this afternoon comedy parlor with an international audience. It’s nice to give Hamburg some international comedy flair. Or some comedy flair at all. Opener was Carmen Chraim, originally from Lebanon. In Berlin, she organizes the German-English comedy show “Comedy in Deuglish”. And our headliner was Caroline Clifford (UK), who co-hosts the longest running English comedyshow “We are not gemüsed” in Neukölln. (Running so long, that it actually was the first live comedy show, that I have ever seen in my life. And then thought “I can do that, too”. Four years later, this week, I performed there myself for the first time. Comedy Nostalgia). Recently, I found out how to do photo galleries in WordPress, so I made one for this post. Thanks to Luisa Esch for taking photos that day:

 

 

Comedy Hosting for spacebase at New York Loft Hamburg

I like this story of Tom Waits driving in his car on the freeway, when suddenly a divine inspiration hits him with the melody of the best song ever to be written. He cries to the Heavens “oh God why now, not now, don’t you see I’m driving? I can’t write down the melody anywhere. Go to Leonard Cohen. He probably got time.”
I may have come up with jokes while driving before.  I have definitely never written a good joke at a desk. Divine inspiration doesn’t like office atmospheres. I write them in bed, in the car like Waits, on the bus like Eminem in 8Mile. And mostly walking. Never go on a hike without a cane, a pen and a piece of paper! I have heard of companies, that made the Mittagsspaziergang mandatory.
Have I worked at a desk? Oh yes! Brooding over a joke, elaborating it, re-rewriting it and finally casting it into the trash bin marked „why did I even think this was funny“? Multiple times. Pedanticus, the God of accuracy and persnicketiness, inhales office air. There is a reason why administrations don’t have ball baths and pin pong tables. Files would vanish and reference numbers smudge. Where is file No. 84692? Eh, somewhere stuck between the lounge seats.
So if walking doesn’t keep the mind going, why not rent a creative office at a gas station or a boxing range? Yes, those exists. And I met the people, who rent them out. Two weeks ago, I got to know the Berlin start-up spacebase, specialized in renting out office spaces – ordinary and not so ordinary. And I hosted their networking event “Club der Office Visionäre” in Hamburg. Thank you for a fun, interesting and tasty evening. Here are some impressions:

 

The Hamburg startup company Rundblick 3D presented their virtual reality tours of buildings (c) spacebase

 

 

Thanks for the feedback! (c) spacebase

 

 

I wished this was a photo of me hosting a show kitchen. (c) spacebase

 

 

Me interviewing Jan, one of the spacebase founders, at the New York Loft in Hamburg Eppendorf. (c) spacebase

 

 

 

 

 

One Year Stand-up for the Ladies

I’m celebrating one year of Stand-up for the Ladies. Germany’s only regular stand-up comedy show, that features primarily female comedians. Why? Because we need it! One year! Before starting it, I was inspired by a weekly Open Mic called Hysteria!, that I visited in San Francisco. One year ago, before the first show, some comedians told me, that my mic will take place once and never again. “Because there are no female comedians”. Well, guess for my show, they all left their stove and washhouse exiles. Because somehow we’re still running. And more and more women decide to try out stand-up – and look for a save space to do so. Hell Yeah! Because women have the same right to bomb as men. And since it got around that my show is not “just a Ladies Night” but actually a quality comedy room, more and more male comedians perform there, too. And they don’t have to wear wigs! Some people asked me why men are allowed on stage. Because all comedians are welcome, as long as their only punchline in not “haha that cunt!”. After doing shows for one year, I’m happy and grateful for every performer. On my stage, we have watched women perform stand-up for the very first time and professionals swinging by just for fun. What a treat!

Last week, we had six comediennes on stage. And my dear photographer Sergey Sanin was with us again. I baited him with Hamburg’s best brownies. And, of course comedy – whenever he has time to listen in between releasing the shutter. You can check out his photographs from last week following this link. For this post, I wanted to post like every photo but before I don’t get any sleep at all, I finally made a selection. Will “Stand-up for the Ladies” continue when I move to Berlin? Before I go there for good, there will be two more shows: In April, we have an all English Comedy showcase “Ladies of Laughter” with sets from Caroline Clifford (UK), Carmen Chraim (Lebanon) and me – hosted by Captain Khalid. And the following month, “Stand-up for the Ladies” is back on May 16th. And then we will see about the future.

(All photo credits and rights: Sergey Sanin. You’re allowed to post them when naming him.)

 

Brussels Revisited

Exactly one year ago, I traveled to Uganda via Brussels airport. I arrived at the terminal the same second three suicide bombers, at the other terminal, pulled their triggers. Killing fourteen innocent people and leaving eighty-one injured. I was stuck in nearby Leuven for four days where I wrote this following text. Then I continued my travels via Paris CDG, arriving in Uganda on Easter Sunday.

3/22/2016 Brussels Airport 

I was at Brussels Airport when the bombs exploded. I didn’t hear nor see it. But I saw hundreds of people running in my direction. My first thought was „how can so many people be late for their flight?“. How little did I know.

We then assumed that there was some sort of attack. One Swede threw up his hands „seriously, this is my fifth terrorist attack“, as if he had a collecting album. We stood at the A Terminals and waited for news. The sudden, eery silence was only interrupted by a school class playing fussball. They didn’t worry. Each of their loud cheers was answered by other people’s yelp. The mood was tangled and tensed.

Fifteen minutes later the airport announced evacuation. Most travelers didn’t follow the instructions at first and thought it was a fire drill. One officers pulled me gently off the restrooms. People had to leave all their luggage. One woman said „back home I announced I wanted to be less controlling, less attached to material things and have a blast. I didn’t mean it this way“. It was sad to find out later it was real and people died.

While walking outside the terminal, I overheard a couple saying „ah evacuation, thank God we wear functional clothing“. One person rejoiced „finally, I can also mark myself safe on facebook“. Some ordinary tourists discovered their inner journalist and metamorphosed into realtime reporters with selfie sticks. They got this ambitious look on their face like they’re part of something bigger. Now anything was suspicious, the floor, the planes, the weather. Me, I was just cold. I wore summer cloths and a rain coat.

Back in Hamburg, I was worried „will this raincoat warm me for five minutes between the bus station and airport? And protect me from the warm African highland monsoon?“ Little did I know that I was about to stand outside the airport for 5 hours. There I was freezing and thus started dancing, imagining minimalism music. Some people complimented my sweet moves. I was thankful I didn’t start a sad flashmob. In fact, I felt horrible. I also hadn’t slept or eaten in two days. I started crying and put on sunglasses. I was cool crying. I ate all the chocolate that I initially bought for my hosts in Uganda. Me, dancing and crying with sunglasses, raincoat and eating chocolate. This image will stay with me for a while. Still, I had no idea what really happened.

Hours later me and all the other hundreds of people were escorted out of the airport area, followed by journalists and cameras. No one really knew what was going on. I was hoping planes would leave soon. My first stop was at a gym hall where I rested on the floor. We then were advised to go to Leuven, a small town outside of Brussels that was not affected by the attacks. We were told to look for hotels and return to the airport the next day. At the train station, I became friends with two young American women on their way to Delhi. On top of everything, one of them had food poisoning. All hotels were booked. We became friends with despair.

Eventually, we got the last beds at Leuven City Hostel. It was packed only with people who were there involuntarily. There were Turkish guys interrupted on their way to Berlin, two Czech couples trying to get to Havana, and two girls from Bielefeld because they wanted to go to Louvain-la Neuve but confused it with Leuven (Leuven in French is called Louvain). 

 

3/23/2016 Leuven

We still don’t know how to go on. First, we were so happy to be able to sleep. This morning, I woke up at seven from the construction on the other side of our hostel wall. They started working to The Final Countdown. I didn’t care. So far it seems there will be no flights until further notice. The airport is still marked a crime scene. The airlines seem to be as uninformed as us. I’ve been waiting in their phone line for about five coffees. It seems like I will stay for even more coffees in Leuven. Me and my new friends spend time together. For example, we go into stores just to be warm. The hostel life feels a little bit like an involuntarily Erasmus experience but without luggage. I made so many friends, also because I’m the only one with an iPhone charger.

Leuven is a cute Flemish university town. Our first encounter was a blessing. Three Belgian guys gave us free food. An entire cake, a baguette and oranges! Everyone here is dressed nicely. Us not so. Rather three girls in oversized bulky raincoats. We felt so foreign. We weren’t underdressed enough to look like we dressed up like that. We three just stuck out like accidentally stranded backpackers. It’s small details like that, a silly rain coat, which made one feel foreign. What must bigger differences feel like?
My thoughts are with everyone affected by the attacks.

3/24/2016 Leuven at night

It’s astonishing how fast I can get used to a standard. Even though it’s involuntarily, I’m enjoying the hostel life. On Tuesday, I was plain grateful that I’m alive and that I could sleep in a crowded gym hall. On Wednesday, I didn’t mind my sleep being interrupted by The Final Countdown constructions workers. Because any time is the time for The Final Countdown. But today I’m already complaining about the cold shower and other people having fun: Last night my sleep was ruined by a huge party.

National mourning does not apply to university students. It’s semester end party in Leuven, a city whose main essence is the university. Fifty thousand students celebrated before their exam period. And the main party seemed to be outside my window. I looked out and was greeted by young, innocent faces, not yet corrupted by the many dirty years of university.

They partied it up right in front of us while we tried to sleep.  Someone peed against our window, thinking it was a wall(?). Then I did something I haven’t done since the military. Not shooting! Geez! I rolled in my ear plugs so hard that I could only hear my own heartbeat. My desperate hostel mates, for the first time since food poisoning able to sleep, went outside to complain like we were forty years older. Hey can you party quieter? Was I angry because I was still recovering from the shock of terror while they were partying? Or because I wasn’t partying but they were? DJ Ingrid needs some rest.

Now my bed was as quiet as a shooting range. I googled „how do deaf people know when to get up in the morning“. I was worried that I wouldn’t hear my alarm clock. Because I have a train to catch. Also, as a suspicious German tourist, I slept on my traveller checks. I hoped no one would mug me. Or if they did mug me, at least wake me up afterwards. Thanks mugger. I woke up again in the middle of the night because I lost my one ear plug. I looked for it closely as if it was a spider or gold. It was 6.30 and the party was still going on. Now they really got my DJ Ingrid street cred.

I got up. That one old dude still blasted youtube videos in the lobby. (The last two days – and nights – he has been playing the same video of people doing the time warp again and again and again. And again. Btw, he’s not stranded here but apparently lives at the hostel those past ten years. Maybe he doesn’t know who he is. And the time warp is the only thing that connects him to his past self). At 7.00, The Final Countdown began as usual. My hostel mate asked politely how I slept and we just burst out in hysterical laughter. Like cocaine addicts asking each other how they liked their mediation.

Today my voyage continues. I said farewell to all my wonderful hostel friends, all departing in different directions. Frankfurt, Amsterdam, blablacar. Only that one old dude stays. He’s having the time warp again for breakfast. In a few hours, I will try to get to Brussels main station. I bought the last available train ticket to Paris Charles de Gaulles. For the first time I will have a big birthday party with hundreds of guests – I will celebrate it on the airplane to Addis Abeba. My flight has been rescheduled for the fourth time now.

 

I got safely to Brussels main station. Boarded the TGV to Paris CDG. Met up with my Indian friend from Stockholm, who happened to be there. Boarded the airplane and continued trip, that would shape my view of terrorism, of Africa, politics, and western beauty standard forever. 

Pics Pics Pics

I have never ever uploaded the photos of me from my old apartment in Hamburg. They were shot by my friend and photographer Stefan a.k.a. Stimmungsfänger (“mood catcher”). We basically just had coffee and sometimes decided to take a photo.  I’d say, he caught my mood quite well. (I did not upload the ones being hangry.) Here they are:

 

casually flashing neighbors

 

Painting dis shit on fire

 

Dj Ingrid legt auf allmöglichen Event auf. Sogar im Bett. Mit Handy.

 

Der grösste Asi von HH-Winterhude

 

When you take too many selfies and donnu which to post

 

Self portrait en plain air

 

Wenzel behind cheap curtains

 

clean work environment

 

Ingrid’s The Office

 

Curating my nudes on the floor

 

Or as my mom said ten years ago “When you have your own flat, you will be tidy.”

 

Hello Berlin Goodbye Hamburg

Tschüss Hamburg. Hello Berlin.

My most favorite artwork at my Hamburg flat.

 

Yup I’m moving to Berlin. I’m already writing this blog post from the capital. Apartment hunt here is literally a hunt. You’d be more successful with a gun. After 30 viewings, I had five new friendships, a pen friend, 15 fake accounts asking for money, two job offers – but not a new flat. I thought, before finding a home I would have a new stand-up act. Several tenants wrote me that they have given their flat already to someone else but my application was the funniest:

 

 

Before I have a new flat, I have a whole new comedy act.

 

But now I found an apartment. It was pure luck, zero guns. I haven’t fully moved yet. But I have relocated some of my stuff already, first of all my shoes. Due to that, even my next door neighbor in Hamburg has felt my recent absence. Back when I moved in, I might have even introduced myself with “I’m the one with all that trash by the door”. Now she sent me a message asking “it’s so tidy in front of you door, did you leave me already?”

 

 

If you’ve followed my old, infamous blog, you know I’m not the queen of interior design. The only furnishing concept I have is “art instead of furniture”. And “I don’t own things”. Will it be different with the new apartment? Updates will follow soon (or occasionally on my snapchat @ingridwenz). Btw, everything that is too ugly for Instagram goes on my snapchat. This was yesterday’s update, showing the most recent condition of my new domicile:

 

Too ugly for Instagram? Put it on snapchat!

 

Do-it-yourself-ingrid

 

 

The only annoying thing right now is commuting between Hamburg and Berlin. Some people say “the best part about Berlin is the ICE to Hamburg”. It’s less than two hours – but 60 Euro one way. I downloaded the flixbus app the day my BahnCard expired. Flixbus is 10-15 Eur and takes three to four hours. It was social relegation at the touch of a button. I did bring the Bahn Magazine from my last ICE ride to read on my first Flixbus ride, looking like a snob, that once had money. Hitchhiking will never be an option, though this might be one of my most favorite cartoons of the last months:

 

 

Unrelated to apartments but related to Berlin: I’m playing at a show in Berlin this Saturday called “Comedy auf Deuglish”.

Bis Bald,

Ingrid!

A trip to the Gym

„I was at the gym today“, I told my friend proudly. He replied „did you have a gig there?“.
Wow. Was it that out-of-the-way of me to be at a gym? Guess so. I haven’t seen the inside of a gym in years. And that one time doesn’t count, when I was just handing out flyers for my close-by comedy show. (No one came).

A few weeks ago, I ran to an open mic to get a spot. That’s when it hit me. When the only work out I get is sprinting to an open mic, there’s clearly something wrong with my fitness. And career, because I didn’t even get the spot.

I used to be athletic, though. I mean, I was on a Bundesliga team. (Granted, it was Rugby. There are so few players, when you start, you’re automatically Bundesliga. In Germany, Rugby has the same development index as Comedy. Okay, who am I kidding, I never actually played a Bundesliga match, but I saw one, from the bench, park bench). But Rugby wasn’t my only exotic sport, I also played Headis regularly. So regular, I even modeled for it (was accidentally at practice when a curious photo team showed up):

That one time I was athletic and a camera team showed up.

 

 

So, I need to work out again. But I would never sign up for a gym deliberately. I hate gyms. Hanging onto some work out device while I think everyone stares at me because I probably use it wrong? Is there an anxiety-gym? At the entry of any gym’s atmosphere, my motivation burns up in a split second. And it’s too cold to be running outside. And no group sport, since my ankle is broken from when I once tried high heels. And no yoga, because I always fall asleep. Yes, I have many excuses. I have more, need one? So what now?

 

Am I doing this right? Why is everyone looking? Help. (c) Ingrid Wenzel

 

So one day, on my way to getting my daily dose of cake, I saw a little raffle next to a bakery. I could win something. How exciting! Oh, just a personal training. You almost got me!
I participated in this raffle. It was my way of effort to work out: Now it was in their hands. Leave fitness up to fate. I did draw a big smiley on my raffle card, awkwardly waving it into the personal trainers’ faces. Heyyy pick me right. I really like winning.

Guess what. I did win. Or they did pick me, having seen my untrained body. (They probably marked my card “Winner! She needs it the most!!!”). Or they let everyone win, cuz that’s marketing right? Anyway.

Sooo, I went to my first class on Monday morning. I was out of shape and nervous. What should I wear? How close will I be standing next to the personal trainer? I took a shower before my training, applied body lotion, did my nails, even flossed. The last time I did all that, I got myself a new boyfriend.

My prize wasn’t a normal, awful gym. It was a gym where you get black, skin tight suits and electric shots (EMS)! What?! What have I gotten myself into? But the trainer calmed me down by saying “you would be the first person to pass out this week”. The first one this week? It was just Monday morning! He hooked my functional sausage-skin to the power. Bzzzzz. 
Here’s what it looked like. Also, I think this is the best self-portrait I’ve ever drawn:

EMS: Elektromyostimulationstraining or Egon M. Schiele? (c) Ingrid Wenzel

This electric shock work out lasts only 20 minutes. I can do that. It tickled, I didn’t go out of my way. Wasn’t even sweating. (I only took a shower afterwards because the suit smells of other people’s sweat.) I even enjoyed it (not the sweat). I must have looked like someone, who chills while being electrocuted. Back at home, I felt accomplished and had more cake.

The backlash awaited me the next day: a surprise muscle ache in places, I didn’t even know I had muscles. I will do it again. Bring it on! Turns out, EMS is not only super efficient, it’s also expensive. Looking at my fellow gym partners, I’m never sure if they’re rich or lazy. Good small talk topic for my next workout. Make Ingrid’s body great again.

 

 

 

Favorite Words (German)

Some people say “jokes are just words”. I don’t think so. Words are powerful. It’s all we have. They can lift us up, make us laugh, and destroy. Writing stand-up, and not my half finished language degree, made me appreciate words. Is this word necessary for the joke? Is there a funnier sounding one? Does this word evoke negative emotions? What does it really mean?

I often stumble upon words I find enthralling. Like enthralling. Or curmudgeon. Or flabbergasted. I write them on a special list. My Ingrid encyclopedia of odd words. And I’m adding to it almost every day. Whenever I have free time I skim through it. And when I have more time, I illustrate them.

Even though I write in English most of my favorite words are in German. English I use, but German I own. My funny bone speaks English, but my heart German. And I’m in love with compounds with odd literal meanings. Like the German word for a tender stroke: Streicheleinheit. It literally means “caress unit”. Because stroking in Germany has to be regulated!

So now here are some doodles of my Lieblingswörter, Lieblingsworte, Favorite Words:

 

Streicheleinheit – “caress unit” – because stroking in Germany has to be regulated!

 

I overheard someone say FeedbackboDen (feedback floor) instead of Feedbackbogen (feedback sheet) and loved it.

 

Geistige Umnachtung, mental derangement, literally when the night mentally wraps around you. So sad yet beautiful.

 

Haltung statt Pose (posture/attitude instead of pose). I read it in some article about Diane von Fürstenberg. More posture, less pose please!

 

A growling and whining Onomatopoeia balloon.

 

This illustration was someone’s Freudian slip. Leibhaftig (incarnate, lit. Leib =body, whereas Laib = bread) and liebheftig (lieb ~ love, heftig ~ fiercely) Kinda? Gosh, hope no scholars read my blog. Umm but seriously, it’s 12.30 am, and I never finished my language degree so I think my translation is fine as it is.

 

Sehnsuchtsort, place of yearning.

 

~ Summerly & Summer “Hole”. And me wearing a Kimono.

 

Verschlimmbesserung: ImBadProvement. A supposed improvement that makes everything worse. Like the painting.

 

I personally always confused Wehmut (feeling nostalgic) with Wermut (vermouth). Clearly, the one could lead to the other. Wermutstropfen is used to describe a tiny drop of bitterness. And I often thought WeHmutstropfen were tiny drops of woefulness.

 

Whitewashing and Katzenwäsche (cat laundry, meaning having as little personal hygiene as possible. Or use a cat for washing).

 

Zaungast: an unwanted visitor / onlooker, literally a “fence guest”. Not to be confused with Soundgast, a word I made up. What a great dj alias!

 

Stand-up for the Ladies and Men

There were several nice things going on these past days. On Saturday, I spontaneously performed at a comedy show in Hamburg. Also that day, my friend from Detroit, currently living in London, visited me. I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to take her to a German comedy show. Turns out, it was hilarious and she can now tell the world: Germany is catching up in comedy!
Yesterday, I hosted my beloved comedyshow called “Stand-up for the Ladies”. And guess what. You can book more than one woman, if you want to! We had a lovely show with three female and three male comedians.
What would be a blog post without photos? And a show without picture proof that there was a show? Thanks to photographer Sergey Sanin, me and the other comedians got these amazing photos. Check out more of Sergey’s work on www.sergeysanin.de and more of the show’s photos here.

Lastly, after a gig, people that don’t have anything to do with comedy want to give me advice. Well, I myself don’t feel in position to give comedy advice to anyone, either. Better stop reading right now. Though today, I was asked for advice in front of a group of people that want to do stand-up comedy. (Yeah, I accidentally mistook the comedy workshop with the improv workshop but then they started asking me these questions and I kinda liked it). Because it made me think. And I came up with some answers that feel right. At least to me. Maybe to you, too? Did I miss anything? Let me know. Here we go, I made a list. That’s what bloggers do:

– Don’t listen to anyone’s advice unless you want to become that person. Follow advice of people who you appreciate.
– Don’t show a bad attitude. Care for the audience.
– Be present, be in the moment, have fun.
– Fuck up as much as you can. Learn from it.
– What do you really think is funny and why?
– Write everything down that interests you.
– Know yourself. Be yourself. What makes you unique? Could your set be told by any other person?
– Before doing an edgy topic, maybe start talking about yourself first.
– Every bit you put into comedy pays off. Unless you only post selfies.
– You don’t have to know all comedians. Don’t copy anyone. But kinda have an idea of what’s already out there. How can you contribute to the art?
– Identify what you want: Attention? Money? Fame? Or become a good comedian?
– Just do it and see where it takes you.
– Yeah, and of course basics like don’t steal jokes, be kind, speak clearly, learn to hold the mic.

 

Now, showtime:

Martin Niemeyer, Alexandra Schiller, Christin Jugsch, le Wenzel, Majbritt Bartelsen, Axel Heckmann and Headliner Stefan Danziger. (c) Sergey Sanin
100 % büttenredenfrei (c) Sergey Sanin
Half Ingo half Inge (c) Sergey Sanin
Danke to (c) Sergey Sanin and all artists!

 

 

Next show: March 22nd!

Google search words

Guys, I’m not Luke Mockridge’s Girlfriend!

The google search term, that (mis)directs most visitors to my page is: „Luke Mockridge Freundin“. (Luke is a German comedian and Freundin is German for girlfriend.) Since when did my website become just the girlfriend of someone else? Isn’t it so much more than just Luke’s girlfriend? His father maybe? (This is the first and only Star Wars reference on my website ok). So now, whenever my website gets extraordinary traffic, I get immediately suspicious. I mean I’m awesome but not that awesome that thousands of people a day check out my open mic dates. Damn right: Whenever visits go up, I found out it’s either Chinese hackers or Luke’s fans. (Don’t think they overlap).

According to google, there are four Ingrid Wenzels in Germany. One has a hardware store, one is a doctor and one runs a gay club in Bochum. I’m the comedian, just making sure okay. I get it why some look for a different Ingrid and accidentally find me. Just recently, a man emailed me and asked me if I can rent out the gay club to him. But also every day, people search something completely differently – not even remotely Ingrid-related – and still get directed to my website. And thanks to google analytics, I know now what these people were originally looking for.

 

Screenshot (Freundin = girlfriend).

 

 

This picture is brought to you by my awesome photo editing skills

 

 

How did it happened that my number one search term is “Luke Mockridge Freundin”? And why do people search/wish/are afraid that I’m Luke’s girlfriend? The answer is pretty dull. (And if you belong to the elite, that has read my old infamous blog, before it got hacked, you can skip this paragraph.)

Google’s algorithm simply mismatched my usage of the word “Freundin” in one of my old blog post with the picture of me and Luke from a comedyshow in another posting. So whenever you try to find out who his girlfriend is and click on “google picture search” – you’ll see that pic of me. To make matters even worse, it’s a pic where we hold hands – just for fun. It’s not what it looks like. I deleted my website months ago for safety reasons (damn hackers). But that rumor is still out there. The internet doesn’t forget. Not even rumors it created itself. So here’s the Corpus Delicti:

 

This is not what it looks likes (c) Nightwash

 

Besides that, these many searches may have changed the algorithm and thus the suggestions, that pop up after my name, when searching for me. You know, it’s like when you type into google “why are all Russians…”, “all men want…” and you’re shocked by what google presents you after those dots. Actually, nowadays you can sue google, if you’re not happy with whatever insults pops up after your name. So did Germany’s former First Lady, because google suggested “prostitute” for her name. One of my girlfriends googled my name recently and was suggested „Ingrid Wenzel girlfriend“. She was like „do they mean me?“. Or are people trying to figure out if I am a lesbian? I’m totally cool with it. As long as they stop googling “Ingrid Wenzel Weight” and “Ingrid Wenzel Age”. Like I’m sort of a quartet card game. “The Comedians edition”. Ah, my Louis CK card beats the Ingrid Wenzel card, in weight. But there are more absurd search words! May I now present to you marvelous search terms, that mislead people to my homepage:

 

Who’s my girlfriend?

 

 

Best of Search Words:

Even though I finally found an explanation for this “girlfriend situation”, I often can’t explain other search words. How big of a disappointment is my website to those, who got here searching „getting tattooedod today“ and „Männerstrip im Dorfkrug“. Sorry I can’t provide that (yet).

Other search terms are more personal, e.g. „wedding first night with Inge“.
I mean, I’m also dying to find out how my first wedding night will be. Maybe I should google it, too. Or maybe they were just searching for my favorite Baseball player Brandon Inge. And his wedding night. Which is weird, too. Unless there was some crazy Baseball action involved. Then I wanna know as well.

Detroit Tigers Wedding Gown

 

 

There are some more search words, which lead to me, that I’m actually happy about.  Someone googled „room heater for comedy events“ and somehow got to me. Thanks I guess? Where I perform the room blows up. Also, do “room heater for comedy events” not work in other facilities?

Others are random like “bean art project”, “German party snack” and “DJ Ingeborg” (Granted: Sometimes, when I think my name „DJ Ingrid“ is too cool, I name myself „DJ Ingeborg“ to not intimidate people). One other recurrent search word theme is “trash”. Totally fine with that. I love trash. How else would I craft my collages and low budget birthday presents.

 

room heating devices

 

Bean Art Project (c) Takao Sakai / Wenzel

 

My biggest Achievement in life: When you google “German party snack”, this photography of mine comes up on page four. (c) Wenzel

 

 

 

trash related search words: “castrop-rauxel sperrmüll onlinedienst”, “müllmann mottoparty reeperbahn falsch”, “männer von stadtreinigung”, “suchbild frau Müll”, “trashmen fetish”

 

 

I now installed new SEO programs. Because Ingrid means big business. No, geez, I just hope to provide you with more silly search words soon! Keep googling!

Love,

Dj Ingeborg, SEO