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!
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