Market Quest

Even though my blog is named “I’m with Ed” I really don’t talk about my beloved lover very much. I am currently living in his home country (England), even though he is in mine (USA by way of NYC). I’m still looking for him here though. Maybe I’m hoping to run into his old school mates and such, I really don’t know, I’m just keeping my eyes open for him and/or any other gorgeous English man here.

One of my quests for Ed was in preparation of a BBQ. My parents decided to have a BBQ today. It is late September and was a beautiful, sunny, and warm weekend in London. Soon we will be facing sundown at 4pm, so we made hay while the sun shined, or whatever that phrase is. And yes, I’m really that cool that I hang out with my parents and have BBQ’s with their friends. Whatever, I love me some BBQ and I love boozing with Americans….so it's all good. So to prepare for this Sunday's BBQ, my dad and I went to the grocery store yesterday and today to get ready. Side note, we don’t have a car since we live in London, so we took the trolley, aka a pull cart and three reusable bags for both trips. Honestly, the trolley was totally filled with booze both times, but the trek home (uphill) is rough, but I'm willing to make the sacrifice for tons o' booze at a BBQ. So after a few trips to the market, I've learned a few things: one, old hippie ladies still think it’s okay not to shave their legs. OMG this lady’s legs were like men’s legs. It was pretty damn sick. I mean, I’m down with the hippies. Hell, I went to a hippie school as a child. I’ll hug trees, compost my biodegradable waste and eat tofu any day, but to not shave your legs is going too far. It just gives hippies a bad rep. It's way worse for their reps than orgies and psychedelic drugs were. Uhh....it's just makes me mad. The next thing I learned was much more glorious and came in the form of a plastic container:

Yes, my friends, I've found bottled wine in plastic, portable carrying devices. This was almost as good as when I found the 2 litre plastic bottle of Strongbow. This was a good day for me. Anything in plastic is sweet because my clumsy ass can't break it and I can bring this shit to a football game or any other sort of outdoor drinking activity.....pretty much anything that happens in my life. I'll leave you with that beautiful picture. Just soak it up. Enjoy it. Live it and love it. If you need one of these bad boys, drop me a line and I'll get you one for about 5 pounds, with of course 10 pounds charge that goes straight into my pocket.

Thank you and good night.

Bars, Clubs & Gays

Well, I just wanted to throw down another post before I left for the rest of week. I'm heading to Romsey, a place in the English countryside. I'm not looking forward to this because I love London and there's plenty to do here, why would I go to the country? What makes this even worse is that we will be traveling with our two dogs. This requires taking them on the tube & then the train, so this should be pretty interesting. Either they will need to be sedated, or I will. I'm going with my mom to meet up with one of her friends. Since I'm on such a role for posting, I'll hit y'all with an old school one from back a few weeks ago when my crew came to visit. (haha, my crew, shit I'm cooliolio).

Ok, so things I've learned about British men and European men in general: they are ready to hook up. I don't know if it's because we are American and they think we are on vacation and therefore, anything goes or just because they are more up front with their sexuality then their American counterpart. Either way, it's awesome for me!

One bar has really been a gold mine for me is a special little place called O'Neills. I've mentioned this place before, but just in case you just started reading this blog (haha, I know, as well as you do, that no one new has started to read, but for my ego let's keep on pretending) When I say this bar is a  little place, I mean a four story pub-like bar. I've been there 3 times and each time I've succesfully made out with a dude. First time, a Polack and/or Russian, I can't say for sure. Second time (my greatest conquest as of yet) was a English dude from Birmingham. He was an American history teacher and absolutely precious. With British people being so up-to-date on world affairs and other shit like that, and with this dude being a teacher of American history, he honestly knew more about my country than I did....a bit embarrassing, but after a few pints, I sure didn't care. The third time at O'Neills included an Irish guy in the British Army. His name was Patrick and his friends called him Paddy. An Irishman named Paddy, trust me, I did NOT let him live this one down. I don't think they thought it was that funny, but I sure as shit got a kick out of it!

Ok, well the "Birmingham trip" to O'Neills was filled with my ladies & gent: C, R & D. Two of these peeps also had a nice little make out sesh. I will not reveal who it was to protect their safety and reputation because I honestly think that they were minors and I'm not quite clear on the British laws of statutory rape, but let's just say it was good that only making out occurred because I honestly don't have that type of money to be bailing people out of the clink. But to say the least, the evening was amazing. It was spent on the patio deck upstairs (aka smokers area) and the music hall where it was forgivenly dark and played live music. Perfect place to make out. I actually think they seriously designed it just for that! There were plenty of dark corners....I mean, it's great!

During my friends trip here, we went to another bar called G-A-Y.

I'm not sure if you picked up what type of bar it was by the name, but yes, it was a gay bar located in Soho. At first we couldn't get in because it was members only. This "members only" business sadly happens a lot in London and I'm really not sure why. Maybe to keep the crazies out, maybe just to seem more exclusive, but I have never, in my 24 years of living, seen a members only gay bar, well at least not in America. We decided to pass on the lame members only gay bar and find another gay bar until D found an extremely gay boy walking back towards this bar. D worked his magic with the boy and got us into G-A-Y! We danced our hearts out to random songs that have never made it Stateside aa well as many good ol' American classics. Someone out of the group picked up a straight British Army guy. Apparently they were all out partying before being shipped off the Afghan, as they called it. The gay bar was hot, sweaty and had dudes giving handjobs in the booths, so pretty much everything you could ask for out of a gay bar. The only thing that made me seriously sad was the disgusting restrooms. They were co-ed, which is fine because it's all gay dudes anyways, but the stench was horrible. I also did not wash my hands because they would have been cleaner if I had pissed all over my hands rather then wash them at the sink....uhh....not cool. I mean, I thought gay men were known for their cleanliness. I was disapointed that it was so unclean as well as the gays not living up to their stereotype. If gay men start to not live up to their stereotypes, what will we do with the minorities and the Muslims? It will flip my world on it's head and I will flip the fuck out....I really can't deal with this right now.

Well, I'm off to the country and you won't hear from me for a couple days, not that that is a big surprise, as we all know, I'm not really into "regular" posting. So fuck off! 

Hugs and kisses for all!

I knew I never liked Canadians....

Sorry, to my three readers for being so delayed in posting. As you know, I've been busy entertaining you in London. Also, getting any sort of motivation is really quite tough, but here we are! Another month, another post. I'll try and keep up on my strict regimen of one post per month. I have so much to post about, I'm actually going to keep it relatively simple and post about my evening last night. Don't worry C, R & D your posts will be coming soon! And that was "posts" plural. I have two sweet posts in mind, maybe even three if I'm feeling drunk another night!

Ok, so last night I met up with a friend of C's who now lives in London. We went over to her classmates flat in Camden. Here's some background, Camden is a very funky, hip and young part of London. During the day it's a huge street market with a ton of shopping where you can find anything from Lebanese food to tattoo parlors to a store selling just tights and leggings. At night, all of those booths closes down and the night life there is great. Whatever, this is boring, I'm boring myself. The best part of the night out in Camden was at the flat we were pre-partying at. The girl had an English flatmate. When he came home he grabbed a beer and went to watch tv. I was talking to someone and from the living room I heard the familiar words of "Ahh...you're an organ donor". This just reassured my love of the English. This dude was watching Superbad, we were kindred spirits. It just made me smile for the rest of the night. Ok, that was random and didn't really have a good ending point, sooo on to the bar. 

We went to a great bar in Camden that is called Proud. It is a bar that is converted old horse stalls. Great place, been there a lot. There's live music, huge dance floor, awesome bars in the horse stalls and a ginormous patio. Win, win, win, win. Once we got inside, we headed outside relatively soon since it was about 100 degrees Fahrenheit inside and the British don't really believe in air conditioning. The patio, is my fav part of the bar because it's cool outside and I can smoke. Well, it was a group of 8 of us girls. I was talking to the friend I came with and another girl, from Canada...uhhh.....gross. I already didn't like her, not that I do snap judgement or anything. Fuck that, we ALL judge too quickly, but once you say your Canadian, everything else you say after that is Chinese to me. Since there is a smoking ban in England and pretty much everywhere else in the world, except maybe Kuwait, man I should look into moving there. But about 90% of the population still smokes in England, and the patio is usually filled with drunk smokers: my type of people. Since I appeared to be the only one in our group who smoked, I asked politely if anyone minded if I smoked even though the open-air patio pretty much resembled the back of a car after hot boxing a huge blunt. I was just asking to be courteous, because I'm one of those "nice" smokers who care about other non-smokers. After I asked if everyone was ok with my smoking, this Canadian loser said "As long as you don't blow it in my direction". Ohhh mannn, I was about to drop kick her face. I don't say "hate" much, but this bitch had to go. Then she proceeded to talk about how smoking is so bad for you and your lungs. Wait, hold up, smoking is bad for you? I'm confused? Even baffled. There is not one shred of scientifical research that proves this theory. No one has ever told me this. I just thought that all the smoking warnings on the cigarette packs were lies. 

I'm just SO fucking glad she was there to tell me that smoking was bad for my health. As soon as I heard these words, I put out my cigarette, threw away my pack and decided never to touch those cancer sticks again. Ya the fuck right. Even with all of her impressive facts and figures, I'm still here and I'm still smoking so she can suck it, especially when I die a young death because of lung cancer and she lives to be an old lady with no fun stories of when she was younger. Hey man, live fast, die young. Whatever, I'm over that Canadian whore. I knew I never liked Canadians, I just never had a really good reason. It was just something I felt in my bones that told me they were bad, bad people. I mean, do they really consider themselves a state? All they have are weird accents when they say stuff like "Hello" or "I hate myself for being born here". Alright, I'm moving on past the state just North of the greatest country ever made in the world! 

After a night out with "normal" people. And when I say "normal" I mean, not my friends and people who don't know about my excessive habits of drinking and smoking. What I have learned from these normal people is that I apparently do drink a lot. I mean, I've always known I've had a proficiency for drinking, but this was just sad. I started the evening with 1/2 a bottle of wine with my mom at dinner, then I was pounding Presseco at the flat pre-party and then bought another bottle of wine (and shared) at Proud then proceeded to have 3 more Bud Ice's. Even the self-proclaimed "drinker" of the group rejected going to the bar again with me, saying "I think I've had enough". What the fuck type of "drinker" says they've had too much.....this made me sad. That's all I can say about it. Apparently I need to make British friends ASAP so I can at least be challenged with a good ol' binge drinking sesh, because these Americans are just pathetic. Sorry guys, America needs to step up their drinking....well, at least these bitches need to!