This is a picture of me trying to tie a scarf around my neck in 19th century style according to the instructions on the wall. You can tell by the look on my face how successful I was.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Residual Victoria and Albert Museum shots
This is a flattened brass installment. I took the first picture and Cass took the (better) second picture.
This is a picture of me trying to tie a scarf around my neck in 19th century style according to the instructions on the wall. You can tell by the look on my face how successful I was.
This is a picture of me trying to tie a scarf around my neck in 19th century style according to the instructions on the wall. You can tell by the look on my face how successful I was.
Monday, March 3, 2008
Gayer than a tree full of bluebirds
If you decide to come visit me in London, make sure to tell me that your plane arrives 30 minutes before it actually does. This will give me ample time to get on the wrong bus to Paddington Station, get off in a sketchy neighborhood, walk three blocks to a bus stop in the middle of nowhere and catch a bus back to where I started from. It will also ensure that you don’t shell out $2 to use the public toilet and make it safely back to my apartment without having your bladder explode. You know, just an fyi.
The only celebrities that exist to the British media are: Prince Harry, Kate Middleton, Kate Moss, Pete Doherty, Amy Winehouse, and Lily Allen. If you aren’t one of those 6 people, your face will not be pictured in the daily news. It’s just a matter of fact.
Another life fyi for you (you can all thank me later for these bits of wisdom): If you finally suck it up and buy chives to put in your egg salad even though you will have no use for the leftover chives once you’ve used one sixth of what you’ve purchased, for heaven’s sake! Don’t forget to put the chives in the egg salad!
(Is anyone else reminded of Pee Wee Herman whenever they make egg salad or see a row of scooters/motorcycles all lined up on the street? No? Just me? Okay.)
By far, the most resonating consequence of the London subway bombings is the fact that you have to walk at least a mile in this city to find a trashcan. Seriously. They are just nowhere to be found.
Joke o’ the day: Why haven’t you heard the joke about the bed?
It hasn’t been made up yet.
Tonight after eating delicious bowls of hummus goodness, Theresa and I went to see Agatha Christie’s Mousetrap. This is the longest running play in either London or the world, depending on how closely you read the flyer; tonight was performance #23,071. I’m a big fan of Ms Christie and I remember reading Ten Little Indians and deciding it was the greatest book ever (not that I can remember the end or anything vital like that, but still…it was good). Despite loving her books, the play tonight was just so-so. I don’t know if it was because I did the fishing/bobbing thing with my head as I almost nodded off countless times or just that it was a little slow going, but I give the play an overall B-.
But it’s unarguably a London staple and so I am glad I finally saw it and can cross it off my list of Things I Have To Do In London, right after Pick The Guards’ Noses At Buckingham Palace and Find Hugh Grant And Make Him Love Me.
Microsoft Word agrees that both ‘inarguably’ and ‘unarguably’ are words but can offer no synonyms for them, leaving me without an answer as to which, if either, is the right word to use. I apologize for this technical difficulty.
The only celebrities that exist to the British media are: Prince Harry, Kate Middleton, Kate Moss, Pete Doherty, Amy Winehouse, and Lily Allen. If you aren’t one of those 6 people, your face will not be pictured in the daily news. It’s just a matter of fact.
Another life fyi for you (you can all thank me later for these bits of wisdom): If you finally suck it up and buy chives to put in your egg salad even though you will have no use for the leftover chives once you’ve used one sixth of what you’ve purchased, for heaven’s sake! Don’t forget to put the chives in the egg salad!
(Is anyone else reminded of Pee Wee Herman whenever they make egg salad or see a row of scooters/motorcycles all lined up on the street? No? Just me? Okay.)
By far, the most resonating consequence of the London subway bombings is the fact that you have to walk at least a mile in this city to find a trashcan. Seriously. They are just nowhere to be found.
Joke o’ the day: Why haven’t you heard the joke about the bed?
It hasn’t been made up yet.
Tonight after eating delicious bowls of hummus goodness, Theresa and I went to see Agatha Christie’s Mousetrap. This is the longest running play in either London or the world, depending on how closely you read the flyer; tonight was performance #23,071. I’m a big fan of Ms Christie and I remember reading Ten Little Indians and deciding it was the greatest book ever (not that I can remember the end or anything vital like that, but still…it was good). Despite loving her books, the play tonight was just so-so. I don’t know if it was because I did the fishing/bobbing thing with my head as I almost nodded off countless times or just that it was a little slow going, but I give the play an overall B-.
But it’s unarguably a London staple and so I am glad I finally saw it and can cross it off my list of Things I Have To Do In London, right after Pick The Guards’ Noses At Buckingham Palace and Find Hugh Grant And Make Him Love Me.
Microsoft Word agrees that both ‘inarguably’ and ‘unarguably’ are words but can offer no synonyms for them, leaving me without an answer as to which, if either, is the right word to use. I apologize for this technical difficulty.
I find bathroom humor amusing. Sue me.
This is the comic from Friday's newspaper. I never used to read it, but after this one, you can bet I'm reading it every day.
This is Liverpool station on a Friday afternoon. Look at all the hustling.
This is Liverpool station on a Friday afternoon. Look at all the hustling.
Sunday, March 2, 2008
Probably Never Definitely
Friday’s joke: What happens when frogs park illegally?
They get toad.
I’m going to be brutally honest here. Since, you know, I’m miles away from seeing the judgmental looks you’re going to give me and will therefore just imagine that they don’t exist…I kinda have this habit of not finding it extremely necessary to wash my hands after I go to the bathroom. (Before I continue, let me remind you of the following joke: A Northwestern grad and a Northeastern grad are in a bathroom and the NE man sees that the NW man hasn’t washed his hands. So he says, “At Northeastern they teach us to wash our hands after we piss.” The NW man replies, “Oh yeah? At Northwestern they teach us to not piss on our hands.”) But back to MY story. Despite not washing my hands in the comfort of my own home, I at least know that this is considered gross and unhygienic by the general population and so, if I’m out in public or at work where there are other people there to witness my so-called disgusting behavior, I will give in to the masses and wash my hands. The point of this rambling story is to tell you that on Friday afternoon, I was in the bathroom at work and this girl came out of a stall and immediately left without so much as a glance at the sinks. I was torn in my feelings towards her; on the one hand I wanted to congratulate her on saying ‘fuck you’ to the system and having no qualms about touching that door handle with perhaps the slightest trace of urine on her hands. On the other, I wanted to say, “Hey you. I understand that you probably didn’t pee on your hands. I get it. But don’t you see me standing her? Don’t you want to at least pretend like you don’t want me to judge you and give those pudgy little hands a rinse?” I guess I’m starting to realize why one of my friends, who shall remain unnamed to protect her freakish identity, doesn’t let any part of her body touch anything in a public bathroom (this includes her clothes). Of course, I’m still not going to wash my hands at home…that’s just ridiculous.
So that NME Rock Music Awards Show on Thursday night? Yeah, it wasn’t so much an awards show as it was just a huge rock concert with a bunch of different bands. I guess the awards were given out earlier in the day and the venue I won tickets to was just all the live performances they were going to sprinkle throughout the telecast. The bands I saw were The Klaxons, Bloc Party, The Kaiser Chiefs, and Manic Street Preachers. Here are things I learned about rock concert protocol in a Madison Square Garden-sized arena:
- If you decide to crowd surf, you probably won’t see your group of friends again until the next morning, as there is no way in hell you’re making it back to where you started from.
- The most logical thing to do with your plastic cup of beer when there’s only a sip left is to throw it into the crowd.
- When you are caught in a mosh pit, punch as many people in the face as you can.
- Dance wildly.
- You shouldn’t be alarmed by the pyrotechnics on stage and immediately think of the Great White nightclub fire; it’s going to be okay.
- Make friends with the tight pants-donning, eyeliner-wearing skinny boys. They know everything about the bands.
- Most importantly, be preoccupied at all times by recording everything on your cell phone or camera. After all, isn’t it better to watch a crappy version of the concert later than to actually enjoy it in person?
Theresa, my insane friend and co-worker from Boston, is arriving in London tonight! We have a million things planned for this week, including a trip to Paris for a couple days. As soon as we get back from Paris, Theresa leaves and Susan, my mortal enemy and former roommate from Northwestern, is coming and we’re traveling to Ireland. The point of this is to both a) brag about the awesome things I’ll be doing and b) warn you that there will be some days in the next two weeks where you will be without my inane verbal diarrhea. I know this will be a sad time for you, but I urge you to simply look at my picture whenever you feel like you can’t go on; this will get you through tough times, just ask my Mom who had to deal with a severe case of depression when I went away to college. Sure, she gained 500 pounds and killed a man. But she got through it, didn’t she? (Love you, Mom!)
They get toad.
I’m going to be brutally honest here. Since, you know, I’m miles away from seeing the judgmental looks you’re going to give me and will therefore just imagine that they don’t exist…I kinda have this habit of not finding it extremely necessary to wash my hands after I go to the bathroom. (Before I continue, let me remind you of the following joke: A Northwestern grad and a Northeastern grad are in a bathroom and the NE man sees that the NW man hasn’t washed his hands. So he says, “At Northeastern they teach us to wash our hands after we piss.” The NW man replies, “Oh yeah? At Northwestern they teach us to not piss on our hands.”) But back to MY story. Despite not washing my hands in the comfort of my own home, I at least know that this is considered gross and unhygienic by the general population and so, if I’m out in public or at work where there are other people there to witness my so-called disgusting behavior, I will give in to the masses and wash my hands. The point of this rambling story is to tell you that on Friday afternoon, I was in the bathroom at work and this girl came out of a stall and immediately left without so much as a glance at the sinks. I was torn in my feelings towards her; on the one hand I wanted to congratulate her on saying ‘fuck you’ to the system and having no qualms about touching that door handle with perhaps the slightest trace of urine on her hands. On the other, I wanted to say, “Hey you. I understand that you probably didn’t pee on your hands. I get it. But don’t you see me standing her? Don’t you want to at least pretend like you don’t want me to judge you and give those pudgy little hands a rinse?” I guess I’m starting to realize why one of my friends, who shall remain unnamed to protect her freakish identity, doesn’t let any part of her body touch anything in a public bathroom (this includes her clothes). Of course, I’m still not going to wash my hands at home…that’s just ridiculous.
So that NME Rock Music Awards Show on Thursday night? Yeah, it wasn’t so much an awards show as it was just a huge rock concert with a bunch of different bands. I guess the awards were given out earlier in the day and the venue I won tickets to was just all the live performances they were going to sprinkle throughout the telecast. The bands I saw were The Klaxons, Bloc Party, The Kaiser Chiefs, and Manic Street Preachers. Here are things I learned about rock concert protocol in a Madison Square Garden-sized arena:
- If you decide to crowd surf, you probably won’t see your group of friends again until the next morning, as there is no way in hell you’re making it back to where you started from.
- The most logical thing to do with your plastic cup of beer when there’s only a sip left is to throw it into the crowd.
- When you are caught in a mosh pit, punch as many people in the face as you can.
- Dance wildly.
- You shouldn’t be alarmed by the pyrotechnics on stage and immediately think of the Great White nightclub fire; it’s going to be okay.
- Make friends with the tight pants-donning, eyeliner-wearing skinny boys. They know everything about the bands.
- Most importantly, be preoccupied at all times by recording everything on your cell phone or camera. After all, isn’t it better to watch a crappy version of the concert later than to actually enjoy it in person?
Theresa, my insane friend and co-worker from Boston, is arriving in London tonight! We have a million things planned for this week, including a trip to Paris for a couple days. As soon as we get back from Paris, Theresa leaves and Susan, my mortal enemy and former roommate from Northwestern, is coming and we’re traveling to Ireland. The point of this is to both a) brag about the awesome things I’ll be doing and b) warn you that there will be some days in the next two weeks where you will be without my inane verbal diarrhea. I know this will be a sad time for you, but I urge you to simply look at my picture whenever you feel like you can’t go on; this will get you through tough times, just ask my Mom who had to deal with a severe case of depression when I went away to college. Sure, she gained 500 pounds and killed a man. But she got through it, didn’t she? (Love you, Mom!)
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