Quick chicken cordon bleu for two

So I said I'd put the recipe for this meal I made last night up on here.


Quick chicken cordon bleu for two

It was super good. I've been craving a lot of hot and comfort-food type meals lately. I also was craving some butternut squash. My mom's made it, but I'd never tried it before. So that was a bit trial and error... mostly error. I burned the shit out of myself in the process like four times, but ah, what can you do.

So this is what is is meant to look like

I got the idea from a website I always get my food recipes off of, because on there they really try to make things as healthy as possible, but still have hot yummy meal ideas. 

Here's my finished product. Looks pretty good, but tasted even better! It was easy too. Believe me, if I can do it, you can. I never even cooked really before I moved here, but when you're forced to cook for yourself or eat 100% shit food, then you learn to cook. Trust me. 

So it took about 40 minutes total I'd say. Less if you aren't a slow ADD chef like me. I get distracted by everything. I also have Lawrence over my shoulder asking me "why" I'm doing every single thing I'm doing as I go. I love him, but I want to punch him in the face when he is a backseat chef. But he knows this. :) 

Okay so here's what you'll need: 

• 2 boneless, skinless chicken breasts (10-12 ounces), trimmed and pounded out with a tenderizer. (I used three breasts. Lawrence eats two.) 
• 1/4 teaspoon freshly ground pepper, divided
• 1/8 teaspoon salt (make sure you only use this to TASTE. If you use prosciutto, then that is super-salty. I did, so I cut down on the salt.)
• 3 tablespoons shredded Gruyère or Swiss cheese (we used mozerella because we are ghetto-fabulous.)
• 1 tablespoon reduced-fat cream cheese (or whole-fat cream cheese if you want to get some junk in that trunk)
• 2 tablespoons coarse dry whole-wheat breadcrumbs (BUY PANKO breadcrumbs.  You will not regret it. If not pop the bread in the toaster and get it REALLY crunchy and mash it up by hand. That's what I did. Also because we are ghetto.)
• 1 1/2 teaspoons chopped fresh parsley or thyme (I used regular old thype... this is also because I am poor :) )
• 2 teaspoons extra-virgin olive oil, divided
• 2 tablespoons chopped ham (about 1/2 ounce) (I used prosciutto or parma ham because we are lucky and its pretty cheap here because we're closer to Italy. It's sooo delicious though and worth a couple extra bucks.) 

PREPARATION

1. Preheat oven to 400°F.
2. Sprinkle chicken with 1/8 teaspoon pepper and salt. Combine cheese and cream cheese in a bowl. Combine the remaining 1/8 teaspoon pepper with breadcrumbs, parsley (or thyme) and 1 teaspoon oil in another bowl.
3. Heat the remaining 1 teaspoon oil in a medium, ovenproof nonstick skillet over medium heat. Cook the chicken until browned on both sides, about 2 minutes per side. Move the chicken to the center so the pieces are touching. Spread with the cheese mixture, sprinkle with ham, then top with the breadcrumb mixture.
4. Bake until the chicken is no longer pink in the center and an instant-read thermometer registers 165°F, 5 to 7 minutes.

I served it with some steamed broccoli (do this with caution. Broccoli seriously does make your entire house smell like someone ripped a huge fart). 

And butternut squash. I cut the squash in half and baked it on the same heat for like 40 minutes. GIVE THE SQUASH plenty of time. It pissed me off. SPread butter over both halves and sprinkle some nutmeg cinnamon and salt and pepper over them before popping them in the oven.

TIPS & NOTES

• Tip: It can be difficult to find small chicken breasts. Remove the strip of meat from the underside of a 5- to 6-ounce breast—the “tender,” about 1 ounce of meat—to yield a perfect individual portion.
•  Freeze the tenders and use them in a stir-fry.
• Note: “Panko breadcrumbs" are bomb. Find them in the natural-foods section of large supermarkets. To make your own breadcrumbs, trim crusts from firm sandwich bread. Tear the bread into pieces and process in a food processor until coarse crumbs form. Spread on a baking sheet and bake at 250°F until dry, about 15 minutes. One slice of bread makes about 1/3 cup dry breadcrumbs.

NUTRITION

 280 calories (wow!!!!)




Good luck. I hope y'all like it. 

Want some London in your Life?

I thought I was fashionable until I moved here. Even Lawrence told me when I first arrived that I looked "American" when we went out for dinner one night. Looking American whilst being here I took as an extreme insult. When I think American, I think UHMURRRRICAN (think fannypacks and huge oversized Hard Rock T-shirts and Abercrombie sweatpants). 


I don't think he meant I was that disabled in the fashion department, and I still hold that comment over him and bitch at him about it. Poor guy :) mwahaha. But I did definitely stick out a bit when I got here. Women here just seriously dress SO unbelievably differently. But I fell in love with the things I was seeing almost instantly. If I had all the money in the world I'd throw away every single thing I own and start from scratch with an all European wardrobe. 


I've gotten bits and pieces and am proud to say I'm reinventing myself slowly but surely. I love switching up my style- I find it a challenge. I catch myself taking double-glances at girls that I see on the street wearing something I'm dying over. 


I thought I'd share some of the things I'm absolutely loving fashion, hair, and makeup-wise here that I don't think would be too difficult/expensive to pull off on a budget and whilst living in the states. 


I think more girls should be taking little risks in their wardrobe. It makes a HUGE difference. 


While I list these things off, I shall be listening to 'the xx'. The most legit band ever- based out of London. And you should check them out. So chill and relaxed. Check em out. I dare you. 


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pib8eYDSFEI&ob=av2e (This is my favorite song of theirs right now). 


Okay so here goes: 


Everyone here is rocking the messy topknot bun. EVERYONE.

This is an example. CUH-YOUTE, eh?!

 It makes me want to slice my wrists open for whacking my f**king hair off. (Don't call the ambulance, I'm just melodramatic. But still I'm popping prenatals like they're going out of style and praying to the hair Gods every night.) 


But seriously though- this style is SO easy, and what's good about it is that the messier it is, the cooler it seems to look. If you suck at making buns, like I do- then there is hope for you. There are donut roll-type hair accessories that they're selling all over the place here that help. And they come in different colors to match your own hair color. 

If you are in the states and can't find one of these you STILL don't have an excuse not to try doing the messy topknot because you can make one out of a SOCK. Do you own socks? I bet your little happy ass does. Unless you live in a nudist colony... or Hawaii. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I13J7ArHTkM

This video is a great tutorial on the "sock bun" 

You might think it looks crazy at first, but trust me: the messier, the trendier. 

Bokay. Next up. Denim shorts. They really can be super-short, baggy, tight, high-waisted. Anything really. Here are some pictures of ones that inspired me. 

I have this leopard cross Tee from UO. Definitely going to rock this when I get my shorts. (:

Even the most bootylicious of shorts can be rocked out in the winter if you throw some tights underneath. If you've already got some runs in some black hose take a razor to them (not while you're wearing them please) and made them even hole-ier (that isn't a word.) Looks hot. 

Another thing I'm seeing a ton of lately are brother creepers. I absolutely love these. I mean... I just love disgusting men that roam the halls of a house full of ladies of the night. They just really get me going.... mmmmmm.

Mwahahaha. Kidding. 

Brother creepers are shoes. Never fear, my young ones. I'm pretty sick and twisted... but I am not THAT sick and twisted. Creepers are so unbelievably different and super cute. If you wear or have heard of oxford's, they're somewhat simliar, but with more of a stacked and chunky/detailed sole. Here are a few examples that I dig. 

Love. These are more my style. 

These kick some surrrrrious ass. 

I think these might be my favorites. 

Onto the next. This is something I'm seeing absolutely EVERYWHERE. One of my biggest pet peeves used to be when I'd see girls looking like they'd piled on every single freaking item of jewelry they'd ever purchased in their entire life on their bodies on one given night. It seriously irked me. Good news: this is now acceptable. Well, at least somewhat acceptable if you do it in the right way. Bring out your bracelets and bangles, bitches. 

LAYERED BRACELET TREND

What I've REALLY loved about seeing this is how they're using watches. I'm not usually a watch-wearer, but seeing how this is done makes me want one. Especially in rose gold like this one above. Absolutely in love with this. 

So do it. Personally I think a watch REALLY makes it make a statement. If you don't have one, go get a cheap gold one from Target or Icing, somewhere like that. Or even an old men's watch- one from your grandpa, shit like that. Stack everything on your arm- you can't go wrong- just wear it like you mean it- you can pull anything off that way. 

Okay: so now for some randoms. I'll describe why I really love these though. 

Love the oxfords. And the collared shirt done up all the way up the neck is really chic right now. Love the fringe back. Put fringe on something, and I fall in love with it. Weird.

LOVE how simple this is. Smaller cross-body bags are really doing it for me right now, too. Love how her legs look ten miles long by wearing the black leggings with the black chelsea boots. Less really is more. I think people in the states wear TOO much. You can look so much more chic and put together wearing something as simple as this outfit. 

Crossbody bag again- love it. I'm sure some of our older family members (think gmas/aunts etc.) have some bags like this lying around. A few years ago, I'd not set eyes on a bag like this, but now I'm loving it. Here are the denim shorts again rocked with opaque black tights and some oxfords.  

Collar done up all the way. Oxfords w/ socks. Super cute. 

Love the layered bracelets, denim shorts high waisted, tights socks and oxfords WITH the high bun and super adorable pop of color with the cross-body red satchel. This basically puts together everything I'm loving about fashion in London right now. 

FULL BROWS

A trend I'm seeing here that I wish would catch on more over in the states are absolutely GORGEOUS full eyebrows. It is rare that I see a terrifyingly over-tweezed eyebrow anymore.

I was a culprit of this. And I'm talkin' it was baaaaaaaaaad. Like super-skinny chonga eyebrows. Not good. A while ago I decided to make a change. I am going to share a photo with you that I am ashamed of, but it is to make my POINT and to persuade you to put DOWN YOUR TWEEZERS. 

Oh yes, folks. This is me. Can you see my eyebrows? What's that? No, you can't? Well that's because I tweezed them to within an inch of their tiny little eyebrow lives. And I look like a permanently startled earwig. I'm even so depressed about how disgusting these brows look that I'm chugging champagne. Hahahh. No, but really. 

This was when I came to London the second time to visit Lawrence last year. I was without tweezers and my eyebrows began to grow back so I figured I'd give it a shot and see if they'd grow. I made a pact to not tweeze them for as long as possible. I also purchased some CASTOR OIL from Alpine Glow in Casper. Sounds crazy, but I read that it helps grow back overtweezed brows if you put it on every night before you go to bed. It worked. 

Here's what my brows looked like after a few months.

Huge difference. I do help myself out with a little filling in with a brush and some dark colored eye-shadow. I never use pencil. A small angled brush with light strokes and to not use a heavy hand is the key. I read somewhere that your eyebrows should be "sisters, not twins." I really like that. 

Beautiful. 

Just don't go this far :). It might work for the runway, but let's leave it to that. 

So give the tweezers a rest for a while. 

I think it's super easy to try new things with fashion and hair and makeup. You just have to take risks, and be willing to screw up sometimes. I think all of these things would be great to try no matter where you live, but I thought I'd show my lovely friends that are still over in the states a little hit of what I'm seeing and loving here. Give some of it a try. Comment on this post and give me some feedback if you'd like more like it. 

Catwalk school... no, but for realzies.

Another question I've gotten multiple times is asking how I like my school... or what my new University is like. Honestly I don't know if half of you would believe me if I described it, but I'll try... 


In college... I'm used to the hole get-up-and-go scenario. If it was a super-late night from the night before I haven't even been above waking up and going to my 8AM class in the hoodie and sweats that I slept in. Yep, we've all been there and done that. If you haven't, then you aren't an American college student. Or you're just not normal. Or maybe you're European. 


Here, I can forget about that, because my school is a 180 degree flip from what I'm used to in the states. 


Here in the UK, college (they call it University, or "Uni" for short, because college is what they call highschool... it's confusing) is extremely cheap. Especially compared to the freaking prices in the states where it wouldn't matter if you were the CEO of a huge company two years out of school because you'll be paying off student loans until you were 56. I'd say it's about 3,000 pounds (British currency) or so for a low-end college. And that's per year. Okay, so pick your jaws up off of the floor now, right? 


I couldn't go to one of these schools because my credits wouldn't transfer. So I had to find an American -based school that would transfer me. I finally found one in my current school. They are an American University based in the heart of London. The tuition is similar to that of like Metro State in Denver, or possibly the University of Wyoming if you were paying out-of-state tuition. 


I had no idea what to expect when I first started school ... I figured it would be different but I didn't expect what I got, that's for sure. 


I found out shortly after I started school that my school is the most expensive liberal arts college in the entire United Kingdom. In other words, any parent who has a child that can't get in to the super intellectual elite schools like Oxford or Cambridge wants to look fancy and send their kid to a school they have to pay the big bucks for, and that school is Regent's. For me personally, and my family, the school isn't expensive in American standards. But here in England, paying 20 grand a year is fit for a king. 


I go to school (apparently) with two Arabian princesses, a Russian model, just to name a few. Every person that I've spoken to is from some exotic country and has millionaires for parents. It's like something out of a movie, I swear. The one amazing thing about my school is that everyone is from ALL over the place. In one of my classes, there are about 15 of us, and every.single.person is from a completely different country. Sweden, Switzerland, Egypt, Saudi Arabia, Norway, the Ukraine, Ghana.... everywhere. You walk the halls and hear every single language coming at you. 


It's so hard to even wrap my mind around what I see/hear sometimes. One girl left class the other day... she told the teacher she had to go give her "driver" her keys. I am not kidding you. Another girl in class with me was telling me that she would call her Grandfather's driver to come pick her up. 


Every single one girl I pass is wearing designer haute couture from head-to-toe. Designer hand-bags... and I'm not talking about the newest Coach bags. Coach would be like a $2 patent leather Target tote to these girls. They'd just as well be carrying a garbage bag. I'm talking Chanel, Chloe, Miu Miu, Gucci, Louis.... and more. Chanel from head to toe, real fur coats, sky-high stiletto Christian Louboutins. The kind of clothes that you only see in vogue. I'm not kidding you. It makes me feel like frickin' Cinderella, let me tell you. 


Not only the girls are dressed to the nines. The guys at my school are decked out just as much. Perfectly groomed some with slick combovers (which is really in over here right now? Why....) Most even carry their own little designer man-bags (think like across the body satchel type things.) I can't even type the word satchel without laughing because I think of Allen from the Hangover... :) Haaaa. 



In every college I've ever been to, they have a student lounge or a some type of food bar. No... my school has a "Brasserie," a little cafe with marble floors and mahogany wooden panelling. They sell fresh pastries and espressos. They even sell hard alcohol and wine. Students can be seen sitting in there on their breaks over a bottle of Pino Grig.... not even kidding you. 


There have been three separate occasions where I've walked outside to commence on my journey home (on the bus) and a lamborghini or maserati is parked outside waiting to pick someone up. I almost don't even notice anymore because it's such a common sighting. I took a picture once, but I'm pretty sure I looked like a peasant girl in awe, so I averted my eyes. Haha. 

The Lambo... I risked looking like a servant girl snapping this....

It's been so hard to meet people and make new friends in this atmosphere. It's almost impossible to relate to the types of lives these people are living. I feel like an outsider looking in most times- just in awe of what I'm experiencing. If you think you're around bitchy girls that act better than you, think again! I've never experienced something like this in my life. 


Almost everyone I've spoken to has the most weird and f**ked up accent I've ever heard. The reason being is because they are from some foreign country for example Sweden. But 99% of them have parents that shipped them off to American boarding schools in 3-4 different countries between the ages of 10-19, so they've adopted the accents of each of these countries with an American twist. It is so unbelievably bizarre. 


Don't get me wrong, I've met some amazing people along this journey. And there is the odd down to earth girl that has a millionaire for a father, but they are few and far between. I am getting a very amazing experience in such a diverse student body, though. I am learning. Most importantly I'm learning to really appreciate where I'm from. 


Being from Casper really did give me good morals and values, and now I feel like I truly appreciate the small things in life. I am more grateful. However I'd still probably give up my first born child for one of those Chanel handbags. :) 

It may have a pretentious student body, but it sure is purdy. :) The courtyard at my school.

Tootles for now, all. xxx

I promise I won't quit again...

Okay. So here's the deal. I really am going to try and not suck at keeping a blog this time, because I am sick of having so much word-vomit that is dying to erupt from my mouth- or fingers, rather- and I should just not deprive myself of being able to share it with y'all. I know I can't be there to annoy all of you in person, but I will now do my best from across the Atlantic.

So... just to sort of explain the totally old and random posts that precede this one... They are from when I first came to London two years ago. They're pretty hilarious if I do say so myself, not gonna lie. Especially looking back on them. So if you choose to go back and read, you may or may not enjoy yourself. :)

I enabled comments on all my posts, and to keep me going, I'd love to see feedback and spark discussion with them so it'd be great to see what you all think.

Anyway. Now I can begin my first in a long string of posts.

The question I'm getting asked most is "how is London?!?!" London is great. It really is an amazing and beautiful city to be living in. However, it really couldn't be more different than Casper.

I decided there are stages of homesickness. I totally experienced this. I was in LOVE with everything "London" when I first got here... total honeymoon phase. 100%. Couldn't get enough of the damn place. I was in awe of how everyone around me managed to sound so much damn more sophisticated than me just because of their lovely British accent.

You never feel more insecure of your own American accent than when you live here, let me tell you that right now. I feel like the words coming out of my mouth just can't even measure up! Not only that, but now I'M the one with the accent.

I was deathly ill the other day and stopped at a pharmacy to get some medicine before I hobbled back home and I asked for what I needed (Night Nurse: the UK's version of NyQuil. NyQuil is the love of my life, if you know me personally. If you don't know me, well... now you know.) I asked for Night Nurse, and the pharmacist looked at me like I was speaking the most exotic an foreign tongue. Dude... don't get too excited. I still can't wrap my mind around the fact that I'm the one with the accent. Not to mention it's not even a cool NYC accent or slow southern drawl. Whatevs.

But back to homesickness stages. I'm past the honeymoon time period. Yes, I still love London. Yes, I am far away from home and in one of the most amazing cities in the world. But can I just bitch for a moment. Let me tell you a little bit about this place and the things that irk me.

Okay:
#1. Here are all of the things I am currently living without.

a. A microwave. I don't think you realize the sweet, sweet luxury that is a microwave until you have the joy of owning one ripped out of your innocent & wee little fingers. Because that is my life right now. Picture this: you make some bomb.com macaroni and cheese one night, put the rest in the fridge for later. You'll eat it the next day, easy as. Right?? WRONG. Enter my world of not owning an effing microwave. I put said macaroni in cheese in a pan and heat it up in the freaking OVEN. It takes about 9803820498209342039 and a half years to heat up. This is retarded. Lawrence's parents also have not and have never owned a microwave. Why? This is one of the many mysteries of the British. Don't ask.

b. I also do not own a dryer. That's right folks. I hang my clothes up to try them like I am a medieval bar wench sweating over my laundry. So that's fun. But I don't mind that much, as my clothes seem to keep their color a lot more and shrink a lot less. But shivering down the street with freezing cold butt cheeks from half-dry skinny jeans is an experience I would pass on.

c. The stairs up to my flat are about 6 flights. I shit you not. Need I say more? At least my ass is in good shape.

d. I don't have a car. Public transportation sucks balls. End of discussion. I am throwing all of this "living green" bullshit out the window right now. You will not care one bit about the damn global warming when you're traveling 1.5 hours back and forth from school via bus and the underground.

e. They don't have Ranch dressing here. WTF. Yeah... you can cry for me later.

There is a lot more shit that I am living without right now, but at this moment my brain cannot think of them. I'll inform you when my brain fart ceases.

#2. People here are weird. I know that's a really broad statement but you just have to be here to experience it. Firstly, people here just keep their heads down and they don't say shit. I think that must be deeply imbeded in the brain of every Londoner. I am not joking. Even if someone was screaming in pain on the side of the road, or if someone screamed out "HEY!!!!!!!!!!!!! LOOK!!!!!!! I AM GOING TO RIP OF ONE OF MY LIPS!!!!!!" No one would take a second look. They wouldn't even care which pair of lips this poor individual was planning on ripping off.
Straight-up, I just don't get this.
Lawrence says that I look at people TOO much. I don't know... I'm just fascinated, I guess. I mean.... if I see a hobo dressed in a tutu with one of his eyes dangling out of its socket, I'm going to look. (Mind you, I didn't actually see this. Just an example.) I seriously incapable of averting my eyes. I hope this doesn't get me stabbed one day.
Another instance of weirdness here is the clothing that people wear to the gym. Is that weird of me to notice? (This is probably another instance of me not being able to avert my eyes.) But picture this- some wear like converses (to the gym?!) and like normal jean shorts, normal t-shirts... I sound really inarticulate right now, but it isn't the sea of Nike dri-fit shirts and yoga pants you see in an American gym. It's just super strange....

Jesus. I seriously sound like the biggest uber-bitch of all time, but I just have to get things like this out. I really do love it here... it's just getting used to the things that are different that is important.

death by xmas cookies & other ramblings

oh my goddddddddd. i can no longer practice this horrible sin. EVERY SINGLE MORNING for about the last week and a half i have eaten christmas cookies for breakfast. i am rationalizing this because we have almost no other food in our house. which is fine with me at the moment... because it means it makes 100% complete and other sense for me to be a fatty mcfatterstein and devour 4-6 cookies as my morning meal. (i believe this to be a good number?)

we're going to see Black Swan today. I adore Natalie Portman, and from the previews it looks uh-MAY-zing. It has Oscar buzz, though, which scares me a bit. It seems like any movie that has been/is nominated for an Oscar has the most depressing ending ever or is so abstract/weird that I feel like someone has violated me after I've finished watching it. Maybe it's just me. Give me a good Kate Hudson/Reese Witherspoon romantic comedy that ends EXACTLY how I want it to end, and I'm fine. I'm paying $25 dollars to watch it (isn't that about how much they're charging to get into movie theaters these days?), I want to leave with warm fuzzies, god damnit.

I'll be sure to relay how I like it when I get home!
Tootaloo! (how the eff do you spell that?)

Leaving London (4/6/10)

reading this still makes me cry.
we had an assignment for our british life and culture class to write what we'd learned during our experience abroad and what not.

Leaving London

“And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.” -Anais Nin.
London has changed me. I have come here as one person and will leave, another. That is about as simple as I can put it.
When I first came here I thought I’d experience the nightlife, the city, the different people and places. What I didn’t realize was that I would grow so immensely and evolve into a stronger woman. I will never forget this experience as long as I live.
I’m going to spare all of the menial things I liked and disliked about this trip from this particular post. I want to stick to what’s true and simple. What’s most meaningful for me.
I never thought I’d admit how much I depended upon other people before I left home- if you told me I’d be saying all this now, I wouldn’t have believed you. As I now look back on who I was before London, I realize that I relied upon others to guide my path more than I would have liked. Being here has taught me that I have the strength to figure things out on my own. Here, there was no one to help me; no one to catch me if I fell. Realizing all of this, helped me to be my own strength. Corny as it may sound, London really has a place in my heart. It is a huge stepping-stone on the way to turning me into the woman I so desire to be.
Before coming here, I think part of me was scared to let myself come into who I was. I’m always too afraid of getting hurt and taking risks. I took the jump, and surprisingly enough, I landed- on my own two feet. No one else’s.
By letting go of everything that was once familiar to me, I learned to accept new things and grow from them. I learned that I never want to stop learning. I’m hungry for more, where I wasn’t at all before.
I got lost in London, got angry, homesick, scared, crazy, sad, frustrated, got goose bumps. And somewhere along the way, I fell in love with this city.

titanium feet of steel. sit on THAT, harry potter. (2/15/10)

so as promised.... HERE IS MY NEW NOTE. might be a little bit on the interesting side, too. because i am totally strung out on some crazy london drugs. don't get any thoughts in your head- i am on sudafed. but don't get it confused. london sudafed is not the same as in america. as you all well know, i am PRO-NyQuil. i absolutely love it. when you are sick (and sometimes when you just can't sleep) it's basically god's gift to people everywhere. but i have literally been feeling like complete shit for the last 4 nights and been waking up at random intervals to cough my face off (all while jordin basically wants to hurl pillows at me) she even told me to shut the eff up in her SLEEP the other day. so. drugs were in order today.
so we went to this store called boots- which is basically london's answer to walgreens- only better. i freakin' love boots. idk why. it's basically makeup, haircare, and skincare galore. and pharmacy. but anyway... moving on. i know you probably don't really care about my sudafed issue, i'm just forewarning you that my eyes are literally drooping as i write this, and i can't really feel my face. so......... should be a fun note. but i promised i'd do one tonight.
so i do actually have a HILARIOUS story that should be wildly entertaining. and that is not sarcasm. i still can't believe that it actually happened. so i guess i'll just start from the beginning. as it was just a complete wreck of an evening, peppered with events that are worth retelling.
so basically we decided that we were going to hit up piccadilly circus and meet up with a few friends. piccadilly circus, as i think i've mentioned before is basically like a huge vegas strip in london. there are promoters CRAWLING every two feet asking you if you want to go to their nightclub, and if you're wearing a short enough skirt or you have more than 3 inches of tit hanging out you could even get in for free. (i wouldn't know, on the boobs front. meh. but that's why we have jordin! :-) aaahahha. don't kill me fool.)
we had planned to go to penthouse that night, but a promoter told us that they had reached capacity for the evening. (HERE WAS OUR FIRST MISTAKE OF THE NIGHT. basically these promoters will tell you ANYTHING just to get you to go to whatever club they're promoting. they'll go anywhere from telling you that the club you want is closed down due to a flooding of the bathrooms, to telling you that a gang of midgets dressed as britney spears raided the premesis causing them to shut it down. whatever. just wipe the confused look off your face. my point is that these dudes will tell you anything to get you to go where they want you to go.) so we believed this tool that told us that penthouse wasn't taking anymore people. he tells us "i'll take you to the best club i promote. it's called pep-C. it's great. it plays good hip-hop and R&B and has two floors. you'll love it." he told us it was a 10 pound cover. which pissed me off automatically. but after 11 oclock, you're limited with options. so decided to check it out.
he walked us down the street for about 10 minutes. god i envy men on nights when i go out. the guys we were with- in their comfortable shoes and what not. i was teetering on freaking 5 inch stilettos and already had a dime sized blister developing on my left foot. so i'm sure i looked like a partially gimped-out freak and it was only 11 oclock. OH BOY, only about four more hours of pain and torture to look forward. luckily alcohol sometimes assists in numbing the pain of heel torture. (i was soon to be disappointed.) sometimes i do wonder, though. why the hell do we as women do what we do to look like we do when we go out. christ. but we still continue to do it. and i will continue to put myself through torture. whatevs! one of the mysteries of life that will never be solved. as we walked back home that night (as i was almost crying and requesting jordin to find me a wheelchair from the pain in my feet) jordin and i were discussing if we were superheros, what our superhero powers would be. i told her that i would have titanium feet- so that i could wear any height and and type of heel and i would never even feel the pain. just be a 6 foot tall dynamo goddess and walking like a supermodel everywhere i went. jordin finished with telling me i was a retard for wanting THAT out of all of the super powers there were to be had. ahhh cest la vie.
anyway.
so we arrived at Pep-C. looked sketch as SHIT from the outside. i was automatically on edge. but it was late. we walked in and saw coat check right away. usually the way we roll when we first arrive at a place we check out the sitch before we check out coats right away. but Pep-C took things to a whole new level of retardation. we were told when we arrived that we HAD to check our coats. umm. excuse me? we paid ten pounds to come into this dump and they were MAKING us check our coats. one of the guys we were with was wearing a jacket that was basically part of his outfit. yep. that had to come off too. so they charged us all 3 pounds each to check out coats. great. but we still hadn't been inside. we heard music (and american sounding music) blasting from inside the club. and lots of noise. good sign. maybe this would turn out to be amazing. and have it all be worth it. right???????
nope.
we walk in. basically it was the tiniest room i've ever seen in my life. fiddy cent was playing. magic stick maybe? and i could FEEL the B.O. odor and humidity just reverberating in my BONES. i wanted to ralph. everyone was basically 2mm away from the next person.
also- to add to the fabulosity- it was some asian girl's birthday (or something) so the place was completely full of people who came up to about boob level. it was like being at a 6th grade dance all over again. as a giant godzilla in heels. fun times.
so as we made our way to the bar to attempt to make this place a little bit more fun (in our minds) it was necessary to bob and weave to miss being knocked out by one of the flailing (and drunk) arms of the birthday celebraters. (not that just their arms were drunk, but you catch my drift right? you're pickin up what i'm throwin down???) anywho. so time to buy a drink. "could i get a cranberry & vodka? how much...? twelve pounds? and that's not a double? NO THANKS! :)" no. i shit you not. twelve pounds for one drink. and in american dollars that evens out to about... meh... 20$. whatever it is. you aren't paying that shit for one weak ass cran & vodka. KILL ME. i'm not the type of person who needs alcohol to have fun- but ANYONE Would have needed a drink (or 5) in this hell hole.
so we decided to try to make the best of it. a sober night. in an Asian prom. let's do the damn thing. we danced for about 4 or 5 songs then decided we'd go check out the other floor(s). the promoter DID tell us that it had two floors. we looked around... didn't see any stairs..... ummm??? question mark? we ask the bartender where the other floors are. he answers that there was another DANCE floor in the next ROOM. but it didn't open up until the club got crowded enough. i wanted to laugh in his face until he dropped the (probably) 30$ shot he held in his hand to reach over and slap me. if this place had gotten any crowded i wouldn't have even been able to do the god damned HAND JIVE to the lame 90s R&B song that was playing.
we got through about 2 hours of dancing in the sardine-style packed room and then our friend decided she wanted to go home. so we all walked about to walk her to the nightbus stop that was right near. (the bouncer told us if we weren't back in five minutes, we weren't getting back in. oh THANKS asshole :-), we haven't spent ENOUGH money on your piece of crap establishment. you're such a PEACE :-D. BRB!!! :-D sarcasm noted.) so we walked her to the bus stop. {ALERT: MOST HILARIOUS PART OF THE NIGHT COMING UP NOW}
so we were waiting by the bus stop (and this is probably at about 2:15AM in London, AKA witching hour. this is when all of the FREAKS and retarded drunks just start sliming around and literally crawling out of the sewers [i think]). this kid (who looked EXACTLY like fat albert or possibly Keenan from keenan and kell) and his two midget companions waddled (and i say that because they were swaying and waddling like ducks) all holding their own bottles of godknowswhat alcohol. fat albert looked at jordin, jessica and i. (he looked at us in that way ONLY disgusting drunk men [although he was probably only 16] can look at you). albert gave us the good ol' up and down disgusting groping-you-with-my eyes look and then said, "i'd Fu@# the sh** out of all free(three in a british accent) of yous." i preceded to tell him he should probably get some manners. he responded with a charming "fu** yous!!!!!" and then held onto his drunk friend for support, as his fat ass was about to fall on his face right then and there. then all the people around us (mostly guys) at the bus stop started yelling at fat albert and company that they should probably learn some respect, keep walking "fatty" etc. fat albert turns to us and literally says this as he is walking away into the mist : "EXPELLIARMUS!!! EXPELLIARMUS!!!!!! Here's my wand!!!!!!!" he then flips us off very intensely (obviously using that as his 'wand') and then said "'ERE YA GO HERMIONE!!!! SIT ON THAT, HARRY POTTER!!!!" i basically at that point wasn't even mad anymore. i wanted to go and shake his hand for his retarded-hilariousity. ahahhhahahaha. god. what an end to an evening. moral of the story? don't EVER listen to promoters in piccadilly circus.

the vivienne westwood rape whistle (1/23/10)

(the following will consist of poor grammar, capitalization, and possibly a plethora of spelling errors. i am tired. don't judge me.)
ohhhhhhhhhh boy. what a couple of nights. i needed so badly to write another note. so many situations which are all very important to document. AKA HILARIOUS.
the night before last we decided to hit up picadilly circus. for those of you who aren't familiar with it, it's basically like a times square or vegas strip of london. (all it was missing was the porno cards that they hand out in vegas. which are fun to collect, PS.) we took the tube on the way there. we were a group of about 9 VERY LOUD
american girls. they people on the tube looked like their ears/eyes were being assaulted as we turned the tube into our own personal photo shoot set. (whoops.) we got off at our stop and on our way out we had to go on the intensely steep and terrifying escalators. highlight of that escalator ride was a small foreign man screaming at us "AMER-eee-can GULS!!! We LAHHHVEEE YOUUUU. OH-bah--MAAAAAA!! GO OH-BA-MAHHH!" hahaha christ. thank you barack obama for helping the foreigners love us again. i'm not about to get all political on ya'all but let's just say i doubt any little men would've been shouting "WE HEART BUSHHHHHH!!!!!" at us. let's just keep it at that.
we finally got to picadilly circus and it was a bit crazy. as we walked to the bar we were on our way to, Oxygen, there are people lining the street calling out attempting to get you to go to "their" bar/club that they're promoting. "Pretty Girls!!!! Where are you going tonight??? Free shots if you come with me..." etc.
we arrived at Oxygen. packed. fun. apparently it pays to be american in a foreign place. we all got free drinks to begin with and had a blasty blast. funnily enough, the most hilarious part of our journey of the night didn't occur until our way home on the night buses.
we didn't know where to go, which left us at the mercy of drunk londoners giving us directions back to the apartments. This very short english boy (whose eyes kept crossing at different points. from slight retardation or influenced by alcohol...? we may never know.... and i like to keep it that way.) kept attempting to "help" us with our bus route, but i began to think he was probably giving us directions to his Rape Lair. not okay.
once we boarded the bus we met the CHARACTER of the night. this "bloke" was completely PISSED (AKA drunk, wasted, smashed, three sheets to the wind, DONE-ZO). he kept calling one of the girls in our group Beyonce, and getting all up in various girls in our group grills. he did not understand the concept of back the eff off. all of a sudden, i think a thought crossed his mind: "I KNOW! I WILL WOO THEM WITH A SONG. A song sooooo unbelievably sexy that they will not be able to resist me." (which was already hard to do. with his lazy eye, drunken swagger, raging dragon breath and bubba teeth.) We then heard his sexy serenade...
"Ohhhhh SAYYY CANNN YOU seeeEEEEEEEE!!!! BY THE DAWN'S EARRRLLEEEEE LIIIIIIIIIIIGHHTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT WHAT SO PROUDLY WE *mumble mumble* (and then still in the tune of the anthem) MY APOLOGIES GIRLLSSSS I DON'T KNOW THE WORDSSSSSSSSS!!!!!"
my god. what can i say. i almost fell in love on the spot. almost. *sigh* (not.) jordin and i wanted to save $ on a cab, so we waited until 5 am to catch the first tube home. (which led to a certain video that is on my page). we ended up getting home at 7:30AM. slept. until 3 the next day. we made it home alive, but scarred for life. in a good way? oh boy, london, how i love thee.
we awoke the next morning (or day, rather.) and what did we think to ourselves? ROUND TWO! last night had even more fabulous adventures in store. it was time to hit up soho (famous for it's thriving gay nightlife scene.)
the first bar we went to had a complete brighter-than-life rainbow light up scene on the front. walking in, it was a whole different atmosphere. we hung out here for a while, and then decided to hit up someplace a little more "out there" and busy.
Next stop? The club called G-A-Y. walking in, lady gaga, sequins, and vogue-ing all basically slap you across the face. (in other words, what could be better?)
the best part of being a straight american girl in a gay bar? 0,00% creepers that are hitting on you, grabbing your ass, or asking if you're wearing "knickers." best part: tons of gay boys who want to dance with you, sing at the top of their lungs to aretha franklin and lady gaga with you, and tell you how fabulous you look.
we met this special little character at G-A-Y. i can't exactly remember his name. but we'll just call him vivienne. i commented on how much i loved his blazer. (i actually wanted to steal it off of his back.) he told us his entire ensemble was vivienne westwood. and that he made his pants (which were fabulous) himself. he was completely obliterated and stumbling over all his words. i noticed his necklace, which was adorable too. i commented on it, and to my surprise he lifted it to his mouth and then it exploded with the most intense, high pitched, screeching noice you've EVER heard in your life. i had to check if my ears were bleeding.
we proceeded to ask him why he was carrying a rape whistle. and that he probably shouldn't blow it to avoid a little gay boy crying wolf situation, because he was CLEARLY not being raped, as he was bumping and grinding with this other boy we had met named Ohi. then, hilariously he told us "In the UK, this is a SEXY FUN whistle!!!!!" shit. alright. hahaa. do what you do, rape whistle boy.
looks like my next purchase needs to be a "sexy fun whistle." they're all the rage. didn't you know? toodles for now.