There are a lot of things about airports that are unbearably frustrating. I won't list them all because I'm sure you know most of them; and plus, it would only make me mad and I'm trying to focus on being positive these days. But here's something travelers do that is just mindboggling idiotic and needs to be whined about:
There are assholes out there who are under the impression that 96% of the bags that come out onto the baggage claim could be theirs. I don't care if they have a bright fuscia suitcase with a pink polka dotted dragon embroidered on the front with an orange tongue, a green cape with a 'D' on it (for Dragon, obviously), and blue flames shooting out its nose. They will pick up every single suitcase and check all 4 handles for nametags, airport tags, rainbow pom poms, and duct tape to see if it's theirs. Then, when they realize that a black Samsonite isn't at all what their bag looks like, they will throw it back onto the conveyor belt...only to pick it up again when it comes back around.
This morning I saw a woman pick up a two-tone colored car seat (and I'm talkin' bright colors, not just like beige and black or something), inspect it carefully, and then put it back. Douchebag.
Monday, December 22, 2008
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
3 homeruns, 1 hot dog, one beach ball incident, and one drunk guy ralphing
Last night Nana and I went to the Red Sox vs. Angels game at Fenway Park. According to 96-year-old Ruth, our seats were along the first base line. In reality they were way out in right field. But for a price of zero dollars, I’d take Red Sox seats behind a fat guy challenging another fat guy to a hot dog eating contest. (Please don’t actually tempt me with this offer because I don’t know that I would actually follow through.)
Here are the highlights of the night….
Nana: “Do you know who’s pitching tonight?”
Lisa: “Actually I don’t. Who?”
Nana: “Dike-a-sake.”
Nana: “Is that Ortiz? Oooh, I hope he strikes a homerun!”
Nana (to the 115-pound college girl in front of us who dined on two meager slices of Papa Gino’s): “You ate too much pizza!”
Nana (to the same girl earlier in the game): “Can you scrunch down a bit? I can’t see.”
A beachball came our way during the 5th inning or so and miraculously landed in Nana’s lap. I told her to pick it up and hit it. So she took the ball and, with all her might (which isn’t a lot), pegged a guy sitting two rows in front of us right in the back of the head. So he took the ball and jokingly turned around and pretended like he was going to nail her in the face with it. I think that kinda scared her because she put her arms up in defense. The man then realized that he could possibly be responsible for an old woman having a heart attack and apologized profusely saying he didn’t really mean it. I told him that while maybe he was joking, she surely wasn’t and meant to hit him.
Then, when we were trying to find the bus after the game, I’m pretty sure I made Nana walk around the entire perimeter of Fenway Park. Probably not the best idea in the world, but I told her that at least she wouldn’t have to go to the gym the next day (and yes, she actually does go to the gym).
So while the Red Sox lost 7-5 to a team with a guy named Figgins, I certainly can’t complain about a lack of entertainment or fun.
Here are the highlights of the night….
Nana: “Do you know who’s pitching tonight?”
Lisa: “Actually I don’t. Who?”
Nana: “Dike-a-sake.”
Nana: “Is that Ortiz? Oooh, I hope he strikes a homerun!”
Nana (to the 115-pound college girl in front of us who dined on two meager slices of Papa Gino’s): “You ate too much pizza!”
Nana (to the same girl earlier in the game): “Can you scrunch down a bit? I can’t see.”
A beachball came our way during the 5th inning or so and miraculously landed in Nana’s lap. I told her to pick it up and hit it. So she took the ball and, with all her might (which isn’t a lot), pegged a guy sitting two rows in front of us right in the back of the head. So he took the ball and jokingly turned around and pretended like he was going to nail her in the face with it. I think that kinda scared her because she put her arms up in defense. The man then realized that he could possibly be responsible for an old woman having a heart attack and apologized profusely saying he didn’t really mean it. I told him that while maybe he was joking, she surely wasn’t and meant to hit him.
Then, when we were trying to find the bus after the game, I’m pretty sure I made Nana walk around the entire perimeter of Fenway Park. Probably not the best idea in the world, but I told her that at least she wouldn’t have to go to the gym the next day (and yes, she actually does go to the gym).
So while the Red Sox lost 7-5 to a team with a guy named Figgins, I certainly can’t complain about a lack of entertainment or fun.
Monday, July 28, 2008
A posting full of cats
Walter attacking Harvey attacking a trash can.
Harvey staring intently at nothing.
Harvey staring intently at nothing.
Their stares are intense.
Walter eating out of a cat.
Snugglemuffin.
We’re slowly falling out of reach
So there I am sitting on the sofa watching Men In Black II with my parents when a commercial for a dog and cat nail groomer comes on. The product advertises as a less painful way to trim your pet’s nails and, to prove their point, shows a cartoon clip of a regular nail clipper snipping off part of a dog’s toe in addition to the nail. It is at this point that both my parents scream at the top of their lungs (much like you’d hear during the Achilles tendon part of the movie Hostel) and my dad yells above my mother’s shrieking, “Change the channel! Change the channel!”
I’m back in Boston. And all is right with the world. I’ve been back for two weeks and haven’t had time to breathe let alone write down some of the fun things that have happened. For example, I was walking home one night and saw a middle-aged man coming out from behind a secluded building fiddling with his pants. I then saw a middle-aged woman, who I presumed to be his wife, coming from an altogether different direction saying, “Honey, don’t be a weirdo.” Or that time that I was walking to play tennis on Boston Commons at 8am on a Sunday morning and saw a man (who didn’t appear homeless and/or crazy) spinning around in circles with his arms out. He then tried to walk in a straight line and obviously couldn’t. What kind of grown man does this?
By far the most awesome thing that has happened since I got home, other than finally being able to watch the Food Network with my new cable, was acquiring my two new kittens, Walter and Harvey (pronounced Wahltah and Hahvey like a true Bostonian). They’re 5-month-old tabby cat brothers who I adopted from the Animal Rescue League through some help of my friend Courtney who, as the shelter manager, has the greatest job in the world. Sometimes it’s hard to tell them apart since their markings are very similar, but the one distinguishing feature is that Walter isn’t exactly weaned yet and likes to pretend that Harvey is his mom and suckles all over him - his shoulder, his neck, his back, and his non-milk producing belly. This was cute at first, but when combined with a tiny sucking sound and a mat of wet fur, it’s become just disturbing. While acquiring two cats is a much bigger step on the way to becoming a cat lady than merely adopting one, you need not worry just yet because I will never take them for a walk on leashes or in a stroller. The day I do that is the day you find 34 frozen cat bodies in my freezer. Or the day someone pays me $200 to do it…whichever comes first.
I’m back in Boston. And all is right with the world. I’ve been back for two weeks and haven’t had time to breathe let alone write down some of the fun things that have happened. For example, I was walking home one night and saw a middle-aged man coming out from behind a secluded building fiddling with his pants. I then saw a middle-aged woman, who I presumed to be his wife, coming from an altogether different direction saying, “Honey, don’t be a weirdo.” Or that time that I was walking to play tennis on Boston Commons at 8am on a Sunday morning and saw a man (who didn’t appear homeless and/or crazy) spinning around in circles with his arms out. He then tried to walk in a straight line and obviously couldn’t. What kind of grown man does this?
By far the most awesome thing that has happened since I got home, other than finally being able to watch the Food Network with my new cable, was acquiring my two new kittens, Walter and Harvey (pronounced Wahltah and Hahvey like a true Bostonian). They’re 5-month-old tabby cat brothers who I adopted from the Animal Rescue League through some help of my friend Courtney who, as the shelter manager, has the greatest job in the world. Sometimes it’s hard to tell them apart since their markings are very similar, but the one distinguishing feature is that Walter isn’t exactly weaned yet and likes to pretend that Harvey is his mom and suckles all over him - his shoulder, his neck, his back, and his non-milk producing belly. This was cute at first, but when combined with a tiny sucking sound and a mat of wet fur, it’s become just disturbing. While acquiring two cats is a much bigger step on the way to becoming a cat lady than merely adopting one, you need not worry just yet because I will never take them for a walk on leashes or in a stroller. The day I do that is the day you find 34 frozen cat bodies in my freezer. Or the day someone pays me $200 to do it…whichever comes first.
Friday, July 11, 2008
The last blog in the form of fivers
Top 5 Things That Happened In The Last 24 Hours
5) Nearly every other person at the Corporate Challenge ran with a Blackberry in their hand
4) I tried to look nonchalantly cool after I couldn’t figure out the Gatorade drinking nozzle thingy and had to pretend like I was actually drinking the beverage even though there was nothing coming out of the spout.
3) I watched 15 minutes of Big Brother for the first time and felt really thankful that I’m leaving tomorrow or else I would probably watch that show religiously.
2) While waiting for the race to start, I listened to a woman talk about her sister’s hysterectomy.
1) I unknowingly saw G for the last time since it’s 9:37 AM and I don’t think he’s coming into work today.
Top 5 British Words I May Or May Not Start Incorporating Into My Vocabulary
5) Fiver
4) Ta
3) Row
2) Nappy
1) Pants
Top 5 Places In London I Will Miss
5) The row of global embassy mansions behind Kensington Palace
4) Soho Square
3) The library on Shoe Lane
2) Portobello Road
1) Oxford Street
Top 5 Places In London I Won’t Miss
5) Queensway (it’s like walking around Downtown Crossing only trashier)
4) The Circle Line at rush hour or any time on the Central Line
3) Hackney and Peckham (where 90% of the stabbings happen)
2) The British Museum on a Sunday afternoon
1) Oxford Street
Top 5 Random Londoners From My Daily Routine
5) The guy who hawks TheLondonPaper outside my office
4) The security guards who are skeptical of my badge EVERY SINGLE TIME
3) The guy at the front desk of my apartment building who always has my LoveFilm movies for me
2) The barista at the coffeeshop on my floor who looks surprised every time I get a Diet Coke even though that’s the only thing I’ve ever bought there
1) The street cleaners who wave to me every morning on my run
Top 5 Foods/Restaurants I Will Long For Back In America
5) “Authentic” Indian (although I didn’t really notice too much of a difference)
4) Caramel-filled waffles
3) Sandwich shops EVERYWHERE (especially Pret A Manger)
2) Gourmet Burger Kitchen
1) Kitchen & Pantry coffeeshop in Notting Hill (any coffeeshop with plush leather sofas and chairs is okay by me)
Top 5 Co-workers
5) R – because who else uses as many exclamation points when they’re not needed? (“I had a tuna sandwich for lunch!!!!”)
4) M – she gets a little overeager with fixing defects sometimes, but she’s got an awesome South African accent
3) K – the best-dressed straight man in London
2) T – probably the only person who I would be friends with outside of work; he also wears cowboy boots which earns him 80 Awesome Points
1) G - you had to see this one coming
Top 5 Places I Visited Outside Of London
5) Bath – even though I made Susan wait an hour in the gift shop of the Roman bathhouse, walking around that quaint, English town was a lot of fun
4) The gardens at Hampton Court Palace – when I get rich I’m going to have an expansive garden just as beautiful
3) Beneath the streets of Edinburgh – okay so the ghost tour lady scared the absolute crap out of me by screaming in the dark, but I still found those old streets and homes intriguing
2) The Burren – seeing the look on Susan’s face when she saw that stone formation was about 3 feet tall was priceless
1) Paris – Theresa made that trip one of the best I’ve ever had and it wasn’t even because she fell down a lot
Top 5 Potential Cat Names For My Future Cat
5) Onoshobishobi Ingelosi (Shobi shobi for short)
4) Marvin
3) Meester
2) Killer
1) Schrute
Top 5 Things I Am Excited About Returning To In Boston
5) The Phantom Gourmet tv show
4) The South End Open Air Market, Shakespeare on the Common, Movies By Moonlight at the Boston Harbor Hotel, and classical music concerts at the Hatchshell
3) Papa Gino’s and Dunkin Donuts
2) My apartment (but not the year-old bagels from Finagle A Bagel I stole from work that are still in my freezer)
1) Hanover Street in the North End and the smell of garlic wafting out of the restaurants
Top 5 Things You Should Know
5) I can fit all my belongings into my three suitcases, but I can’t move them
4) I know how to say ‘meatballs in my bellybutton’ in Spanish
3) When I see you again, I will give you an excessively strong and uncomfortably long hug
2) It has been so much fun writing to you all every day and hearing your (mostly positive) responses
1) I will continue this blog when I get home, but it probably won’t be as frequent and it will only be found online (http://www.lisashoshana.blogspot.com/) as I won’t be sending out emails anymore
Much love to everyone and see you all soon!
Lisa
5) Nearly every other person at the Corporate Challenge ran with a Blackberry in their hand
4) I tried to look nonchalantly cool after I couldn’t figure out the Gatorade drinking nozzle thingy and had to pretend like I was actually drinking the beverage even though there was nothing coming out of the spout.
3) I watched 15 minutes of Big Brother for the first time and felt really thankful that I’m leaving tomorrow or else I would probably watch that show religiously.
2) While waiting for the race to start, I listened to a woman talk about her sister’s hysterectomy.
1) I unknowingly saw G for the last time since it’s 9:37 AM and I don’t think he’s coming into work today.
Top 5 British Words I May Or May Not Start Incorporating Into My Vocabulary
5) Fiver
4) Ta
3) Row
2) Nappy
1) Pants
Top 5 Places In London I Will Miss
5) The row of global embassy mansions behind Kensington Palace
4) Soho Square
3) The library on Shoe Lane
2) Portobello Road
1) Oxford Street
Top 5 Places In London I Won’t Miss
5) Queensway (it’s like walking around Downtown Crossing only trashier)
4) The Circle Line at rush hour or any time on the Central Line
3) Hackney and Peckham (where 90% of the stabbings happen)
2) The British Museum on a Sunday afternoon
1) Oxford Street
Top 5 Random Londoners From My Daily Routine
5) The guy who hawks TheLondonPaper outside my office
4) The security guards who are skeptical of my badge EVERY SINGLE TIME
3) The guy at the front desk of my apartment building who always has my LoveFilm movies for me
2) The barista at the coffeeshop on my floor who looks surprised every time I get a Diet Coke even though that’s the only thing I’ve ever bought there
1) The street cleaners who wave to me every morning on my run
Top 5 Foods/Restaurants I Will Long For Back In America
5) “Authentic” Indian (although I didn’t really notice too much of a difference)
4) Caramel-filled waffles
3) Sandwich shops EVERYWHERE (especially Pret A Manger)
2) Gourmet Burger Kitchen
1) Kitchen & Pantry coffeeshop in Notting Hill (any coffeeshop with plush leather sofas and chairs is okay by me)
Top 5 Co-workers
5) R – because who else uses as many exclamation points when they’re not needed? (“I had a tuna sandwich for lunch!!!!”)
4) M – she gets a little overeager with fixing defects sometimes, but she’s got an awesome South African accent
3) K – the best-dressed straight man in London
2) T – probably the only person who I would be friends with outside of work; he also wears cowboy boots which earns him 80 Awesome Points
1) G - you had to see this one coming
Top 5 Places I Visited Outside Of London
5) Bath – even though I made Susan wait an hour in the gift shop of the Roman bathhouse, walking around that quaint, English town was a lot of fun
4) The gardens at Hampton Court Palace – when I get rich I’m going to have an expansive garden just as beautiful
3) Beneath the streets of Edinburgh – okay so the ghost tour lady scared the absolute crap out of me by screaming in the dark, but I still found those old streets and homes intriguing
2) The Burren – seeing the look on Susan’s face when she saw that stone formation was about 3 feet tall was priceless
1) Paris – Theresa made that trip one of the best I’ve ever had and it wasn’t even because she fell down a lot
Top 5 Potential Cat Names For My Future Cat
5) Onoshobishobi Ingelosi (Shobi shobi for short)
4) Marvin
3) Meester
2) Killer
1) Schrute
Top 5 Things I Am Excited About Returning To In Boston
5) The Phantom Gourmet tv show
4) The South End Open Air Market, Shakespeare on the Common, Movies By Moonlight at the Boston Harbor Hotel, and classical music concerts at the Hatchshell
3) Papa Gino’s and Dunkin Donuts
2) My apartment (but not the year-old bagels from Finagle A Bagel I stole from work that are still in my freezer)
1) Hanover Street in the North End and the smell of garlic wafting out of the restaurants
Top 5 Things You Should Know
5) I can fit all my belongings into my three suitcases, but I can’t move them
4) I know how to say ‘meatballs in my bellybutton’ in Spanish
3) When I see you again, I will give you an excessively strong and uncomfortably long hug
2) It has been so much fun writing to you all every day and hearing your (mostly positive) responses
1) I will continue this blog when I get home, but it probably won’t be as frequent and it will only be found online (http://www.lisashoshana.blogspot.com/) as I won’t be sending out emails anymore
Much love to everyone and see you all soon!
Lisa
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Ear buds are a very nice item, BUT - - if you were about to spend $100, then I would much prefer a kitchen mat
I'm not sure who came up with this restaurant name, but I have a feeling it might have been a bird disguised as a human.
Bags? Excuse me?
Bags? Excuse me?
I suppose it's normal to see a Princess Di postcard in a bicycle basket in London, but that didn't prevent me from stopping in my tracks and taking a picture.
On my way to Southbank on Sunday I crossed the Waterloo Bridge. As I was walking, I looked right and this was the view. It was at that moment that I realized how lucky I have been to have spent the last 6 months living in one of the greatest cities in the world. I mean, there I was just taking a walk and my neighborhood was Big Ben, Westminster Abbey, and the Millenium Eye. It was definitely a surreal moment.
18-5? Seriously? Wow. Look at you, Red Sox.
Well things just never work out the way you think they’re going to, do they? I mean, when I was born my parents had hopes of me becoming a WNBA player (they had a gut feeling that a women’s professional basketball league was going to be formed eventually), I thought I was going to be the principle trumpet player of the BSO, and my friend Ted was quite confident that he was going to be our high school valedictorian. But alas, things change. And instead of returning to Boston on July 19, I’m coming home the day after tomorrow (that’s the 12th for those of you who don’t want to do the math).
Without going into too much detail about why the change of plans (I am now paranoid about writing anything pertaining to my company on an internet blog since it’s a terminable offense), suffice it to say that it’s for a 3 day conference-type-thing happening next week. Needless to say, I’m a bit frazzled. I have spent my morning packing all non-crucial clothes (why did I bring a bathing suit with me?), cancelling my LoveFilm account (I never did get to see The Bank Job), changing my flight (at no added expense probably due to the fact that I overpaid for the ticket to begin with), and trying to eat as much of the food in my kitchen as possible (too. many. grapes.).
Tonight is the Corporate Challenge race, tomorrow night is T's birthday part/my leaving do, and Saturday morning I will soak up the last bit of London before leaving extraordinarily early for my flight to take advantage of every possible moment in that British Airways Lounge. As for things I had planned for next week that I will suddenly no longer be able to do, it could have been worse. I was supposed to attend a BBC show taping about dogs on Monday, watch The Marriage of Figaro in the park on Wednesday, and go to dinner with co-workers at Wagamama for my leaving do on Friday. Now, if I had a date with Tim Curry and Hugh Laurie (yes, at the same time), that would be a different story.
And so the week I thought I had to prepare some leaving blogs has now been drastically whittled down to 1 day. This is the excuse I will use if it sucks. Be on the lookout for it tomorrow…
Without going into too much detail about why the change of plans (I am now paranoid about writing anything pertaining to my company on an internet blog since it’s a terminable offense), suffice it to say that it’s for a 3 day conference-type-thing happening next week. Needless to say, I’m a bit frazzled. I have spent my morning packing all non-crucial clothes (why did I bring a bathing suit with me?), cancelling my LoveFilm account (I never did get to see The Bank Job), changing my flight (at no added expense probably due to the fact that I overpaid for the ticket to begin with), and trying to eat as much of the food in my kitchen as possible (too. many. grapes.).
Tonight is the Corporate Challenge race, tomorrow night is T's birthday part/my leaving do, and Saturday morning I will soak up the last bit of London before leaving extraordinarily early for my flight to take advantage of every possible moment in that British Airways Lounge. As for things I had planned for next week that I will suddenly no longer be able to do, it could have been worse. I was supposed to attend a BBC show taping about dogs on Monday, watch The Marriage of Figaro in the park on Wednesday, and go to dinner with co-workers at Wagamama for my leaving do on Friday. Now, if I had a date with Tim Curry and Hugh Laurie (yes, at the same time), that would be a different story.
And so the week I thought I had to prepare some leaving blogs has now been drastically whittled down to 1 day. This is the excuse I will use if it sucks. Be on the lookout for it tomorrow…
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
I'm secretly the reason behind A-Rod's divorce
Living abroad for essentially the past year has shown me what a prudish, hypocritical country America is when it comes to censorship. There are prime time shows on network channels in America that I get embarrassed for while watching with my parents, teenagers wearing ridiculously skimpy clothes (no wonder pregnancy runs rampant), and video games violent enough to gross out this Sopranos fan. And yet there was such a brouhaha over those Legal Seafoods T ads in Boston. (For those of you who don't know about this, the restaurant Legal Seafoods posted "fresh" fish advertisements on the sides of subway trains such as "Hey lady, I've seen smaller noses on a swordfish," "This trolley gets around more than your sister," and "This conductor has a face like a halibut." T employees complained about the latter ad and said it was offensive.) So when I see advertisements in London such as the AussieBum one below, I can only shake my head and think that it'll be another 20 years before something like this would appear on Newbury Street.
Last Sunday I did a lot of walking around parts of the city I've never been to. This was really fun, but would have been even more enjoyable had it not been raining the whole damn time.
Worn out road.
Sunday afternoon I went to the Bossa Nova festival on Southbank. I was all excited to eat some delicious Brazilian food, but all I found was chicken wrapped in triangular dough pockets and deep-fried; it didn't look all that appetizing. I did manage to see some B-list British celebrity, though, so that was exciting.
This dude braved the Thames shore all in the name of sand sculpting. Gross. (3 hours later it was covered in water when the tides turned.)
Last Sunday I did a lot of walking around parts of the city I've never been to. This was really fun, but would have been even more enjoyable had it not been raining the whole damn time.
Worn out road.
Sunday afternoon I went to the Bossa Nova festival on Southbank. I was all excited to eat some delicious Brazilian food, but all I found was chicken wrapped in triangular dough pockets and deep-fried; it didn't look all that appetizing. I did manage to see some B-list British celebrity, though, so that was exciting.This dude braved the Thames shore all in the name of sand sculpting. Gross. (3 hours later it was covered in water when the tides turned.)
The best part of the festival was the free concert Nouvelle Vague put on. I heard about these guys a couple months ago. They're a band from France who mainly do cover songs but revamped with a bossa nova beat underneath. They're incredible and I'm in love with them.
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Captain Zoom should totally sue for copyright infringement
The second half of Saturday I spent at The Big Day Out in Whittington Park in Islington, some sort of fair for families. I thought it was going to be way more exciting than it was, but this picture of Mr. Boom, One Man Band From The Moon was about as exciting as it got.
I don't know if I sent an image of this one already, but I finally managed to take a picture of Banksy's latest work off Oxford Street. The greatest thing about this one is that there's a huge CCTV camera immediately to the right of where he painted.
The Freddie Mercury statue at the Dominion Theatre where We Will Rock You has been playing for something like 7 years. I have to say that the Freddie Mercury statue I saw in Montreaux Switzerland was way cooler. And not just because it wasn't surrounded by hordes of high school kids on a field day.
On Sunday morning I went to the Good Food Festival also taking place in Islington. This too was rather disappointing. The only good thing about it was a huge herb stand that would have been a jackpot if I cooked at all. What do you think this tastes like though? Tender Vittles with a hint of toothpaste?
Ah, the Nice Green Van of organic and fairtrade ice cream. The choices are...limited.
I don't know if I sent an image of this one already, but I finally managed to take a picture of Banksy's latest work off Oxford Street. The greatest thing about this one is that there's a huge CCTV camera immediately to the right of where he painted.
The Freddie Mercury statue at the Dominion Theatre where We Will Rock You has been playing for something like 7 years. I have to say that the Freddie Mercury statue I saw in Montreaux Switzerland was way cooler. And not just because it wasn't surrounded by hordes of high school kids on a field day.
On Sunday morning I went to the Good Food Festival also taking place in Islington. This too was rather disappointing. The only good thing about it was a huge herb stand that would have been a jackpot if I cooked at all. What do you think this tastes like though? Tender Vittles with a hint of toothpaste?
Ah, the Nice Green Van of organic and fairtrade ice cream. The choices are...limited.
I won’t be doing it barefoot, dressed as a chicken, or in a wheelchair
Well, here it is. A confession blog of sorts. One that I have put off sending until now for reasons I will explain in a minute. I, Lisa Wolk, will run the Philadelphia Marathon on November 23 this year. That’s right. The person who, in high school, used to fake being sick every time we had to run the mile will attempt to run 26.2 of them.
I’ve been training for 3 months now and wanted to make sure that I wasn’t going to cry, break down, and/or die in my pursuit of finishing the race before I told you all. This past weekend I ran 13 miles and only felt like stabbing my eyeballs out to end my pain once or twice, so I think I’ll probably be able to manage a race twice as long. And while I already sent in my registration fee, I’d be more apt to forfeit the monetary cost rather than forfeit my dignity and admit to everyone that “Oh hey, remember when I told you I was going to run that marathon? Yeah, I’m giving up.”
So now it is your job to keep me from being a wimp. If I ever decide to opt out of the race, I give you permission to find me, threaten to take your love away, and box my ears. (Not too hard, though, I’m weak.)
I’m really excited about running, though. I feel like Running A Marathon is on everyone’s Things To Do In Life List and I know I will feel great when I check that one off. Even Jon Gezotis said it was an incredible feeling having finished one, and this is the guy who ran up to us spectators at mile 23, grabbed the Gatorade out of my hand, and blurted, “I’m fuckin’ done” in exhaustion. As for the venue, I know Philadelphia isn’t the most beautiful city in the world, but a) I fear Boston would be a little too challenging for a beginner like myself b) as a Bostoner, I couldn’t live with myself if I made New York my first marathon and c) Chicago registration was filled by the time I got my act together.
So if you’re in the Philly area around Sunday November 23, come on out with your orange slices, Gu gel, and signs saying “Lisa is the most awesome runner ever.” I will be forever indebted to you and will try my hardest not to get sweat on you as I excitedly wave in your direction.
I’ve been training for 3 months now and wanted to make sure that I wasn’t going to cry, break down, and/or die in my pursuit of finishing the race before I told you all. This past weekend I ran 13 miles and only felt like stabbing my eyeballs out to end my pain once or twice, so I think I’ll probably be able to manage a race twice as long. And while I already sent in my registration fee, I’d be more apt to forfeit the monetary cost rather than forfeit my dignity and admit to everyone that “Oh hey, remember when I told you I was going to run that marathon? Yeah, I’m giving up.”
So now it is your job to keep me from being a wimp. If I ever decide to opt out of the race, I give you permission to find me, threaten to take your love away, and box my ears. (Not too hard, though, I’m weak.)
I’m really excited about running, though. I feel like Running A Marathon is on everyone’s Things To Do In Life List and I know I will feel great when I check that one off. Even Jon Gezotis said it was an incredible feeling having finished one, and this is the guy who ran up to us spectators at mile 23, grabbed the Gatorade out of my hand, and blurted, “I’m fuckin’ done” in exhaustion. As for the venue, I know Philadelphia isn’t the most beautiful city in the world, but a) I fear Boston would be a little too challenging for a beginner like myself b) as a Bostoner, I couldn’t live with myself if I made New York my first marathon and c) Chicago registration was filled by the time I got my act together.
So if you’re in the Philly area around Sunday November 23, come on out with your orange slices, Gu gel, and signs saying “Lisa is the most awesome runner ever.” I will be forever indebted to you and will try my hardest not to get sweat on you as I excitedly wave in your direction.
Monday, July 7, 2008
Not that there's anything wrong with that
The first event I went to this weekend was the London Pride Parade. Surprisingly, it wasn't nearly as good as the parade in Boston. But of course, there were some fantastic costumes and some hideous costumes. So here are some pictures guaranteed to make my parents cringe.
Oh my god these guys were so adorable. And the dachsunds were cute too. (zing)
I have no idea how they managed to walk all the way to Trafalgar Square without those things falling off. Nice tiaras, huh?
Oh my god these guys were so adorable. And the dachsunds were cute too. (zing)
I have no idea how they managed to walk all the way to Trafalgar Square without those things falling off. Nice tiaras, huh?
The only way I knew those guys weren't my dad was the fact that my dad got rid of his rainbow suspenders and tie-dye tank tops when he stopped being a hippie in 1987. (Gah! Mom, the dude on the left really looks like him, doesn't he?!?!?!)
I would put up a caption contest for this one, but I feel like it's just too easy. (Notice Wonder "Woman" swinging a whip around her head.)
The highlight of the parade for me happened before it even started. Sir Ian McKellen walked up to a parade marshal right in front of me and asked where he was supposed to be (the answer being leading at the front of the pack). Immediately after he left, the girl turned to her friend and squealed, "Oh my god! I just talked to Gandalf!"
No more mullet. Now just floppy on top.
So I’m sitting at my desk at home and listening to a Time Life infomercial for power ballads of the 70’s and 80’s. The announcers, one of whom was in REO Speedwagon, are absolutely atrocious, and at one point the ditzy middle-aged woman gushes, “3 words – ultimate power ballads…perfect.”
Boston, you shouldn’t feel alone in having violence overshadow an otherwise lovely weekend; there has been something like 6 stabbings in London in the past week alone. I have picked up a lot of knowledge in the last decade watching crime shows, but one theory that flies out the window when trying to solve a crime in London is that stabbings are personal. In the nearly 6 months I’ve been here, maybe I’ve heard about 1 or 2 shootings, but stabbings have totalled over 20, I’m sure. People are stabbed because knives are the weapon of choice, not because people are seeking vengeance on someone they know. I suppose, like Sydney, gun crime in London is kept at a minimum due to stricter gun laws and less access. But a kid stabbing two Niketown security guards on Oxford Street at 7pm on a Saturday night? That is just frightening. Boris is calling for a “crack-down” on knife crimes in Britain, but with the weapons so readily available just by walking into your own kitchen, I’m not sure how they propose to spearhead this so-called crack-down.
Anyway, on a lighter note, this weekend was one of my favourites in London. Usually I’m pretty good at finding most events going on in Boston during the summer, but in a big city like London, you’ll be lucky to hear about half of the things taking place. This past weekend I managed to check out four events, all of which I’ll be posting pictures from in the next couple of days.
In any case, I have started my “countdown of things” until I leave. I now have two weeks, one weekend, one Corporate Challenge race, £40 in my wallet with hopefully no more trips to the ATM, one taping of a BBC television show, and three sleeves of cookies to eat.
Boston, you shouldn’t feel alone in having violence overshadow an otherwise lovely weekend; there has been something like 6 stabbings in London in the past week alone. I have picked up a lot of knowledge in the last decade watching crime shows, but one theory that flies out the window when trying to solve a crime in London is that stabbings are personal. In the nearly 6 months I’ve been here, maybe I’ve heard about 1 or 2 shootings, but stabbings have totalled over 20, I’m sure. People are stabbed because knives are the weapon of choice, not because people are seeking vengeance on someone they know. I suppose, like Sydney, gun crime in London is kept at a minimum due to stricter gun laws and less access. But a kid stabbing two Niketown security guards on Oxford Street at 7pm on a Saturday night? That is just frightening. Boris is calling for a “crack-down” on knife crimes in Britain, but with the weapons so readily available just by walking into your own kitchen, I’m not sure how they propose to spearhead this so-called crack-down.
Anyway, on a lighter note, this weekend was one of my favourites in London. Usually I’m pretty good at finding most events going on in Boston during the summer, but in a big city like London, you’ll be lucky to hear about half of the things taking place. This past weekend I managed to check out four events, all of which I’ll be posting pictures from in the next couple of days.
In any case, I have started my “countdown of things” until I leave. I now have two weeks, one weekend, one Corporate Challenge race, £40 in my wallet with hopefully no more trips to the ATM, one taping of a BBC television show, and three sleeves of cookies to eat.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
John Candy, Paul Shaffer, Alex Trebek, Mike Myers, Barenaked ladies
Well, like I said, yesterday was Canada Day. London celebrated by organizing a day-long-shindig at Trafalgar Square. I made it there after work just in time to see everyone drinking Moosehead beer.
A fantastic t-shirt. Of course, I had to say it in my head three times before I actually got it.
Something for the fellas....
And something for the ladies....
This woman is texting "Yeah, I'm wearing the flag in my hair. No one is talking to me. What the hell?"
Bacon bap, bison egg burger, HOT chocolate, curd cheese, and a misspelled 'poutine'...I don't know what to make fun of first.
A fantastic t-shirt. Of course, I had to say it in my head three times before I actually got it.
Something for the fellas....
And something for the ladies....
This woman is texting "Yeah, I'm wearing the flag in my hair. No one is talking to me. What the hell?"
Bacon bap, bison egg burger, HOT chocolate, curd cheese, and a misspelled 'poutine'...I don't know what to make fun of first.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
The Relationship Manager job title sounds a lot different than the actual job
Okay, before I forget. Many people keep asking me when I am coming home to Boston. Personally, I think they are more concerned with how much more Lisa-free time they have to revel in rather than how much longer they have to suffer without me. Whatever their reasons for asking though, I’ll tell you that I fly back to Boston on Saturday, July 19 (assuming Terminal 5 doesn’t crap the bed again). That’s a little less than 3 weeks away. The follow up question to “When do you come home?” is always “Are you looking forward to coming home?” And so I will cut you off at the pass, be unoriginal and tell you “yes and no.” I don’t doubt that I will tear up the day I leave my apartment, that godforsaken broken trash can, the shower that sprays water all over the bathroom floor, and the door that slams no matter how gently you try to close it. But as much as I will miss those things (and countless others), I am eagerly awaiting the day I walk through my condo door, see my fake plant covered in dust, curl up on my Jerzee sheets, and call Papa Gino’s for a large cheese pizza (“just for me”) delivery. I’ve found that 6 months is the perfect amount of time to spend working in a different country (3 months in Sydney was far too brief). But enough about this. I’ll write more debriefing blogs later.
Now onto more important things. Football.
Sunday night I watched the Euro 2008 game. I know, I know…I never watch football. It might sound ironic coming from someone who enjoys watching baseball and doesn’t think it’s boring at all, but watching football is about as exciting to me as watching Mr. McFeeley talk about how a VHS tape works. But since Euro 2008 is huge here (it’s analogous to the World Cup the way the Winter Olympics is to the Summer Olympics), I figured I would try to immerse myself completely in British/European culture. So I got my plate of grapes and tub of hummus (not to be eaten together) and sat myself down on my couch for the next 90 minutes. Truth be told, it wasn’t terrible. 90 minutes actually passed by quickly seeing as how they don’t stop the clock and I could be distracted by the players’ hairdos. The greatest part about watching a sport where, on average, there are only 2 goals scored is that I can change channels, watch 3 minutes of Frasier, flip back, and will not have missed anything. I also enjoyed when the announcer kept referring to that one player Javier as Jah-vee-air. I’m not expert in the Spanish language or anything, but I’m pretty sure it’s pronounced Hah-vee-air. All in all, it was a good time. And I’m not just saying that because the Germans lost and you know how I feel about Germans….
Oh and hey brother-in-law…happy Canada Day. Bring a little Toronto fever to the Holy Land, will you?
Now onto more important things. Football.
Sunday night I watched the Euro 2008 game. I know, I know…I never watch football. It might sound ironic coming from someone who enjoys watching baseball and doesn’t think it’s boring at all, but watching football is about as exciting to me as watching Mr. McFeeley talk about how a VHS tape works. But since Euro 2008 is huge here (it’s analogous to the World Cup the way the Winter Olympics is to the Summer Olympics), I figured I would try to immerse myself completely in British/European culture. So I got my plate of grapes and tub of hummus (not to be eaten together) and sat myself down on my couch for the next 90 minutes. Truth be told, it wasn’t terrible. 90 minutes actually passed by quickly seeing as how they don’t stop the clock and I could be distracted by the players’ hairdos. The greatest part about watching a sport where, on average, there are only 2 goals scored is that I can change channels, watch 3 minutes of Frasier, flip back, and will not have missed anything. I also enjoyed when the announcer kept referring to that one player Javier as Jah-vee-air. I’m not expert in the Spanish language or anything, but I’m pretty sure it’s pronounced Hah-vee-air. All in all, it was a good time. And I’m not just saying that because the Germans lost and you know how I feel about Germans….
Oh and hey brother-in-law…happy Canada Day. Bring a little Toronto fever to the Holy Land, will you?
Monday, June 30, 2008
A cross-dressing nun called Transister
Kanye West, here’s an update for you. The word ‘invisible’ does not rhyme with the word ‘invincible.’ (Another update? You are neither.)
I love to see a grown man walking down Oxford Street eating a Belgian waffle with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. I love even more to see that same grown man’s chin, nose, and cheeks covered in ice cream as if he were a 3-year-old with no inhibitions about shovelling dessert into his face. Wear that ice cream proud, sir.
Walking down the busiest street in the world filled with flocks of tourists is usually a painful experience for me. But studying (i.e. laughing at) human beings’ behavior in their natural habitat (i.e. within proximity to schlock-y stores and Chinese takeaway stands) more than makes up for it. Like when that one girl bumped shoulders with that other woman and she kept walking but quite obviously mumbled ‘bitch’ under her breath.
Lisa to Apple employee Pearce: “Is there any way to add songs to a current playlist on an iPod?”
Pearce: “Can you move to the iPod station over here? I’m not allowed to move from this spot.”
Lisa: “Okaaaaaay.” (Moves 1 foot to the right)
Pearce: “So, what can I do for you?”
Lisa: “I want to know if it’s possible to add an artist to a current playlist on an iPod.”
Pearce: “If you click the center button, it will play the selected artist.”
Lisa: (Realizing I need to put this in his terms so that maybe he’ll start answering the questions I’m asking) “Okay, say I’m listening to COLDPLAY but I want to also listen to THE BEATLES. How would I do that?”
Pearce: “Ah, okay. Well, say you’re listening to X&Y…that’s an album by Coldplay…if you click Play, it will play all the songs from that album. If you click on The Beatles, it will play Beatles songs.”
Lisa: (Thinking “Oh my God, my mother knows more about iPods than this man”) “Is there any way to create a playlist that crosses artists though?”
Pearce: “Sure, on iTunes you can create playlists. If you want to create a playlist for a party, you can choose the songs you want to hear and set them as your ‘Party Playlist’.”
Lisa: (About to shove the iPod up his British nose) “Right. I know about creating playlists on iTunes. But can I do that on an actual iPod?”
Pearce: “Oh on an iPod? No. You can’t do that.”
This weekend was the Glastonbury music festival. It’s about as big here as Woodstock was in America, except it happens every year. I suppose you could compare it to Bonnaroo these days, but with more people, normally more rain and mud, and more skinny jeans. Saturday afternoon I caught Amy Winehouse’s performance on BBC2. Okay. Here’s the thing. I used to feel sorry for this chick. She has genuine talent and put out a couple good albums, but the media won’t let up on her for a second just because of a few mere things like crack pipes, anorexia, domestic violence, and an incarcerated husband. But I really thought she was undeservedly being crapped on. Until I watched this show. Holy moly that girl has issues! I’m sure you heard about the highlight of her performance when she repeatedly punched a fan (in her defense, they are claiming he grabbed one of her knockers). But what you may not have heard about is Amy:
- Calling Kanye West a cunt
- Fiddling non-stop (and non-soberly) with the hem of her dress
- Shoving her boobs back into her strapless dress after each song
- Asking the audience to let her know if one of her “tits pops out”
- Holding up her beehive hairdo so that it wouldn’t fall over
- Running at pretty high speeds across the stage in heels that were not made for a 95-pound drunk girl
- Flubbing her entrance on “Rehab,” stopping the band, and starting over again
- Confessing that Blake used to beat her with a cricket bat
All in all, it was a pretty decent set.
I love to see a grown man walking down Oxford Street eating a Belgian waffle with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. I love even more to see that same grown man’s chin, nose, and cheeks covered in ice cream as if he were a 3-year-old with no inhibitions about shovelling dessert into his face. Wear that ice cream proud, sir.
Walking down the busiest street in the world filled with flocks of tourists is usually a painful experience for me. But studying (i.e. laughing at) human beings’ behavior in their natural habitat (i.e. within proximity to schlock-y stores and Chinese takeaway stands) more than makes up for it. Like when that one girl bumped shoulders with that other woman and she kept walking but quite obviously mumbled ‘bitch’ under her breath.
Lisa to Apple employee Pearce: “Is there any way to add songs to a current playlist on an iPod?”
Pearce: “Can you move to the iPod station over here? I’m not allowed to move from this spot.”
Lisa: “Okaaaaaay.” (Moves 1 foot to the right)
Pearce: “So, what can I do for you?”
Lisa: “I want to know if it’s possible to add an artist to a current playlist on an iPod.”
Pearce: “If you click the center button, it will play the selected artist.”
Lisa:
Pearce: “Ah, okay. Well, say you’re listening to X&Y…that’s an album by Coldplay…if you click Play, it will play all the songs from that album. If you click on The Beatles, it will play Beatles songs.”
Lisa: (Thinking “Oh my God, my mother knows more about iPods than this man”) “Is there any way to create a playlist that crosses artists though?”
Pearce: “Sure, on iTunes you can create playlists. If you want to create a playlist for a party, you can choose the songs you want to hear and set them as your ‘Party Playlist’.”
Lisa: (About to shove the iPod up his British nose) “Right. I know about creating playlists on iTunes. But can I do that on an actual iPod?”
Pearce: “Oh on an iPod? No. You can’t do that.”
This weekend was the Glastonbury music festival. It’s about as big here as Woodstock was in America, except it happens every year. I suppose you could compare it to Bonnaroo these days, but with more people, normally more rain and mud, and more skinny jeans. Saturday afternoon I caught Amy Winehouse’s performance on BBC2. Okay. Here’s the thing. I used to feel sorry for this chick. She has genuine talent and put out a couple good albums, but the media won’t let up on her for a second just because of a few mere things like crack pipes, anorexia, domestic violence, and an incarcerated husband. But I really thought she was undeservedly being crapped on. Until I watched this show. Holy moly that girl has issues! I’m sure you heard about the highlight of her performance when she repeatedly punched a fan (in her defense, they are claiming he grabbed one of her knockers). But what you may not have heard about is Amy:
- Calling Kanye West a cunt
- Fiddling non-stop (and non-soberly) with the hem of her dress
- Shoving her boobs back into her strapless dress after each song
- Asking the audience to let her know if one of her “tits pops out”
- Holding up her beehive hairdo so that it wouldn’t fall over
- Running at pretty high speeds across the stage in heels that were not made for a 95-pound drunk girl
- Flubbing her entrance on “Rehab,” stopping the band, and starting over again
- Confessing that Blake used to beat her with a cricket bat
All in all, it was a pretty decent set.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Ridiculously unlikely suspects (A guest blog)
Technically I don't have permission (yet) to re-print this email sent to me by Chris Wyman, but I have promised him a new container of lo mein if he has an issue with it. Actually, I'll probably end up buying him some Chinese noodles even if he doesn't have an issue with it. In any case, here's a fun story written by a man with self-proclaimed delicate and ladylike toes.
When I got home on Friday, I noticed that something in my kitchen smelled kind of funky. My roommate Tom has been off visiting relatives for a few weeks, and when left to my own devices I try to minimize the presence of perishable items in the apartment... so I was a little confused. I'd eaten Chinese take-out a few nights earlier, though, so maybe some decomposing lo mein was stuck to the bottom of one of the cartons and stinking up the garbage? I figured taking out the trash would get rid of the odor, and promptly did so.
The next morning, I meandered into the kitchen to discover that the smell was not only still present, but noticeably worse. A quick visual search of the fridge, cupboards, microwave, and stove revealed no suspects -- everything in sight was clean, non-perishable, or sealed in an airtight container, and no lingering remnants appeared to be stuck in the nooks and crannies. Naturally, I switched to following my nose, and carefully sniffed everything present, moving from likely suspects (like the drain in the kitchen sink and a pair of running shoes I'd left next to the radiator to dry) to ridiculously unlikely suspects that I felt the need to check "just in case" (like the paper-towel dispenser and a box of Cheerios).
Eventually, my nose reached the toaster -- or, more specifically, Tom's toaster. I do not own a toaster, nor had I ever used Tom's toaster. I'm not sure if I even know how to make toast. Like most normal people (or so I assume), if I want toast, I go to a restaurant. Moreover, this was a fairly new appliance -- Tom had received it as a christmas present, if memory serves. (I'm not sure how this fact entered into my reasoning over why the toaster couldn't possibly be the source of the bad smell... I guess I assumed that young toasters are less likely to "go bad," or that enough time hadn't passed for the toaster to have something rot-worthy entered into it?)
Well, in any event, I was wrong, because after one investigative sniff of the air around the toaster, I nearly fell over. Good LORD. There's only one thing in the universe that produces the ripe, charnel-tinted vapors that I had just inhaled, and that is our good, old-fashioned friend DEATH. Although no visual evidence could be produced to support my theory, it was clear to me that someone or something had crawled into Tom's toaster to die, and had done a pretty good job of it.
Since Tom is, like I said, on holiday, I decided to give his toaster a fair trial before executing it. Taking it apart to fish out the source of the odor was clearly out of the question, since this would involve occupying the same physical space as the toaster (and thus also its intolerable) smell for several minutes. Instead, I put a plastic bag over my hand, picked up the toaster, and ran outside, depositing the appliance under a lilac bush. Upon returning to the kitchen, the overall smell was worse, as if I had disturbed it, and it had become enraged -- but I was not deterred. The trial would continue.
The next morning, I confidently entered the kitchen and inhaled deeply. It smelled of dish soap, which is -- in fact -- one of several dozen acceptable smells for a kitchen to have, so I was pleased... but also saddened over what I knew had to happen next. I quickly found another two plastic bags for my hands (no sense in wasting a perfectly good pair of gloves, right?) and marched out to the lilac bush.
The cartoon version of events playing in my head expected the lilac to have wilted and browned over night from the presence of its new neighbor, but this was thankfully not the case. The toaster was still there, though, and it was attracting the interest of about a half-dozen flies. I don't remember what happened next, probably because I had resolved not to breathe once I had left the kitchen and was running out of oxygen, but I'm pretty sure it involved our apartment building's dumpster. When I came to my senses, I was back in the kitchen, searching desperately for a scented candle.
I learned many years ago (from Sesame Street, I think) that toasters, like ice cream cones and telephones, are not alive, and thus do not die. Also, I learned about two weeks ago that our apartment building has mice. So, naturally, I am operating under the impression that we are now short a toaster AND a mouse. Tom has yet to return from his vacation, but I have a feeling that when he returns, this whole story will end up costing me a trip to Target and about forty bucks. It will be money well spent, though, because I may be able to use this experience as evidence that we probably need to get a cat.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Abe Froman, Sausage King of Chicago
So here's something amusing. As you may know, advertisements are everywhere in London and double decker buses are certainly no exception. This picture shows the ad for the new Will Smith movie, Hancock. The first time I saw this I thought, "Someone has put something on Will's lip to make it look like he has herpes. Well, that's kinda funny I suppose. Serves 'em right for plastering such a huge picture of his face on a bus." But then I saw the same circle thingy on another Hancock bus. And that's when I thought, "Wow. They got that one too. That is dedication to the vandalism cause." But when I didn't see ANY Hancock buses without the STD-resembling circle, I started to wonder if there was something flawed with my thinking. So I started checking out other ads, and lo and behold, that circle was on all of them. (Unfortunately for the model, placed in a very embarrassing place on the Armani underwear ads.) You would think that the advertising people would take this bus "nubbin" into account when designing their public transportation ads. I'm just saying.
Further down the fence is a sign that says "IMPOLITE NOTICE - LOCK YOUR MOTHERFUCKING BIKE TO THIS MOTHERFUCKING RAILING AND YOU'RE DEAD, MOTHERFUCKER"
Further down the fence is a sign that says "IMPOLITE NOTICE - LOCK YOUR MOTHERFUCKING BIKE TO THIS MOTHERFUCKING RAILING AND YOU'RE DEAD, MOTHERFUCKER"
If I had all the money in the world I would buy this truck for my niece, Chana...she absolutely loves trucks. She also loves to wear flannel shirts, smoke Marlboro reds, listen to Loretta Lynn, and be referred to as Large Marge.
The back wall of a butcher shop. First of all, that's a lot of plastic bags. Not very eco-friendly are we, Mister Animal Slaughterer? Second of all, I'm pretty sure that if you open the tape deck of that boombox, you'll find a Culture Club tape.
I have no funny quip about this one. I just like the picture.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Still on a mission to singlehandedly bring back the side ponytail
You can't see it in this picture, but to the right is a Saint Bernard with a London Times in its mouth heading this way.
If this doesn't look like a relaxing summer afternoon to you, I don't know what would. (Okay maybe he could be eating an ice cream cone, but that would be overkill don't you think?)
A sign in Holland Park. If it were legal for a country to marry parks, I would be living in the land of Mr. and Mrs. Lovesparksalot. And Elton John would have sung at their civil partnership ceremony.
Here's a sign stating the obvious. Hidden on the left is a sign that says "TREE" with an arrow pointing to the right.
Here's what looks like a boring picture of old people...
The woman on the left is drinking some anti-oxidant pomegranate juice hoping it gets rid of her crows feet and finally makes her attractive to the 30 year old hunk in Corporate Accounting. The man in the blue sweater is talking about how his wife just spent £50,000 to renovate their kitchen which didn't need any sprucing up since she hasn't cooked a decent meal in her goddamn life. The woman in the yellow blazer is thinking that this 6th cup of wine won't be enough if he's going to keep talking about his whore of a wife and their kitchen. The man in the white jacket is thinking that it's been over 4 hours since he popped that blue pill and maybe he should consult his doctor. The couple on the right is talking about giraffes.
However, if you look closely, you will notice that on top of the brick wall is a blue blob. And wouldn't you know, that's a peacock!! They just roam free in Holland Park. It's amazing! (Not as amazing as old people's conversations, though.)
If this doesn't look like a relaxing summer afternoon to you, I don't know what would. (Okay maybe he could be eating an ice cream cone, but that would be overkill don't you think?)
A sign in Holland Park. If it were legal for a country to marry parks, I would be living in the land of Mr. and Mrs. Lovesparksalot. And Elton John would have sung at their civil partnership ceremony.
Here's a sign stating the obvious. Hidden on the left is a sign that says "TREE" with an arrow pointing to the right.
Here's what looks like a boring picture of old people...The woman on the left is drinking some anti-oxidant pomegranate juice hoping it gets rid of her crows feet and finally makes her attractive to the 30 year old hunk in Corporate Accounting. The man in the blue sweater is talking about how his wife just spent £50,000 to renovate their kitchen which didn't need any sprucing up since she hasn't cooked a decent meal in her goddamn life. The woman in the yellow blazer is thinking that this 6th cup of wine won't be enough if he's going to keep talking about his whore of a wife and their kitchen. The man in the white jacket is thinking that it's been over 4 hours since he popped that blue pill and maybe he should consult his doctor. The couple on the right is talking about giraffes.
However, if you look closely, you will notice that on top of the brick wall is a blue blob. And wouldn't you know, that's a peacock!! They just roam free in Holland Park. It's amazing! (Not as amazing as old people's conversations, though.)
Monday, June 23, 2008
If I hustle, by Monday, I might even make it to Rhode Island
No short jokes, please. Also, it's been quite awhile since I've seen an adult do this pose, and I feel like I'm due for a showing.
I'm telling you. I could spend another 6 months in this city and still find new parks to explore every weekend. They just love their grass and flowers here. This one was found in Regent's Park.
If you go to a park in America, you might see a pick-up game of football, baseball, or frisbee. If you go to a park in London, you will definitely see a pick-up game of soccer and cricket. And kite flying, naturally. (I guess the Let's Go Fly A Kite song from Mary Poppins wasn't as random as I thought.)
I'm telling you. I could spend another 6 months in this city and still find new parks to explore every weekend. They just love their grass and flowers here. This one was found in Regent's Park.
If you go to a park in America, you might see a pick-up game of football, baseball, or frisbee. If you go to a park in London, you will definitely see a pick-up game of soccer and cricket. And kite flying, naturally. (I guess the Let's Go Fly A Kite song from Mary Poppins wasn't as random as I thought.)
Friday, June 20, 2008
Jamie Lynn Spears' baby's daddy is a pipe layer. I am not making that up.
Not too much going on. And so a couple snippets will have to suffice on this going-to-be-excruciatingly-long Friday.
I went to see a showing of The Rocky Horror Picture Show at an outside venue near Tower Bridge this week. It was the first time I had been to an audience participation show, but it sure as heck won't be the last. Except next time I'll be dressing up; now I just have to decide whether to wear a gold sequined hat, a ratty maid outfit, or a corset with garter straps.
Yesterday I overheard someone at work saying they had made a "school boy error." I was left wondering if this meant they had blinded someone with a slingshot, pulled a girl's pigtails, or hid a frog in the teacher's desk.
Like I said, it's been slow going. In the meantime, here's a picture of G's desk to keep you entertained. (Please pay special attention to the "figurines" on his monitor stand.)
I went to see a showing of The Rocky Horror Picture Show at an outside venue near Tower Bridge this week. It was the first time I had been to an audience participation show, but it sure as heck won't be the last. Except next time I'll be dressing up; now I just have to decide whether to wear a gold sequined hat, a ratty maid outfit, or a corset with garter straps.
Yesterday I overheard someone at work saying they had made a "school boy error." I was left wondering if this meant they had blinded someone with a slingshot, pulled a girl's pigtails, or hid a frog in the teacher's desk.
Like I said, it's been slow going. In the meantime, here's a picture of G's desk to keep you entertained. (Please pay special attention to the "figurines" on his monitor stand.)
Thursday, June 19, 2008
5318008
Within Holland Park there's a lovely Japanese garden complete with a waterfall, koi, and plenty of rocks arranged in a feng shui pattern, I'm sure. (Crap, feng shui is Chinese, not Japanese. I'm never going to hear the end of that one.) In order to take this picture, I disobediently Kept On The Grass.
At least one of you (okay, so technically ONLY one) has complained that I'm not sending pictures with ME in them. This is because ever since Camera and I became best friends, I am reluctant to hand him over to others to take my photo. Knowing my obsessive-compulsive behavior about "my things," I'm sure you can understand this. Here's one that Eric took after we ate lunch at the rooftop Members Only Lounge at the Tate Modern (just one of the perks of hanging out with him). Warning - hips may appear larger than they actually are.
At least one of you (okay, so technically ONLY one) has complained that I'm not sending pictures with ME in them. This is because ever since Camera and I became best friends, I am reluctant to hand him over to others to take my photo. Knowing my obsessive-compulsive behavior about "my things," I'm sure you can understand this. Here's one that Eric took after we ate lunch at the rooftop Members Only Lounge at the Tate Modern (just one of the perks of hanging out with him). Warning - hips may appear larger than they actually are.
And here is one from a Houston rodeo in 2003.
Here's a Globe Theatre actor/musician making a face that appears to imply something inappropriate about playing his skin flute.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
I hope Jack Nicholson has heartburn all day today
Last night I walked around Holland Park and took a bunch of pictures that old people would like (flowers, statues, ponds, etc.). Here's one for all you grannies out there.
I love that there's some kid out there who's as fed up with her Crocs as the rest of the sane world is and has tried to hide them inconspicuously. (I assume it's a her and not a him for the child's sake.)
One of the marvellous things about summer in London that I will greatly miss is the fact that the sun is out from 5 in the morning until 10 at night. This picture was taken around 8:45 pm.
I don't know WHO Ian Collins is, but I certainly know WHAT he is.
I love that there's some kid out there who's as fed up with her Crocs as the rest of the sane world is and has tried to hide them inconspicuously. (I assume it's a her and not a him for the child's sake.)
One of the marvellous things about summer in London that I will greatly miss is the fact that the sun is out from 5 in the morning until 10 at night. This picture was taken around 8:45 pm.
I don't know WHO Ian Collins is, but I certainly know WHAT he is.
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