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?)
Thursday, December 23, 2010
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Bag or Sack? (1/21/10)
Day seven in London town. We've somehow rationalized laying in bed lazily today. Reason being we are going out tonight & need our rest. As long as Jordin can make it through the duration of the night without getting her neck bitten/molested by Saudi men, then I will consider it a success.
Should be an interesting evening considering the fact that the tubes close down at 12:30 and reopen not until 5am. Looks like it will be a long night of partying, because I absolutely refused to go through the shenanigan of attempting to get a taxi and paying 20 pounds again.
Yesterday was an adventure, to say the least. I learned once more of the wonders of the Londonese. First things first, Riddle me THIS: Why in the name of all the is holy do these people eat things that just SHOULDN'T go together? Yesterday we ate at the ULU student cafeteria because the prices are ridiculously cheap for food. They run out of everything in a matter of about 5 minutes, so if one isn't there ready to pounce like a jaguar when they put out all the food, one is left to be very experimental. When we finally go there all they had were baked potatoes (which they cleverly call 'Jacket Potatoes') and on these you could put different toppings. They were of course OUT of most of what was edible (maybe....) so I asked them what they had left. They told me some type of "Curry Chicken" which I assumed wouldn't be half bad. Jordin just got cheese & butter (she was the smart one), and our friend Kasey ordered Minced Lamb. (Which turned out to be MINTED lamb, since he heard the clerk wrong.)
Another hint, you have to beg here to ask for things to be heated up. Everything is served COLD, I swear. They handed my my potato cold as hell and when I sat down and took a bite I almost ralfed. So after heating it up we all sat down. I discovered a special surprise in my mixture that was inside my dinner. Sour cream and cheese is usually delicious on a potato, but wait until you hear this. So inside my potato was chicken (with an interesting but not too bad flavor), some weird little pepper things, and RAISINS. Yes, raisins. I can handle them on Thanksgiving with turkey, yes. But mixed in with sour cream and cheese & potato, no thanks. I spent the rest of dinner shiftily eying Jordin's 'normal' potato like a starving child. Oh, the times.
Also, yesterday at lunch, Jordin and I were waiting in line to get our food to go, so that we could run home before our next class. So she didn't have to hold all our food the entire way home Jordin asked the chick at the counter for a "sack" to carry our food. This girl almost fell off of her chair with some freakish twitchy Tourette's-style laughter. I almost called someone to assist her since she was clearly out of her mind. I couldn't help myself so I asked, "Ummmmm.... am I missing the joke here?" She regained herself and managed to gasp out, "A SACK!!!!!!" I still didn't get the humor (maybe it's a London thing?) I wouldn't let it go. "Okay. A sack, a bag....? Something to carry out stuff home in. Do you possibly HAVE those. Here. In this place. Where you sell FOOD." She replied (still cackling but said in a weird accent that I couldn't place) "A SACK is a vehdy vehdy BEEG (big) thing. Don't you mean a bahhhhhhhhhhh-g? HAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA." I almost bitch slapped her with my 6-inch sub. Seriously? I expected some cultural differences in words, but bag/sack? She didn't misinterpret sack as something hilarious and genital (something I would do, since I often have the mind of a 13 year old boy) but she actually took genuine enjoyment out of the fact that we accidentally asked for a bag BIGGER than what we needed. Some people's kids. I swear to god. I think I'll not put this towards people in London being weird, I think this chick was seriously one fry short of a happy meal.
On another note, I am having the biggest biotch of a time sleeping normally right now. The first day that we arrived in Paris scarred us for life, pretty sure. When we first flew in, we were freaking EXHAUSTED. They cruelly scheduled us for a boat tour at 4:30pm and we were supposed to meet in the lobby of our hotel at 4pm. We only had arrived at 1:30pm, so we thought we'd catch a nap before we had to meet. I washed off my makeup (disgusting from traveling) and we set a wakeup call on our phone in our room. (Since we had no alarm clocks since I'm so freaking used to using my cell phone for mine!) I fell into an amazingly deep sleep.... zzzzzzz. Only to wake up in that frantic TERRIFIED mode where you just KNOW you're late. You don't know how you know. But you KNOW. And I know you know what I'm talking about. (I've never used the word 'know' more times in one paragraph in my life, you know.) Anyway, we woke up. Look down. And you know the little spirally cord that connects to the base of most regular phones, well that shit was DISCONNECTED from the phone and laying on the ground. This would ONLY happen to me, because of my immaculate luck. I looked down, horrified at the clock, only to see that it was 4:15. F&$%!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (What I said in my mind, and probably out loud.) So.... Mollie/Jordin held up the entire group and walked her first trip in Pareeee with zero point zero zero percent makeup on and looking like a startled earwig. Fabulous! :-D What larks.
So needless to say, every single time I settle into a deep comfortable sleep, I'll wake up in an effing panic at random intervals thinking I'm late for something. This has continued and it's been almost two weeks since. I'm hoping this will go away, as I think my death by heart attack is swiftly approaching, if not.
I don't have much else to say now, I suppose. We'll just hope that tonight will have interesting things to offer. And I'm sure it will support content for a very entertaining note tomorrow morning. I'll send word if Jordin's neck is still intact. TOODLES YA'ALL!
Should be an interesting evening considering the fact that the tubes close down at 12:30 and reopen not until 5am. Looks like it will be a long night of partying, because I absolutely refused to go through the shenanigan of attempting to get a taxi and paying 20 pounds again.
Yesterday was an adventure, to say the least. I learned once more of the wonders of the Londonese. First things first, Riddle me THIS: Why in the name of all the is holy do these people eat things that just SHOULDN'T go together? Yesterday we ate at the ULU student cafeteria because the prices are ridiculously cheap for food. They run out of everything in a matter of about 5 minutes, so if one isn't there ready to pounce like a jaguar when they put out all the food, one is left to be very experimental. When we finally go there all they had were baked potatoes (which they cleverly call 'Jacket Potatoes') and on these you could put different toppings. They were of course OUT of most of what was edible (maybe....) so I asked them what they had left. They told me some type of "Curry Chicken" which I assumed wouldn't be half bad. Jordin just got cheese & butter (she was the smart one), and our friend Kasey ordered Minced Lamb. (Which turned out to be MINTED lamb, since he heard the clerk wrong.)
Another hint, you have to beg here to ask for things to be heated up. Everything is served COLD, I swear. They handed my my potato cold as hell and when I sat down and took a bite I almost ralfed. So after heating it up we all sat down. I discovered a special surprise in my mixture that was inside my dinner. Sour cream and cheese is usually delicious on a potato, but wait until you hear this. So inside my potato was chicken (with an interesting but not too bad flavor), some weird little pepper things, and RAISINS. Yes, raisins. I can handle them on Thanksgiving with turkey, yes. But mixed in with sour cream and cheese & potato, no thanks. I spent the rest of dinner shiftily eying Jordin's 'normal' potato like a starving child. Oh, the times.
Also, yesterday at lunch, Jordin and I were waiting in line to get our food to go, so that we could run home before our next class. So she didn't have to hold all our food the entire way home Jordin asked the chick at the counter for a "sack" to carry our food. This girl almost fell off of her chair with some freakish twitchy Tourette's-style laughter. I almost called someone to assist her since she was clearly out of her mind. I couldn't help myself so I asked, "Ummmmm.... am I missing the joke here?" She regained herself and managed to gasp out, "A SACK!!!!!!" I still didn't get the humor (maybe it's a London thing?) I wouldn't let it go. "Okay. A sack, a bag....? Something to carry out stuff home in. Do you possibly HAVE those. Here. In this place. Where you sell FOOD." She replied (still cackling but said in a weird accent that I couldn't place) "A SACK is a vehdy vehdy BEEG (big) thing. Don't you mean a bahhhhhhhhhhh-g? HAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA." I almost bitch slapped her with my 6-inch sub. Seriously? I expected some cultural differences in words, but bag/sack? She didn't misinterpret sack as something hilarious and genital (something I would do, since I often have the mind of a 13 year old boy) but she actually took genuine enjoyment out of the fact that we accidentally asked for a bag BIGGER than what we needed. Some people's kids. I swear to god. I think I'll not put this towards people in London being weird, I think this chick was seriously one fry short of a happy meal.
On another note, I am having the biggest biotch of a time sleeping normally right now. The first day that we arrived in Paris scarred us for life, pretty sure. When we first flew in, we were freaking EXHAUSTED. They cruelly scheduled us for a boat tour at 4:30pm and we were supposed to meet in the lobby of our hotel at 4pm. We only had arrived at 1:30pm, so we thought we'd catch a nap before we had to meet. I washed off my makeup (disgusting from traveling) and we set a wakeup call on our phone in our room. (Since we had no alarm clocks since I'm so freaking used to using my cell phone for mine!) I fell into an amazingly deep sleep.... zzzzzzz. Only to wake up in that frantic TERRIFIED mode where you just KNOW you're late. You don't know how you know. But you KNOW. And I know you know what I'm talking about. (I've never used the word 'know' more times in one paragraph in my life, you know.) Anyway, we woke up. Look down. And you know the little spirally cord that connects to the base of most regular phones, well that shit was DISCONNECTED from the phone and laying on the ground. This would ONLY happen to me, because of my immaculate luck. I looked down, horrified at the clock, only to see that it was 4:15. F&$%!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (What I said in my mind, and probably out loud.) So.... Mollie/Jordin held up the entire group and walked her first trip in Pareeee with zero point zero zero percent makeup on and looking like a startled earwig. Fabulous! :-D What larks.
So needless to say, every single time I settle into a deep comfortable sleep, I'll wake up in an effing panic at random intervals thinking I'm late for something. This has continued and it's been almost two weeks since. I'm hoping this will go away, as I think my death by heart attack is swiftly approaching, if not.
I don't have much else to say now, I suppose. We'll just hope that tonight will have interesting things to offer. And I'm sure it will support content for a very entertaining note tomorrow morning. I'll send word if Jordin's neck is still intact. TOODLES YA'ALL!
Death By Escalator (1/19/10)
Today was a day for goals. #1 was to have fish & chips. #2 was to get up off our asses and do something other than get lost on the tube system. Mission successful on both counts.
There is an absolutely amazing fish & chips stand around the corner from our house. We asked the man for an order of both. I kept screwing up and calling them fries. Much to his annoyance / not understanding. Once we got them back to our house to eat, we discovered the approx. 4lbs of grease inside and that they were amazingly delish!
We decided tonight to wander around Leicester square for a while & saw a little bit of china town as well. Thank heavens for international franchises, because we were able to skeep a little Starbucks in tonight. (My very much missed grande toffee nut soy latte EXTRA HOT. Ahhh Thank god.)
On the way home we got to ride one of London’s many attractions. The escalators down to the lines. They are quite possibly the most terrifyingly steep things you’ve ever seen. They give you that sensation in the pit of your stomach where you imagine the WORST THING ever happening (AKA plummeting face first down the entire thing to your death.) I basically have to look straight down at my feet an focus on the ground until we’re at the bottom. Which probably makes me an effective Londoner. Since all of them do that anyway (look down at the ground depressingly. Remember, we’ve been through this.)
Also, Jordin and I have come to another Londonesque conclusion. That some people do the WEIRDEST crap here. This is normal in any big city, true, but in London there’s one key difference: people pretend NOT TO NOTICE. This crazy dude that was walking through the tube station this morning was singing in this low rumbling bass voice just hitting random notes and Ooooooing and ahhhhing all to himself. Jordin and I were the ONLY ones who looked over at him and almost burst into peals of laughter. Everyone else continued to stare down, not looking up. EVER. This is what happens no matter WHAT happens. Which I find amusing. I told Jordin our next task is to walk through the tube station with underwear on our heads or something to see what happened. In the US that sh** would be on youtube faster than you could say “tea and crumpets.”
Tomorrow on the agenda we’re going to two classes then Wicked on broadway in Leicester square. Goodnight.
Woke up this morning. So. Tired. I am now wishing a little bit for those times at CC when I literally rolled out of bed EXACTLY as I was and peaced to class. Not happening in London. They already warned us of the perils of going out looking like you just hopped out of bed. *massive sigh *
I didn't exactly have as much to say this installment. Sorry if the entertainment quality was lower. haha. I'm sure after tonight's events there will be plenty.
There is an absolutely amazing fish & chips stand around the corner from our house. We asked the man for an order of both. I kept screwing up and calling them fries. Much to his annoyance / not understanding. Once we got them back to our house to eat, we discovered the approx. 4lbs of grease inside and that they were amazingly delish!
We decided tonight to wander around Leicester square for a while & saw a little bit of china town as well. Thank heavens for international franchises, because we were able to skeep a little Starbucks in tonight. (My very much missed grande toffee nut soy latte EXTRA HOT. Ahhh Thank god.)
On the way home we got to ride one of London’s many attractions. The escalators down to the lines. They are quite possibly the most terrifyingly steep things you’ve ever seen. They give you that sensation in the pit of your stomach where you imagine the WORST THING ever happening (AKA plummeting face first down the entire thing to your death.) I basically have to look straight down at my feet an focus on the ground until we’re at the bottom. Which probably makes me an effective Londoner. Since all of them do that anyway (look down at the ground depressingly. Remember, we’ve been through this.)
Also, Jordin and I have come to another Londonesque conclusion. That some people do the WEIRDEST crap here. This is normal in any big city, true, but in London there’s one key difference: people pretend NOT TO NOTICE. This crazy dude that was walking through the tube station this morning was singing in this low rumbling bass voice just hitting random notes and Ooooooing and ahhhhing all to himself. Jordin and I were the ONLY ones who looked over at him and almost burst into peals of laughter. Everyone else continued to stare down, not looking up. EVER. This is what happens no matter WHAT happens. Which I find amusing. I told Jordin our next task is to walk through the tube station with underwear on our heads or something to see what happened. In the US that sh** would be on youtube faster than you could say “tea and crumpets.”
Tomorrow on the agenda we’re going to two classes then Wicked on broadway in Leicester square. Goodnight.
Woke up this morning. So. Tired. I am now wishing a little bit for those times at CC when I literally rolled out of bed EXACTLY as I was and peaced to class. Not happening in London. They already warned us of the perils of going out looking like you just hopped out of bed. *massive sigh *
I didn't exactly have as much to say this installment. Sorry if the entertainment quality was lower. haha. I'm sure after tonight's events there will be plenty.
The Beaker People, Creme, & Tube Tactics. (1/18/10)
I'm laying here for the 3rd morning in a row that I've somehow developed the disgusting pattern of going to bed at 7pm-9pm and then waking up again at 5am. You know the different feelings of waking up? There's the kind where you just wake up normally, and then the kind where you literally feel like you've been sleeping so hard that your face was smashed against the pillow with the force of life? Drool can also accompany this, but I won't admit to that. Anyway, I had this this morning. Again. Pretty sure Jordin is on a swift path to killing me for my freakish hours. Last night we were supposed to do our nails before bed and I literally was in a comatose state asleep with facebook on and my laptop on my lap. She even messaged me "Yer SO lame" on FB chat whilst I lay there in my stupor.... Ah, well. Cest La VIE! I would eat a glass muffin for a normal night's sleep at this point.
Yesterday/Last night was extremely fun/entertaining though. We had our first snafu vis a vis traveling on the tube, however. On our way to class we discovered that our bus to finsberry park tube station wasn't coming at our normal stop. *Insert mini panic attack here* So we were forced to ask random people around us what to do. (P.S. Jordin and me are VERY different people when it comes to directions. She is naturally quite good at maneuvering maps and has amazing street smarts, whilst I..... Don't. I prefer the method of asking EVERYONE around me to point me in the right direction. She hates asking people. This has made for some interesting days. She definitely wants to punch me when I start randomly assailing people for directions.)
Also, another thing that frustrates me here is the fact that whenever I ask someone for directions, it seems that EVERY SINGLE PERSON points in opposite ways when we ask. One person tells us the tube station is right... we get lost and ask again and then that person points left.... etc. But at least it's not like in France when I asked and the person heard my American accent and they rolled their eyes and probably were pointing us towards the nearest cliff.
So ANYWHO (and yes, I just said anywho) we finally got ourselves back on track and got to the tube station. It takes about 45 minutes to get to school. This intensifies my problem of being on time to class by ... a lot, let's just say. We were only 6 minutes late when we finally arrived, though. Thank god.
Our first class was British Life & Culture. Lots of talk about the history of England etc. But one thing I learned is that Brits get VERY annoyed when you refer to England as part of Europe. I always seem to forget that we're actually on an Island here. It's odd to think about. Our teacher is a British professor. And lectures are about 2.5 hours long. Meaning that I can stay awake for about 2.5% of it, due to my acute & undiagnosed ADHD (triple D, squared, to the ninth power.) He did inform us of some interesting facts, though. Which I found amusing/hilarious. #1) The earliest form of indigenous people that Britain can trace back are called the BEAKER people. (The name is funny enough.) They are the people who made stonehenge, though. They apparently built up those huge mounds (hahahahahaha to the word 'mounds' for those of you that understand. For those of you that don't, sorry." ) to bury their loved ones underneath and they buried them with clay "beakers" or little pots. When I hear Beaker people, though, I can't help but think of the dude from Sesame street named Beaker, and then I think of thousands of HIM running around in the English countryside as a meager farming nation.... AKA HILARIOUS.
Also, another fun fact. I read SO many things before I came here that the people in London/England drink beer WARM so as to bring out the flavor. I hate beer. & thinking about drinking it warm made me throw up in my mouth. Our British professor dismissed this fact as TOTALLY false. He said no one drinks warm beer. *Metaphorical wiping of brow* WHEW.
ALSO. He informed us that the English are very reserved and sometimes seen as cold or unfeeling. I can see that. Already on the tube it is obvious most times that Jordin and me are American. But I've almost nailed seeming like a true Londoner on the tube. Step #1) You MUST look like you want to kill yourself. This can be done by having a look of boredom/pain on your face. Hanging your head in sorrow, etc.
#2)Bring something to read so that you can have ANOTHER reason to NOT look up at ANYONE. Even if it is a fortune cookie.
#3)DO NOT scramble for a seat. Look around shiftily before you assume that you can sit down.
and #4) DO NOT. And I mean, do NOT, make direct eye contact with someone. One must perfect the shifty eye technique (which I am proud to say I've mastered.) This includes being able to get a good look at the people around you and as soon as their eyes turn towards yours you immediately look at the next person.
Now, BADABING, you are a Londoner on the tube. Oh, and I forgot one thing. Don't look like a chicken with your head cut off when you get off at your stop and wonder which way to go. I do it every time. Usually there is a sign DIRECTLY over my head that says "Way Out" (they make it even easier rather than saying 'exit') but I still seem to miss it. Jordin really needs to fashion for me one of those baby leashes that parents put on their children to make them stick near you. I'd appreciate it. Especially if it was in a sassy print like snakeskin or leopard.
After we got done with class we decided to go and get our first English Tea. We went to this adorable little tea shop right near our school. #1 most annoying thing about British (and most European restaurants) that we've discovered is that it is like PULLING TEETH to get service at one. You basically have to lasso the waiter and risk being very annoying by asking him (up to346456534234243 times to take your order). #1 BEST thing about restaurants (and everywhere else here) NO TIPPING. That's right, NONE. But we ordered scones and tea. The most delicious thing I've had yet here is a scone with clotted cream. Clotted cream SOUNDS like it would be something rotten that you would never want to ingest, but in reality it's like a mixture of homemade whipping cream and really sweet butter. AKA "whoot whoot!!! next stop, my THIGHS" but delicious nonetheless.
After that we went to have a beer with some friends and experienced our first English pub. The atmosphere was amazing. However I did notice that the beer truly IS about five million bajillion times stronger than in the US, so lightweights (like me and Jordin) beware. We were a little groggy getting back to our bus stop. Whoops.
Well, it is now my second morning in a row that I've been blogging at 630AM, so hopefully this will help put me back to sleep. No class at all today so I'm not sure what we've got in store. I definitely know for a fact though that first on our priority list is some traditional fish and chips at a pub. I can't believe we still haven't had any yet. Adios!
OH and one GIANT PS: I am trying, but I get a little excited sometimes so forgive some misspellings and grammar from hell. It is 6AM after all.
Well, au revoir, lovely people who are taking the time to read my awful blabberings.
xo Mollie
Yesterday/Last night was extremely fun/entertaining though. We had our first snafu vis a vis traveling on the tube, however. On our way to class we discovered that our bus to finsberry park tube station wasn't coming at our normal stop. *Insert mini panic attack here* So we were forced to ask random people around us what to do. (P.S. Jordin and me are VERY different people when it comes to directions. She is naturally quite good at maneuvering maps and has amazing street smarts, whilst I..... Don't. I prefer the method of asking EVERYONE around me to point me in the right direction. She hates asking people. This has made for some interesting days. She definitely wants to punch me when I start randomly assailing people for directions.)
Also, another thing that frustrates me here is the fact that whenever I ask someone for directions, it seems that EVERY SINGLE PERSON points in opposite ways when we ask. One person tells us the tube station is right... we get lost and ask again and then that person points left.... etc. But at least it's not like in France when I asked and the person heard my American accent and they rolled their eyes and probably were pointing us towards the nearest cliff.
So ANYWHO (and yes, I just said anywho) we finally got ourselves back on track and got to the tube station. It takes about 45 minutes to get to school. This intensifies my problem of being on time to class by ... a lot, let's just say. We were only 6 minutes late when we finally arrived, though. Thank god.
Our first class was British Life & Culture. Lots of talk about the history of England etc. But one thing I learned is that Brits get VERY annoyed when you refer to England as part of Europe. I always seem to forget that we're actually on an Island here. It's odd to think about. Our teacher is a British professor. And lectures are about 2.5 hours long. Meaning that I can stay awake for about 2.5% of it, due to my acute & undiagnosed ADHD (triple D, squared, to the ninth power.) He did inform us of some interesting facts, though. Which I found amusing/hilarious. #1) The earliest form of indigenous people that Britain can trace back are called the BEAKER people. (The name is funny enough.) They are the people who made stonehenge, though. They apparently built up those huge mounds (hahahahahaha to the word 'mounds' for those of you that understand. For those of you that don't, sorry." ) to bury their loved ones underneath and they buried them with clay "beakers" or little pots. When I hear Beaker people, though, I can't help but think of the dude from Sesame street named Beaker, and then I think of thousands of HIM running around in the English countryside as a meager farming nation.... AKA HILARIOUS.
Also, another fun fact. I read SO many things before I came here that the people in London/England drink beer WARM so as to bring out the flavor. I hate beer. & thinking about drinking it warm made me throw up in my mouth. Our British professor dismissed this fact as TOTALLY false. He said no one drinks warm beer. *Metaphorical wiping of brow* WHEW.
ALSO. He informed us that the English are very reserved and sometimes seen as cold or unfeeling. I can see that. Already on the tube it is obvious most times that Jordin and me are American. But I've almost nailed seeming like a true Londoner on the tube. Step #1) You MUST look like you want to kill yourself. This can be done by having a look of boredom/pain on your face. Hanging your head in sorrow, etc.
#2)Bring something to read so that you can have ANOTHER reason to NOT look up at ANYONE. Even if it is a fortune cookie.
#3)DO NOT scramble for a seat. Look around shiftily before you assume that you can sit down.
and #4) DO NOT. And I mean, do NOT, make direct eye contact with someone. One must perfect the shifty eye technique (which I am proud to say I've mastered.) This includes being able to get a good look at the people around you and as soon as their eyes turn towards yours you immediately look at the next person.
Now, BADABING, you are a Londoner on the tube. Oh, and I forgot one thing. Don't look like a chicken with your head cut off when you get off at your stop and wonder which way to go. I do it every time. Usually there is a sign DIRECTLY over my head that says "Way Out" (they make it even easier rather than saying 'exit') but I still seem to miss it. Jordin really needs to fashion for me one of those baby leashes that parents put on their children to make them stick near you. I'd appreciate it. Especially if it was in a sassy print like snakeskin or leopard.
After we got done with class we decided to go and get our first English Tea. We went to this adorable little tea shop right near our school. #1 most annoying thing about British (and most European restaurants) that we've discovered is that it is like PULLING TEETH to get service at one. You basically have to lasso the waiter and risk being very annoying by asking him (up to346456534234243 times to take your order). #1 BEST thing about restaurants (and everywhere else here) NO TIPPING. That's right, NONE. But we ordered scones and tea. The most delicious thing I've had yet here is a scone with clotted cream. Clotted cream SOUNDS like it would be something rotten that you would never want to ingest, but in reality it's like a mixture of homemade whipping cream and really sweet butter. AKA "whoot whoot!!! next stop, my THIGHS" but delicious nonetheless.
After that we went to have a beer with some friends and experienced our first English pub. The atmosphere was amazing. However I did notice that the beer truly IS about five million bajillion times stronger than in the US, so lightweights (like me and Jordin) beware. We were a little groggy getting back to our bus stop. Whoops.
Well, it is now my second morning in a row that I've been blogging at 630AM, so hopefully this will help put me back to sleep. No class at all today so I'm not sure what we've got in store. I definitely know for a fact though that first on our priority list is some traditional fish and chips at a pub. I can't believe we still haven't had any yet. Adios!
OH and one GIANT PS: I am trying, but I get a little excited sometimes so forgive some misspellings and grammar from hell. It is 6AM after all.
Well, au revoir, lovely people who are taking the time to read my awful blabberings.
xo Mollie
Ahhh Adventures In London (with Enrique Eglesias) January 17, 2010
So after my first amazing night's sleep abroad I decided I would actually start making a "journal" of sorts. However I'm going to use facebook notes since the word journal sounds kind of lame. First things first, the only thing that you really need to learn to love if you want to fit in in London (or anywhere in Europe or the UK for that matter) is some crazy techno (that sounds like party boy music from Jackass or just something that makes you want to punch a small child) or Enrique Eglesias or some type of huge slow love ballad. I swear that is all we hear, EVERYWHERE.
I swear my favorite part of London so far has to be just listening to people talk. Children are the best. Jordin and I basically listen in on all their little convos while we're on the bus or tube and it's basically the cutest thing ever. We've had to perfect not looking TOO interested as we most likely look like chimos being so involved with the conversations of 3-9 year olds. The accents really are so charming. How is it that a 4 year old child with a British accent can sound (but hopefully isn't) about 2342 times more intelligent than me? haha
The house we're living in here is a very cute little house. The neighborhood surrounding us makes me feel like I'm living in a Harry Potter movie (because I'm a nerd like that.) And guess what? WE HAVE A CUPBOARD UNDER THE STAIRS! hahaa. Jordin and me already have plans to get some glasses and a wand and take photos under there.
The lady who owns the house is awesome. She slept in the first morning and failed to give us instructions on how to get to our college the first morning though. We had to find our own way that day (which was interesting) but then returned home to a note under our door "Mollie & Jordin! So sorry about this morning. Had a WICKED hangover from last night. See you at 6 (then the six was crossed out) 6ish!" haahah. She's really laid back & has a son named Edward. (Not Edward Cullen, much to Jordin's disappointment.)
Flashing back a few days on our trip though, I totally need to tell a story from our stay in Brussels, Belgium. We went to a club/pub called Celtica which was PACKED. (Not with the hot sexy european men that I was expecting, but with mostly creepy older men and a lot of very horny Saudi Arabians.) We all were a bit disappointed when we hit the dance floor to hear a bunch of techno in weird languages we'd never heard but we danced along anyway (with confused looks on our faces that probably made us look like ruh-tards.) Soon though, they started playing music that we recognized. (Most of these were older hits from like 5 years ago in the states. Why is it that Europe is so fashion forward and beautiful, but when it comes to music they listen to songs from about 5-10 years ago?) After that went on for a while "Empire State of Mind" by Jay-Z and Alicia came on. Bless their little hearts but the freaking most hilarious thing I've ever seen is watching these people (that speak French and Flemish. {ps don't ask me what the hell that is, sounds like something you do when you get sick} attempt to sing along to American songs.) They sort of mumbled along with Jay-Z's verses and then as soon as the chorus came on it sounded like "NEWWWWWWWWW-YAWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!! *mumblemumble* Mayyyyy-UHHHHH...... DOOOOO..... " etc. In other words, EXTREMELY entertaining/hilarious.
Our night was topped off that night with some crazy Saudi Arabian man coming up to dance with Jordin. We tried doing the whole sneakily dance away from him that girls are so skilled at, but he kept coming back like a bad case of herpes. He kept muttering things at her like "I love you. Loveeee youuuuu," to her, which added to the creepiness factor. (Also, his shirt was tucked into his pants EXTREMELY tightly, another thing that added to the hilariousityness (not a word) factor. Before Jordin could escape this man (AND I AM NOT KIDDING) bit her as hard as he could, on the neck. I am thinking that he meant it to be like a sexy bite (which from a stranger, I'm not sure if those exist, but hey, what can ya do.) But it mostly came across as a crazy-I-am-an-insane-Saudi-vampire style bite. Jordin literally had a swollen HUGE bitemark on her neck for 3 days afterwards and is scarred (mentally and probably physically, for life.) Funny shit.
Well, it's 6AM here, and we start classes today, so I think I'll be getting off of here, but hopefully for my family & friends who wanted to know some of what was going on here this note helped. I make fun of it all, but it's amazing here so far! My intense clicking and clacking of my keyboard is probably going to make Jordin get up and strangle me with my sheets here shortly so that'll be all for today until next time.
xox Mollie
I swear my favorite part of London so far has to be just listening to people talk. Children are the best. Jordin and I basically listen in on all their little convos while we're on the bus or tube and it's basically the cutest thing ever. We've had to perfect not looking TOO interested as we most likely look like chimos being so involved with the conversations of 3-9 year olds. The accents really are so charming. How is it that a 4 year old child with a British accent can sound (but hopefully isn't) about 2342 times more intelligent than me? haha
The house we're living in here is a very cute little house. The neighborhood surrounding us makes me feel like I'm living in a Harry Potter movie (because I'm a nerd like that.) And guess what? WE HAVE A CUPBOARD UNDER THE STAIRS! hahaa. Jordin and me already have plans to get some glasses and a wand and take photos under there.
The lady who owns the house is awesome. She slept in the first morning and failed to give us instructions on how to get to our college the first morning though. We had to find our own way that day (which was interesting) but then returned home to a note under our door "Mollie & Jordin! So sorry about this morning. Had a WICKED hangover from last night. See you at 6 (then the six was crossed out) 6ish!" haahah. She's really laid back & has a son named Edward. (Not Edward Cullen, much to Jordin's disappointment.)
Flashing back a few days on our trip though, I totally need to tell a story from our stay in Brussels, Belgium. We went to a club/pub called Celtica which was PACKED. (Not with the hot sexy european men that I was expecting, but with mostly creepy older men and a lot of very horny Saudi Arabians.) We all were a bit disappointed when we hit the dance floor to hear a bunch of techno in weird languages we'd never heard but we danced along anyway (with confused looks on our faces that probably made us look like ruh-tards.) Soon though, they started playing music that we recognized. (Most of these were older hits from like 5 years ago in the states. Why is it that Europe is so fashion forward and beautiful, but when it comes to music they listen to songs from about 5-10 years ago?) After that went on for a while "Empire State of Mind" by Jay-Z and Alicia came on. Bless their little hearts but the freaking most hilarious thing I've ever seen is watching these people (that speak French and Flemish. {ps don't ask me what the hell that is, sounds like something you do when you get sick} attempt to sing along to American songs.) They sort of mumbled along with Jay-Z's verses and then as soon as the chorus came on it sounded like "NEWWWWWWWWW-YAWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!! *mumblemumble* Mayyyyy-UHHHHH...... DOOOOO..... " etc. In other words, EXTREMELY entertaining/hilarious.
Our night was topped off that night with some crazy Saudi Arabian man coming up to dance with Jordin. We tried doing the whole sneakily dance away from him that girls are so skilled at, but he kept coming back like a bad case of herpes. He kept muttering things at her like "I love you. Loveeee youuuuu," to her, which added to the creepiness factor. (Also, his shirt was tucked into his pants EXTREMELY tightly, another thing that added to the hilariousityness (not a word) factor. Before Jordin could escape this man (AND I AM NOT KIDDING) bit her as hard as he could, on the neck. I am thinking that he meant it to be like a sexy bite (which from a stranger, I'm not sure if those exist, but hey, what can ya do.) But it mostly came across as a crazy-I-am-an-insane-Saudi-vampire style bite. Jordin literally had a swollen HUGE bitemark on her neck for 3 days afterwards and is scarred (mentally and probably physically, for life.) Funny shit.
Well, it's 6AM here, and we start classes today, so I think I'll be getting off of here, but hopefully for my family & friends who wanted to know some of what was going on here this note helped. I make fun of it all, but it's amazing here so far! My intense clicking and clacking of my keyboard is probably going to make Jordin get up and strangle me with my sheets here shortly so that'll be all for today until next time.
xox Mollie
Euro-Trip nostalgia
So ...
I should have started a blog a LONG time ago, I'm sure. I just remembered how many notes I made on facebook of all my hilarious adventures in Europe this spring semester.
I decided to post them on here! I'm sure this will be a LONG post. They're worth a read though. Ah... good times. :-)
I'm just going to paste them in chronological order. They're so old. But so great.
I should have started a blog a LONG time ago, I'm sure. I just remembered how many notes I made on facebook of all my hilarious adventures in Europe this spring semester.
I decided to post them on here! I'm sure this will be a LONG post. They're worth a read though. Ah... good times. :-)
I'm just going to paste them in chronological order. They're so old. But so great.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Blog Virgin
So I wasn't sure if venturing into the world of being a blogger would be something I'll be able to keep up on, but I feel like this is the best way to keep people (that care about my random ramblings) updated. Not to mention to be able to dispose of some of my excess word vomit. So here I am. Et voila! My blog is born.
I'm sure I'll be able to fill this thing with plenty of stuff. I won't, however promise that it will be 100% squeaky clean or something you want small children to read. Not that small children will be reading this... or would want to, but I guess now I've given fair warning. I'm not a part-time stripper or anything. I just have been told that I swear like a sailor and have a habit of flirting with that line of what is and what is not appropriate. Whatevs. (Oh. And Normally I wouldn't condone words/phrases like 'whatevs, totes, hilar, bomb.com, etc. in something that I would send to a future employer... but this is the wonder of blogdom, {not a word??} is it not!?)
I'm actually pretty excited to have a place to write a bunch of random crap that comes across my brain throughout the day. I normally just think it to myself, tell my sister, or upload it to a facebook status. Now I have SO much more room! Haha.
So here goes nothing!
Let's hope for more excitement to come.
I'm sure I'll be able to fill this thing with plenty of stuff. I won't, however promise that it will be 100% squeaky clean or something you want small children to read. Not that small children will be reading this... or would want to, but I guess now I've given fair warning. I'm not a part-time stripper or anything. I just have been told that I swear like a sailor and have a habit of flirting with that line of what is and what is not appropriate. Whatevs. (Oh. And Normally I wouldn't condone words/phrases like 'whatevs, totes, hilar, bomb.com, etc. in something that I would send to a future employer... but this is the wonder of blogdom, {not a word??} is it not!?)
I'm actually pretty excited to have a place to write a bunch of random crap that comes across my brain throughout the day. I normally just think it to myself, tell my sister, or upload it to a facebook status. Now I have SO much more room! Haha.
So here goes nothing!
Let's hope for more excitement to come.
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