Wednesday, April 27, 2005

Converted on the Northern Line

You know what I love about London? I love how you can be on your way home from an impromptu weeknight drinking session, and someone on the tube tries to convert you.

Okay, that’s not something that happens often or anything like that and it’s not really specifically London-related, but it did happen last night.

I was on the tube with my good friend Mrs. D chatting drunkenly (and therefore loudly) when the guy sitting next to me turned around and asked me where I was from.

(That’s not as creepy as it sounds – I get asked that a few times a week. Apparently my delightful accent makes people want to talk to me. And oh, it’s delightful.)

So, I say Canada, because it’s true, and he then asks me if I’ve accepted Jesus Christ as my personal saviour. You know, as you do.

Now, clearly, I should have given him the patented “Bitch Stare” and continued talking to Mrs. D. Or, I could have said “yes, I’m totally down with the big JC” and turned away. But I think those of you who know me will know better than that.

Did ignore him?

Oh no.

I obviously say “why, no”, giving him the perfect opportunity to enlighten me on all that I’m missing. Turns out he’s from Florida, and he’s moved to England to be with others of his kind, or something like that. ‘Cause there certainly aren’t any evangelical Christians in Florida. But anyway, in this informal missionary capacity, he apparently likes to chat to people on the tube about the Lord. He didn’t give us his name, so I’ll just have to call him The Believer.

The Believer probably though that we were in need of religion, as we were totally drunk on a Tuesday night, and figured that we’d be easy converts. What with the drunk. But, while I certainly can be talked into almost anything when I’m drunk, changing my personal philosophical and religious beliefs at the suggestion from a stranger isn’t quite so easy.

But I was the least of his worries. I may have been a drunken yet entertained agnostic, but he had a drunken theology-schooled atheist to deal with. And she was far tougher than me.

In the trip between Tottenham Court Road and Tufnell Park we covered whether the Bible is historically accurate, the true nature of faith, general spirituality, the original language in which the Bible was written (to which The Believer's companion kept saying "I am German") and when said writing occured. Mrs D also informed him that "one must always know thoroughly what one means to surmount", which I think just confused him. Too many big words.

It was all very enlightening, and highly entertaining.

Needless to say, the attempted convert failed, we're still hellbound and beyond saving. I'm cool with remaining firmly on the “going to hell” list. But really, all the cool people are going to be down there.

It’ll be a way better party.

Monday, April 18, 2005

Book time!

I have a fabulous and delightful friend who is considering moving to London for a bit. While she will right now remain nameless, due to the fact that this information could accidentally get to her boss and get me in trouble, I think she needs some reading material to help her get prepped for London life.

Any suggestions?

And, don't say Bridget Jones.

Bacon, anyone?

These may be the most awesome things I have ever seen. Gross, yet fabulous. Is there any better combination?

Man, you can always find the coolest stuff at Pop Culture Junkmail.

Anyone want to buy me some?

Monday, April 11, 2005

Things I think about when I’m ill...

What are collard greens? Are they greens that have been prepared in a collard manner? Are they a type of green? Could you have collard carrots?

Thankfully, then internet is there to help me out.

“Collards, also called collard greens, are vegetables that are members of the cabbage family. Because of this, they have a taste that is similar to cabbage and kale. Although collards are related to cabbage, they are also closely associated with the following vegetable types: broccoli, Brussels sprouts and cauliflower. Collards are grown in the southern United States, for example, in Mississippi, and in Europe. An example of a European country that uses collards quite often in their cooking is Portugal. Popular uses for collards throughout the world are to steam, boil, and microwave the vegetable or, to add it to soups and stews. While you can also add collards to cold salads, the collards should be cooked first prior to using them in a salad.”

And there you go. No, you could not have collard carrots. Unless you invented a new type of carrot and named it after yourself and your name was Jim Collard. Then you could have collard carrots. But it wouldn’t be the same.

Isn’t the internet a wonderful thing?

(If you’d like to know how to make “Awesome Collard Greens”, then I recommend you go here. They’re awesome!)

Friday, April 08, 2005

Fashion Avenger

Dear Lady I Stood Behind On The Escalator At Angel Station,

Sweet mother of god.

Do you hate me? Are you out to get me? Are you just angry at the world? Do you not own a mirror? Are you on a mission to alienate the whole world? Do you not feel a little breezy?

Because here’s the thing. You have a massive hole in your jeans. Actually, that’s not true. You have several massive holes in your jeans. Normally, I would not have a problem with this. You’re entitled to wear ripped jeans. I find it refreshingly casual. It’s clearly your look, and you’re making it work.

Or so I thought. I thought you were making it work until I was standing directly behind you on the escalator at Angel tube station. As you well know, the escalator at Angel is a very long, steep, scary one. And normally, I would be reading the adverts along the wall, and trying not to think about how easily I could plummet to my death if even one person faltered and sent us on a domino-like descent. But what was I thinking about on this particular escalator journey?

Your ass.

And why was I thinking about your ass? Because it was right in my face.

Here’s a tip for you. If you wear jeans with a massive hole in the ass, you might want to think about wearing underwear.

Sweet mother of god.

I did not need to know that much about you. I really didn’t.

Seriously. M&S. Just think about it.

Best wishes,


Tuesday, April 05, 2005

Stupid Catchy Songs....

So, I'm sitting at my desk on my lunch break reading a very insightful look into the use of steroids in baseball, and what gets stuck in my head?

Oh, that's right. The same song that gets stuck in my head almost every time I hear a baseball reference.

Well Mr. Burns had done it,
The power plant had won it,
With Roger Clemens clucking all the while,
Mike Scioscia's tragic illness made us smile,
While Wade Boggs lay unconscious on the barroom tile...

We're talkin' softball...
From Maine to San Diego.
Talkin' softball...
Mattingly and Canseco.
Ken Griffey's grotesquely swollen jaw.
Steve Sax and his run-in with the law.
We're talkin' Homer...
Ozzie and the Straw.

We're talkin' softball...
From Maine to San Diego.
Talkin' softball...
Mattingly and Canseco.
Ken Griffey's grotesquely swollen jaw.
Steve Sax and his run-in with the law.
We're talkin' Homer...
Ozzie and the Straw.

Do you know when that episode aired?

20 February, 1992.

That means that that song has been in my head for about thirteen years.

Scary, no?

Fashion Avenger

Dear Lady I Saw On Tottenham Court Road On A Lovely Spring Day,

Oh no. Oh, sweetie. Honey. Darling. Angel. Petal. No. No, no, no, no, no. Just no.

I have to let you know. I winced when I saw you on the street. And you just do not want to be making random strangers wince when they see you. You really don’t.

I think I see what you were aiming for here. You were thinking “Gosh, it’s a lovely spring like day! I think I’ll wear a mini skirt!” And I like that thinking. It’s sassy and springlike. You know what is not sassy and springlike? The horrible mistake just south of your lovely mini skirt.

Your fun green and white striped shirt and khaki skirt combo was quite delightful, and while not quite my personal style, it was a nice look. Preppy, yet cute. Your opaque tights, however? No. Especially not in green. Green. Opaque. Tights. Oooooooh, no. I just don’t think so.

Actually, I take that back. You could have made that work. I think that if you’d gone with a simple and neutral ballet flat or kicky kitten heel it could have been a creative look. But oh, no. You had to be “wacky”, didn’t you? You had to be “outrageous” and “fun”. And so what did you team with your green striped shirt and green tights? Oh, that’s right. Green trainers**. And you know what that is? Too. Much. Green.

I assume that you are not a Crazy All One Colour Lady. Because I could get behind that lady. She’s crazy! And she has a mission! She only wears blue! Or purple! She’s super fun and I support her enthusiasm. Sadly, you are not that lady. You are a lady who thought “hey, it’s all green! That must mean it matches, yes?”

And that is where you made your tragic mistake. Because “green” is not that easy. There are what we call “shades” of colours. And they don’t necessarily go with each other. For example, a purpley-blue does not necessarily match a greeny-blue.

I know this seems complicated. But just trust me. There can be too much of a good thing.

Just try and tone down the all-one-colour, okay? Because if I see this on the street again, I’ll have to give you the dreaded double wince. And do you really want that?I thought not.

Best of luck,


** As I now live in the UK, I will be using the British “trainer” rather than the North American “sneaker”. Please don’t be confused.

Monday, April 04, 2005

The Wedding

On Saturday, two of my most delightful friends got married. I was lucky enough to be a part of their wedding, and a part of their fantastic and magical day.

They’re both so awesome (in fact, they’re both founding members of the League of Awesome) and they’re such a great couple and they love each other so much and it speaks so highly of them both that so many fabulous people gathered together to celebrate their wedding.

I’ve been trying to write something that captures how truly fantastic the entire day was, but I’ve been struggling. Words don’t seem to truly sum up the day. I’d act it out for you in interpretive dance, but sadly that doesn’t work over the internet.

The answer has come to me, though. Two words: Photo. Essay.

Sadly, I took very few photos myself, but I am on a mission. If you have any photos, email them to me. Especially if I look super cute in them.

So, stay tuned and I promise that I’ll get back to y’all soon.

And Clare & Jamie? Guys, that was like one of the best weddings ever.