Unrelated to the Bard, pigeons, falafel, and sweat-accommodating clothing, I have two updates for you:
1) The jets from Monday’s pictures were for The Trooping of the Colour in celebration of the Queen’s birthday. I felt only slightly ignorant for being informed of this by someone living in Boston (thanks Brent!).
2) Oftentimes in my blog I will refer to people as “stupid,” “idiots,” or “insanely incompetent.” Sigh. It is with great sadness, and shock for you I’m sure, that I must now include myself in those categories. When I mocked the Freddie Mercury fans for inscribing the words “I still love you” on his door, I was not privy to the meaning behind this phrase and simply took the opportunity to further ridicule yellow-toothed Brits. It was not until my friend Ted, a contender for Freddie Mercury’s Biggest Fan, enlightened me that this lyric was dramatically expressed in video for “These Are The Days Of Our Lives,” the last video made by Queen; Freddie looked straight into the camera and all but whispered it. It is believed that this was his way of saying goodbye to his fans. Excuse me, waiter? I do believe I’ll have a slice of that humble pie.
My inane thoughts are slowly creeping into my dreams. And while the following dream I had is absolutely absurd, it might also be a brilliant idea:
I was supposed to get together with some guy to study (I’m pretty sure I will be having nightmares about academia until the day I die) but we had never met before so there was uncertainty as to how he would know who I was (for some reason I knew what HE looked like). I was standing near the bus stop waiting for him to arrive when I saw him get off a bus. Instead of looking around for me, he simply bellowed at the top of his lungs, “Lisaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” and waited for me to come to him.
So. Clearly I had this dream so I could relay to all of you a fantastic way of rendezvousing with a blind date, a client, or a middle-aged study buddy with a colossal red beard. (Please do not make insinuations about beards, my dad, and my dreams. That’s not necessary.)
A brief, yet crucial letter to the sports teams of Boston:
Dear Red Sox, Patriots, and Celtics,
Please stop winning championships when I am out of the country. It’s really not working out for me waking up at 3:30 in the morning to eye-flutter my way through your games. By all means, keep being awesome and winning. But please try to keep my schedule in mind when you do, okay?
XOXO,
Lisa
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
I'm definitely going to be in trouble for calling my mother a crazy, old hag
The stage. It was a nice gesture that they painted the ceiling so us paupers in the Yard could look up and have something nice to view.
The rich folks' seats. They actually weren't that plush; you could rent a cushion for £1 so that your backside wouldn't have to suffer the unforgiving wooden bench for hours. Maybe standing wasn't so bad.
Here is Eric sitting before the show. When I went back to stand next to him, I found that he had been singing to himself, securing himself as my favorite person in London.
After the show we walked along the river towards Tower Bridge. I expressed my fears about the Thames, large bodies of water, and large things in general. Buoys included. I pointed at these orange ones and told him that I found them to be quite petrifying. He told me I was being silly considering we could crush them. And then he did for me.
The rich folks' seats. They actually weren't that plush; you could rent a cushion for £1 so that your backside wouldn't have to suffer the unforgiving wooden bench for hours. Maybe standing wasn't so bad.
Here is Eric sitting before the show. When I went back to stand next to him, I found that he had been singing to himself, securing himself as my favorite person in London.
After the show we walked along the river towards Tower Bridge. I expressed my fears about the Thames, large bodies of water, and large things in general. Buoys included. I pointed at these orange ones and told him that I found them to be quite petrifying. He told me I was being silly considering we could crush them. And then he did for me.
Tea at a cafe. Right before his iPhone rang, I was fiddling around with it and decided that maybe people who sell their souls to Apple for gadgets like that aren't so bad after all. I NEED ONE!!!!!!!
Is it wrong that I just kept picturing Gwyneth Paltrow as a man?
Secret identities, gouged-out eyeballs, names like Cordelia, Regan, Edgar and Edmond, strangulation, sword fights, bastard sons, a character named The Fool, sororicide, and more “whilsts,” “thees,” “eres,” and “betwixts” than you can shake a stick at. You know what it all means, don’t you? Why Shakespeare, my good friends! King Lear at the Globe Theatre to be specific. I know, I know, I might as well wear a t-shirt that says “London’s #1 Tourist!” But I had to go. It’s just something that needed to be done in London.
Life advice #88 – If you aren’t familiar with a Shakespeare play, for heaven’s sake, buy the Cliffsnotes, read Wikipedia, ask your mother, or call up your 10th grade English teacher for a synopsis before you go see it. This will avert spending 3 hours standing in the Yard thinking ridiculous notions such as:
“Wow. Those costumes have mesh holes at the armpits. What a great idea! We should totally incorporate that into today’s fashion.”
Or.
“Those pigeons are definitely gonna crap on my head. They keep flying over me and there’s no way I’m lucky enough to walk away from this without a huge green and white glob on my shoulder. What do I do if it does happen? Do I ignore it? What if people look at me? Oh God! What if the actors look at me?”
Or.
“I am SO sick of standing. £5 for a ticket is great, but 3+ hours standing in one place? I don’t think I can make it. There is only so much shifting back and forth I can do. Were they serious when they warned us beforehand that we couldn’t sit down?”
Shakespeare. Sure he’s a brilliant guy. But oh boy is he good at making me, not to mention those other ditzy-looking American tourists, feel unbelievably dumb for not being able to understand our own language. Having said/complained that, I really did have a great time; even if I was dangerously close to being spat on by the actors who approached the edge of the stage.
One last thing. I would like to point out that my mother quite frequently reminds me of her favorite King Lear quote: “How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is to have a thankless child.” I don’t believe she actually deems this true, though. That crazy, old hag will say anything.
Life advice #88 – If you aren’t familiar with a Shakespeare play, for heaven’s sake, buy the Cliffsnotes, read Wikipedia, ask your mother, or call up your 10th grade English teacher for a synopsis before you go see it. This will avert spending 3 hours standing in the Yard thinking ridiculous notions such as:
“Wow. Those costumes have mesh holes at the armpits. What a great idea! We should totally incorporate that into today’s fashion.”
Or.
“Those pigeons are definitely gonna crap on my head. They keep flying over me and there’s no way I’m lucky enough to walk away from this without a huge green and white glob on my shoulder. What do I do if it does happen? Do I ignore it? What if people look at me? Oh God! What if the actors look at me?”
Or.
“I am SO sick of standing. £5 for a ticket is great, but 3+ hours standing in one place? I don’t think I can make it. There is only so much shifting back and forth I can do. Were they serious when they warned us beforehand that we couldn’t sit down?”
Shakespeare. Sure he’s a brilliant guy. But oh boy is he good at making me, not to mention those other ditzy-looking American tourists, feel unbelievably dumb for not being able to understand our own language. Having said/complained that, I really did have a great time; even if I was dangerously close to being spat on by the actors who approached the edge of the stage.
One last thing. I would like to point out that my mother quite frequently reminds me of her favorite King Lear quote: “How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is to have a thankless child.” I don’t believe she actually deems this true, though. That crazy, old hag will say anything.
Monday, June 16, 2008
I had porridge for breakfast. It was surprisingly delicious. And mushy.
Sometimes I am amazed at the things I stumble upon in this city. Saturday I was walking along the river after a somewhat successful day of testing in the office (this time my computer actually decided to work!) and all of a sudden there were a whole bunch of jets in formation flying above. I'd say there were about 10 or so different groups of them. I have no idea what they were, why they were doing fly-over's in London, or whether they were headed towards Kate Middleton's backyard.
I got bored waiting for the Tube, so I started taking pictures of things.
They didn't look that heavy to me; maybe they're just retaining water.
I don't know if you heard about this or not, but this is a telescope that sees from London to New York. It's rising up through the ground here in London right in front of Town Hall. When I saw people looking into the lens and waving, I turned to Eric and said, "Wait, a minute, they can actually see people in New York? I thought it was just a prop?" To which he replied, "Yes, they actually built a telescope that goes through the middle of the Earth and when you look in, you can see straight through to America." Touche, Eric. Touche. (Just to clarify, there's a camera on both telescopes so you actually can see each other. But as Tenacious D would say, we don't have the technology yet to build a telescope through the Earth's core.)
Saturday was the World Naked Bike Ride in London. It was pretty much what it sounds like - naked people riding bikes through the city of London. In case you can't read what the pamphlet says, the mission of the ride was to: Protest Against Oil Dependency; Curb Car Culture; Celebrate Body Freedom. Oh and yes, that IS an image of E.T. in the upper right hand corner. I staked out a good spot on a park bench right at the beginning in Hyde Park and took as many pictures as possible without seeming too perverted (mission probably not accomplished). Clearly I can't send you the pictures I took of the ride because I'm pretty sure I would get fired for that. So if you want to see some funny-yet-disturbing pictures of naked people riding bikes, go to the blog (www.lisashoshana.blogspot.com) as I've posted some there.
I got bored waiting for the Tube, so I started taking pictures of things.
They didn't look that heavy to me; maybe they're just retaining water.
I don't know if you heard about this or not, but this is a telescope that sees from London to New York. It's rising up through the ground here in London right in front of Town Hall. When I saw people looking into the lens and waving, I turned to Eric and said, "Wait, a minute, they can actually see people in New York? I thought it was just a prop?" To which he replied, "Yes, they actually built a telescope that goes through the middle of the Earth and when you look in, you can see straight through to America." Touche, Eric. Touche. (Just to clarify, there's a camera on both telescopes so you actually can see each other. But as Tenacious D would say, we don't have the technology yet to build a telescope through the Earth's core.)
Saturday was the World Naked Bike Ride in London. It was pretty much what it sounds like - naked people riding bikes through the city of London. In case you can't read what the pamphlet says, the mission of the ride was to: Protest Against Oil Dependency; Curb Car Culture; Celebrate Body Freedom. Oh and yes, that IS an image of E.T. in the upper right hand corner. I staked out a good spot on a park bench right at the beginning in Hyde Park and took as many pictures as possible without seeming too perverted (mission probably not accomplished). Clearly I can't send you the pictures I took of the ride because I'm pretty sure I would get fired for that. So if you want to see some funny-yet-disturbing pictures of naked people riding bikes, go to the blog (www.lisashoshana.blogspot.com) as I've posted some there.
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