This is the most intense seatbelt advert of all time. They show it every time I go to the movies and it scares the poop out of me.
http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=rq9OLd-XtHE
They are pretty hardcore here in Scotland when it comes to wearing your seatbelt.
Later days,
Monday, December 15, 2008
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Finals Week's
It's finals time. Sorry for the lack of posting; but here is an excerpt from an essay I wrote which is kind of amusing.
The state was free to decide how it wanted to view the world and the outcome does not change the fact that the state held a different belief than that of the hegemonic power. Imagine a man who is a devout follower of pantheistic religion. The man dies, goes to heaven, and discovers that not only does a single all-powerful god exist; but He is a spaghetti monster. The existence of the spaghetti monster god does not change the fact that the man was once believed that there wasn’t a single god. The fact that a state which held a non-realist view of international politics is conquered by a hegemonic power does not change the fact that there was a point in time when the two states had differing interpretations and views of international politics. The reality that one state conquered another does not change the fact that two different view points can exist.
Later days,
The state was free to decide how it wanted to view the world and the outcome does not change the fact that the state held a different belief than that of the hegemonic power. Imagine a man who is a devout follower of pantheistic religion. The man dies, goes to heaven, and discovers that not only does a single all-powerful god exist; but He is a spaghetti monster. The existence of the spaghetti monster god does not change the fact that the man was once believed that there wasn’t a single god. The fact that a state which held a non-realist view of international politics is conquered by a hegemonic power does not change the fact that there was a point in time when the two states had differing interpretations and views of international politics. The reality that one state conquered another does not change the fact that two different view points can exist.
Later days,
Friday, December 5, 2008
The English Don't Speak English
Except for those 3 weeks when I spoke in tongues, I have been speaking English for my entire life. I know English when I hear it and English people do not speak English. I would like to share an email with you that I received from my London friend, George. This is the email:
Hello Evan,
Are you coming along to the postgraduate reception this afternoon? My phone is still playing silly buggers annoyingly.
Sincerely,
George
Now, I would like you to read that again, to make sure you read it correctly: My phone is still playing silly buggers annoyingly. What can George possibly mean by that? My phone is still playing silly buggers annoyingly. It is a conundrum. And I would like to solve it. Let’s examine George’s possible meanings:
1. Perhaps this is this some kind of new cell phone game- a version of the timeless snake game remade for the 21nd century? Is Silly Buggers a game where you try to have a silly bugger grow whilst hovering above a fly trap? If so, what’s annoying about it? Is the game broken? Can he not play in a non-annoying way?
2. Maybe ‘Silly Buggers’ is George’s ring tone and he is telling me that there is something wrong and the phone is not playing it correctly or it is playing it correctly, but it is playing it really loudly and that is annoying. But, as I am unfamiliar with a ring tone called ‘silly buggers’, the tone might just as easily be called ‘silly buggers annoyingly’. I have no reason to think otherwise. The phone itself might not be acting in an annoying way at all. It fact, maybe it is doing exactly what it is suppose to do. Maybe he is simply informing me that his phone is still playing the ‘silly buggers annoyingly’ ring tone and he wants me to call him so I can hear it. I bet it makes a buzzing sound when it vibrates.
3. Maybe he means ‘playing’ as a transitive verb and he means ‘to assume the role of’, so in this case, the phone has assumed the role of silly buggers, which, as you can imagine, is quite annoying. I wonder if something like that is covered in the warrantee.
4. Of course, if we are talking about ‘playing’ as a transitive verb he could just as easily be using it as it relates to sport. He might mean ‘playing’ as in an attempt to keep or gain possession or control of, like: no foul was called because he was playing the silly bugger annoyingly. That would make sense because I know George is fond of football (soccer).
5. Speaking of sport, play can also mean to put a bet on. Is his phone playing the races? Could Silly Buggers be a horse’s name? Maybe the phone is playing 50 quid on Silly Buggers to place. Maybe his phone is a compulsive gambler. That would be annoying.
6. Fishing is a sport too. When you hook a fish you might play it to exhaust the hooked fish by allowing said fish to pull on the line. Maybe the phone is doing the same thing to the silly buggers and its annoying because George just wants the phone to reel it in so he can eat.
7. Maybe he is talking about the reception his phone receives. I mean, Sarah Palin’s speeches did not play well with feminist audiences. Maybe Georges’s phone is playing annoyingly to the silly buggers.
8. Is Silly Buggers a place? Maybe his phone is on tour and its going to play Silly Buggers after it plays Sheffield.
9. You can also play one enemy against another. Could George’s phone be trying to use or manipulate silly buggers for its own interest? I can see how a moral person like George would find that sort of action to play annoyingly on his conscience.
10. Now, I don’t want to get carried away here; but do you think it’s possible that George might be using ‘playing’ as an intransitive verb? In this case, maybe George means that his phone is discharging uninterruptedly. Could the phone be discharging silly buggers? What exactly is a bugger? We would need to understand that in order to grasp the issues at hand if his phone is, indeed, discharging them. I asked my staff to do some research and they found the following image on google images when ‘silly bugger’ was entered into the search bar:
Is this a silly bugger? It kinda looks like a cat with its face stuck in a glass. How could cats be discharging uninterruptedly from George's phone.
The English language, in the hands of the English, is indecipherable. It's like Stephen Spielberg and George Lucas doing re-releases of Star Wars. It’s awesome that they came up with something cool; but they should not be allowed to change it once it was made because they will invariably mess it up. I have absolutely no idea what George is talking about. I’m sorry that I couldn’t figure it out; but don’t think that this was a waste of your time. I had a really good time playing with words here, and that’s important too. In fact, my playing around is all that should matter, so don’t you dare think this was a waste of time.
Ps. When my staff was conducting a google image search for silly bugger, the following entry was found on Urban Dictionary:
Silly Buggers
British origin.
Evolving from the term of abuse bugger, meaning a sodomite or irritating person. To play 'silly buggers' is to generally act the fool, lark about, waste time or generally mess things up. As illustrated by English band The Bus Station Loonies song "Playing Silly Buggers" (1995).
"They were too busy playing silly buggers to get the job completed in time".
I suppose this makes this entire post irrelevant. Sorry about that. Maybe this was a waste of time.
Pps. Click here: http://www.sillybuggers.org.uk/
Later days,
Hello Evan,
Are you coming along to the postgraduate reception this afternoon? My phone is still playing silly buggers annoyingly.
Sincerely,
George
Now, I would like you to read that again, to make sure you read it correctly: My phone is still playing silly buggers annoyingly. What can George possibly mean by that? My phone is still playing silly buggers annoyingly. It is a conundrum. And I would like to solve it. Let’s examine George’s possible meanings:
1. Perhaps this is this some kind of new cell phone game- a version of the timeless snake game remade for the 21nd century? Is Silly Buggers a game where you try to have a silly bugger grow whilst hovering above a fly trap? If so, what’s annoying about it? Is the game broken? Can he not play in a non-annoying way?
2. Maybe ‘Silly Buggers’ is George’s ring tone and he is telling me that there is something wrong and the phone is not playing it correctly or it is playing it correctly, but it is playing it really loudly and that is annoying. But, as I am unfamiliar with a ring tone called ‘silly buggers’, the tone might just as easily be called ‘silly buggers annoyingly’. I have no reason to think otherwise. The phone itself might not be acting in an annoying way at all. It fact, maybe it is doing exactly what it is suppose to do. Maybe he is simply informing me that his phone is still playing the ‘silly buggers annoyingly’ ring tone and he wants me to call him so I can hear it. I bet it makes a buzzing sound when it vibrates.
3. Maybe he means ‘playing’ as a transitive verb and he means ‘to assume the role of’, so in this case, the phone has assumed the role of silly buggers, which, as you can imagine, is quite annoying. I wonder if something like that is covered in the warrantee.
4. Of course, if we are talking about ‘playing’ as a transitive verb he could just as easily be using it as it relates to sport. He might mean ‘playing’ as in an attempt to keep or gain possession or control of, like: no foul was called because he was playing the silly bugger annoyingly. That would make sense because I know George is fond of football (soccer).
5. Speaking of sport, play can also mean to put a bet on. Is his phone playing the races? Could Silly Buggers be a horse’s name? Maybe the phone is playing 50 quid on Silly Buggers to place. Maybe his phone is a compulsive gambler. That would be annoying.
6. Fishing is a sport too. When you hook a fish you might play it to exhaust the hooked fish by allowing said fish to pull on the line. Maybe the phone is doing the same thing to the silly buggers and its annoying because George just wants the phone to reel it in so he can eat.
7. Maybe he is talking about the reception his phone receives. I mean, Sarah Palin’s speeches did not play well with feminist audiences. Maybe Georges’s phone is playing annoyingly to the silly buggers.
8. Is Silly Buggers a place? Maybe his phone is on tour and its going to play Silly Buggers after it plays Sheffield.
9. You can also play one enemy against another. Could George’s phone be trying to use or manipulate silly buggers for its own interest? I can see how a moral person like George would find that sort of action to play annoyingly on his conscience.
10. Now, I don’t want to get carried away here; but do you think it’s possible that George might be using ‘playing’ as an intransitive verb? In this case, maybe George means that his phone is discharging uninterruptedly. Could the phone be discharging silly buggers? What exactly is a bugger? We would need to understand that in order to grasp the issues at hand if his phone is, indeed, discharging them. I asked my staff to do some research and they found the following image on google images when ‘silly bugger’ was entered into the search bar:
Is this a silly bugger? It kinda looks like a cat with its face stuck in a glass. How could cats be discharging uninterruptedly from George's phone.
The English language, in the hands of the English, is indecipherable. It's like Stephen Spielberg and George Lucas doing re-releases of Star Wars. It’s awesome that they came up with something cool; but they should not be allowed to change it once it was made because they will invariably mess it up. I have absolutely no idea what George is talking about. I’m sorry that I couldn’t figure it out; but don’t think that this was a waste of your time. I had a really good time playing with words here, and that’s important too. In fact, my playing around is all that should matter, so don’t you dare think this was a waste of time.
Ps. When my staff was conducting a google image search for silly bugger, the following entry was found on Urban Dictionary:
Silly Buggers
British origin.
Evolving from the term of abuse bugger, meaning a sodomite or irritating person. To play 'silly buggers' is to generally act the fool, lark about, waste time or generally mess things up. As illustrated by English band The Bus Station Loonies song "Playing Silly Buggers" (1995).
"They were too busy playing silly buggers to get the job completed in time".
I suppose this makes this entire post irrelevant. Sorry about that. Maybe this was a waste of time.
Pps. Click here: http://www.sillybuggers.org.uk/
Later days,
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Christmas is Cancelled
Hey remember that episode of The Office where Michael’s heart is broken and he tries to take Christmas way from every one? It was all funny and stuff; but no one is laughing now.
(click here if you are unformiliar with this episode or just want to watch it again because The Office is awesome)
Please read the email below:
Risk Management Partners
Christmas Social – 19/21 December 2008
Newcastle
This year we are going to Newcastle.
Accommodation
This has been booked at the Hilton Hotel, Gateshead for the Friday and Saturday nights, with dinner on the Friday night and bed and breakfast on the Saturday and Sunday mornings. Dinner is to be taken informally on the Friday night, when you feel like it. We don’t need to all sit down together.
Saturday
We are off to Newcastle Races. A bus will pick us up at the hotel at 11.00 and take us to the racecourse where we will have a private room overlooking the racing. The format for the day is as follows :
11.30 Bucks Fizz reception
11.45 Buffet lunch
12.10 First race
15.00 Afternoon tea
15.25 Last race
16.30 Bar closes
16.45 Bus takes us back to the hotel
There is a strict dress code at the Premier Enclosure. Guys are requested to wear dress trousers and collared shirts. No denims, trainers, or informal attire is permitted.
There is nothing arranged for the Saturday evening. Once we are back at the hotel, everyone will be left to their own devices. People can go to the various dens of iniquity in Newcastle they so choose.
Costs
As you will be aware, due to the expenses and tax liability implications, the costs have to be considered very carefully. It has been decided that RMP will pick up the dinner and accommodation costs at the Hilton and the package costs for the racecourse. Any travel costs should be claimed back through expenses form.
Yeah, sounds awesome, right? Ok, now read this email:
I took part in Pat Gallagher's monthly Senior Managers conference call on Wednesday which quite frankly was not a pleasant experience. I say that from the point of view that Company results, particularly October's, were a disaster. Pat actually described them as a train wreck !
Given the above, the current economic outlook and the way things are stacking up for 2009 some fairly tough decisions have had to be made regarding expenses claims. With immediate effect the following measures will be introduced ;
1) All airfare travel expenses must be approved by me prior to travel and bookings can only be made through Expedia. Failure to comply with this instruction will result in expenses not being reimbursed.
2) All Christmas Parties are cancelled The Company will not reimburse any expenses for holiday get togethers for employees. This includes lunches, drinks,breakfast ect. Our pre Christmas get together in Newcastle will have to be cancelled and I am genuinely sorry but this is not a situation that allows me to negotiate exemptions for RMP. If you are committed to Christmas entertainment with Brokers or Customers please let me know before going ahead who is involved, likely cost and what the business justification is. At this stage I am not saying that they will have to be cancelled, but I need to be satisfied that there is some justification for going ahead with them. Again without prior clearance I will be unable to authorise payment.
3) Please, absolutely no gifts, gift vouchers and the like to anybody .
That’s right, J. Patrick Gallagher has cancelled Christmas. J. Patrick Gallagher, your heart is like 3 sizes too small. Who’s disappointed? This guy. And it’s the little people who suffer always suffer. Do you have any idea how incredibly drunk I would have gotten at the race tracks? The race tracks are filled with bad memories for me. I did a lot of things down there that I shouldn’t discuss in a family blog. The whole financial crisis is fine until it effects someone you love: namely me. Mine is the sum total of all financial suffering.
Later days,
(click here if you are unformiliar with this episode or just want to watch it again because The Office is awesome)
Please read the email below:
Risk Management Partners
Christmas Social – 19/21 December 2008
Newcastle
This year we are going to Newcastle.
Accommodation
This has been booked at the Hilton Hotel, Gateshead for the Friday and Saturday nights, with dinner on the Friday night and bed and breakfast on the Saturday and Sunday mornings. Dinner is to be taken informally on the Friday night, when you feel like it. We don’t need to all sit down together.
Saturday
We are off to Newcastle Races. A bus will pick us up at the hotel at 11.00 and take us to the racecourse where we will have a private room overlooking the racing. The format for the day is as follows :
11.30 Bucks Fizz reception
11.45 Buffet lunch
12.10 First race
15.00 Afternoon tea
15.25 Last race
16.30 Bar closes
16.45 Bus takes us back to the hotel
There is a strict dress code at the Premier Enclosure. Guys are requested to wear dress trousers and collared shirts. No denims, trainers, or informal attire is permitted.
There is nothing arranged for the Saturday evening. Once we are back at the hotel, everyone will be left to their own devices. People can go to the various dens of iniquity in Newcastle they so choose.
Costs
As you will be aware, due to the expenses and tax liability implications, the costs have to be considered very carefully. It has been decided that RMP will pick up the dinner and accommodation costs at the Hilton and the package costs for the racecourse. Any travel costs should be claimed back through expenses form.
Yeah, sounds awesome, right? Ok, now read this email:
I took part in Pat Gallagher's monthly Senior Managers conference call on Wednesday which quite frankly was not a pleasant experience. I say that from the point of view that Company results, particularly October's, were a disaster. Pat actually described them as a train wreck !
Given the above, the current economic outlook and the way things are stacking up for 2009 some fairly tough decisions have had to be made regarding expenses claims. With immediate effect the following measures will be introduced ;
1) All airfare travel expenses must be approved by me prior to travel and bookings can only be made through Expedia. Failure to comply with this instruction will result in expenses not being reimbursed.
2) All Christmas Parties are cancelled The Company will not reimburse any expenses for holiday get togethers for employees. This includes lunches, drinks,breakfast ect. Our pre Christmas get together in Newcastle will have to be cancelled and I am genuinely sorry but this is not a situation that allows me to negotiate exemptions for RMP. If you are committed to Christmas entertainment with Brokers or Customers please let me know before going ahead who is involved, likely cost and what the business justification is. At this stage I am not saying that they will have to be cancelled, but I need to be satisfied that there is some justification for going ahead with them. Again without prior clearance I will be unable to authorise payment.
3) Please, absolutely no gifts, gift vouchers and the like to anybody .
That’s right, J. Patrick Gallagher has cancelled Christmas. J. Patrick Gallagher, your heart is like 3 sizes too small. Who’s disappointed? This guy. And it’s the little people who suffer always suffer. Do you have any idea how incredibly drunk I would have gotten at the race tracks? The race tracks are filled with bad memories for me. I did a lot of things down there that I shouldn’t discuss in a family blog. The whole financial crisis is fine until it effects someone you love: namely me. Mine is the sum total of all financial suffering.
Later days,
Sunday, November 30, 2008
12.30 - 13.00 Mission Beach USA
The following description, which I swear I am not making up, is for a TV show that airs every two weeks on BBC 2:
Youth reality-tv
Eight British teenagers tackle sun, sea and survival in the real life O.C. Eight UK teenagers arrive in
Everything that you inferred from description is correct: 8 people, who are either 16 or 17-years-old, come to the ‘real life O.C.’ to do the San Diego Junior Guards summer camp. It’s a little sad, really.
Later days,
Thursday, November 27, 2008
The Wee Scotsman
I have come a long way in understanding the Scottish language. When I first got here, I was completely and utterly clueless. I was like Alicia Silverstone in that one movie where she was without a clue. Now, I am like Reese Witherspoon in that movie where she was legally blonde: I am sassy and fully of spunk ready to take on the world and converse with people on their level.
I have had the ultimate test. Yesterday I was sitting on a bench when I saw a wee Scotsmen. ‘Wee’, for those of you who don’t know, is a word that the Scottish like a lot. It means small or short; but they say it all the time and it is used in a strange context. For example, when I went to have an interview for my national insurance number, the man asked me if I wouldn’t mind taking a wee seat while I waited for my appointment. I asked if he wouldn’t mind my taking a regular seat, my arse being rather rotund, and he just gave me a funny look. Although I am pretty sure he was checking out my backside when I walked away, you can see how ‘wee’ is an often utilised word.
Anyway, all of this wee talk has been to explain what I mean when I say that I met a wee Scotsman. What I mean is that I met a Scottish midget. I was sitting, minding my own business, when I saw a tiny little man in a kilt walk by. It turns out he wasn’t actually wearing a kilt, he just had his shirt untucked, but he was still clearly of Scottish ancestry. He was even ginger.* So, this ginger midget sat down next to me and started talking to me. Now not only did he have a high pitched squeaky midget voice, much like that of Andy Rooney**, but he also had a Scottish accent, much like that of the woman who does my dry-cleaning. And guess what? I totally understood him like! Yeah, I’m getting pretty good at the whole Scottish thing.
I think that I am ready for what will surly be one of the greatest challenges of my life. When I get back in the US I am going to watch Trainspotting – without subtitles. I know, it is a lofty goal indeed; but I think I’m up to it.
*Yes, Britta, I met a Scottish ginger midget: are you happy now? The world is so cruel.
** yes, I mean Andy and not Mickey Rooney. Do not question my analogies.
Later days,
I have had the ultimate test. Yesterday I was sitting on a bench when I saw a wee Scotsmen. ‘Wee’, for those of you who don’t know, is a word that the Scottish like a lot. It means small or short; but they say it all the time and it is used in a strange context. For example, when I went to have an interview for my national insurance number, the man asked me if I wouldn’t mind taking a wee seat while I waited for my appointment. I asked if he wouldn’t mind my taking a regular seat, my arse being rather rotund, and he just gave me a funny look. Although I am pretty sure he was checking out my backside when I walked away, you can see how ‘wee’ is an often utilised word.
Anyway, all of this wee talk has been to explain what I mean when I say that I met a wee Scotsman. What I mean is that I met a Scottish midget. I was sitting, minding my own business, when I saw a tiny little man in a kilt walk by. It turns out he wasn’t actually wearing a kilt, he just had his shirt untucked, but he was still clearly of Scottish ancestry. He was even ginger.* So, this ginger midget sat down next to me and started talking to me. Now not only did he have a high pitched squeaky midget voice, much like that of Andy Rooney**, but he also had a Scottish accent, much like that of the woman who does my dry-cleaning. And guess what? I totally understood him like! Yeah, I’m getting pretty good at the whole Scottish thing.
I think that I am ready for what will surly be one of the greatest challenges of my life. When I get back in the US I am going to watch Trainspotting – without subtitles. I know, it is a lofty goal indeed; but I think I’m up to it.
*Yes, Britta, I met a Scottish ginger midget: are you happy now? The world is so cruel.
** yes, I mean Andy and not Mickey Rooney. Do not question my analogies.
Later days,
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
The Lord of the Tubes (London, Part II)
I would like to start off by saying I have already written these words. Well, not these words- these are new- but the words that follow are old. I wrote them yesterday and then I left for class and my computer ate them and now I have to re-write them. Computers suck.
Ok, so, obviously when I got to London it was too late to do anything except to walk briskly down the street to my hotel. As I walked, I kept looking over my shoulder out of fear that a cloaken man would mistake me for a prostitute, which happens to me more often than I would like, and slit my throat and do horrible things to my internal organs; as my readings about London have lead me to believe happen there. Thankfully, I made it to my hotel without being accosted, molested or murdered; but I was repeatedly asked for spare change.
When I arrived at the hotel, the door was locked. I rang the buzzer and a tiny Arab man answered the door. I told him that I had a reservation and he looked puzzled. I got the impression that they do not get many guests and I felt horrible for being such an imposition on the staff. I should explain that there were two factors that influenced my decision to stay in this hotel. First, I wanted a place that was close to the British Museum because I’m a nerd and second, because my company was only paying for the other nights and this place was inexpensive and I’m a cheap.
As I walked to my room through the concentric concrete corridors I couldn’t help but notice the dripping sound of water as it leaked from the exposed piping and onto the uncarpeted floor. Above my head the halogen lights made a hissing sound and turned on and off sporadically as I progressed to my bedroom. I don’t want you to think that I am a racist so I won’t tell you that I was terrified I would be grabbed from behind, dragged into a room, gagged and subjected to testicular electrocution. I won’t mention any of that because I don’t want you to thank any less of me.
I arrived in my room and it was about the same size and had the same aroma as an elephant’s rectum. It even had a small black and white TV, which research as shown, is often to be found in the anus of larger mammals. Because of my long journey from Glasgow, I only had to stay in the room for a few hours so I curled up into a small ball and went to sleep. At least the room was warm.
The next day I went to the British Museum and for those of you who don’t know I have wanted to go there since I was like 10-years-old. I love Egyptology and remember reading books when I was in elementary school and all of the photo credits were from the British Museum. I spent about 5 and a half hours there and it was fantastic. I even saw this cool print on the wall of the cafeteria and thought, ‘hey is that an Albrecht Dürer?’ and I was like totally right. Now anyone that knows anything about art history can tell you that identifying an Albrecht Dürer print is about as impressive as reading a poem and saying, ‘hey, I bet Dr. Seuss wrote this’ but shut up, I felt really cool and smart.
I left the museum and arrived at the hotel my company had arranged for me and it was pretty much the nicest place I have ever been. It was absolutely awesome. My room was so grand I could have easily set up an entire croquet course if I had only remembered by wickets. They are always the things I forget to pack. The room was so awesome that I felt unworthy of being in side it; so I thought I should take a shower. I walked into the epic bathroom, which was so cool I would not at all be surprised if it had inspired ballads, and saw what was surely the single most amazing shower to have ever doused a person with water. Seriously, this shower looked like the one from Flashdance. Thank God I did remember to pack my high heels and my folding metal chair. Needless to say, I had enjoyed good nights in the hotel room.
On my first day I woke up early to get ready. I took a flashdance-like shower and went to get dressed. Now, remember in my last entry when I said I stooped at TK Maxx to get a dress shirt? Well if you don’t, I did and if you do then you’re an awesome reader. When I got my shirt I had a bit of a problem because, you see, they have different sizes in the UK than they do anywhere else in the world. I have purchased clothes in the US and in Germany; but never in the UK and I had no idea what size I would be. I was trying to choose between the arbitrary size 15 and the capricious size 16 and decided to go with the larger size thinking that it would be better to have a shirt that was a little too big than once that was too small. This proved to be an error in judgement. The 16 fit me like a moo-moo; honestly, I looked like Rosanne Bar but with a better hair cut. I thought, ‘ok, I’ll be fine once I put on my coat and my tie no one will be able to notice’; but the coat and tie did not help the situation. Not only did I have to fold up the cuffs to keep them from falling over my hands, my tie looked like a necklace that dangled around my nipples. Yeah, I was a model of professionalism: a true businessboy. I guess it served my right for buying a dress-shirt.
On the final day of the meetings they kept me there a little but too long and I really had to dash if I wanted to make my train. Here is the rundown, I left my office at 5:25 and my train left at 6:08. It was possible for any person with normal intelligence to make the train, but was it possible for me? By this time, I am sure you all know the answer to that question. Remember, I’m retarded.
Now, what I should have done was taken a taxi to Euston station and then causally strolled into the station and walked onto the train like Dagny Taggart. But what I decided that the prudent thing to do was to walk to the train station around the corner, take that train to the train station across the street from Euston, walk to Euston, find which platform the train was leaving from and miss the train by 4 minutes. That’s right. I got there at 6:15. Now, intellectually, I know that I should not have been any more upset about missing the train by four minutes than I should have been if I had missed the train by forty-five minutes; but I am not always a particularly cerebral person. I was pretty upset about missing the train by four lousy minutes although, I should say that looking back on it, it might not have been the four minutes I was late that made me so upset as it was the five and a half hours I would need to wait to get on the next train. Yeah, actually that was really what it was: the 5.5 hour wait that was so aggravating.
But, I made the best of it. I ate at this great English delicatessen called ‘the Olde Burger King’ and sucked down chai teas like, well, like how Julia Roberts just plain sucks. I staked out a really nice couch and just read for what seemed like hours upon end. I didn’t even notice that by about 10:00pm Euston train station becomes really sketchy. At about 10:45 some guy who looked about my age interrupted my reading marathon asked if he could sit next to me and I said I didn’t mind. He told me that he had done about 3 laps around the train station trying to find someone to sit next to who didn’t look like they would rob and/or molest him. I told him that I was glad he sat next to me because I had been watching him and seductively put my hand on his thigh whist making my sexy, come hither, face. It was the beginning of a good friendship.
The guy is called ‘Charlie’ in the real world; but ‘charlieissocoollike’ in the youtube world. It turns out that charlieissocoollike is the most popular person on youtube.* I never really thought about the people who post videos on youtube, I sort of figured they got there magically and that when I needed them they were there for all of my procrastination needs. Apparently there is a ‘youtube community’ of ‘people’ who ‘vblog’ about their ‘lives’ and charlieissocoollike, having over 95,000 subscribers, is their God. Honestly, it was a little lost on me. I can’t imagine recoding videos about my life and wanting people to watch them, that would be like writing everything down – and – posting it on a website – and expecting people to read it – but even worse because no one likes to read - I think I might need to re-examine my ‘life’ now. Hum.
Charlieissocoollike and I had a fun talk before I got on my train I left for Glasgow. I totally slept the whole way. It was amazing and in the end, it took longer to go from that London train station to Glasgow than it did to fly from LAX to Heathrow. Yeah, that’s not depressing.
If you are bored enough to read my blog, you should check out Charlie’s youtube page:http://uk.youtube.com/user/charlieissocoollike The song that he just put up, in the absence of Christmas, is actually reall really cool.
* Charlieissocoollike has corrected me: he is actually only the third most popular person of all time on youtube. He is behind panacea81 and a person ahead of BBCWorldwide.
Later days,
Ok, so, obviously when I got to London it was too late to do anything except to walk briskly down the street to my hotel. As I walked, I kept looking over my shoulder out of fear that a cloaken man would mistake me for a prostitute, which happens to me more often than I would like, and slit my throat and do horrible things to my internal organs; as my readings about London have lead me to believe happen there. Thankfully, I made it to my hotel without being accosted, molested or murdered; but I was repeatedly asked for spare change.
When I arrived at the hotel, the door was locked. I rang the buzzer and a tiny Arab man answered the door. I told him that I had a reservation and he looked puzzled. I got the impression that they do not get many guests and I felt horrible for being such an imposition on the staff. I should explain that there were two factors that influenced my decision to stay in this hotel. First, I wanted a place that was close to the British Museum because I’m a nerd and second, because my company was only paying for the other nights and this place was inexpensive and I’m a cheap.
As I walked to my room through the concentric concrete corridors I couldn’t help but notice the dripping sound of water as it leaked from the exposed piping and onto the uncarpeted floor. Above my head the halogen lights made a hissing sound and turned on and off sporadically as I progressed to my bedroom. I don’t want you to think that I am a racist so I won’t tell you that I was terrified I would be grabbed from behind, dragged into a room, gagged and subjected to testicular electrocution. I won’t mention any of that because I don’t want you to thank any less of me.
I arrived in my room and it was about the same size and had the same aroma as an elephant’s rectum. It even had a small black and white TV, which research as shown, is often to be found in the anus of larger mammals. Because of my long journey from Glasgow, I only had to stay in the room for a few hours so I curled up into a small ball and went to sleep. At least the room was warm.
The next day I went to the British Museum and for those of you who don’t know I have wanted to go there since I was like 10-years-old. I love Egyptology and remember reading books when I was in elementary school and all of the photo credits were from the British Museum. I spent about 5 and a half hours there and it was fantastic. I even saw this cool print on the wall of the cafeteria and thought, ‘hey is that an Albrecht Dürer?’ and I was like totally right. Now anyone that knows anything about art history can tell you that identifying an Albrecht Dürer print is about as impressive as reading a poem and saying, ‘hey, I bet Dr. Seuss wrote this’ but shut up, I felt really cool and smart.
I left the museum and arrived at the hotel my company had arranged for me and it was pretty much the nicest place I have ever been. It was absolutely awesome. My room was so grand I could have easily set up an entire croquet course if I had only remembered by wickets. They are always the things I forget to pack. The room was so awesome that I felt unworthy of being in side it; so I thought I should take a shower. I walked into the epic bathroom, which was so cool I would not at all be surprised if it had inspired ballads, and saw what was surely the single most amazing shower to have ever doused a person with water. Seriously, this shower looked like the one from Flashdance. Thank God I did remember to pack my high heels and my folding metal chair. Needless to say, I had enjoyed good nights in the hotel room.
On my first day I woke up early to get ready. I took a flashdance-like shower and went to get dressed. Now, remember in my last entry when I said I stooped at TK Maxx to get a dress shirt? Well if you don’t, I did and if you do then you’re an awesome reader. When I got my shirt I had a bit of a problem because, you see, they have different sizes in the UK than they do anywhere else in the world. I have purchased clothes in the US and in Germany; but never in the UK and I had no idea what size I would be. I was trying to choose between the arbitrary size 15 and the capricious size 16 and decided to go with the larger size thinking that it would be better to have a shirt that was a little too big than once that was too small. This proved to be an error in judgement. The 16 fit me like a moo-moo; honestly, I looked like Rosanne Bar but with a better hair cut. I thought, ‘ok, I’ll be fine once I put on my coat and my tie no one will be able to notice’; but the coat and tie did not help the situation. Not only did I have to fold up the cuffs to keep them from falling over my hands, my tie looked like a necklace that dangled around my nipples. Yeah, I was a model of professionalism: a true businessboy. I guess it served my right for buying a dress-shirt.
On the final day of the meetings they kept me there a little but too long and I really had to dash if I wanted to make my train. Here is the rundown, I left my office at 5:25 and my train left at 6:08. It was possible for any person with normal intelligence to make the train, but was it possible for me? By this time, I am sure you all know the answer to that question. Remember, I’m retarded.
Now, what I should have done was taken a taxi to Euston station and then causally strolled into the station and walked onto the train like Dagny Taggart. But what I decided that the prudent thing to do was to walk to the train station around the corner, take that train to the train station across the street from Euston, walk to Euston, find which platform the train was leaving from and miss the train by 4 minutes. That’s right. I got there at 6:15. Now, intellectually, I know that I should not have been any more upset about missing the train by four minutes than I should have been if I had missed the train by forty-five minutes; but I am not always a particularly cerebral person. I was pretty upset about missing the train by four lousy minutes although, I should say that looking back on it, it might not have been the four minutes I was late that made me so upset as it was the five and a half hours I would need to wait to get on the next train. Yeah, actually that was really what it was: the 5.5 hour wait that was so aggravating.
But, I made the best of it. I ate at this great English delicatessen called ‘the Olde Burger King’ and sucked down chai teas like, well, like how Julia Roberts just plain sucks. I staked out a really nice couch and just read for what seemed like hours upon end. I didn’t even notice that by about 10:00pm Euston train station becomes really sketchy. At about 10:45 some guy who looked about my age interrupted my reading marathon asked if he could sit next to me and I said I didn’t mind. He told me that he had done about 3 laps around the train station trying to find someone to sit next to who didn’t look like they would rob and/or molest him. I told him that I was glad he sat next to me because I had been watching him and seductively put my hand on his thigh whist making my sexy, come hither, face. It was the beginning of a good friendship.
The guy is called ‘Charlie’ in the real world; but ‘charlieissocoollike’ in the youtube world. It turns out that charlieissocoollike is the most popular person on youtube.* I never really thought about the people who post videos on youtube, I sort of figured they got there magically and that when I needed them they were there for all of my procrastination needs. Apparently there is a ‘youtube community’ of ‘people’ who ‘vblog’ about their ‘lives’ and charlieissocoollike, having over 95,000 subscribers, is their God. Honestly, it was a little lost on me. I can’t imagine recoding videos about my life and wanting people to watch them, that would be like writing everything down – and – posting it on a website – and expecting people to read it – but even worse because no one likes to read - I think I might need to re-examine my ‘life’ now. Hum.
Charlieissocoollike and I had a fun talk before I got on my train I left for Glasgow. I totally slept the whole way. It was amazing and in the end, it took longer to go from that London train station to Glasgow than it did to fly from LAX to Heathrow. Yeah, that’s not depressing.
If you are bored enough to read my blog, you should check out Charlie’s youtube page:http://uk.youtube.com/user/charlieissocoollike The song that he just put up, in the absence of Christmas, is actually reall really cool.
* Charlieissocoollike has corrected me: he is actually only the third most popular person of all time on youtube. He is behind panacea81 and a person ahead of BBCWorldwide.
Later days,
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