Monday, September 25, 2006

Well this just got waaaaaay more interesting.

Yeeee-haw! I have finally figured out how to work YouTube and you lucky people can only benefit from this revelation. Some of you may remember this post from waaaaaaaaay back in April detailing what happens when Jason and I get all jacked up on a scary movie at 1:00 am. Well now you can see the action as it unfolded. I had no idea Jason was filming this. I thought he was just positioning the camera for a photo once I got in.



Now, here I am getting back out. Please note our cat George staring at me like "Great-googly-moogly. This is my MOTHER? This lady? The one who just folded her body into a box all giggly and stupid sounding? Great. I'm doomed"

A cat with discriminating tastes

What did we learn recently? That our kitty cat George LOVES roquefort cheese. In case you aren't a foodie or aren't married to a foodie, here's a definition of roquefort from answers.com:



[ROHK-fuhrt] - A trademark for a soft cheese made from sheep's milk and ripened in caves near Roquefort, France.

Answers.com also proclaims it to be the king of cheeses and even says that it has been enjoyed since Roman times and was a favorite of Charlemagne.

Next thing we know, he'll be requesting a 1993 Opus One in his water bowl and Chopin on the iPod dock.

Friday, September 22, 2006

The whos? The Hoobs.

At the gym this morning, I got on an elliptical in a different area than normal ('Cause some skank was on my regular one. Don't she know?) and was therefore subjected to a different TV screen than normal. Even though I listen to my iPod, I'm generally looking at the TVs because, let's face it, what else is there to look at at 6:00 am? I was chugging along and all the sudden these muppet-like creatures pop up on the screen with what appear to be two stainless steel mixing bowls hinged together for heads and two ping-pong balls for eyes. Now I can only assume they were part of some music segment on the show because they were doing all these crazy early 90's dances like the running man and the cabbage patch. I think I now know who to blame for the ridiculous London fashion trend where virtually grown women dress like 80's/90's club rats. Stupid off-the-shoulder tees down to their knees strapped at the hips with glittery belts. Positively wretched gold sequin stretchy headbands with matching gold sequin sneakers in broad daylight. Heinous neon stretchy mini skirts with leggings. (Related topic: Check out my updated "I'm Wearing" section in the sidebar) The Hoobs. Blast you. This was a bit much to take in at 6:00 am.

From the website:


THE MOTORETTES
TOOTLE, TWANG AND TIMP
sassy, sparky, musical creatures
operate the engine of the Hoobmobile
keep the engine room clean and polished
enjoy playing on all the instruments
love singing most of all
can sing in any style from reggae to close harmony
punctuate the Hoobs' questions with their own responses
sing to help the Hoobs when they are thinking
spring to life when the ignition key is turned
Tootle blows
Twang strums
Timp bangs
the Hoobmobile is in action!

Hell yeah Tootle blows.

Thursday, September 21, 2006

I'm so mad that...

...I'm staying indoors lest I kill or at the very least seriously injure another human being. Many of you are aware that I was supposed to start my Italian class today. I was so excited and bought a brand new pink notebook and got my back-to-school outfit all picked out last night and then I spent my entire morning trekking to the Macbeth Center in Hammersmith completely and utterly in vain. And if a single one of you comments that Hammersmith isn't far from Fulham, I will indeed leave the confines of this flat and kill or seriously injure you. It took almost an entire hour to go roughly 6 kilometers because traffic was so horrendous and I ended up having to get off the bus and walk the rest of the way to the school.

When I arrive and ask which classroom Italian 1.1 is in, a lovely lady directs me to room 3. I enter and the two students who are already there are speaking perfectly fluent Italian with the instructor. Cue me almost start to cry because "Oh holy hell what have I gotten myself into and isn't this freaking class supposed to be for total beginners and why are these crazy ladies STILL speaking Italian and good lord Jesus the instructor is asking me stuff in Italian and I have no clue what he's saying so maybe if I sit really really still and don't make eye contact he'll forget I'm here." I finally speak up and say something terribly clever like "Umm, this isn't Italian 1.1 is it?" Everyone goes "Oh my God you poor thing! No wonder you looked so frightened!"

Back out to the reception desk I go to ask where the 1.1 class is and I get blank stares from not one but two incredibly helpful people. Finally one of them says something besides "Oh, er, umm, durrr, ahhh, hmmmm?" which sounded like "There isn't a 1.1 class today." but I knew that couldn't be what they really said because of course there's a 1.1 class today. I mean they certainly took my money for it and confirmed the day and time right on the phone with me just last week. I told them as much. Now, imagine if you will the following reply in the most falsely posh, annoying British accent you've ever heard: "Oh deah (dear)! Theah's (there's) been a terrible errah (error) I'm afraid!"

I'm starting to punch the keys very hard on the computer right about now so I should stop here. Suffice it to say the borough of Hammersmith and Fulham took my money for a class that doesn't exist this term and has blantantly told me that it will take several weeks to give it back to me because "it gets all tied up in the system you see". I'm going now so I can punch a wall or a pillow or something. Probably the pillow. I actually have lovely, delicate "piano-player" hands (so I've been told my whole life) and I don't want to F them up.

AND, I'm NOT proofreading this so there's prolly a LOT of mistakes and I don't give a rat's bum. Mio Dio.

No boys allowed!

Yoga class was interesting yesterday. Some observations/thoughts:

1. We had a new instructor. Apparently the one we had the first two weeks was a fill-in. I liked that one better.
2. Aforementioned new instructor kicked my hiney. She's not messin' around with form and technique and stuff...
3. Only my third class and I can already do downward dog with my heels flat on the mat!! This is a major accomplishment for me because I was so totally not even remotely flexible before starting.
4. I need my own mat because the ones in the studio smell stinky. I learned this because we had to spend an extended amount of time in the plank position while working on our breathing and core muscle engagement. Peeeee-yew!
5. I am currently accepting offers to purchase said mat for me. I want the Agoy mat from Sweaty Betty in hot pink with the matching bag.
6. There was a dude in class. Eww. I don't like boys in yoga class. And wouldn't you know it, he rolled out his mat right behind mine. Perv. And he had REALLY hairy legs and arms. Gross.

Wednesday, September 20, 2006

Geek Chic


All you geek lovin' ladies check out the updated "I'm Crushing" column. Yummy.

Tag! I'm it!

I've been tagged again by tagger extroidanaire, A Novelist. Here goes!

Inside my purse:


Prada sunglasses and case
Smythson's 2006/2007 diary
Smythson's A-Z (every real Londoner carries around an A-Z street index but only the silly girly Londoners carry pink leather ones)
PaperChase small-ish leather note book
Packet of Sniffs (super cute tissues)
Advil
Pink Nokia mobile
Stila powder compact
Pen bearing the logo of S&R Communications Group (my old job)
Boots cuticle oil
Clinique black honey lipstain
Starbucks gum tin containing Dentyne Tango gum
Tums
A random hair clippie
A random pony-tail holder
Black Coach wallet
Discount coupon for the movie theatre
Book - Watermelon by Marian Keyes
Keys on my "h" keychain
Emilio Pucci card holder containing my gym card, Oyster card (for tube and buses), Boots points card, and Blockbuster card
A photocopied map of Fulham for use in showing estate agents EXACTLY where we're willing to move
Movie ticket to You, Me, and Dupree

Inside my wallet:


£7.22 in coin
Debit card
Drycleaner ticket
Nando's stamp card

You may be asking yourself how in the name of God I fit all that stuff in a regular old Coach Soho hobo bag. Here's proof. I'm an expert packer.

Sunday, September 17, 2006

Adventures with Cheddar and Vegemite

Well, a rather exciting weekend has come and almost gone and there's much to report. So here it is, the good, the bad, and the ugly. In reverse cronological order...

Today:


The summer opening of Buckingham Palace is nearly over and I decided that this was the summer to do it since there's all sorts of extra stuff on display because it's the Queen's 80th Birthday celebration year. And by extra stuff, I basically mean a bunch of priceless emeralds, sapphires and diamonds on display and a huge collection of many of the dresses the Queen has worn for significant ocassions over the years of her reign. Doubtless, this was gripping stuff for Jason. He was a real sport though and pandered to my girly side and totally acted like he was interested. "Ohhhhh, chiffon, you say? I thought maybe that was tulle..." "Yes, the embroidery certainly IS exquisite on that satin and velvet ballgown." "Hmmmm, yes Heather, that most definitely is an interesting use of brocade..." Perhaps I exaggerate. But only a little.

Last night:


We went with Monique, Murray, and Murray's niece Lorraine to Pulcinella's (the best Italian food in all of London me thinks) for dinner before heading to the theatre to catch a play called "The Vegemite Tales". You may have guessed that it centers on Australian characters. More specifically, it's about five Australians and an Italian living in a London flat. It was absolutely hilarious, crass, crude, rude and even a little touching. A very different sort of play and in a very intimate theatre. The only problem was that I had a hard time understanding the accents at times. Nonetheless, very entertaining and well worth the ticket price.

Yesterday (Yes, this is long but I promise it's entertaining):
Yesterday's story actually begins on Friday in a roundabout way but the big action took place yesterday so therefore, it stays filed under "yesterday". Friday morning, after I returned from the gym, I settled in with my Starbucks and grape jelly toast to commence with my routine internet-ing only to find out that the internet wasn't working. Strange. "Oh well", I thought to myself. "Probably just a temporary service glitch. I'll just try back later and see if it's up." Later came and went, and I saw a BT truck parked on the street outside our building and thought that they must be here to fix it. So I went on with my day and before I knew it, it was Saturday morning.

(Well, not exactly before I knew it I guess. I knew it because George and Elwin were flipping out and running all over the place and hissing and meowing all freaking night. Which is completely out of character for them as they usually snooze with us all night. We will find out later that this is an integral part of the story and should not be in parenthases.)

And still no internet. Well, no trouble now because Jason's here and he can fix anything. So Super-Sleuth Sanger gets on the job and finally discovers the problem. A wire has been chewed completely in half. (You all know where this is going don't you?) My first thought was that Elwin was at it again. Our cat Elwin has a taste for electrical cords and has eaten through countless phone chargers. But then the cogs of my brain start turning. "The wire was BEHIND the sofa. Where Elwin can't get at it." And then the proverbial shit hit the proverbial fan when Jason says "Are those..." "OH MY GOD I'M GOING TO VOMIT THAT'S MOUSE CRAP AND I AM TOTALLY GOING TO VOMIT AND DID I MENTION THE VOMITING THAT'S ABOUT TO COMMENCE??????!!!!!" I calmly reply.

But what can we do right now right? So we call the landlord and tell him we need an exterminator and go on about getting ready to go out for lunch. And so it begins...

I'm in the bedroom, digging in my drawer for knickers and I hear Elwin freaking out over by the laundry hamper (which is where they were freaking out all night) and I turn around to yell at him to calm down and THERE. IT IS. A mouse crawling down the sleeve of a rogue shirt that's hanging out of the hamper. Again, I calmly inform Jason of the situation by running into the living room and saying something like "OH MY GOD IT'S THE RAT I SEE THE RAT THE RAT IS IN THE HAMPER AND OH MY GOD KILL IT PLEASE KILL IT BEFORE I TOTALLY LOSE IT AND START SCREAMING AND I'M CHECKING INTO THE KENSINGTON HILTON RIGHT THIS SECOND!!!!!"

So off he goes into the bedroom, armed with nothing but a copy of "The Joy of Cooking" and a wicker waste basket. And out he comes about 15 minutes later with the laundry hamper lid clamped over the waste basket. Again, I use my inside voice to nicely request that he please "TAKE THAT FILTHY THING OUTSIDE THIS INSTANT BEFORE I PUKE!!!!!!" He tells me how little it is and that it's actually really cute and that if I looked at him, I probably wouldn't be scared of him anymore. To which I reply, "ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR STINKING MIND I DON'T WANT TO SEE THAT DISGUSTING VERMIN AND MAKE FRIENDS WITH HIM AND ASK HIM TO STAY FOR TEA AND SCONES I WANT HIM DEAD DEAD DEAD!!!!!!" He still tries to convince me that he's cute and tells me that he was wearing a little jacket he fashioned out of one of my socks and had a thimble with a rubber band around his head for a little hat. I told him that I didn't care if he was wearing this season Dolce & Gabbana, I was NOT making nice with him.

Well, Jason was already emotionally invested and couldn't kill him so he set off down Dawes Road, waste basket and laundry hamper lid still firmly clamped together, and dropped him off in a water grate about a kilometer down the street. Meanwhile, I'm convinced the little rodent (whom we now refer to as "Cheddar") heard me say all those nasty things about him and is on his way back here to even the score. So I'm sleeping with one eye open for a while. Well, more accurately, I'm drugging myself with enough Tylenol Simply Sleep to knock out a horse just so I can get to sleep. We were joking at dinner last night that I was going to wake up and find Jason peeking out through the blinds, looking up at the moon and singing "Somewhere out there, beneath the pale moon liiiiiiight. Someone's thinking of you and loving you toniiiight..."

Here's how Jason thinks of our visitor:



I say it looked more like this:


Friday, September 15, 2006

I got schooled.

I learned a lot yesterday. Too much for one day really.

1. I learned that I should wear my hair straight and accessorize with simple diamond stud earrings if I'm going out in a knee-length skirt and tall boots because with my hair natural and wavy and silver hoop earrings, that get-up makes me look a little bit like a hooker.


"Hey there Big Boy. You lookin' for some entertainment? Well, you'd better hope I tell jokes because I ain't no hooker! Hookers don't wear corduroy!"

2. I learned that, small and insignificant though I may seem, I have the power to affect the weather for the entire city of London. Or at least the boroughs of Fulham, Chelsea, and Putney. It was supposed to rain all day yesterday. So I removed my massive sunglasses case (see exhibit A) from my bag and replaced it with an umbrella (see exhibit B). This singular action caused the sun to blaze away and blind me everytime I turned a corner and the rain to never fall.


exhibit A



exhibit B


3. I learned that people who run around commanding others to "Smile!" or "Cheer up!" are total buttwipes. I was on my way back from a meeting that I was supposed to have yesterday at the school where I'm going to be volunteering this year. I walked about 25 minutes there, only to find out that there was "a bit of a mix up" and the person I was supposed to meet with wasn't there. Awesome. But of course, I had to put on a happy face and tell them it was no trouble at all and I'd be delighted to come back another day. I was on my way back from the school, having dropped the "smiley happy volunteer face", and just seconds after I watched my bus whiz by before I got to the stop, a UPS guy says to me "Cheer up there, love!" OH! Well, if you say so! Thank you soooooo much sir! Had you not been here to so helpfully remind me to cheer up, I might have walked around all day being annoyed for totally legitimate reasons! I don't know what I would have done without you!!!! I'm just so thrilled that there are people like you in the world who are having awesome days where everything is all puppy dogs and rainbows and ice cream cones to remind the rest of us that we should be in great moods too! Oh, and did I mention that I hope you trip on that loose brick in the sidewalk and totally eat it in front of a whole double decker busload of people??

4. I learned that if you see something in a store that you need, BUY IT THEN. Don't wait. We found a bunch of black frames in a shop on Putney High Street but decided not to get them then, that I'd come back for them. I went by yesterday to buy out their entire stock and found that someone, or more likely, several different someones also needed black frames and had beat me to it.

5. I learned that everything in numbers 3 and 4 can be wiped out with a merino sweater vest from Gap, an icy cold Diet Coke, and watching a toddler totally not get the functionality of a straw. Sooooo cute - she had a straw in her juice bottle but once she got down to about the last third of the juice, she kept trying to drink through the straw but at the same time, was tipping the bottle back like she was drinking straight from it instead. Therefore, poor thing was trying her best to get some juice through that straw, all the while the juice was pouring down the front of her sweater.

6. I learned that Talladega Nights ranks in my list of Top 5 funniest movies list. "I'll come at you like a spider monkey! I'm all jacked up on Mountain Dew!"

Thursday, September 14, 2006

Chakalaka me!

Today was by far the most difficult day so far for getting up at the arse-crack of dawn to go work out. Last night, we went out for a really nice dinner at a local South African restaurant called Chakalaka with some friends of ours from Zimbabwe. And while we had a great time, we didn't get home till after 11:30 so we were struggling bigtime at 5:45 this morning. But back to last night... The best part of the meal was dessert. We had these traditional South African desserts called Dom Pedros that are basically ice cream with a liquor of your choice mixed in and chocolate sprinkled on top. They were sooooooooo yummy!



Thanks again for inviting us out for your birthday celebration Ashleigh!

Wednesday, September 13, 2006

Tagged again...

Time once again to learn more about me than you ever wanted to know! I've been tagged by A Novelist whose blog I'm still reading but can't post comments to for some reason and who's still reading my blog but she can't post comments to for some reason.

1. Three things that scare me:
Tornados
House fire
Large crowds

2. Three people that make me laugh
Jason
Vince Vaughn
Jack Black

3. Three things I hate the most
Catty girls
The leggings trend
Smoking

4. Three things I don't understand
How people can be rude to random strangers
Racism
People who litter

5. Three things I'm doing right now
Blogging (obviously)
Eating toast with grape jelly
Half-watching Frasier

6. Three things I want to do before I die
Go to a Red Sox game at Fenway
Go back to Italy after I'm fluent in Italian
Own a Hermes bag (Call me shallow. I don't care.)

7. Three things I can do
Bake
Take good photos (sometimes)
Make people laugh

8. Three ways to describe my personality
Fiercly loyal
Feisty (which can come across as bitchy)
Passionate (about my beliefs)

9. Three things I can't do
Draw
Play an instrument
Cook (at least not well...)

10. Three things I think you should listen to
A band/musician you've never heard of
The ocean
Your heart (Cripes. Even I'M gagging. But it's true.)

11. Three things you should never listen to
The Pussycat Dolls
Fox News
Movie critics

12. Three things I'd like to learn
Italian
To play piano
How to ignore annoying people

13. Three favourite foods
Pad Khing
French Fries
Bojangle's Cajun Filet Biscuit

14. Three beverages I drink regularly
Coffee
Diet Coke
Water

15. Three shows I watched as a kid
The Cosby Show
Family Ties
ALF

Hello Lover...


Geez Louise. Just when I had convinced everyone that I didn't even WANT an iPod Nano by being all smug and saying things like "I mean, they only come in black and white! How passe. Why would I want that when I've got my wicked cute pink Mini?" or "Good Lord, the biggest one you can get is 4GB. Why would I want that when my Mini costs less and is 6GB??"... Now Apple comes out with THIS. The new Nano. In colors! And with up to 8GB storage! I have such a love/hate relationship with Apple. Bastards. Oh God, I didn't mean it. I love you. I'll never say it again. I promise. Just don't leave me. Please?

Monday, September 11, 2006

Snakes on a Plane!

Last night at about 9:00, Jason and I were on our local cinema's website and we noticed that what looked to be the final showing of Snakes on a Plane was on in half an hour. So we made a snap decision, bedtime be damned, to get out there and see this thing like it's meant to be seen. (Sorry Monique! It was an emergency viewing - now or never...) What did we think of it?

Atrocious script. Laughable plot. Horrible acting. Ridiculous editing mistakes. Horrendous CGI effects. Basically? IT WAS TOTALLY AWESOME! I mean, there were SNAKES! On the freaking PLANE! And they were angry! How could this possibly go wrong!?!

Some highlights:
*The first two bites were a lady's breast (as she was joining the mile high club) and a dude's junk (as he was peeing).
*A snake bit a fat lady's eye out.
*A lady goes for her air sickness bag and out comes a snake and bites her face off.
*A guy throws a socialite's purse dog - a chiuaua - to a snake to keep himself from getting bit.
*A few minutes later, a huge boa constrictor wraps around him and then fits the guy's whole head in its mouth.
*Samuel L. Jackson at one point asks a flight attendant for forks and knives to use as weapons and she pulls out a spork and says that's all they're allowed to have on board now. Get it?!? SPORKS on a plane!!!


Does anyone know the anti-venom for this one?!? I think its country of origin is The Republic of Banana.

Sunday, September 10, 2006

A Sunday to die for

1. Lunch at my most favorite-est pub, the Fulham Mitre. The chicken BLT is to die for.


2. Carolina Panthers season opener against Atlanta. Football is to die for.


3. Napping. My boys are to die for.


4. Finally, my country catches on to Entourage. Adrian Grenier is to die for.


Today might be the best day of my life.

Oh what a feeling! We're dancing on the ceiling!


Last night, we did something so incredibly British that I think they were actually dolling out the coveted "burgundy passports" to anyone who wanted one. They figure that if you're there, you deserve one because you've completed your patriotic duty. We lugged an M&S picnic to Hyde Park for the final night of the BBC Proms 2006. For those of you who may not know what this is/means, I'll 'splain. Every summer in July through September, there is a series of classical music concerts every night at Royal Albert Hall called the BBC Proms. This "festival" concludes with a massive celebration in Royal parks all over the UK and there's live entertainment at each individual venue before everyone links up live to the Royal Albert Hall (they show it on huge screens in the parks) for the finale which is a sing-along of traditional British anthems including Land of Hope and Glory (to the tune of "Pomp and Circumstance" - yes, the graduation song), Danny Boy, Rule Britannia!, and of course, the National Anthem (more on this later). During all this singing and merry-making, everyone is waving Great Britian and England flags. Including me. Yep, we infiltrated this most British of all British society events and got away with it by singing "Rule Britannia! Britannia rule the waves! Britons never never never shall be slaves!" at the top of our lungs and flailing about with a Union Jack flag.

Here's Jason with our £45 bottle of cheap champagne.


And me with my Union Jack flag. (No I was not stoned.)


And us...


And Jason with our pharaphenalia. Yes, I made him put a strawberry in his mouth.



Now for the funny bits. First of all, you may be asking yourself why the title of this post is a Lionel Richie song. Guess who was the headliner for the live entertainment portion of this most British of all British society events? Lionel Richie. An American. And when his set was over and the presenter said it was time to go live to the Royal Albert Hall, roughly 40,000 Londoners booed and booed and booed and demanded an encore. From the American. Are you getting this? Tap tap tap. Is this thing on? From the AMERICAN. As an aside, I got to hear the words "We're going to party, karamu, fiesta, forever" and "Yeah, Jambo Jumbo!" sung live, straight from the lyrical genius himself. Jealous much?

And the absolute funniest part of the evening was when this drunk Scottish dude showed up by himself, double fisting beers and stood a few feet behind our blanket. While the presenter was talking to fill time before going live to RAH, drunk Scottish dude started heckling him! If you're easily offended, you should probably skip this part. He kept yelling "Shut up and get on with it you stupid fucking Irish twat!" Then, when the chorus of school children came on to lead everyone in singing Danny Boy, he yelled "Shut up and let us sing it you stupid fucking twats!" He was quite fond of the word twat. He must have yelled it 15 times. But the funniest of all the things he said was when he was ringing up all his mates and saying "Turn on the fucking BBC 1 mate! I'm on the fucking telly!" Poor drunk Scottish dude thought that standing in the middle of 40,000 people in Hyde Park he was on tv. Jason and I were laughing so hard that our faces hurt. After that, the fireworks finale paled in comparison. All in all, an absolutely loverly evening.



Now, before I go... an observation. My American friends out there probably remember this little tune they made us all sing at Thanksgiving in kindergarten:

My country, ’tis of thee,
Sweet land of liberty,
Of thee I sing;
Land where my fathers died,
Land of the pilgrims’ pride,
From every mountainside,
Let freedom ring!

Now, maybe I am totally ignorant for not knowing this but that was totally ripped off of the British national anthem! Now, since Great Britain was obviously around long before the United States, I can only come to the conclusion that the Pilgrims thought this was a catchy little ditty and decided to change the lyrics to stuff about freedom and liberation (from religious persecution in England).

And, for comparison, here are the lyrics of the original:

God save our gracious Queen,
Long live our noble Queen,
God save The Queen.
Send her victorious,
Happy and glorious,
Long to reign over us:
God save The Queen.

Ain't that a kick in the pants! Those cheeky little Pilgrims!

Thursday, September 07, 2006

Apparently, the road to spiritual enlightenment is paved with sore muscles

Oh so much to discuss so this post will be a mish-mosh of a bunch of random things.

Firstly, I attended my first ever yoga class yesterday. I never thought of yoga as a real "workout" so-to-speak because I couldn't imagine how slowly stretching your limbs while laying or standing on a mat could actually burn calories or tone muscles. Ummm, I couldn't have been more wrong. I actually ended up sweating as much as I do when I do hard-core cardio. And although it was a hard (but great) workout, I felt amazing afterwards. Almost euphoric. I couldn't stop smiling and my arms and legs felt so relaxed. I can't wait to see how much my flexibility increases over the course of the class. On the other hand, I nearly collapsed when my feet hit the floor this morning. Overnight, I guess everything tightened back up and my leg muscles were wicked sore. Oh well...a small price to pay for inner peace, I reckon.

Secondly, last night we went with Monique and Murray to a taping of The Charlotte Church Show. Most Americans would remember her as "that young British girl with the amazing voice who sings classical music" from about six years ago maybe? Well, she's shaken the classical thing and is a big pop star here. New and improved! Comes with her own talk show! It was a lot of fun even though it went pretty late... The guests were Ruby Wax (who Americans probably don't know at all), Patsy Kensit (who is most famous in America for being married to Liam Gallagher from Oasis back in the late 90's), and a band called Orson (who I don't think has hit America yet because I couldn't find them on iTunes) who performed their single No Tomorrow which is a great song. Quite honestly though, the best bits of the show were between takes and set-ups because there was a comedian to keep the audience "warm" during the breaks in the action. He was absolutely hilarious and we were actually crying laughing during the bit about his pet duck Shaniqua. The episode airs Friday night at 10:00 on Channel 4. I'm going to record it and see if we're on camera! I snuck this photo during one of the breaks...


Lastly, I became rather disturbed this morning while Jason and I were having our post-workout coffee at Starbucks. I'm used to seeing some really strange fashion in London. Some people who are trying to achieve a certain look...and others just don't know any better, bless their hearts. Well, in walked an otherwise impeccably dressed woman but as she passed by me, I noticed she was wearing a...wait for it...black velvet SCRUNCHIE. In public. Not ironically. As part of her very sharp, well-cut women's suit ensemble. Horror of horrors. It calls to mind the Sex and the City episode "Pick-a-Little, Talk-a-Little" where Carrie and Berger argue about whether any self-respecting New York woman would wear a scrunchie outside her apartment. I think this applies to women in cities all over the world. Consider this a Public Service Announcement, women of the world. This message is sponsored by me in corporation with my Sex and the City addiction.

Monday, September 04, 2006

Oh the irony.

In all my life I don't ever remember willingly getting out of bed before 6:00 AM unless it was to catch a flight/train. When I was working, I certainly never got up before 6:45. Yet, here I am for the first time in my life with the ability to sleep till 10:00 everyday if I so choose (not that I would want to... just knowing that I can...) and I was lacing up my trainers before the sun was even up. Jason and I got out of bed at 5:45 this morning to go to the gym. And guess what. We're doing it again tomorrow. And the next day. And the next. You get the picture. He finally quit the super-cheap gym at work to join my very expensive gym by our flat so we could actually get in a routine of going regularly instead of the sporadic and useless workouts we would do on our own once a month or every other month or whatever. And instead of going after he gets off work like most people, we decided we enjoy our evenings together too much to spend them at the gym. So here I am. Only 7:30-something and I've already ran a 5k, worked out my legs, arms, and abs, and been to Starbucks.