The annoying woman next to me clearing her throat every 20 seconds

Even in Scotland they have some pretty outrageous newspaper headlines…
- Accused too smelly to appear in court
- Man is banned for life from women and drink
- Scots now have greater choice of unspoilt places to go swimming
- Woman found living in wardrobe (Actually, you might have read about this one since it happened in China)

Here’s my favourite article from the Edinburgh paper, though…
- Women would race to meet Sir Sean
Sir Sean Connery has been named the celebrity women would most like to greet them as they finish a race, according to a cancer charity. The 77-year-old topped a poll of more than 1,000 women surveyed to find out which celebrities would motivate women to get to the finish line of the Cancer Research’s Race For Life.

If the London Transportation people rattle off a list of delays and suspensions for EVERY POSSIBLE UNDERGROUND LINE (signal failure on the Central line, a person under the train on the Circle line, a sick person on a train on the Jubilee line, a passenger alarm on the Victoria line, dismantling a World War II bomb on the Metropolitan line (this actually happened last week)), it doesn’t really make them look okay to follow it up by saying “There is good service on all other lines.”

Here is a story that I still have a hard time believing. I was sitting on the Tube reading my book on my morning commute when a 20-something man sat down beside me and proceeded to start reading The Metro. Normal so far. But then, out of the corner of my mind, I think I’ve seen him just put his finger in his mouth. But that can’t be right because seconds before that, I think I’ve seen him pick his nose. And certainly no male over the age of 4 would pick his nose and eat it. LET ALONE ON PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION SURROUNDED BY HORDES OF PEOPLE. So I chalk it up to the early hour and assume my brain isn’t functioning properly quite yet. But then it happens again! I am dumbfounded. I stop reading and stare at him furtively, all the while keeping my book open so that others don’t realize I am trying to watch a full grown man eat his boogers. And sure enough, he continues to do it. Finger up the nose, swirl and pick, finger out, finger in mouth, slurp. That’s right…there was audible slurping. But what is so unbelievable about this, moreso than the mere fact of the matter, is that he had no shame about the snot feast. He wasn’t even trying to hide it! At one point I thought that maybe I was on Candid Camera and that it was some kind of trick he was playing to see how many people would say something. But Allen Funt did not jump out with a boom microphone and I was left alone knowing this is a London memory that will stick with me forever.

Tube delay due to a person UNDER a train

One of the perks of living and working in downtown London are the world movie premieres. Case in point - Sex And The City: The Movie last night in Leicester Square. Here is where I'd like to tell you that I was in the front row of the crowd, got autographs from SJP, Kim, Kristen, and Cynthia, and took amazing pictures that I will now sell to Hello! Magazine for oodles of cash. However, I'll opt to not lie and tell you that I made Yulia stand on some street corner with me for 35 minutes while the limos drove past and I tried to peer in the tinted windows to try to discern (to no avail) who it was. This got old quickly and Yulia was itching to be anywhere but there. In my defense, unless we had started queueing at noon for a 7:30 premier, there was no way we were going to get a glimpse of anyone; there was just an overwhelming amount of screaming girls and flamboyant guys. But honestly. For a show BASED IN NEW YORK whose title even includes a REFERENCE TO NEW YORK and a plot line that CENTERS AROUND NEW YORK, why oh why would someone choose to have a world premiere in London?! I am assuming money had something to do with it and that people aren't that dumb.

There was a big presentation at work last Friday for some big shot manager who is leaving the company. My friend K was in charge of organizing the card, gift, and presentation. So we're all standing around watching as this guy opens all 7 of his gifts (I told you he was important) and Aussie T says in front of everyone: "What about my idea for the gift, K? Is she not coming?" (This is the type of stuff I miss about the people from Australia.)

The problem with stopping at the bathroom before you go outside to read on your lunch break is that you're just the freak walking into the work bathroom with a book under your arm.

Joke of the day that is just so horrendous it has no choice but to be funny: What's green and sings rock 'n roll? Elvis Parsley

London's Crazy Headlines:
Stunning Results For Police Tasers
Bodies Of Two Babies Are Found In Toy Boxes
I Have Just Been Run Over By A Cow

I’m in crush with you

Someone sneezed at work and it sounded exactly like a coyote howl. It was a severe ‘achoooo’ with the sound in the shape of a bell curve. I’m surrounded by a bunch of animals. Animals in French cuffs.

Last night, for the first time since I arrived in London, I saw someone fall down the escalator in the Underground. I am surprised it took this long for me to witness it (and even more surprised that it didn’t happen to me) since those escalators are incredibly dizzying. He didn’t fall all the way down the escalator, though. Now THAT would have been something. (I am a bad person.)

How many apricots is TOO many apricots?

London’s Crazy Headlines:
- Sword gang convicted of killing teenager (fyi – it was a Samurai sword)
- Cat poo cuppa for £50
- Girl finds father rotting in chapel
- Woman leaps to death after tick bite
- Jail over 16 imaginary children
- Baby No. 2 from 19-yr-old sperm

One of the little ways London is more polite than your average American city is that if a London city bus isn’t operating, its sign will say ‘Sorry – Not In Service.’ Now, when was the last time an American public transportation system apologized for not running?

I got a free pass to go see the new Colin Farrell movie In Bruges last night. Afterwards, because I’m a delinquent, I snuck into Drillbit Taylor. (I didn’t choose this one; it was the only movie starting at that time.)
#1 In Bruges was kinda lame.
#2 Ralph Fiennes is probably one of the greatest actors of our time (even though his name is pronunciatingly deceitful).
#3 I feel like I could have been Seth Rogan.

Let me explain. Seth Rogan is one of the great minds behind Knocked Up, Superbad, Freaks and Geeks, and Drillbit Taylor. I’m pretty sure every movie or tv show he has written has referenced a Bar Mitzvah, and his hilarious writing always centers around the nerdy kid in high school; so basically, he writes about HIS adolescent experience. But this could have been ME, I tell you!!! I’m funny! I had a Bat Mitzvah! I’m a nerd! I got wasted at a bar and knocked up some random girl! No wait…that’s not right. Okay, everything but that last part is true. But I think I know the reason why I wouldn’t be as successful as Seth Rogan. If I made films based on my youth, the following scenes would be the reasons behind the movies flopping:

Scene #1: Amy and Lisa make two boxes of Kraft macaroni and cheese and proceed to inhale them without the slightest thought of chewing, all the while instructing Amy’s Apple IIe to say things such as ‘Lisa is awesome’ and ‘boobies.’
Scene #2: Lisa joins her high school marching band unknowingly destroying any chance of a successful social life. She is shunned by the cool girls who once used to talk to her in elementary school. On the bright side, she can now play You Can Call Me Al by heart on the trumpet and she has scored a fabulous pair of black Drillmaster sneakers.
Scene #3: Lisa and friends return to Eisner Camp to smoke weed out of a hookah acquired on their recent trip to Israel. Since they aren’t technically campers and are merely hiding out in a random building at camp, they are obviously caught by security who proceeds to kick them out at 2 o’clock in the morning. 6 stoned people sleep in her father’s Oldsmobile sedan in the parking lot of a Great Barrington pharmacy. Camp sends a letter home to our parents tattling on us. The letter is intercepted by Lisa who feels guilty and shows her mother, but insists that she not tell Dad.
Scene #4: Cut to fun, out of control party at a ‘cool kid’s’ house, complete with sex, drugs, and booze. Then cut to Lisa sitting at home at her desk trying to complete the matrices due in AP Calculus the next day.

*music – Look he’s crawling up my wall, black and hairy very small Now he’s up above my head, hanging by a little thread Boris the spidaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah

100% vested in nothing

Joke of the day: Why aren’t exit signs fashionable?
Because they’re on the way out.

Theresa sent me a card in the mail and on the back she wrote:
P.P.S. I’m standing in line at the post office on Milk Street. There are three people in front of me in line. I wonder how long it will take and if I’ll have enough room left on the card. Wait it’s my

I know what London is missing. It took me two and a half months to realize it, but probably only because I wasn’t actually missing it. Frat boys. London is pleasantly devoid of frat boys. I was in Soho at 2:30 am on a Thursday night waiting for a bus home and, had this been any American city, I would have been amongst a swarm of drunk 20-something boys yelling and projecting their false sense of manhood on the world in the form of hoots and hollers. But the only drunk people around me were boys in tight black jeans, kissing French couples, and girls with terrible mullets (all of whom were eating McDonalds). And maybe Soho isn’t exactly the London frat boy hangout, but I can’t even think of a place in the city where they would be (other than the bars that Prince Harry frequents). Ted has said that London is my type of city; a lack of frat boys is just one example of why he is so, so right.
(However, for every macho guy I didn’t see that night, I saw at least one police car screaming by. I don’t know what it was, but in the 30 minutes I had to wait for my goddamn bus, I must have seen no less than 20 police cars. What an unruly town!)

I read at least one London newspaper every day and I have been tempted to create a section of my email that recaps the horrific and/or surprising headlines (you would not believe how fucked up this city can be sometimes). Up until now I have resisted that urge because I thought maybe it wouldn’t be that interesting to read. But after Friday’s edition, I am left with no choice but to start a segment called London’s Crazy Headlines:
- Ken admits: I have 5 children by 3 women (Ken is the mayor of London)
- Eat biscuits and have tubby baby
- Head found on beach is immigrant
- Trapped in the Tube for 3 hours

I received a company email on Friday whose subject line was: “Work area privacy PDA awareness.” I eagerly opened it, but it wasn’t about what I thought it was going to be about.

Video to search for on YouTube: ‘She’s f-ing Obama’

Have you ever been on the phone and found yourself nodding to the person on the other end? Funny thing, actually. THEY CAN’T SEE YOU NODDING.

I feel the need to further prove how right I am about the undeserving hype surrounding Mariah Carey. I check a website called TheLondonist.com which informs me of all-things-London. I was happy to read they reported ‘Mariah Carey’s in town and everyone wants a piece of her. This Londonista just doesn’t get it.’

I successfully mortified my mother with my do, dump or marry game. I think it could have been a lot worse had I chosen to do Hillary.

Did you know that the London Underground started on January 10, 1863? That is SO LONG AGO! (Of course, even after 150 years they still manage to trap their passengers on a train for 3 hours.) I know that Boston has America’s oldest subway system, but the Tube blows that right out of the water. How did those proper British ladies fit into the seats with their big poofy dresses?!

You know what’s funny? When you’re talking to a voice-activated credit card 1-800 number and you cough and they think you’ve answered one of their stupid questions. “We’re sorry, that disgusting cough is not a valid answer.”

I asked the question “What’s in that pasty” in front of my mother when she was here and wasn’t even the slightest bit embarrassed. I think that’s sign #1 I’m getting used to London.