Sexy Music

Oi, oi, oi bruvs! That's cockney, duh! I had an AWESOME day in London. I'm not lonely anymore, I'm honestly just thinking about how I can stay here longer (preferably not living under my parents roof) but whateves. I'm planning a 10 day trip with my 3 besties, I'm out and about with family friends and I went to the pub today and chugged 2 pints of Strong-b in a matter of minutes...my day is going great bitches! But I would like to go back to an earlier day in age, sometime around last Friday....when I went to go see "Coco Avant Chanel". That's French for "Coco Before Chanel". I've learned French while living in Europe. I'm so fucking cosmopolitan it's crazy! So I went in the afternoon, because that's when all the other losers who see movies by themselves go, but usually I'm surrounding by some couples, random peeps and the occasional single person (thank G), who I love because then I'm not the only single person in the movie theatre, not that it really matters because it's dark and I'll never see these loser again. So while I was waiting for Coco Avant Chanel to start, I realized I was in a theatre FILLED with old ladies. I mean old ladies, like on their death bed ladies. The best part was, the song that was playing when I walked in was "I'll Make Love to You" by Boys II Men...ahahaha. That's enough to make my day and keep me laughing for a while, but the next song that came on was, and remember this is for an "old ladies" movie, the song that came on, just to get us in the mood for the movie was 50 cent "Candy Shop".....so you can just imagine how awesome that was! I just imagined myself watching sex scenes with my g-ma....it was AWKWARD. Then the movie started, then things were cool.

Then today I went to Kensington to meet up with a family friend, who has become a serious friend, who just happens to be older. No, this is not a sexual love affair with an older lady, God, I wish, but this is a 50-something lady who is friends with me mum, but also someone who has become a great friend. We went to Whole Foods. Yes, I've vowed not to go to US chains while I'm here, but I'm meeting up with a friend, what can I say? FUCK NO, I don't want to go to Whole Foods?! I mean, this sweet lady has been paying for my lunches, so I go to freakin' Whole Foods. I mean, I've always liked Whole Foods, Central Market, any organic food market, but this was sick. So cool. The food court was amazing. As a serious/official connoisseur of food, I can tell you that this place rocked! They had separate stations for sandwiches, salads, pizza, sushi, fucking burritos, soups and for perfect gentleman. Oh wait, after burritos in London, they might as well fucking had a station for fucking perfect males.....I mean shit. I'm in love with Whole Foods, like I never was before. I've never even heard of Central Market after this shit, even though it's a proud family owned, Texas grocery store, but this shit is just not seen in this capacity in America. After my food orgasm at WF, I went about to look at the grocery section of the 3 level store. Sadly, no, they did not have my fav sonoma chicken salad, as they do in America, they had some shit brown salad that looked like turds, but it was great none the less. Sex on the salad bar....good stuff......

Ok, well after that I went to Topshop and such, but do we really need to talk about Topshop after food orgasms? Well, actually, I do bitches! Topshop was heaven. Absolute heaven. Gorgeous clothes, fabulous shoes and even more sweeter, awesomer shoes. If you haven't noticed, the shoes were AWESOME! I'm going to marry the "shoe studio" in Topshop. Too many gorgeous shoes to talk about.....I even went to TK Maxx: uhhh... gross, but I found some good shit.....surprisingly....didn't buy anything thing, but I will honestly think about going back....maybe.....ok never....no ways in God's green (for the moment, soon to be black & dead) earth! But Topshop saved my life, as well as another H&M...I think this was #78 of the H&M's in London, but they still all hold a very special place in my heart. After the eating, orgasming, clothing & shoe shopping, I decided it was very well time to get back to my neck of the woods, Hampstead, and get thyself to a library. I've read 3 books in 5 days, so I needed to refuel. After a delay in the Circle line and missing the tube on the Northern line (again, I'm just trying to show how cool I am) I decided after I got my book, it was well good time to grab a pint. I can only get a pint by myself with a book or a newspaper, since I went to the lib, I was good to go for the pint(s). I went to my standby pub King William IV, right off of the Highstreet. I grabbed a Strong-b...wow, what a surprise. I forgot to tip the cute pub boy so downed my first pint and went to grab another. I think he was seriously impressed when I got another and tipped him heavily, hoping for sexual favors laters.......none of this matters because I came home, buzzed, with no love, no pub boy and just a hunger for pretzels. That was my day. It was good, but as usual, it ended in buzzed/drunkeness/sexual longing and food....such is life.....

Diversity Day

So, I was just outside, smoking a cigg and I heard my neighbor talking on the phone in some foreign language. I'm thinking some Eastern European language, Korean or Swahili. I'm guessing it was a solid Farsi. That's the cool thing about London, it really is so diverse. Over 300 languages are spoken here, and I have a super bad ear, so anything from Cockney to Spanish sounds pretty much the same to me. But, back to diversity. Living in Dallas the past 6 years has closed my mind, and my tolerance just a bit, so it's cool living in a city where there are over 300 languages spoken on any given day, but it's NOT cool when they are your next door neighbor and they are plotting to assassinate you, your family and maybe the entire population of London. I mean, that's a full on massacre that would devastate the UK, and maybe Europe. I think the rest of the world would be okay, because, hey, the US is in good shape. We survived 9/11 and we do not tolerate terrorists and their scary languages! These colors don't run!

Strong-b gloriousness

'Nough said...

Sick. And this might get racist....

Uhhh...no, I'm not talking about the sick things in London. The sick B.O. smell that permeates everywhere, the sickness of not using the blessed thing called "ice" or the way people bump into you like you don't exist. I'm fucking sick. I believe it's from making out with the Russian/Polack. I should have learned my lesson when I got very sick from another person I made out with. Last time I got sick, it was with mono. I hooked up with a carrier, he never had it, but he carried it like goddamn carrier pigeon, like fucking Hedwig would've carried a parchment to Harry P. That shit put me out of work for 2.5 weeks and I wanted to kill myself. Only because I couldn't smoke or drink, otherwise I love skipping work, I'm all for it. So now, since I don't have my mom, or anyone else, to take care of me while I'm sick, I've got my trusty, steadfast Strongbow to get me through the tough times, the sick times, all the time. It is always there to comfort me.

On to a day-to-day subject now, I walk my 2 dogs everyday. Around the same, long, up hill block. Well, they've been doing construction on the Victorian sewage drains, whateves. There are tons of construction workers outside of my flat everyday and everyday I walk my dogs. And can I say, I've never been more happy to have 2 dogs. These construction workers are gorgeous. Yesterday, one muttered, quite loudly something in Cockney, which of course, is a foreign language, but I gathered it was something referring to my ass. Or that could just be because I'm really sensitive and self-conscience about my derriere. But unlike in America, where most construction workers are Mexican, yelling at you in God knows what language, well I guess that would be Spanish, but that's neither here nor there, but you know it's something lewd and sure as shit doesn't sound as good as the lovely British/Cockney accents that my fair London construction workers have. Oh, and some are Irish, because as they say, God stood on England, bent over and shat out Ireland....ahaha...man, that gets me every time! God shat out Ireland....nothing against Colin Firth, he's gorgeous, but I love how British people actually think that about Irish people, kind of like how Americans think that about Mexicans....woops, did I go too far there?! I'm just speaking the truth y'all....the honest truth.

So peace out, Shalom, Namaste and I'll catch you on the flip side, and NO, I still haven't found Ed....I'll keep my eyes peeled, man I hate that expression.

O'Neills

Well, it's already August, that means my three besties will be visiting me at the end of this month! I'm totes excited. We are in the planning stages and I just can't wait. I will blog a ton about those days they are here. Probably after they are gone, but don't worry all 3 of you reading this blog (the hookers who are visiting me on this trip) will be well informed of what we did for 10 days! But now, to this past weekend. 

Man was it crazy. Friday night was the first night on my own, aka I got wasted. Alone. I'm cool with that, it's what I do when I'm bored and alone. You may think it's sad, but I just think it's great entertainment. I had a great night. I made a delicious dinner, drank my body's weight in Strongbow, smoked 2 packs, fine, 3 packs of Marlboro's and passed out at 2am. It was almost, ALMOST like I went out to bars with friends, almost. I slept until 2pm (14:00 on a 24 hour clock) on Saturday. I was supposed to meet up with my friend E to go to a triathlon...whatever that is. But, I passed on that train wreck and meet up with them laters at a pub. And OMG were there some beautiful British men there watching a football match. I almost went up to a group of them and declared my love for them, but I resisted and stayed with my friends, drinking Strong-b's.

Our next stop was a restaurant off of the Angel tube stop on the Northern line (no one cares, I'm just trying to show off my awesome knowledge of the London underground) the restaurant was called Cuba Libre, just like a Cuban restaurant in Dallas. Good food, but on to the better stuff. Next, we went to O'Neills in Soho. It's a huge pub, but it's filled with tourists and has a cover, which I usually have a very strict policy about, but I'm with new friends, I can't be picky like I normally would with real friends. So I paid 8 pounds to get into this pub, but it was worth it! Had a few more Strong-b's.....at this point I was double fisting, and this is when, what I like to call a "bar miracle" happened. 

This phrase was coined back in high school when we went to bars in LA, but in O'Neills, I had my 2 pints, which are difficult to hold while pushing through a group of foreigners, but if I screamed "pardon me" people would see my 2 pints, realize the magic of double fisting and the seas would part like I was freakin' Moses. It was awesome! One thing I can say for London, is that people respect their pints, especially when a lady (term used loosely) is handling 2! It was complete magic. After a few more double fisting rounds at the bar, it was time to smoke. 

I'd been good and holding out since I had to walk up 3 flights of stairs to get to the damn smoking patio, I mean are we in Europe, fuck! I feel like I'm in shitting Oregon! But, I headed upstairs to the patio, at this point I found this gorgeous British man. I was ready to ask him to marry me when HE followed ME, not the reverse, back down the 3 flights of the pub trying to chat with me. I was in love. I would say I have some standards, kind of, but the British men work their spells on me so well they could be Quasimodo and I wouldn't care, but my group was leaving. We actually came back and this large Russian, maybe Polish man, forced me to dance with him, I couldn't help myself and I made out with him. I could barely understand what he was saying to me, but the language of love transcends all countries, languages and dialects, just like math, it's the universal language. Well, Gabor, that's his name, who I couldn't understand, not even his name until he typed it into my mobile. Yep, I'm using the word mobile because I've been in London for 2 weeks and it's time to admit it, I'm English, so I might as well use my county's language. Oh and also, I got the Russian/Polack's number. Woohoo! Score for me. Not really.

As I was talking with a foreigner (American) remember, I'm British now! He was telling me how weak their cocktails were here and I remembered my greatest invention in England: the quad-vod. Let me explain myself, British single shots are the same amount as American 1/2 shots. So to get a double vodka soda in England is like getting a regular vodka soda in America. Being the college girl in Oxford, trying to get drunk as quickly as possible, I came up with the greatest invention in England, quadruple shots of vodka in a cocktail...aka double vodka cocktail...aka Quad Vod. They never really understand this whenever I ordered it, so the quad vod quickly became the double vodka soda with a double shot on the side. Once they gave me the drink and the shot, I promptly poured the shot into the cocktail and gave the bartender a disgusted look and as loudly as possible said, "Now this is how you make a drink bitches!" and walked away to the dance floor. Someone's got to show these hookers who's boss! Damn, I'm just trying to watch out for all y'all American whores who wanna get drunk here...soo...you're welcome! Shalom and goodnight.