49 Gower Street

Frozen in Time

2006-05-10T03:18:00.000Z

It has taken me a while to start this post--as you can tell. I'm back in the USA and it feels.weird. I was one of the last to leave Madison House at the end of April and I can honestly say it was the sadest day I've experienced in quite a while. I may have shed a tear, but-I'll leave that a mystery.

49 Gower Street deserves a proper closing, but I'm going to make this brief. I'm too far removed to describe everything as I wanted. I fear that if I try, I'll be here all night rambling on incoherently--and the fact is, it's just too sad to recount the last days.

I visited Dionysus once a day for the last 6 days in the City. Yes, I did.

The last days in Mad House were filled with papers, alcohol, pipe tobacco, and tears. The second warning that we all received when we entered Mad House in January was that if we don't stay on top of our work at the start of the semester, we will all hate ourselves in April. It's not quite that easy. Do you remember reading about the excitement of the first weeks? Well, I do and for the first month of the trip, I wrote one 500 word paper. That's it. You can probably imagine that I should have done more. Too much time at the pubs in the first quarter of this vacation left me with little time for the pubs at the end. 10x600 word essays on 5 different novels in 8 days--just one class. Thanks Mick, you're my boy.

Well, it wasn't all bad. I managed drink quite a bit during the composition of those essays. That made it a little interesting. Poe was a drunk and he wrote some crazy shit.

I made my first visit to Wagamama during the last week. Wagamama is a noodle bar--It's pure Asian, I just don't know, as bad as it is, what. kind of Asian? A mixture I would say. It's damn good. If you go to London, go, they are all over. Wait, again I am talking about food and didn't even realize it. If this bothers you stop reading, b/c there is a great story involving food on the horizon.

If you know me, you know that I love Lebanese food. Considering I'm Lebanese that shouldn't be a shocker. Enter Ishbilia Lebanese Restaurant. I found Ishbilia in my search for superb Lebanese cuisine in London, b/c I knew that Europe appreciates Mediterranean food far more than Americans. Not to toot my own horn, but I nailed it. The first sign that I found the best restaurant in the city was that every person in the the place were themselves Lebanese. I was the closest to a white person in the room. Just what I wanted, a meal that takes 3 1/2 hours to complete, everything served with onions—heaven. The second clue was the high rollers entering the restaurant, which the servers seemed to all know. Oh, well shit, my parents came to town on April 21, I didn't tell you that. So this was now my third visit to Ishbilia (it's damn expensive). While waiting for our table an Aston Martin, multiple Mercedes’, a Bentley, and one mysterious Rolls Royce filled with simple looking Lebanese men all arrived at the door. I don't know who owns this place, but they have a connection to something serious and I'll never know who or what, they were all speaking Arabic. It's probably better that way.

Back to the people-We were to live together for 89 days; it was bound to get ugly from time to time. Living with so much estrogen both demolished and reassured my sexist opinions, which by the way, I'm working on. I'd say this trip put me strides and leaps ahead of where I was. I don't consider my self a sexist; I just tend to say some things that may be taken as sexi.st. Anyway, I have to say, Dan, Ben, and I came to the conclusion, we loved every person in that house. I felt like it was my duty to protect them from the drunk Frenchmen in the bars (see, that could even be sexist to some of those crazy feminists out there?), or maybe vice-versa...

Tonight is Tuesday, this means many American students along with some creepy fuckers are enjoying 1 pound pints at Sports Cafe. We'll be there again...We'll make it happen. It felt like it would never end and then it did.

I want to post something that many of you will read and have absolutely no idea what any of this means, but I know who will.

K. Fran sums up many of our greatest moments...

alley - our secret jersey pinkie promise in rome
anna - getting stuck in the east finchley tube...classic
jammin - priceless story with the Big Issue and the homeless woman
brooke - hot italian ass?
xtina - notorious for hanging around exotically named men
dan - i won't forget the emo moment on saturday when you were
playing the guitar and we all looked like we wanted to slit
our wrists
daniela - walkabout? croatian? taking your bra off? HAHA.
b.matt - stupid baish. transition glasses. hookah heart to heart.
erica - completely fer-schnickered the day before spring
break. awesome.
evan - asian delights. tube rides of shame. brazil..haaa
jeanne - bed bugs. ripping my 20 pound note in half. drunk at
the first play we ever had to see.
j.creel - random bursts of chuck norris jokes. thundermug.
jess - safety ruins fun. grillz. vodka. a little memory makin.
donohue - it STINKS in here. fancy pantssss. i would walk 500
miles.
katie c. - i know secretly you're a party animal...i saw it
come out at zoo bar. you sasspot.
kourtney - my funsized vegetarian. remember when the taxi
driver at ireland drove away with the trunk open and you tried
to stop him? awesome.
ksenia - or keznia. hetero lifemate. REALLY STRUM IT.
lauren - your mom. HEY! BERNICE...just try it on, HEY!
margaritte - you have the most contagious laugh on this
planet. DONG. venting online and swapping inside jokes while
in the same room...priceless.
mary - pint pot karaoke with your completely drunk boyfriend.
how could i ever forget.
kendall - wino. maymester awaits.
robby - lamb, kebabs, and weird animal noises. i miss it.
fink - always there for me when i needed a cig and a wine
drinking buddy.
sara feldman - rocket bar founder...good times, good times.
steph - garden PARTAYYY! i'm shure shomeone did.

I'm going to add a couple of quotes, from some of my great professors...

Tank – “Any Questions or Queries?”
J. Dobbs – “Doesthat sounds familiar to anyone?”
Mick - "They'll fuck you up your mom and dad!", "Has anyone read Beowulf in Olde English?"
Lovin - "MathEmatics, MathEmatics, MathEmatics"
Rachel Barnes - "Yes, right, ok..."

We'll see each other again, a lot actually, but we will never return to London together with a purpose, even if it was only to get drunk and stumble home. London will never again be the Euphoria that we experienced and remember. The only way we know London is together, which is why it was so hard to see an empty house, empty rooms, and a clean kitchen. I wish I wasn't one of the last to go, I would have been able to remember Mad House in its glory, full of eager Americans, ready to drink a bottle of wine, party for three hours, and devour a kebob at the drop of a hat. With each day that goes by, I miss the time even more.

I've rehashed the semester so many times over again in my head and in my dreams that I'm almost drained of words. Our time in London allowed us to grow. We truly did, just as Rusty told us, Live, Learn, and Love London. Three of the greatest months of my life.

The end.

"Dude, I Wish that Other Stovetop Worked." - Fast Heat, Slow Minds

2006-04-22T03:22:00.000Z

It is 4:19am in London, 22 April 2006. I'm not finding sleep easily, for I know when I wake up this house will not be the same.

I'm going to go out on a limb here. I just don't understand time - For the last 3 months my life's clock has been the Tube map, out of scale. We embarked on this journey prepared to stay forever, three months sure seemed far away, yet your entry point is visible from your exit two block aways on the other side of the street. We have all waited for the time to come for us to arrive in London for almost two years and it's over.

Yeah, I did it...an awful, awful metaphor. Just deal with it.

I can't say much right now - I don't have many words. If I seem melodramatic, it is - there's no way around it.

However, there is something I wish to share with you. 27 people, 27, for three months have shared 4 burners in a kitchen the size of a coffin. Meanwhile a flat, counter stovetop with 4 additional burners rested all semester, unused. Why you may ask? I have no idea. My theory is simple, no one ever turned the switch, ever. Which translated into "Why doesn't the other set of burners work". I can recall a absolute minimum of 10 times of the top of my head the words, "Well if the other fucking burners worked I could cook a fucking egg". The startling revelation was made in Mad House April 21, 2006, exactly 3 months and 2 days after our arrival. We are fucking smart.

I want to detail my accounts of the last couple of days, now isn't the time, I have quite bad Asian eyes right now.

I'll end this brief with one word. Dionysus.

Cheers...

1997

2006-04-15T16:26:00.000Z

1997 was the year that I threw away my Puff Daddy CDs.
1997 was the year that I got rid of those damn Boss jeans from 1996.

1997 was the year I adopted Toomuch112 as my pseudonym.
1997 was the year I moved out of the house in which I was raised.
1997 was the year of the year of my first DMB show.
I got my first 'B' in 1997.
Bill Clinton was president.
The year of hale-bop.

____________________________________________________________________

Yesterday Iran threatened our country.

This is Mahmoud Ahmadinejad. Both now and in 1979 holding a U.S. hostage during the occupation of the U.S. Embassy in Tehran. Good choice for president...

All I want to do is show you this image. He has 27 years of hatred built up and is spouting that hatred to his citizens. This week he again called for the annihilation of Israel.

Perhaps I'm being a little too morbid, but with Iran's newly acquired nuclear capability, the next two years will prove to be some of the most important years International diplomacy has ever seen.

That's it-I never intend for this to be a political blog. However, I thought it deserved some attention.

Why did I mention 1997?
It felt like the United States was in cruise control. 1997 is the year that comes to mind when I think of how little stress there was during the 1990s. I don't think that feeling will return any time soon. It's not like I can say life is exactly hard now...I've lived in London for the past 3 month essentially expense free, that's not too bad a deal.

A more jolly post tomorrow, I promise. Tonight Mad House is celebrating our last Saturday night in London together. Wish my liver good luck.

Cheers

Tank Bradshaw

2006-04-10T23:24:00.000Z

Thirteen days.

It seems ironic that Monday has been my favorite day of the week during my time overseas.
Today was an even better Monday. The day began with poly-sci. Tank conducted class at Mad House this morning. There is not a classroom in Madison House; therefore we attempt to learn while laying down on the couch or the floor. It's a competition to see who falls asleep first. I'll miss it dearly - I digress. The class was thrilled to give 15 minute presentations that took just as long to prepare...and the Tankster was just as happy to listen. That is why I love Tank so much (Dr. Tancred Bradshaw, aka Tank, is a professor of political science and optical molester, his current dwelling is the 4 floor broom closet in the British National Archives). He was sleepy and was dosing off. I guess that's what happens when you stay up all night researching the origin of the leather bound parliamentary seats.

I planned to accomplish a lot more than I did today. After class I sat at my desk and called my mum instead of doing work. Ate lunch, it was time for the house meeting and to collect my 40 pound weekly stipend. Gym, then the grocery store - I then cooked what I intended to be a Kafta kebob, but I didn't have skewers so it was this interesting mixture, I'm gonna tell you...

1 onion, 12 shrooms, 1 kg lamb mince, mint, garlic, crushed chilies, cayenne, oregano, soy sauce, olive oil.
Then I threw a cup of peas on top. With Red Leister cheese, a tomato & a raw red onion on the side.

You better listen when I say I have an eating disorder. What if I have a tapeworm?

So then it was time to do homework, but I didn't. This may lead to my eventual death later in the week when I shoot my self in the face after Mick tells me to read another novel.

I'm looking around my room wondering how exactly I'm going to get all of this stuff home. It's gonna be tricky.

Cheers

Oh Yeeeeah, I Forgot. Retrospect

2006-04-08T17:57:00.001Z

I'll take you back to February 28th.

I was shaving about to do some work for Mick Hattaway it's still cold in London I was thinking about Summer that reminded me of something I never told you about February 28th, 2006

The previous sentence had no punctuation in honor of Ulysses and James Joyce.

I don't believe in luck; however I do believe in God. Yes, that explains the whole situation, God is rewarding me for all of the good things that I have done in my life...At least, that's my story.

I managed to get a ticket to Dave Matthews' solo show at Tutu's in King's College London. I'll start with that story. I told you that the ticketing was only open to UK residents. First of all, the on sale times listed on DMBand.com were not correct. The 'advance sale' began the night before the public sale--the 'pre-sale' began at 10am--the 'public sale' began at 3pm. I don't know who bought tickets in the advance sale...somebody did. I registered for the pre-sale and clicked the 'buy' button at 959. I had two tickets. I was astonished to say the least.

I then realized not only would I have to have a UK shipping address, but a UK billing address. Bad deal. I took too long pondering this snafu; I HAD two tickets. I almost pissed my pants due to the high anxiety. Finally, 15 minutes later, after the show had officially 'sold out' I picked some one's dropped ticket. So I used my current London address as my billing address. I assume the slacker working for Ticketmaster ignored that my credit card is not British. Good thing, I got a ticket.

Doors at 7pm. The venue was the top floor of the KCL student union--Tutu's, a bar half the size of Canal Club in RIC (In the UK every college within University has its own bar...). The queue had already begun to wrap around the building about 75 people deep by the time of my 4pm arrival. It is incredible how easily the British queue up, it's automatic. Fifteen minutes earlier Dave had visited with the hardcore Brit fans for a chat and some pictures. I missed it.

The opening act was good, but he could have been turning water into wine and not a soul would have cared. There were 350 people waiting to see Dave, whom everyone knew was no farther than 15 yards away. He took the stage around 8:45pm.

He was jet-lagged and admittedly stoned. It gets me when people think Dave is always stoned, it's just not the case, he's actually a strange chap; however, on this amazing evening, he was blazed my friend. He began by telling his British fans that he appreciates their support. I can say with almost complete certainty that I was the most seasoned veteran in the crowd. That sounds ridiculous, but Dave does not come to the UK often. The last visit was in 2001 and for most fans this evening was only their second chance to see this guy live; I'm about to hit the over-the-hill mark.

I started this blog when I was sober. It's now 6 hours later and I'm drunk.

I think there are three generations of DMB fans at this moment. 91-present, 96-present, 2001-present. I'm unfortunstely not old enough to be in the first. That's that. My point is, the UK fans were in heaven. They don't get the chance to see Dave very often. It was a night of Euphoria.

HE talked a lot that night; stories about his time living in Cambridge, high in South Africa, pronunciation, and even more ganja-induced tales. Awesome is the only word that comes to my mind.

I think I've already tried to explain why the events of February 28 affect me so much. There are many reasons that I don't want to get into , but I think I've said this before...
When I was 14 I told my mom, 'It's ok, I'll meet him again', and I meant that entirely, without hesitation.
When the show was over we waited around the stage for Dave to come back and say hello. That wasn't possible, so what my next move?

Where am I going with this? Well, the group of 15 or so of us that waited outside of the only exit to the building for an hour and a half finally, finally got our treat. Dave, Corona in hand, walked out of the front door of KCLSU. If there is one thing that we knew b/f anyone else it was that Dave had already planned to come back to the UK b/f the summer tour. Maybe it slipped out, or maybe he was happy to let the British fans that surrounded me in on a secret. Yesterday, the May England tour was announced. Unfortunately, I'll have left Britain. I'm not thinking about yet.

There are certain subjects on which people tend to have varying opinions. I know music is one of these.

OK, I'm sober again. I think I passed out after that last sentence. I guess I got drunk b/c I don't think any of that makes much sense, and I was on the fringe an emo tirade.

Yeah, so I met Dave again, that's it. It's not as exciting as I was making it, but I wanted to recount the episode b/c people continue to ask about it. The story has been told.

My sister Lindsay and my brother-in-law Don were in town this weekend--great times. I come home pretty soon huh? Yeah, it's hard to think about.

Cheers

The Death of Wang Chung

2006-04-03T23:11:00.000Z

0645-Waterloo Station - Euro Star through the English Channel and into Paris.

For a couple of days we weren't sure we would get to Paris. For centuries the French have engaged in their favorite pastime--rioting. It's like a country with herpes-they're just having a typical herpes outbreak. The morning we left for the 'city of love' I uploaded the Kaiser Chefs' I Predict a Riot to my iPod to get my self pumped.

I had a pre-conceived notion that we would be greeted by a rude Frenchman and our trip would be full of dirty looks. I must say that the French surprised me--not to say that they like us Americans.

The entire Mad House was taking over one hostel. Once we found our weekend home (that's another story) the Hotel Commnies du Marais gave me good vibes--good location and close proximity to many baguettes. A stumpy Asian man greeted us as we entered; he looked as if he had eaten too many spring rolls the night before. My first thought: Asians WILL take over the world, give them time. Once we paid our bill (33Euro for two nights) and dropped off our bags, it was time for a baguette. If you haven't noticed, for every country that I visit, the cliché staple food is the first thing on my mind. In any case, I like baguettes.
There is no such thing as an English menu in France...that I saw. I ordered the last baguette on the menu and hoped it was good. It was smoked ham, jackpot.

So we were eating our baguettes overlooking the River Seine and Notre Dame. I wasn't full.

Notre Dame is a cool place. If you're Catholic as I am, you'll appreciate it a little bit more. However, I've seen more cathedral's during the past three months than anyone ever should. They all blend together.

After Notre Dame it was time for wine and olives courtesy of our Art History prof. Rachel Barnes. The coolest chick in Britain. Some were fairly drunk.
Next stop, the hostel. I was still running on those good vibes from earlier, but I happen to notice that our sink had not been cleaned. The hair shavings gave it away. I brushed it off and we were out to dinner, where I consumed the greatest bleu cheeseburger I have ever eaten. When you hear about how good French food is its fucking true brotha.

Dan and I had about a 2 mile walk to The Moose Canadian bar in the Latin Quarter. Remember, we were in Riot mode, so when we saw thousands of rollerbladers coming down the street I was looking for cover. I don't know what they were skating for, but they were rollerblading and they were happy. No riot. Two minutes later the excitement started. I counted at least 25 buses full of police. Riot police were lining the streets with their shields and helmets, but they seemed rather jolly.
---If you don't know what these riots are about I'll explain--30% of French young adults believe capitalism is the best economic system, compared to 69% of Britons. The other 70% are the slackers rioting b/c they are afraid that the job for life that France's failing socialist government promises them will disappear. A perfect example of how socialism breeds complacency.
Sorry, I got serious for a moment.
Anyway, we passed some protests and I just tried to look inconspicuous and walked into the Canadian safe-haven. The bar was owned by the Moosehead Brewery, which was a great surprise, I fucking love Moosehead. Except that I paid the price of a six-pack for one bottle.

The fun began around 4:30am. Remember the hair shavings? If you ever see hair shavings in your hostel room, leave. Just when I was getting to bed, I woke up to the sound of screaming. Bugs. A floor above me, four of the girls woke up with bugs on them. Little black bugs, or bed bugs.

Enter - Stumpy Asian, soon to be known as Wang Chung.
Wang Chung is in denial. He believes that four young ladies living in Bloomsbury, London have brought the mighty resilient bed bugs to his beautiful hostel. Wang Chung is wrong.
They moved upstairs to another room. At this point, we weren't sure they were bed bugs. I actually thought bed bugs were too little to be seen.

I lay in bed and scratched for about 15 minutes before the first group of the drunken ladies arrived. Enter-Wang Chung...Apparently there is a code to enter the front door after 9pm. 12345, I don't think Wang was worried about our safety. Well, Wang wasn't happy that he had to wake up and answer the door...twice. I wasn't sleeping much this night.

1 1/2 hour later we were up for the Musee D'Orsay Impressionist gallery to see the Monet, Pissaro, Van Gogh, and so on. You don't get the full experience from prints of impressionist work, so the gallery was incredible.

Third Baguette of the trip for lunch. It rained for a while and we were off to the Louvre. Mona Lisa, Venus di Milo, other stuff. Seeing the Mona Lisa was similar to going to NYC for the first time; you have seen it so much on TV, it's a great thing to finally see it live. The Arc and Eiffel Tower were next...a lot of pictures.

After spending $30 on three phone calls...I gave up trying to find the rest of the group and Dan and I chilled out. Night two brought what? Oh yeah, the four traumatized girls were put into a room next to mine. Again, we awake to yelling. More bugs. Wang Chung was in trouble. I found a bug in my bed, crawling on my pillow. As Wang was busy yelling at the girls, I pulled him into my room. I don't even want to go in depth. Wang was in my face and if I were drunk, he might have died. He continually yelled "ONE bugS" with the standard Asian plurality of every word. Bugs don't travel alone. I told Wang if he didn't get the fuck out of my room I was going to call the police...I was being too rational.

Talking to Wang was like telling a junkie to go to rehab. He insisted that there were no bugs. Maybe he was a junkie.

Another night without sleep and we had bed bugs. Bed bugs are close to the most resilient insect in existence. They lay five eggs a day and don't go away easily. Is there some irony here? Is it ironic that an Asian owned the hotel with bugs that spread quickly and won't go away? Possibly

Wang Chung will die a painful death.

All 22 of us came back to Mad House and boiled water to rid our clothes of beg bug larva. YES. I now pray nightly that I will never again see a bed bug.

I'm dragging here, but I love Paris. I never thought I would, but it's a nice place to visit. The service was incredible and that was a nice surprise. If there is one thing that I know it's that I will never again stay in a hostel, and I hope you don't either.

That is all for now. Start thinking about what kind of alcohol you're going to have waiting for me upon my return to the States.

Cheers

One Love, One Bugs

2006-04-02T23:59:00.000Z

I have good news - I'm still 100% man.

What seemed to be my biggest fear did not have to be confronted...
Have you ever watched me cover myself in bug spray? I'm a big fan of Cutter Deep Woods. I hate anything that is smaller than my hand and has legs. This weekend I confronted what is truely my biggest fear...and a stumpy, spastic Asian man.

It's gonna be good, I'll write tomorrow.

I've slept 7 hours in the past 3 nights. For now, it's time for a nap.

Salaam

Once Upon a Time

2006-03-29T01:23:00.000Z

Don't tell me there hasn't been a time that you wanted to eat an entire bottle of whipped cream.
I won't believe you.

Once upon a time I cooked bacon and ate it.
Fried Triscuits in the bacon grease and ate them.
Drank a half of a bottle of Tabasco Sauce.
It was incredible.
I lost the feeling in my tongue.

Once upon a time,
I was running
I jumped off of a trailer
On the other side of the trailer was a hand-truck
A crooked hand-truck
I broke my nose.
It was not incredible
I lost the feeling in my face.

Why doesn't the English language have accents? I can think of many words that sure as fuck could use some help from an accent: crooked, wicked...I won't go on

When I get home, I'm going straight to Ruby Tuesday and eating an entire bottle of bleu cheese dressing, with some celery.

Cheers

Scratch that.

2006-03-25T14:29:00.000Z

I sat down to write on, I think it was Tuesday-I'm not sure what the hell I was doing. I promised nothing too deep on this board, and anything concerning both economics and Bob Marley I consider too deep, so take two.

I'm thinking the same thing...

It's amazing how different things can be after the passing of a week. Last week there was a feeling that I was still at the halfway point of this adventure. Right now, it's almost over. In four weeks I'll be on a plane back to the States. It's not time for talking about how much I'm going to miss London yet. I'm not ready to think about that. It's not done quite yet--Paris next weekend, Stratford in two. I think I have mentioned Paris before. The question is: how many times will I be hit on by a male? The likelihood is high, it's fucking Paris.

It happens again - Just hanging at the pub, it was karaoke night.
Arab - Do you go to an all girl’s school?
Beth - No, we have one guy with us.
Arab - Is he 100% guy?
Awesome. I guess, no matter the amount of masculinity I bleed, it's hard to look heterosexual when I walk into a pub with 18 girls, with all of which I now have completely platonic relationships. It's not that easy to grasp, I know.

Mad House has pigeon mites. It's hard to believe--It's not like 15 of us didn't have pigeons crawling all over us in

Italy

. If anyone needs explanation, pigeon mites bite you and it itches. So we had another bed-bug scare, but it's the fucking pigeons. If only they sold Alka-Seltzer in the

UK

.

That brings me to something else--They don't sell Tylenol, Advil, Aleve, Motrin or any commonplace US pain reliever in the

UK

. It costs 4 pounds for a box of 15 ibprofen, individually packed 200 mg pills...like when you get anti-biotics from the doctor. I suppose this is a good thing for British kidneys, but when your American you swallow Advil like vitamins when your in pain. I guess they just sweat it out.

In London the seasons are consistent and change gradually which is not something that I am used to. It is slowly crawling out of the 40's and into the 50's. The temperature did not creep over 45 degrees for two months. I haven't experienced the random 75 degree days Virginia enjoys in January. Now that I am actually experiencing a season change, I am going to appreciate warm weather greatly.

I have to write a lot papers tonight. I don't think I'll make it to the pub. FUCK.

Cheers...y'all

Guinness and an Entire Onion

2006-03-19T22:33:00.000Z

Today marks two months of life in London. Two-thirds of the way through.

I'll say it truly felt like a homecoming when I got off the plane from Rome in London. I think part of that elation was that I heard everyone speaking English. However, without claiming to be any kind of expert in Italian culture, Italy felt unorganized. The underground, the bus routes, the roads, the police, the fucking gypsies, everything appeared to be 'out of place' if that makes any sense. I won't dwell anymore; I'll just say I love the United Kingdom.

But honestly, I was there for a week, I don't know shit.

This week brought St. Patrick's Day.
The Irish are good people. Most of them at least; I almost had another Islander incident, but this time I had some help. I don’t think this lanky bitch wanted to fuck with Ron or I. I couldn’t even feel my face.

The day began for most at 10am with Champagne. Ron and I...(Enter a new character to this story: Ron is Lauren's visiting boyfriend, kind of) made our way to Lillywhite's sporting goods haven. Turns out Lillywhite's is a bad imitation of an American sporting goods giant. Replace football, baseball, and basketball with ...football...cricket, and rugby and you have the British counterpart. I did it again, I found a pair of nice rugby shorts for 16 pounds. Awesome price, not really. How, after 2 months can I still fall to the illusion of the Great Britain Pound. I paid about $28. Still not awful.

Drinking comenced around 2:30 pm, starting the day with Absolut Vanilla.

Certain pubs around town found a great way to make you drink Ireland's only export, Guinness. Buy four pints of Guinness and they gave you a great felt hat. It worked, I wanted that hat. Leaving the pub around 5pm wearing three pints of Guinness one foot tall on my head was an incredible feeling. We were off to China Town. You know that feeling you get when you drink all day? The feeling that you're not even drunk, but you know you're wasted. I was at that plateau
O’Neill’s was our next stop. O’Neill’s is an Irish bar and it just so happened that they were also handing out hats. You didn't even have to drink four Guinness. Jackpot.

I ended the night with two hats, two Guinness pint glasses and a Dionysus falafel. Good night.

I eat way too much. I'll throw that out there. Let me break down my dinner-
Two chicken breasts
half-a-head of cabbage
cup of brown rice
cup of peas
10 mushrooms
4 green onions
A red onion
a lot of garlic
a lot olive oil
------------------
Then, like an idiot decided to go out for dessert, which never works, I can't just eat dessert.
Mozzarela garlic toast and some apple tart shit that was no good.

I love you all. One month and I'll be drinking Beast in the 'burg again.
Well...I miss my friends, not the Beast

I'm going to bathe my self in lemon juice to get rid of this garlic aroma

Cheers.

---If you’ve never checked out the band Particle. Do it

Coming and Going on Easy Terms

2006-03-14T00:15:00.000Z

What do you think of when you imagine Italy? I think of pizza and pasta, but my opinion is slightly screwed by 21 years of endless eating.

Setting the scene:
I traveled with 8 girls and my self, pretty standard. The trip started at 4:30 am Sunday morning when the cab arrived at 49 Gower. I had laid my head at 3am. Little did we know that the hour trip to the airport would be the cheapest taxi excursion we would take in the next week £45 x2. If you really want a thrill, call Marlybone Minicabs, they'll take you to Gatwick airport at 120MPH, no questions asked.
Venice was the first stop. This is when it started, we needed a cab. When Italian cab drivers see American tourists, they all piss themselves with excitement. We paid the same amount as our morning trip to get 1/4 of the distance, with negotiation. They don't use meters when you can't speak Italian, it's whatever price they want...
The Hotel Villa Dori was by far the best €15 a night hotel I have ever inhabited. Title floors, decorated walls, bath towel warmers and a high quality beday, which is of course a necessity.
The public transportation in Venice turns out to be free, if you want it to be. We took the bus to the city where we immediately consumed gelato served by an Asian woman. Which was the trademark of our two days in Venice. The group found what looked like a little Italian restaurant which would be owned by...Italians. An Asian served me pizza. I bought my first bottle of Italian wine from an Asian. I don't know.
Venice had the greatest postcards in print. A lucky few of you will receive them in a couple of days.
Venice was relaxing. We took off for Florence around 4pm.

There is a lot to say about Florence. First of all, If you visit don't stay near the train station. Our reservation was for the Hotel Etrussca. The Etrussca lobby was located on the 7th floor of some sketchy building it was very comforting as you can imagine. I showed the desk clerk my reservation to which he replied with a lot of sighs, I didn't quite understand. He didn't either. Apparently we had to go to the sister hotel. Not a problem. Once we arrived at the Hotel Venetto, we were then moved to yet another location, an unmarked building. Our rooms were on the 5 floor. My bed had to be brought in from down the street. Well, this situation didn't get much better, I won't dwell.
The bathrooms in Florence are top quality. You can shower, shave, and well shit simultaneously, no hyperbole. When I say that a beday is a necessity, I mean it. In America we can give up the beday for an enclosed shower. The Italians don't see it they way we do.
We did finally have an Italian meal served by a real Italian. Good food. A lot of Gelato. We walked a lot in Florence. I remember that the most. Michelangelo's David was pretty stunning. You know, I don't want this to get boring. We walked, we ate a lot. That's what you do in Italy, eat.
The first evening we visited the club YAB an €11 cover got you a free drink. I guess that's not too bad. The club was ghetto as fuck. I didn't see many Italians, just ghetto ass Americans.

We traveled to the Chianti wine region on Wednesday. Chianti is what you may imagine Italy to look like. Mountains, vinyards, olive trees, etc. Beautiful place.

A lot happened, I'm skipping it.

Train left for Rome at 6:40am. McDonald's for breakfast.
Apparently everything in Rome closes at 4, so keep that in mind. Gypsies are everywhere. I'll try to be nice and just say that I'm not very fond of the gypsy population. Rome is dirty and you feel as if you're in a third world country some of the time. We did have some good pizza. Our hostel was clean, except for the bedbug scare...I think they were there. I have four bites. May have been a spider, but I'm siding with the bedbug theory.

Now, leaving Rome was about as interesting as entering Florence. The group had dwendled down to 5. Kourtney, Ev, Margaret, Alley, and myself planned to save some time and money and sleep in the Rome Ciampino airport. Bad call. After an 11 Euro pork chop, it was time to find a hotel.

--------------------------It's a different day now-------------------------------

So we got screwed by another cabbie. This is when I begin to dislike Italians quite a lot actually. After a week of trashy hostels, we splurged. We stayed in a very nice hotel for about 5 hours. Airport, got screwed yet again, plane home.
Have you ever flown with RyanAir? It's an experience. The seating is a free-for-all, therefore everyone decided there was need to run down the runway onto the plane. My carry-on box full of Chianti wine was not ready for the jolt of force, the bottom gave out. I'm lucky only one bottle busted. However, the Italian runway guy didn't take it too lightly, I think I delayed the plane. Whatever brotha, get a fucking broom.

That's it, I'm dragging on here.

It took incredibly too long, I didn't proof this, I'm sure it makes no sense

Cheers.

l' antichità classica, le fonti per la storia dell' arte

2006-03-07T22:24:00.000Z

I have no idea what that means.
I don't even know if it's Italian. It looks French...

I just want to say that gelati is fucking great. It may be clichè, but its damn good.

Italians arent as nice as the British.

There are not toilet seats...and you can sit on the toilet and take a shower similtaneously. Ill explain later.

ciao

Italy

2006-03-06T22:29:00.000Z

The Internet is everywhere these days.
I am in Florence. Our hostel is sketchy, very sketchy. I hope I dont get raped. Well be ok.

Thats all for now. Were goign to get drunk.

Ciao

Falafel

2006-03-03T02:46:00.000Z

There is a very distinct possibility that I am insane.

Yes.

I had a Falafel tonight and it was good

The Local News

2006-02-27T13:45:00.000Z

It's been too long; I don't mean to slight the readers of this bit of genius.

I didn't write much down this week. I know a lot happened yet my memory is dull, so this may come sputtering out more incoherent than the standard muddled fashion.

I know what it feels like to not have medical insurance. It hurts. Hurt worth $130 to see the 'doctor' and get antibiotics...for an ear infection. Doctor is meant to be sarcastic. I don't really know if she was a doctor, it seemed as if the doctor was out of town so he sent his daughter to work for him. She was Eastern European if that means anything. She looked at my ear and said it was red. The typical 'sit up straight and breath deeply for me' was fun. I took about 40 deep breaths. I almost passed out. I don't think she heard anything.
In the end, I came home with medicine.

That was Saturday. Which just happened to be my birthday.

That evening was good.
Speaking of Eastern Europeans, Darren and I visited The Ultimate Burger for a beer and a burger. And then proceeded to McDonald's to eat dinner... There's something wrong with that.
Server: Have a good night
Darren: Thanks, it was terrible
Sainsbury's, the Kroger of the UK (There's not a "Ukrop's" of London), has their own brand of liquor and beer. Being the high brow fellas that we are, we bought a litre of Scotch.
We enjoyed a cup or two and headed to Cheers. I've got to say the only thing I could think about while in Cheers is that I miss Nick-at-Nite.
Got drunk. Ate a kebob. Went home

I wrote the above on Monday, I'm just a slacker.

Cheers brotha

Flashback

2006-02-21T01:43:00.000Z

I was just talking about it. It's now clear as ever.

The group went to see "Who's Afraid of Virginia Wolfe", which by the way is one intense fucking play.

The lead male looked incredibly familiar to me. Oh, yes, exactly, he was in a Cosby episode once, back in 1988 I believe. I was three years old... He played a Vaudeville actor that Cliff took Rudy and her friends to see. These characters exist in my subconscious as real people. I can't decide if that is bad.

Hamlet is on the ballot for tomorrow:
"Hamlet will be better than the other Shakespeare plays we have seen"
--"I don't know there are some crazy interpretations of Hamlet as well"
"How do you know that?"
--"One Cosby episode when Theo and Cockroach were listening to Hamlet on tape"

The affection I have for the Huxtables.

There is a professional looking fella across the street shouting. He's locked out of his house. That sucks, but he's got to shut the hell up.

Goodnight.

I Think She Smokes Pot

2006-02-20T00:38:00.000Z

That was too deep. I know. I was drunk.
But hey, I really did have every Cosby episode on VHS.

I should be writing a paper right now, about Pepys. I think I talked about Pepys already. Say it like Peeeeps. Sure looks like PepEEs to me.

I caught a bus to Oxford on Saturday. Oxford is a great place. Oxford has townies, a la Harrisonburg. However, these are not your average townies. These townies have the most townie experience than any university town in the western hemisphere. During Darren's history tour of Oxford a couple of weeks ago, I saw the walls that surround parts of the University, huge walls. These walls were built in about the 12th century ?...I think, built to protect the students from the crazy medieval townies. If you thought tension was high in your college town, think again. I don't think anyone tries to spear you on horseback when you're quietly reading your book on the Quad. I think 21st century Oxford townies have brought it down a notch, but they are still crazy fuckers.

I got a chicken kebob fully loaded and fell asleep watching Sonny Crockett and his pet alligator on the screen.

This weekend we met some people. They like Americans. Quite a lot, actually, maybe too much. In any case, it's always good when you meet people who know where they stand in the world, behind the United States. Yeah, I said it.

Spring break is approaching soon. You'll be at the beach. I'll be in Italy. I think we'll both be doing damn good.

Ok, I promise Dave Matthews will not be a topic in every fucking clip I write, but this needs some attention.
Saturday it was brought to my attention (no I didn't find out on my own) by my good friend Jason Pritchard that Dave had scheduled a show in London at King's College Union for February 28th. Not much notice. There's a problem with this situation. The Union holds 550 people. My beloved 7 year Warehouse seniority is not going to help me. Warehouse ticketing is only open to members with UK residential billing addresses. Great. So what would you do? A small amount of tickets will go on sale to the public Tuesday morning at 10am. I have a feeling Monday night will be a night on the street. If this seems to be lacking emotion, I am emotionally drained from the thought of not being at the show that is less than a mile away from my current dwellings.
The end.

I'll be back

Cheer-i-o

Cosby and a Banana

2006-02-17T01:54:00.000Z

Well, I watched too much of the Cosby Show when I was little. Ever heard the song Eat Too Much, Ben Folds? He mentions that. Kind of. Too much TV? is the line, but yeah, I watched too much Cosby Show. Everything works out, everything is good for the Huxtables, I mean, to me, it's completely realistic. Is that why I don't understand why things aren't happy all of the time? Bad things happened, but they just worked out. No one needed to fight for it to work out. That's me, Cliff Huxtable and Theo is my boy.

I'm listening to Carbon Leaf. That reminds me of something.

We, well, me, I'm growing up. Too fast? It's inevitable that we grow up. This Summer is the real test. I have an interview on Tuesday. An interview. I remember when I used to sign old voided checks like they were my own, or when I sold pencils in elementary school (made some good dough), or ran a BMX track with my best friend. Fuck man, that was all fun, but what happens when it's serious? Soon, when something goes wrong, when I fuck something up, I'm fucking up my life. That's morbid, I know. But there is no other way for it to be put.

Now the real problem. I've gone a lot, many, live shows in my life, but never Bonnaroo. Something always stands in my way. The first year, too many drugs my mum said. Second year was on graduation day, parents didn't like the idea of me not walking across the stage. Year three, mother fucking summer school, don't ask me about it. And year four, my wallet was completely empty. So what will the outcome be this year? I don't know yet.
A career is becoming serious now. I'm focused as usual. I'm just starting to think of the day that work will prevent me from attending a Dave show. I'm going to need a serious amount of Prozac when that day comes.

All of my troubles may subside if I don't get this job and that is very possible, yet hopefully not too possible... I'm living at the beach and extending my college career a semester. You might say that's one hell of a variance.

Why did Carbon Leaf make me think of this?

Oh yeah, and London, it's great. The week was eventful.
Monday:
I attended a play that was ok. Not good, but ok. Pub.
Tuesday:
There are a couple of times in my life that I've wanted to shoot my self in face...with a slingshot, until I die...and this was one of them. The play was, Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream. I remember one Cosby episode when Theo and Cockroach had to read Hamlet. They got the book on tape. That is, of course, the reason I don’t like Shakespeare today. Well that's beside the point.
Excruciatingly painful night.
Wednesday:
Great day. Except for the 2 hour tube ride back from the London suburbs. The evening brought jazz. Anytime there is jazz I'm having a great time. Ronnie Scott's and the Guy Barker Septet was the headliner. $12 drinks, yet still kick ass time.
Thursday:
Literature, which of course, sucked. I would rather listen to Popozao for four hours than to talk about Pepys. Fuck Pepys. I have to be fair, Pepys is supposedly a big deal, and I hate talking trash about Pepys, but I don't need to know where Pepys went to drink coffee.
I got drunk. The end.

Two McDonald's hamburgers Yes. Finally I went to McDonald's
Two orders of chips from Dionysus.
At least 6 bags of crisps
10 sandwiches
30 beers
6 bananas for breakfast

No Shortbread

Cheers

Red Hair and Another Kebab

2006-02-13T00:35:00.000Z

I choose cheese. There is no substitute for cheese. The end.

Scotland.
I didn't see much red hair. I thought a lot of Scots have red hair, but I must be mistaken. It was rainy, maybe my vision was distorted, but I didn't see the red hair.

Friday brought an early morning and a late night.
A lot of Shortbread
Saturday brought a castle, a palace, and a bottle of scotch. A lot of shortbread. I love scotch. Dan, Ben, and my self polished off a fine bottle of malt before our journey on the streets. While sipping our drinks we watched Who Wants to Be a Millionaire? and Celeberties on Ice. I'm hoping the latter had something to do with the Scotch. Next, we met the girls. This sounds bland, I know, but the climax is approaching.
We smoked a Cuban.
That's it, we smoked a Cuban cigar. Rolled by dirty communist hands. Amazing.

The club had no cover and £1 Jager shots.
I was really diggin' the music. The Baywatch theme remix was the highlight of the night. Or was it the 9 to 5 remix?...
Well, we stumbled home.

A lot of Shortbread.

A half of a pizza

Peanut butter and bananas on a pita.

Yellow water.

What a menu of drunk munchies.
Waking up not so good. A Scottish breakfast is big and I was still drunk.

Sunday brought a 10 o'clock check out and 6 hours of free time. That's a great thing only if sleeping is involved. Dan, Ben, and I walked. I'd say a good 7 miles. A lot of shortbread. And then a train ride home.

I forgot something. I had yet another kebob. Another Lebanese restaurant. The Lebanese are everywhere and I love it.
Great trip I must say.

Another topic:
I'm going to preach again, call me a tool.

I have another request.
Are you familiar with #41? Go to my get file and download the version from the Warehouse 5 album. This is taken from the December 1998 tour, Worcester, Mass. Amazing tour that included openers such as Herbie Hancock, Toots and the Maytals, Agents of Good Roots, The Flecktones. Greg Howard sat in, Opened for the Stones, first European tour, and yes, the year DMB knocked the Titanic soundtrack out of Billboard's #1. Before These Crowded Streets was released. 1998 was the best tour DMB has ever had, yet to be topped. I don't know if it ever can be topped. But this, I believe, is the climax and the greatest version of this song ever recorded. To be honest, when I heard this recording for the first time in 1999, I almost, well, I won't get too graphic. On stage with the band is Bela Fleck and Jeff Coffin from the Flecktones as well as Butch Taylor. If I'm not mistaken, this was the first tour on which Butch was a guest. What I'm saying is, it's raw, it's classic.
The band showcases Bela and Jeff (second solo). A guest who not since my first show in 1996 have I seen with the band. I pray regularly. The clock ticks to 21:10.

It's the pure emotion of this performance that gets me. If you're wondering why I love Dave Matthews Band so intensely, 1998 sums it up. I should really stop. It's not something I talk about very often, but I thought now would be a good time. Listen. Listen good.

I'm a fucking lunatic.

It's 3:11am.

Cheers

I'd Never Dreamed I'd Become Like This

2006-02-10T07:18:00.000Z

Scotland is upon us.
After a long 2 hour nap, I am headed to Scotland. I felt that I should drop a line before I left.

Madison House was up early for waffles cooked by our great resident managers.
Mine were in the shape of hearts...This is getting seriously out of control. God is seriously fucking with me now.

Yesterday I had a small flashback. I thought I saw the islander at the gym. I don't know if it was him, but I avoided the weight room for a little while.

There isn't much to say this early in the morning.
Well, except that I do not like Islamic fascists and Iran is a serious problem. That's about it.

A question to ponder over this weekend:
If you had to give up one, either cheese or oral sex, which would it be? Mind you, this means all cheese. Including brie.

Cheers

Am I Missing Something

2006-02-07T12:02:00.000Z

Again, I think I was hit on by a gay man. I say I think.

Monday night I'm at the gym, just doing some flies when one of the staff members comes up to me. Seemed like a nice gesture, he asked me where I got the arm band for my iPod. The conversation went on...He asked me what if I was on a routine and such. I responded that I played water polo for my school in the states. Ok, everything is fine, he walks away saying "Well if you need any help, I'm here 4-6 everyday". Great brotha.

He returns a set later. "Do you know Tommy?" because it seems logical that I would know every American in London. Tommy is a big guy according to Chris. "Tommy gotten real big since he started...you Americans can get huge...like you, you've got nice legs, big and strong". "And those big shoulders from water polo I guess". I'll let you be the judge.
He stopped short of asking me if it's shower time.

Now,I'll admit it, I have a few qualities that a lot gay men have. I'm a pretty good cook, I watched the whole first season of The OC, I hate insects, I listen to Bjork from time to time, I frequent the J. Crew website. But I don't get off at the sight of guys.
I don't think I give off a gay vibe. At all. I haven't even shaved in 3 days, which for me, is quite a beard.

All I can say is I am the farthest from a gay man as someone can possibly be (not that there's anything wrong with that). Someone send me some Seinfeld DVD's.

I guess I'll have to get used to this, at this rate I'll be hit on by 10 more gay men during my time in London and with a trip to Paris, that number may be severely deflated.

Something good.
A trip to Oxford brought a lot of walking and a serious kebob. There is a picture on Facebook of the most amazing kebob to ever come out of the back of a van. Check it out.

Something bad.
I didn't watch the Superbowl. The Mad House TV sucks. That hasn't happened since about 1995 when the power went out. It was a shitty night and I fell asleep before the game ended, around 3am.

That's about it.

Cheers

Old and New

2006-02-06T18:20:00.000Z

I'm writing a paper. Lame.

I needed inspiration.

I want you to listen to 'Afro Blue' by John Coltrane.
I'm sure that many people do not have this particular version just lying around.
That's not meant to sound pretentious.
Get it from me. Go to my AIM Get File. Download it and listen.
It's a live version from Birdland.
Chill out for 10 minutes and listen.

When you're done with that find the same title covered by Derek Trucks Band.
Just listen.

Great song. Two amazing musicians.
I hadn't listened to the two back-to-back in quite some time.
They're both hot as hell and I'm diggin it again.

When that's all done. Listen to some more Coltrane.

Maybe I'll have something important to say later this evening.

Late Night Sausage and a Large Order of Chips

2006-02-03T02:53:00.000Z

I'm in London. Hopefully in the next three months I'll figure something out that has boggled my mind for years. The United Kingdom includes England, Scotland, Northern Ireland, and Wales, which isn't its own...country? I am not quite sure I understand the situation.

British political science is the first class of the week, 9:30 Monday morning. My professor has a copious amount of hair protruding from the nose. I'm hoping to snap a picture of this soon. What does Dr. Bradshaw think when he looks in the mirror. I would think to buy a trimmer.

Since I made my first trip to the market, I have wanted black beans. Actually ever since Victor showed me how easy it is to make a burrito, I've wanted black beans. I may have found what I'm looking for. Wal-Mart has a UK subsidiary called ASDA. I'm willing to embark on an hour journey for black beans and blue cheese dressing. I can't find that either.

Tuesday morning 8:45:
Sergeant Gareth Dowling of the Metropolitan Police visited Madison House. We all learned something about the tube. He gave us some advice. If a man is touching you inappropriately, very loudly say, 'This man is touching me, tell him to stop touching me' I'll keep that in mind. On a more relevant topic. If you see a lonely back-pack, 'Be American, loud that is, Brits are shy and may not say anything'.

People love the United States. Yes, people do love the United States. The more people I meet, the more it is evident. Side note: I have always disagreed with the idea that someone can be obviously American. I was wrong, the way you walk let's the people know your different. Your shoes solidify the deal. But, people love the United States, you can tell by the smile that they have when they tell you where in the country they have been. I suppose that is a good thing. Shallow and ridiculous it may be, but a good thing.

There is another thing that I have pondered for years, in fact, my whole life. Which side of the sidewalk is the correct side? 'Should I go to the left or right?', that crosses my mind a lot from day to day. I never seem to make the right decision. In America, I decided that the right side is the correct side. That seems obvious, but it never seems to work. I'm a little fucked up now. The Brits drive on the left, stand on the right side of the escalator, but the dividers in the tube entrances make you walk on the left. Yet, people seem to walk down the middle of the sidewalk. Fuck.

Well, I started talking about class. I came to London to get out of the box for a bit. Throw myself a curveball, step away from numbers. I'm beginning to find that I'm not much of a artistic critic and I could never be a playwright. Other than that, things are great. My ego is taking a blow and that's probably a good thing.

Speaking of ego, we visited the Royal Exchange Thursday afternoon. The Royal Exchange is the old house of London's first stock exchange. The trading floor has been converted into a luxury shopping area. The sign reads luxury shopping. Inhabitants include Tiffany, De Beers, Cartier, Prada, and lots of Armani suits with a human filling. I think I live in the Land of Oz. The thought of not being able to afford anything around me does not cross my mind. The thought of being able to one day buy anything I want does. I'm either prepping my self for serious success, or a serious mid-life crisis. I'll take my chances.

Money isn't everything.
I love food.
There is a kebob restaurant on the corner of Tottenham and Oxford, which just happens to be the square that we all seem to pass every night we are drunk. A regular chip is £1.50. In this city, I thought that would be the equivalent to a McDonald's small. Wrong again. This was the largest portion of chips (fries) I have ever received into my custody in my entire life. No hyperbole. Needless to say I ate them all. I'll take a picture next time. Maybe I'll try the large for an extra 40p.
Food. Late night sausages. That sounds derogatory, it's not really. I have a feeling that I'll talk about them more, so I'll leave it at that.

Oxford in the morning.

Cheers

Close Calls

2006-01-30T00:50:00.000Z

Fighting is not my kind of thing. It's not a good time. Let me set the plot.
We were at Walkabout, a church turned club off of Cambridge Circus. After getting over the fact that I just paid the equivalent of a $16 cover charge and $6 for each drink there after, I got drunk enough to forget about the money and have a good time.
2:30: I was dancing with 6 girls of which a parade of random foreign men were staring and attempting to touch in inappropriate ways.

You know, I do not feel like explaining this in detail. There is a large brown man somewhere in London that wants to hurt me. I think he had drunk enough Snakebites to cloud his memory enough to forget my face.

Being the pompous narcissist that I am, I believe that I do not make many mistakes in my daily life. That said, I can proudly admit I should not have started a fight in a foreign country with a 6'4" Islander, I estimate this guy had a good 35 lbs on me. Mistake.

On a lighter note, I was hit on by a French man. At least, I think so, language was a barrier. I made out the line about having a cigarette. After I told him I don't smoke, he smiled and whispered something in my ear. The only thing I could think to do was back up and say 'no' repeatedly. This technique has almost no flaw, except if the man is asking "You don't mind being my bitch tonight?"... In the end, there won't be a Lifetime story on the first straight male to be druged and raped.

Darren came to visit this weekend. He's 'studying about an hour to the west in Oxford'. How do you say that with out sounding ostentatious? If you think of something let me know and I'll relay it to my good friend. If it were me, I would raise my voice so that all can hear, and stick out my chest so that everyone can see my bowtie.
Great times

Week one has passed.
I haven't shaved in 5 days, I look as Arab as ever.
Some pictures are posted on Facebook.

I'm changing this section to 'London Culture'. I think this is more appropriate due to the abundance of foreigners in this city.

London Culture:
Gettin’ Jiggy Wit It is still a hit.
Shots are small.
I think the Indian population is

Britain

's answer to our prized Mexicans.
That explains the abundance of curry and absence of black beans at every grocery store in
this fucking city.

Scotland

has a problem with 11-year-old heroin addicts.

Discrimination, Depression, and Happiness

2006-01-28T02:44:00.000Z

Set the plot.
I'm drunk. It's 2:44 London time, 9:44 in New York.

It's been one week since we all arrived in the city. Homesick. That's terrible.
On the flip side, London is a great, great place.

Yesterday, Thursday, I tried to join the local YMCA on Gt. Russell Street. Apparently it is the world's first Y. Discrimination. Unknown to me at the time, the requirement for full-time student status in the UK is 15 credits. According to an employee staffed at the YMCA membership counter the requirement is 16cr. "I'm an international student from the U.S." That sentence must have been a mistake.
Some might say, does that make you realize what your government is doing to your image?
No.
I'll leave it at that.

I will say, most Londoners are quite nice.
Except those fucking scientologists on Tottenham.

Catamaran to Greenwich in 6 hr. Fuck.

British Culture p.3:
Don't take a bus very far you'll never get to your destination.
"Can I have sex with you?" - French man to female.
Buses don't mind running you over.
Ladies, don't catch a mini cab.
The Welsh don't like the English.
I'm fucking hungry.

Cheeri-o

Vacation?

2006-01-26T02:09:00.000Z

Strange feeling, like a great vacation is about to come to a close.
That is far from the truth.

Classes have started for us in Madison House. It's not yet clear how much the classes will effect our time for the pubs in the evening. I'm sure we will all work it out.

Today, the highlight of the day was a history class outing to the science museum. British science museums seem to be much more exciting than the American equivalent.
There was a game developed around the issue of choosing a baby's sex before it is born. The object was to catch as many sperm as you could, into a pill. You can choose how many boys and girls you wanted. I don't think I played that game when I was in elementary school..

The true highlight of the day was the Lebanese restaurant on Goodge Street. Still doesn't beat Gma's, but I think I'll be a regular.

British Culture p.2:
Although this is probably a rule in the States, never stand on the left side of the escalator stairs.
But shouldn't you stand to the left and walk on the right in Britain? Fuck.
Shoes are called trainers.
I think I'm supposed to bag my own groceries at Tesco.

Cheers

Enter London

2006-01-23T09:07:00.001Z

I am a temporary Londoner. I live in a house with 24 girls. I miss American football. I've slept 8 hours in 72.
That's the situation.

I'm living in central London, specifically the Bloomsbury district within the borough of Camden. Madison House is on the corner of Gower and Chenies streets. That doesn't mean very much if you are not in London, but we are two blocks from a high street (main road) and a 50 minute drunken walk from Piccadilly Circus, the times square of London.

Expensive. I've found that my drinking habit will become extremely expensive during my time in London. A pint for £2.50 may seem like a good deal. But multiply that by 1.75. Tabs of $40 will be fun.

British Culture p. 1
No free refills.
There are three types of water: Tap, Still, Sparkling. Still water is not free...at least £2.
You don't tip. The prices destroy that margin.
'Toilets' not 'Restrooms'.
It's not possible to get separate checks.
Light beer doesn't exist.
Cars have the right-of-way, not pedestrians.
Street blocks don't exist. Roads have absolutely no pattern.
The eggs aren't refrigerated.
'Axe' is 'Lynx'.
Apparently Londoners loved 'Cheers' at some point.

More to come I'm sure.

Cheers.

First Off

2006-01-23T09:07:00.000Z

I figured this is one of the best ways for me to have a written record of my European adventures.
It also allows me to not tell the same story many times over. I'll hopefully post often.

Enjoy.