Thursday, March 25, 2004


It seems like a waste of time, if that's what it's all about

I had so much whiskey last night that I'm up before everyone, drinking PG Tips, digesting a bagel (pales in comparison to the hand-rolled bagels of New Hyde Park), and blogging away. Tea is so good, I don't know why I remain dedicated to the coffee cause. They have a cereal here called Crunchy Nut, and the only other wording on the box says that it's "ludicrously tasty." Oh, those brits have a wacky sense of humo(u)r.

Speaking of off-color senses of humo(u)r, our KJ last night kept making fun of this woman for being pregnant. All right, I'll admit that if I were pregnant, I probably wouldn't go to a pub, with all the second-hand smoke and alcohol, but come on. Marian rocked "Livin' on a Prayer," "Leader of the Pack" (with yours truly), and "Copacobana" with her sister. I brought the house down with my inspired, chair-humping rendition of "Love Bites." One guy at the bar came up to me afterwards to congratulate me. I also did "Anthony's Song (Movin' Out)," but to my chagrin I found out that it's too low for me. The best part about Karaoke in the UK is the shocked and stunned faces of the crowd while they watched us do calisthenics to Amanda's "Eye of the Tiger." We, Marian, Shauna, and I, spent a lot of the night stunned and amazed over how much we love our shitty little serving jobs. I'm not the only one.

You can haggle with anyone here, and Jaime, Marian's boyf, has been fairly expert about it. We got 40 per-cent off dinner and free papadam at Ajwan on Brick Lane, and four pound ninety-nine kebabs with chips and drink at Capitol Kebabs. I want to see if I can haggle for souvenirs. Oh, and the pound is worth two dollars American, so things seem cheap-ish. But they are not. Thankfully, Amanda has insisted that we only eat out once a day. I think that idea's fanTAStic, completely brill.

Almost all of our attempts to be touristy failed yesterday. I still hope that we make it to London Dungeons, Tate Modern, the National Gallery. I also really need insoles for my shoes, but fate mocks me.

In one of many Rape Tunnels, this one being rather well lit seeing as how it's next to Tate Modern, Marian and I got jiggy to one of Jaime's cell-phone rings. I think it was called "New York Experience"--it reminded me of Jay-Z.

Two notes to self: on return home, purchase the new KanYEwest album; on return home, drink only whisk(e)y.

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