News of the (UK) Weird

Some sample gems from across the pond…

Pyjama-wearing ban spreads from Cardiff to Shanghai

Ayrshire businessman has to pay through the nose for using tissue at the wheel

UK car park machine thinks its German

Man smuggled 44 lizards in his underpants (ok, its New Zealand but close enough)

And this isn’t super funny, per se, just rather interesting as it reviews things of the past decade on the web. What we call the 2000’s - or something else I guess - the Brits call the “Noughties”.

More later.
Federman out.

Finger Lickin' Good

Mood: Rambuctious
Theme Song: "Chicken Dance" - ?

So at about 4pm every day we all go alittle crazy here at the office. Today's topic somehow found its way to discussing the infamous British Chicken Licker. Check it out. This is from September of last year, but it still hilariously disturbing in so many ways.

Bits and Bobs

Mood: Bouncy
Theme Song: “Forgot About Dre” - Dr. Dre & Eminem (again, for no good reason other than I like the song)

Last night I walked into town to get my hair cut and on the way back I stopped in the pub across the street from me. It’s really small and cozy inside and was chock full of people drinking beer and watching football (soccer) on TV. And playing darts. I wanted to just grab a quick bite to eat but there weren’t any tables free and there were no stools at the bar - it was more of a walk-up kind of thing. The good thing is the bartender was female so we chatted a bit and I told her I’d come back on a night where it wasn’t so crowded. She told me I could sit with “that big fat guy over there - he comes in all the time and is basically harmless” but I didn’t take that as a ringing endorsement of a good time to be had - at least by me!

I walked down the street to a place called Pinocchio’s - a tiny hole in the wall Italian restaurant. The menu looked good so I thought I’d try it. There was a grand total of one other table occupied, and I was waited on by one of the owners himself - Massimo. There are three brothers who own it, and they are for real Italian. From Naples. I had bruschetta and Pasta All’ Matriciana. That’s the dish I had when I was in Rome and it was fantastic! I chatted with Massimo and broke out me really rusty Italian. He made me happy by asking me if I was a student (Canterbury is a university town and overrun with college age kids). He also kept calling me “Bella” which was really sweet and Italian of him. I will definitely be going back there - (1) because the food was awesome and fairly cheap and (2) because I dig Italians and maybe Massimo has some hot cousins who need a green card or something ;)

Just a jumble of things I’ve been meaning to write about, but aren’t in any way connected:

• Got my hair cut yesterday. It’s true that British hair dressers rule. Mine’s named Jack and he is straight. He also is a genius when it comes to my ‘fro. I went in looking like Sideshow Bob and came out looking… human. We’re going to play color in about 6 weeks, so that should be fun. 
• The roads here are so quaint. I live in Canterbury, but work in Ashford. When I come to work, I start out on Canterbury Road and it turns into Ashford Road. When I leave work, I start out on Ashford Road, which becomes Canterbury Road (obviously). It’s like this all over the UK. I noticed it first in Ireland - it comes from the old days when roads were defined by where you were going or coming from. It’s kind of cool because if I find myself on Folkestone Road, I know that taking it can lead me into the town of Folkestone!
• Had a near-death experience yesterday. I was driving down a single carriageway road - basically a smaller back road with two lanes and a dotted line in the middle - and I was stuck behind this idiot towing what looked like a piece of farm equipment. A few cars in front of me had gone around him by passing on the opposite side of the road. After ascertaining that the nearest oncoming car was wayyyy far away, I put on my signal and proceeded to try to pass. Wouldn’t you know it but that git suddenly sped up to like 70mph and wouldn’t let me pass! Before I knew it I found myself staring at oncoming traffic. I threw my brakes on and barely made it over back into my lane in time. I tell you what, I hope the guy in front of me couldn’t read lips - I cursed him up, down, sideways - basically six ways from Sunday. I finally got around him, but it was only when there was absolutely no oncoming traffic and I could safely get around his dumb self. But it was way, way scary.
• Instead of saying “pound” (as in “To delete this message, press the pound sign/key”), the Brits say “hash”. Press hash. Hilarious!
• I love the hard “h” they use - they say “haych”. When they’re spelling things - “You go to High Street - that’s haych i g haych”.
• I told someone that their check stub was on the desk and I got a puzzled look. Here they are called “pay stubs”
• The tabloid magazines are an absolute riot. They put our “Elvis is alive and I’m having his martian baby” stories to shame. I’m going to have to gather a few and scan them in or something.
• No one over here says “Pip, pip cheerio”. I’m really sad about that. I was told that comes from Mary Poppins in which Dick VanDyke did a horrid London Cockney accent. But I’m still going to say it because I like it.

There are loads of other things that are said here that just crack me up on a continous basis. Its really strange to be the one with the accent. Every time I open my mouth - and let’s face it, my mouth spends more time open than closed! - people turn to look at me. I get asked questions about all things American. Like, what do you call American A4 size paper? Ummm… 8.5x11? Letter size? Ok, well then what’s your A3? Legal size. And bigger than that? That would be Tabloid. And they go “ohhhhhhhh”.

I get asked continuously about taxes - but I’ve figured out that, at least for me, its pretty much even-steven. The difference is that they just take it all out at once here, and you don’t have a choice about supporting certain things. There’s no sales tax, state tax, city tax, school tax - well, rather there ARE, but they are included in the big lump sum they take out. I’ll have to do a full analysis at year end, though, to be sure.

I get paid once a month now and so this will be an exercise in budgeting, the likes of which I haven’t seen since college. I’m excited because a woman that works for my old company, but in the UK, is coming down to visit me this weekend. I will get to be shown around by a real-live Brit - who can explain the food, and the roads, and the telly and the music. Hopefully, anyway!

Other big plans for me include getting up at 2:30am on Monday morning to drive to London-Gatwick and fly to Munich to visit our German office for 2 days. I’m taking Easy Jet (scared!) and they only had two options - crack of dawn or smack-dab-in-the-middle-of-the-day. So I’m taking the Rooster Express at 06:20am. Eugh, eugh, eugh.

Oh! Funny story. I cracked everyone up yesterday. My cell phone rang and this heavily accented voice identified himself as so-and-so from HSBC (my bank) and then demanded some personal information. I asked why he was calling and was he trying to sell me something. He said no, but that he couldn’t tell me why he was calling until I told him my information. I told him that I wasn’t giving him my information until he could tell me why he was calling. This went back and forth for a bit until we reached an impasse and he finally gave in. He was calling to verify a standing debit order I had placed for my monthly rent payment. The amount on one piece of paper was different from the amount on another piece of paper and so they were trying to figure it all out. I was glad that the bank verified with me because it saved alot of headache - but as I explained to the guy calling, its really off-putting to get some foreigner calling you up and demanding personal information with no explanation. He apologised and assured me he did work for HSBC. I asked him where he was, what branch. His answer? “India”. So, being me, I asked him “How is it that if you work for a British bank, you’re calling me from India? What’s that all about? I mean if you want me to give you my secure information, shouldn’t you be at least calling from the UK? I didn’t sign up with Bank of India!” - and my co-workers just lost it. Totally cracked up. I wasn’t trying to be rude - I thought I had a valid point. However, I did win major brownie points because I guess I said out loud what lots of British people have been thinking for years.

I find that alot - I’ll say something out loud that a British person would never say. Ok, it could be argued that I say alot of stuff out loud that any normal person wouldn’t say. But its especially true over here. One of two things is bound to happen - I will tone it down and become more “British”… or I will get deported.

Really hoping for that first one.
Federman out.

Finger Lickin' Good

Mood: Rambuctious
Theme Song: “Chicken Dance” - ?

So at about 4pm every day we all go alittle crazy here at the office. Today’s topic somehow found its way to discussing the infamous British Chicken Licker. Check it out. This is from September of last year, but it still hilariously disturbing in so many ways.

Time for Another Revolution, Methinks

Mood: Fiesty
Theme Song: "I Fought the Law" - The Clash

Sadly, I fought the SkyTV this morning and they won. :( A week or so ago I went online to order my cable, phone and internet from Sky. I completed the online form and received a couple emails informing me that my installation date was on the 27th. There was some gobbedlygook in there about my phone being installed in February but I didn't quite understand it - and me being me, didn't really read it all that closely. Fast forward to this morning when the nice Sky TV installation man shows up. And installs just my cable. No phone, no internet. Now, he was very nice and very cute (though he ruined things by telling me that "the wife" also loves Lost and will be recording it, too) so I was very nice to him. Instead I called Sky customer care, and after navigating automated hell and putting in my phone number, post code, birthday and blood type, got through to a woman who sounded like Sean Connery after a weeklong bender. She informed me that it would take up to 3 weeks for me to be assigned a phone number - and then two weeks after that for me to get my broadband "rooter" (router) so I could be online. I expressed my extreme displeasure at this but apparently this is the kind of customer service they offer. I asked to speak to her supervisor and she put me on hold for about 10 minutes, at which point I just hung up and tried again. Went through the same automated hell and this time I was lucky enough to get Mumbai. I swear I think I got that call centre from Slumdog Millionaire. This guy - "Harold" - made me verify my name, address, birthday and phone number all over again. He also was absolutely no help. I explained that my main frustration was that I have already been charged for my phone installation. I equated the situation to me charging him for a meal that I planned to feed him in approximately 3-5 weeks. I don't think he got the analogy, as he kept repeating the exact same information to me over and over again. I really think he was reading from some sort of manual (Chapter 7, "Dealing with Angry Americans"). So I got frustrated and hung up.

Long story short is there's no winning against British bureaucracy. I feel like I'm living in the Soviet bloc or something - a month for a damn phone line!! But in talking to my coworkers, this is normal, as everything has to go through BT (British Telephone) and they are a monopoly. Seems they haven't had the great Baby Bell shake up over here yet. But if I have anything to do with it, there is going to be a riot this decade!!! ;)

Federman out.

P.S. - Got the best postcard ever in the mail. It's from a local service called "Liquid Friends of Canterbury". Seems I've got an alcohol delivery service in my town. Not only will they bring me all the beer/wine/spirits I may need at, say, 11:30pm on a Thursday, but they will also provide toilet tissue, napkins and a variety of snacks. Great for when I'm too lazy to walk to the Tesco but find myself in desperate need of a bottle of vodka and some Cheese & Onion flavoured crisps. Sometimes, this country is indeed great.

Internet at Home, T Minus 1 Day

Mood: Frazzled
Theme Song: "Crazy" - Gnarls Barkley

Work is going crazy right now - so much to do, so little time! I have never had a job where I've been so busy and so responsible for so many things. Its alot of fun, but I'm uncovering so many cultural landmines in the differences between how Americans and the British communicate. I mean I know I'm loud and annoying - but over here I think I am ESPECIALLY loud and annoying. The stereotype about the British reserve is so true. To be clear, its not that they are all quiet or act like the Queen all the time. I know many people over here who are very crazy but its in a different way. Its really hard to explain. It's just not in the British DNA to complain or to object or to do any of those things I normally consider to be jolly good fun.

I was listening to BBC Radio on the way to work this morning and there were two guys debating a political issue (like a point/counterpoint kind of thing) and they were disagreeing. But rather than talking over one another on American radio and cursing like I'm used to, they were so civilized. "Pardon me, mate"; "No, no, you go ahead". Hilarious!

So last night I had to return a few things to the ASDA (British Wal-mart) and I spent a good 15 minutes looking for plastic silverware. Or as its been explained to me by the Brits "cutlery" (they don't like me saying plastic silverware since they think its nonsensical). I could not find any! I had to beg a spork from the One Stop store yesterday for something to eat my lunch with because our kitchen doesn't have any silverware, plastic or otherwise, in it. We're in a new building, but we just got a microwave after much complaining. But the microwave had to be safety-tested (!!!) and we got explicit instructions on how to use it properly. I'm not kidding. The Brits are wayyy safety conscious.

Oh, and today they were showing photos from the department Christmas party. I missed it becasue I was in Seattle. Apparently one of the gifts given out was a "willy warmer"... and its exactly what you think it is. Yep. While the British are very reserved, they also have a very colourful sense of humour. And put "u"s in lots of words unnecessarily. ;)

Ok, back to work. I get interwebs at home tomorrow morning - yay!!! And Sky TV, so I can watch LOST. I can't wait!

More later... Cheers!

Un-Lazy Sunday

Mood: Relaxed
Theme Song: "Ante Up" - Busta Rhymes feat M.O.P. (just because I like this song)
On the Telly: Glee Marathon on Channel 4 - right now its the episode where the Acafellas meet Josh Groban - and Josh Groban loves a blowsy alcoholic. ;)

After a wee bit of a lie-in this morning (British for sleeping in), I got up around 10. I managed to take a shower without injuring myself, which was a great start to the day. Since it takes about 5 hours in total to wash and "dry" my sheets, I stripped the bed and popped them into the washer/dryer first thing. After giving the kitchen floor a much-needed mop and realizing that the reason why there are waterspots everywhere is because I live in an area with VERY hard water, I decided to head out and explore Canterbury town. Thus far, I've only walked to the area around the bank and Tesco - I wanted to just wander aimlessly around to get the feel of the area.

It was a beautiful day for walking. Although it was a bit chilly outside, the sun was out and shining. Oh, how I have missed sunshine! I wandered around for about four hours in total, stopping to pick up a few things.

• Oxfam Bookstore - a really neat and unusual little gift for my sister. Her birthday is Tuesday, and since she may read this, I'm not going to post what it is until after she gets it. I had a great conversation with the guy who was working there about his trip to North Carolina. He apparently experienced some problems because he didn't wear shoes. He made a comment to the effect that "it's not like I had any choice" - which I chose not to explore. I really didn't want to know why he felt he had no choice but to run around NC barefoot and British.
• Noa Noa (www.noanoareigate.com/) - an awesome Danish clothing and accessories store. I picked up something for my sister as well as an awesome ring for myself (it was only 13 GBP! Oh, and for those of you who don't know, GBP = Great Britain pounds. I haven't figured out how to get the actual pound sign into the blog yet).  
• Monsoon (www.monsoon.co.uk/) - they had a 70% off sale and so I picked up a really pretty floral bra/underwear set for 12 GBP. Those of you who've known me for awhile will understand why this was so freaking exciting for me to do.
• The Works (www.theworks.co.uk/) - this is a discount bookstore, and I was able to pick up the manuals I need to start studying for my UK driving license. And let me just say this crap looks hard. I can drive on my American license (along with my International Driving Permit I got from AAA) for 1 year, but I'm going to start studying NOW since I've heard that the UK tests are super hard. Apparently they put you on a hill in a manual and make you drive halfway, stop, and then continue along without stalling out or rolling too far backwards. Stuff like that makes me sweat just thinking about it. Especially given my rolling-down-the-hill accident in downtown Seattle (*wherein I was driving up a hill, had to stop a red light, and stupidly freaked out when the light turned green. I had a 6 speed and instead of putting the car in 1st gear I kept putting it into reverse - and then not understanding why I kept going backwards. The more this happened, the more freaked out I got, until I was in a real tizzy. It got worse when this van pulled up behind me. I tried to signal that they needed to get in the next lane and get out of my way, but they just sat there and honked their horn. I got pissed and decided to just get the hell out of there - and promptly went backwards. Their car wasn't damaged at all, but the back of mine got a really nice dent in the shape of a license plate. The bright side was that the van was chock full (and I'm talking packed in like sardines) of various persons who no habla the ingles, and they wanted nothing to do with exchanging any kind of paperwork or involving any kind of authorities. Seriously, I never thought I'd see a minivan burn rubber like that up a hill.)

I stopped at the Marks & Spencer Cafe for a quick bite around 3pm. While there were a few chicken options on the menu, there was also weird stuff like Prawn & Avocado sandwich, something called a Cheddar Ploughmans, a dish called Scrummy Pie and the requisite Egg Mayonnaise with Watercress. I played it safe and got a steak sandwich on ciabatta, hold the mayonnaise. After pulling off 80% of the bread, I discovered it wasn't too bad.

I have been looking into getting a UK mobile phone, but I haven't been able to figure out how to get the best deal for international calls. It's not like it is in the US where you can buy plans that give you unlimited international calling. They charge you per minute - as much as 20p (cents) per minute in some cases. I did find out that if I buy a UK mobile, it is free if someone calls me (no matter where they are) as long as I am within the UK. If I'm in Europe/Asia/Australia/Canada/US and my phone rings, roaming charges apply. Also, there's no plan I can get that gives me unlimited text messages. Again, if I'm in the UK, I can receive unlimited ones for free, and send them for free to UK numbers, but it will cost to send to anyone outside the UK. I'm a bit confused by it all, frankly. Why can't there just be one "worldwide" number system with a "worldwide" plan? Make it 14 numbers or something, and then no matter where you are, there's a flat rate for someone to call/text you. It was funny talking to the salespeople because they kept talking about a "tarriff", and I kept thinking they meant a tax. But in the UK, tarriff is just a charge. So what we would call our monthly rate (for our cell phone plans), they would call a tarriff.

On the way back home, I stopped off at one of the local hair salon - www.rush.co.uk/salons/canterbury - to make an appointment to get my 'fro cut. It's getting a bit unruly and I'm starting to look like Sideshow Bob again. I am so excited because the salon closest to me is a Kerastase Salon, and I'm addicted to their products. They are pricey but I have not found anything else that is so good for my hair. I struck up a conversation with the two guys at the appointment desk - one is from Portugal and has been to California and Key West, and the other is British but who has been to Houston because his mom used to live there.

Something I've found is that as soon as people hear my accent they ask "Where are you from?" - and by that, they usually mean what state in the U.S. am I from. And then after I tell them, they proceed to tell me how much they love America and what places they've been to. I've been surprised by how many Brits have been to Texas, of all places. In terms of absolute culture shock, I can't think of a more jarring place for a British person to go - well, except maybe the Deep, Deep South. I mean the UK is all about small spaces, old buildings, stiff upper lip and all that. Texas is all about being big, new and owning AND USING a firearm. LOL.

On the subject of my accent, I've been told several times that I don't "sound American". I don't know if its because I have a habit of adapting my speech patterns to my environment (i.e. speaking more quickly when in New England, slowing down when in the south) but it seems there's some danger of me returning to the U.S. sounding like Madonna. Regarding this, I'm torn. Yes, I think it would be fun to have an "international" accent that confuses people and marks me as a world traveler. However, since being over here I find myself feeling fiercly patriotic towards my home country - and I almost want to wear my accent like a badge of pride.

As in Hell Yes, I'm American! From the land of the free, home of the brave! I'm from a country where mayonnaise is OPTIONAL! Where toilets only have one flusher! (*in the UK and Europe, toilets have two buttons - a big one for #1, a small one for #2. One gives a shallow flush, the other one a deep one. Saving the water and the earth and all that) Where roads have clear signage and streetlights! Where expressing your displeasure is almost a national sport! Where we know how to say "vitamin" (over here they say vitt-a-min". To quote something my brother learned in 2nd grade, the "i" does not say its name). Where bubble and squeak are two separate things - and in no way represent food! Yes, world, you can thank us Americans for such great things as - high fructose corn syrup! McDonald's! Rampant obesity! Telemarketing! QVC!

And with that, I am signing off. Just noticed that "The Terminal" is on BB2. You know, sometimes I feel like Tom Hanks in that movie. Although I'm still waiting to find an airport that clean, well-lit and friendly.

Toad in the Hole

Mood: Sore
Theme Song: "Crash" - Dave Matthews Band
On the Telly: UK version of "So You Think You Can Dance"

Woke up this morning to cold, drizzly rain. I had to run some errands and so I did what I normally do every morning, and took a shower. However, at the end of said shower, I got the bright idea to try to reach for a towel that was at the very end of the towel warming rack. My shower is half-glassed in - there's a glass "wall" that swings open if needed. What I was trying to do was open the door and reach out for the towel while still in the shower. Well, I overextended and slipped. There was nothing to grab onto (but the smooth glass) and so slippy slidey down I went, smacking the top of my stomach on the edge of the tub. Which did not feel especially good. Frankly, as I lay there in the tub, heart pounding, I was just thankful that I hadn't hit my head on anything. I'm sure someone from work would have checked on me if they hadn't heard from me by Monday, but that wouldn't really be helpful if I was dying in my bathtub. So I've promised myself to be much, much more careful.

After all that excitement, I gathered up several bags of trash and cardboard to take to my local Rubbish Tip (www.canterbury.gov.uk/buildpage.php?id=1735). I think I've explained that trash pick-up is not like it is in the U.S. You can't just put whatever by the side of the road and hope for the best. They alternate trash and recycling pick-up every other week. Therefore, if you have alot of trash (like I do, from boxes and whatnot), then you need to load it up and take it to the rubbish centre. After doing that, I decided to check out my local TK Maxx.

Yes, you read correctly. It is T"K" Maxx, not TJ. I'm not sure exactly why - as its the exact same store (same logo, same layout, same stuff basically) - but I think it has something to do with copyright or some such. Anyway, they had some pretty good stuff in there. I got a great cheap picture to hang on the wall, a can opener, a container to hold my rice, and other associated home stuffs. Which brings me to

• Weird Moments in Britain #1: The store charged me 6p (basically six cents) per shopping bag. When I expressed my complete and utter amazement at gouging one's customers this way, I was told that "using bags kills the environment" and "in the UK, we care about the earth". (I'm not making this up) Had I known that they were such tree-huggers at the TK Maxx, I would have brought my carry bag with me!

I then visited my buddies at Argos, where I had to return a couple shoe racks I bought. They were wood and self-assemble, but they were made of compeltely untreated and un-sanded wood, and just opening the top of one package gave me three splinters last night. While there, I picked up a dustbuster. We now come to

• Weird Moments in Britain #2: British people drive like nothing I've ever seen before. Even in Boston. Not only are the "car parks" (parking lots) designed for some bizarre miniature race of people with super tight corners and extremely small parking spots, but the British people driving in them show a complete and utter disregard for all the other cars around them. I was driving down one of the lanes and this lady just pulls out right in front of me. Doesn't look my way, doesn't seem fazed that THERE IS A CAR IN THE SPACE WHERE SHE IS TRYING TO DRIVE. Just ignored every traffic law I know including all known laws of physics. Now, I would normally chalk this up to her just being a jackass. However, this has happened to me in every car park I've been in. So, to anyone British reading this - am I crazy? Is there some super secret code of how to drive in a parking lot that makes it okay to just pull out at will? I'm dying to know.

Driving over here has been especially trying for me. I've mastered the fact that I'm on the other side of the road. Check, got that. I'm about 75% to understanding the rules of a roundabout - I'm still totally confused about what signal to put on. I know to put on the left one if I'm exiting immediately out of the roundabout. However, what if I'm taking the 2nd exit? If I put my right-hand turn signal on, then those people waiting to enter at the 2nd exit think I'm continuing on around. If I put on my left-hand signal then the people behind me think I'm getting off at the 1st exit. Basically I just pick one at random and hope for the best. Oh, and I bought a Learner Driver sign to put in my window. It's a white box with a big black "L" in it that goes in the back window. So basically I'm going to be motoring around the UK with a big old Loser sign on my car. Niiiice. But its better than my original plan which was to put an American flag in the window with the words, "Back off! I'm used to REAL roads". That probably would have gotten my car egged, keyed or worse ;)

• Weird Moments in Britain #3: Road markings. I don't know how to explain this. You know how in the U.S. sometimes on the road itself it says "School Zone"? But there's ALSO a sign on the side of the road saying "School Zone", too? Well, over here its like a game of Pictionary, but on the road. An example - sometimes, at a side road (like a T junction), there are these weird yellow diagonal markings on the road. After several times of cursing people out and honking profusely, I was told by a nice British colleague that these lines mean that you can't stop there. So basically if I'm in traffic, and we're at a standstill or moving slow, its just like blocking an intersection in the U.S. - you don't do it. I didn't know this and cars were just pulling out in front of me at random since in British law, if there's nobody in the yellow box, you are free to go. But there's no sign explaining this, EXCEPT the markings on the road. And, while when I am driving I do look at the road, I'm not exactly planning on READING it!

I got back to the flat and made myself a PB&J. I managed to find "Chunky Peanut Butter" at the Morrison's. It's not bad, but its nothing like JIF. It's like peanut butter lite or something. I then grabbed my carry bags and walked into town. On my way there, I passed a woman and her young daughter who had apparently stopped and decided to take her shoes off for some reason. The woman was screaming at the girl, "It puts its shoes on NOW!". I literally paused in the sidewalk, wondering if Buffalo Bob was near. I wonder if when the girl goes home she has to put the lotion in the basket or else she gets the hose?

The town was pretty hopping, people everywhere. I've come to the conclusion that no matter where you are in the world, old people jack up roads and grocery stores. They can't drive and they insist on stopping smack dab in the middle of an aisle in the store and looking confused. My new favorite store is Wilkinson's. They have EVERYTHING. Well, not clothes, but everything else. And its pretty cheap, too. I got two great lamps for my bedroom for 5GBP each. And some nails and screws, and things like toilet paper holders and such. But I think I'm finally done buying things for the flat. The only thing I'd love to have is a glass coffee table, but its not a necessity. The bed for my second bedroom should be coming in the next few weeks, so I'll be all set for visitors come the end of February. :) Oh crap, I just realized I forgot an extension cord. *D'oh*!

I stopped at the Starbucks in Canterbury just to check it out, and they passed muster. However, instead of a "non-fat no-whip tall Hot Chocolate", I got just a "skinny hot chocolate". I don't think the UK has the 87 versions of skim milk that we have. Something else I noticed is that they used real mugs there for people who were drinking the coffee in the store. They also have way different things in the goodie case. Yes, there are cookies and croissants, but also scones and some kind of marshmallows on a stick covered with chocolate and caramel and other stuff.

Hmmm... watching this UK SYTYCD, I've come to the conclusion that America needs to start packaging dance moves and rhythm and selling it abroad. These people need da funk, man. This disco dance I'm watching is like it was sponsored by Wonder Bread, its so white. Sheesh!

Oh, and earlier, I caught a bit of the pre-show for the Brit Awards 2010. It was so interesting and different to see all the nominations and most were people that I hadn't ever heard of... and that I couldn't really understand why they are popular. Dizzee Rascal, Lily Allen, Coldplay, Duffy - ok I get those. But things like Girls Aloud? N-Dubz? Robbie Williams? Makes my head hurt!!!

• Weird Moments in Britain #4: The Food. Can I just say that I cannot find certain things I really, really miss? If anyone wants to send a care package, I will not turn the following away... I'm going to try to order some of this stuff online, too.
• REAL Balsamic Vinaigrette. I miss Newman's Own Light Balsamic Vinaigrette like nobody's business. I bought some BV over here, but its horribly sweet and thick. Eugh.
• American Instant Oatmeal. I bought Quaker Oats over here but it has absolutely no flavor. Or flavour. It was like eating mushy cardboard.
• Vigo Black Beans and Rice mix. I used to live off this stuff. Cheap, filling and GOOOOOD. And so easy to make after a long day at work. Sometimes I'd throw in some roasted pork or chicken.
• Amy's Vegetarian Black Bean soup. Mmmmm.... good.
• Tri-color rotini pasta. Haven't seen it anywhere here. Oh, and egg noodles. American egg noodles. The ones they call egg noodles over here look more like fettucine or something.
• JIF Reduced Fat Chunky Peanut Butter
• And its not food, but I can't find Crest Pro-White toothpaste. :(
• If you send me any American food, please include a box of LUCKY CHARMS and as many bags of CHEETOS as you can get in the box without ruining them. These are for my co-workers and I will pay you for them.

I was going to go out tonight and have dinner at this local wine bar - but I'm leaning towards a quiet night in. I'm not sure if I'm up to facing the locals just yet. I want to get out and meet people, but I'm all bruised up and sore. I don't know if that would make the best impression. And since I've been running all day, I'd have to shower again and I'm still a bit wary of that place... ;)

Federman out.

Happy as Larry

Mood: Exhausted
Theme Song: “Why" - Annie Lennox

I’m super glad that this week is over, as it was very trying. I am having major I.T. issues at work, and so I spent most of the week frustrated and annoyed. First my cell phone wasn’t working. Then my wireless internet thing (they call it a "dongle” over here; I have trouble saying that because it sounds like manly parts) refused to work all week. Despite the IT guy calling Orange (the service provider) about 10 times, the problem didn’t get fixed until this afternoon. It was frustrating because I have work to do coming out of my ears, and I really wanted to work from home today so I could function without distractions.

This week was also challenging simply because I was still buying things for my apartment and lugging them in, putting them together, etc. I think I am finally done with all that, and aside from needing some pictures on the walls and decorative touches, I have pretty much everything I need. The apartment finally has a sort of personality and feels like it is “mine”. It feels good - no more sterile hotel environment! Now, if I could stop running into everything in my path, things would go alot better.

I finally got my PIN number for my UK debit card, which means I actually have access to my money. Which is awesome. And the Sky TV people come on Wednesday morning to set up my cable and internet. I ordered a home phone, but I have to wait for the beginning of February to get that for some reason. It may comfort my American friends to know that they pull that “We will install your service sometime between 8am and 1pm” crap over here, too.

And now the reason for the title of this short entry. I was in a meeting today and was told that doing something would make me “happy as Larry”. I don’t know who Larry is, and neither did the speaker. Must just be a crazy British saying. Another one I heard was “all talk and no trousers”. Which is pretty funny. 

I have to remember not to say things like “my pants are all wet” when coming in from the rain, as the Brits think I’m talking about my underwear. And if that is all wet, I’ve got some big problems. LOL

This country is more security conscious than anything I’ve ever seen. I bought something tonight, and because my signature didn’t exactly match what was on the back of my credit card, there was a big to-do wherein the manager had to come over, and I had to show my driver’s license and my passport - and then sign my name again, just to make sure it was really me. As if that weren’t bad enough, I come home to find a letter from my bank saying they received my request to automatically debit my rent each month - BUT because the signature on the request does not exactly match the signature card they have on file for me, I have to come into the bank and show ID to get things moving.

Question for any British people reading this - did y'all have a rash of identity theft or something? I mean, you guys take this stuff to a new extreme. I’m surprised I don’t have to give blood and get my DNA typed when I buy something - although I shouldn’t give people any ideas.

Oh, and another odd thing. I heard on the radio today that this woman who committed benefits fraud - basically she collected 13,000 GBP more than she was supposed to because she didn’t let them know her circumstances had changed - anyway, she got busted. Her punishment? A curfew. Yes, you read right. Not repayment. Not jail. Not a swift kick in the arse. Nope. Her punishment is that she cannot leave her house between 6pm and 6am or some such weirdness. But how do they know she didn’t spend some of that stolen money to set up a kick-ass home entertainment system? And so every night she is just working her way through movies on demand, and stacks of DVDs and whatnot? They also didn’t say anything about visitors, so if it were me I would just invite people over all the time.

This country is continuously entertaining.

Why England Needs Wal-Mart

Mood: Wired
Theme Song: "Les Poissons" - The Little Mermaid (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XuuEDDyvzuE). I think of this song everytime I'm in France

Not having working internet at home is really putting a dent in my blogging life. I have so many things that I have been wanting to share but its really hard to get internet access outside of work. Because there is so much and its so varied, I'm just going to bullet point my observations below:

• English roads are madness at night. I now know why they are so uber-strict on "drink driving". There are no streetlights on the roads! Driving down an English road at night is a bit like entering your own version of Sleepy Hollow. It's sort of okay if you can use your high beams, but if there is oncoming traffic, then prepare to be confused, disoriented, blinded and half in the grass on the side of the road. I asked at work how people manage this and the general response was "We don't know. We just drive and hope for the best." Brilliant.
  
• Yesterday, on my way to the train station, the main road I was on was closed. Thank god for my GPS system which directed me to "turn left at The Road" (it literally said "The Road"). Fearing I was about to enter some post-apocalyptic madness (but hoping to see a dirty Viggo Mortenson that I could possibly bathe), I entered "The Road". Which turned out to be a meandering country lane. That was fine, except for there was either a wall on the side of the road, or pens filled with sheep. And the road was only big enough technically for 1.5 small British cars. But there was 2-way traffic. Now THAT was fun. I used up all my known British curse words either telling the sheep to back off, and stop eyeballing me - or yelling at the British drivers going 40-50mph down a country lane designed for a horse and buggy. By the time I turned back onto the main road, I was grateful to see the normal roundabouts. Which is saying something.
  
• Dry cleaning here is a rip-off.  Two shirts (laundered), a sweater and a suit. Guess how much? 20 GBP (or basically about $35 USD). I am thinking of setting up my own dry cleaning business in my spare bedroom. I can offer better prices and probably marginally cleaner clothes if I could smuggle in an American washing machine and dryer... and Dryel. Oh, Dryel, how I miss thee...
  
• The grocery store is weird. Maybe it was just the three I've been in so far (Ashford Sainsbury's and Canterbury Morrison's and Canterbury ASDA) but nothing is where it should be! Rather, its not where I'm used to it being. So while I have a shopping list, it takes me ages to get everything into the damn trolley (cart). I spent a good 15 min trying to find peanut butter, only to be sorely disappointed by the offerings. I have heard that if I go to Waitrose, which is an upscale grocery store, I can get "American food". Which to me means the following food that I could not find:
• Newman's Own Light balsamic vinaigrette (they had Newman's Italian, but no BV)
• Black beans
• That cool mix of black beans and rice that costs about $2 and feeds you for about a week
• Chunky peanut butter
• Real popping corn (you know, for the stove)
• Corn in a can that is not "sweet" or "salted"
• Amy's Black Bean Soup (yeah, I'm pushing it here I know)
• Crest toothpaste (seems they have every brand but Crest)

I hate to say it but my town needs a Wal-Mart (or better yet, a Target). There is something called an ASDA, which is owned by the Wal-Mart evil kindgom of darkness. But its like a mini-mini Wal-Mart. There are lots of groceries, but the other part - the one thats usually chock-full of impulse buy goodness and things like laundry baskets and kitchen appliances and containers and towels and sheets and other home goods type stuff - is depressingly small.

I've had a crazy time just finding necessary things for my apartment - like storage containers and toilet paper holders. It's weird. In the US, I'd just go to Target and have at it. Not so much over here.

I'm looking forward to a weekend in town where I'm not unpacking or trying to exorcise demons from a washer/dryer.  My planned adventures include:

• Getting spare keys made. This is done at the shoe repair shop. So while I'm there, I have a pair of shoes to get fixed that I'm going to take. Lets see what British cobblers are made of!
• Figuring out how to transfer money from my UK bank account to my U.S. bank account to pay my credit card and student loan bills. It's supposed to be easy, but I'm not convinced.

• Hoping the PIN number for my UK debit card has arrived. All the cards here have this weird chip thingy. In order to use them, you insert into a machine and enter a PIN. Even the credit cards have this. Well, I got my actual card, but the PIN is sent separately "for my security". I don't see the problem in giving my PIN to me directly but the Brits are super security conscious.
• Ordering my spare bed and associated stuff from Argos (check it out at http://www.argos.co.uk/). They have a big sale on and I want to make sure I take advantage.
• Figuring out how to program my Universal Remote Control. Super easy, my arse. Been messing with that "Magic" button for 4 days now!!!

Vive La France!

Mood: Still wired
Theme Song: “Quelqu'un M'a Dit” - Carla Bruni (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rd4-sIRXRH4) - and if you’re interested and want to know what the wife of the French president is saying - http://nichitastanescu.wordpress.com/2007/04/05/quelquun-ma-dit-carla-bruni-translation/.

I’m currently in Paris for a conference of intensive care physicians (http://www.srlf.org/). Can I just say that I love Paris? Anyone who knows me knows that I am a complete Francophile, and so for me coming to France is always exciting. I took the Eurostar over yesterday, and ended up sitting with quite a cast of characters. My seatmates included:

• A Scottish guy with a very posh, upper-crust British accent. You could tell he either came from money or spent alot of time trying to sound like it. I didn’t hear a trace of Sean Connery, though he did have to tell me that he knew someone or other who golfed with Sean, and that he is a hell of a golfer. Thus giving me an image of Mr. Connery in a kilt holding a 5 iron. Great. This guy also spoke French “fluently and without an accent” (as he assured me), and lived with his Russian wife and kids in the Languedoc in France. He mostly watched Dexter on his PC and stayed out of the conversation, though he did piss me off by asking me why the Republicans were trying to ruin America. He, like many people I’ve met outside the U.S., seemed to think that all people who were conservative were crazed Bible beaters. And he was shocked that I was not an Obama devotee. I’m young! I’m smart! I travel! How can I not love the Obamanation? The fact that I tend to have conservative leanings shocked him, as I guess he then expected me to be toothless, carrying around unwashed children and spouting the gospel of Jay-sus.
  
• A British guy from London (with the distinctive London accent -where the “th"s become "f"s or "v"s. As in "I fink my brovver-in-law…”). He was super cool. He and his family live in a small village a few hours south of Paris. He used to work as an interior designer (though this guy was the farthest thing from effeminate I ever saw) but retired. So I’m guessing he decorated a few castles and made a killing or something. He had struck up a conversation with the Scottish guy when they boarded the train in London, although Mr. Scotland kept mocking Mr. London’s bad French pronounciation. Oh, and Mr. London informed me that Scotland really isn’t a separate country. It’s Britain. Only Americans want to make that distinction. It seems the Brits believe that unless there’s water separating it from them, they own it. Wonder what would happen if the Channel suddenly dried up (a la nightmares of Al Gore)? Would all of Europe, by default, then belong to England because its connected? Interesting to consider. This guy was really nice though and we had a few laughs about the difference between America and UK - and how while it was madness for me to get my UK visa, its near impossible for people to get into America. Unless they are Mexican, students from some strange terrorist country or have family in America.
  
• A lovely older Japanese woman who seemed a bit confused for much of the conversation. She obviously had money, as she lives near Hyde Park in London (a bit like overlooking Central Park in NYC). She regaled us with stories of her travels around the world - all in a very entertaining British/Japanese accent. She spent about 15 minutes telling us about her seat-mixup. You know how older people are. They fixate on one topic and then beat it to death.  That being said, she was pretty funny and gave me some good places to visit when I’m in Japan in March.

I arrived in Paris at Gare du Nord, which is sheer madness chock full of people roaming everywhere. I was going to take the Metro to the hotel, but it takes about an hour with all the changes and it was pouring rain. So I got into the taxi queue - which took at least 30 minutes for me to get through. What I love is that I can pop into a taxi and speak French and get myself around. I know enough of the layout of the city to know when someone is trying to scam me and not take a direct route. Its great. I don’t feel so awkward, like I did in Germany.

I went to a symposium on Tracheostomy yesterday afternoon. There was a bit of a mix-up and I didn’t get the headphones that have automatic translation in them - so I got to hear everything in French. What pleased me is that I understood about 95% of all the presentations. There were a few terms - obviously medical - that I didn’t know, but I got the overall gist of things.

Dinner was at a restaurant in Montparnasse called “Le Ciel de Paris” - bascially The Sky of Paris. It was a restaurant at the top of a business tower with a panoramic view of the entire city. Gorgeous. Did you know that every hour on the hour, the lights on the Tour Eiffel sparkle like a crazed Christmas tree? There are different colors each hour, and they symbolize different things. In 2008, they cycled through the colors of the EU to celebrate France’s presidency of that organization. Last year there were huge light shows to celebrate the Tower’s 120th anniversary.  I didn’t take the following picture (it is courtesy of http://charmcitykim.wordpress.com/2010/01/15/the-lights-of-the-eiffel-tower/), but this is what it looked like last night:

I also got to try Foie Gras last night for the first time. It was served with bread and some kind of fruit chutney. All I can say is… interesting. I didn’t dislike it, but I also wasn’t scarfing it down like the rest of the people at the table. I kept thinking “duck liver, duck liver, duck liver”. It didn’t help! I’m pretty sure that this is something that I’m not going to suddenly start craving any time soon.

I’m off to a tour the exhibition and then have a business lunch before returning on the train to the UK this afternoon. As the French would say, “Bon journee!” (Have a good day!)

***IMPORTANT MESSAGE FOR MY LEFT-LEANING FRIENDS***
According to EVERY British person I’ve spoken to, the U.K. is having huge problems because it is “too soft”. This country has more social programs than anything I’ve ever seen. So much of the tax money goes to support people who game the system. That “wonderful” amnesty program that the Obamanation wants to offer the ILLEGALS from Mexico? Yeah well they have that over here and it has resulted in loads of foreigners pouring into the UK to take advantage of all the free social programmes. All someone has to do is get across the border and claim “human rights” (which covers everything from “I’m poor”, “I don’t like my home country”, “I don’t speak English”, etc) and they get a FREE house to live in, a FREE cell phone, FREE food and transportation, FREE healthcare and a monthly check courtesy of the people who actually work for a living.

What’s interesting is that a table full of French people shared basically the same view with me last night - how upset they are that their taxes are paying for this kind of “merde” (shit). The French are taxed like nobody’s business - worse than the Brits even.

I’m not against helping the disavantaged. But I am against rewarding criminals who have no respect for the American system. If you want to immigrate, then by all means do it. Legally. And if you want social services (regardless of whether you are an American citizen or a foreigner), I don’t mind helping you. Everyone gets down on their luck sometimes. But don’t abuse the system. Don’t expect me to pay for your bad lifestyle choices (i.e. you’re grossly overweight and have health problems. Not my fault, put down the fork. Or you had a baby at 16. Not my fault, exercise some class and discretion - and for goodness sake, don’t have MORE babies you can’t afford to raise.).

Yeah, I’m on a soapbox. It’s just that America tends to idealize the socialist trends in Europe as if they are so great. Some things are not bad - I like the programmes they have for the elderly (they need more) and the disabled. And I do like that there is help for people who are really struggling. But its gotten to the point over here that the inmates are running the asylum. Every shify foreigner knows that if they can set foot on UK soil, they have a really good chance of a free ride because the British are so terrified of violating “human rights” or seeming insensitive or politically incorrect.

And the supposedly great healthcare system over here? I’ve yet to try it - though I have seen two co-workers wait a few days to be able to schedule a doctor’s appointment. Nothing too alarming yet - but I want to see the actual quality of care. It turns out that the class-based system we in America want to avoid is alive and well over here. Anyone can get NHS care  (just like in the US anyone can go to the free clinic, even though they don’t like it) - but those with money purchase private plans where they get timely, superior healthcare. Guess which direction I’m leaning? I’m not rich, but as L'Oreal would say, “I’m worth it”.

Comments welcome, as well as donations for my eventual run for President ;)

All Kinds Of Hullaboo

Mood: Cheery
Theme Song: “Breathe Me” - Sia (don’t have a good reason for this one, other than I like the song and since it was used at the end of Six Feet Under, it signifies a journey in my mind)

It’s been several days since I’ve had a chance to update this, and I have so much to share! I need to start carrying around a small notebook - a la 1940’s journalists - to record all my thoughts.

The Flat

I’ve successfully moved into my flat (yay!). Hiring the man with a van was a definite good idea. We ended up with two guys - one named Ian, the other nameless (never got his name). Nameless had a mouthful of protruding, rotten teeth. I’m serious. He was like the poster child for bad British teeth. And he was also really a cheery guy, so he smiled. Alot. Ian was the son of the Transport company’s owner (Peter) and he was quite funny. He was a nice looking guy, save for the fact that a good 80% of his body was covered in what looked like gang-affiliated tattoos. I could be wrong, since I don’t know about such things in the UK, but I can’t think of a good reason to tattoo a huge number on your forearm unless its affiliated with something. Anyway they were really nice and did a great job of getting my boxes all into my flat with minimal fuss. They also installed my washer/dryer. Sort of. (More on that later)

I spent this past weekend unpacking boxes and digging out all my stuff. Somewhere between Boston and the UK I’ve lost my makeup brushes, but everything else seems to have arrived damage-free. Including all of my shoes :) !!! Oh shoes, how I have missed thee…  Here are some things I learned this weekend:

• Rubbish is taken very seriously over here. Each week they either put out trash or recycling. (This coming week I believe its trash). For recycling, there are these big plastic bags that you use - these can be picked up free of charge at the local city council office.
  
• If you have extra trash - like oodles of boxes from moving in, for example - you don’t just put it out at the curb and hope for the best. Oops, I’m sorry. It’s called the “kerb” over here. You take it to the local rubbish tip. Yep, that’s what its called - a “tip”. This is a big trash/recycling centre. Its actually pretty cool the way its organized. You pull into this parking lot and on either side are multitudes of dumpsters in different little stations. There’s a station for glass. One for Plastic. One for Cardboard. One for Household Waste. You can even bring your old appliances there and they will dispose of them. I can already tell that something like this would be a huge boon to certain rural areas of America. Then people wouldn’t need to leave old washing machines and the like on Cletus’ front porch anymore.

The Washer/Dryer
As I’ve explained before, people don’t use washing machines and dryers alot over here. This is usually due to space concerns. Personally I think this is proof that Americans are a more civilized society - because who in their right mind wants to spend 4 ½ hours waiting for ONE load of laundy to wash and “dry”?! (I put dry in quotations because nothing comes out of the washer/dryer fully dry like we’re used to in the U.S.; that’s right - no more snuggly warm clothing to slip into on cold mornings.)
Anyway, the men with the van were kind enough to hook up my new washer/dryer. They did a great job, because it worked when I ran a test load. The issue came when I tried to wash actual clothes. Everything was fine, and then BANG! BANG! I ran into the kitchen (where the blasted machine is located - its under the counter like a dishwasher) and it was rocking back and forth and making a terrible noise. I read the instructions and surmised that the machine was probably not level. I adjusted the little legs underneath the machine and restarted it. Everything seemed okay - although kind of loud - and so I left to go out to the store. Imagine my surprise when, upon my return, I saw that the damn machine had danced halfway across my kitchen. Luckily it didn’t get far enough to pull out the hoses. At this point, I was beside myself. The machine was brand new, and I couldn’t understand why it was doing this. I moved it back into position and wedged two pieces of cardboard on either side to stabilize it. About an hour later - BANG! BANG!… and across the room it went. By this point I was nearly in tears. I tried calling the helpline for the product but I was trapped in some automated British phone hell where none of the choices was what I wanted.

This happened on Saturday. Fast-forward to Sunday afternoon. I’m out and about and so I decide to stop by a Comet store (like a Best Buy). I bought my washer/dryer from Comet in Ashford, and so I thought the Comet in Canterbury could help me. I explained my dilemma. At which point the salesman said, “Well, you removed the transport bolts on the back of the machine, right?” Errr…. ummm… probably not. I don’t recall the men with the van doing any such thing. I found out that there were bolts securing the drum so that it didn’t get banged up while being transported and those had to be removed before use - otherwise the machine would not stabilize, and ultimately, it could be ruined. I asked what I needed to remove the bolts and I was told that any spanner would do. After a bit of back and forth, I figured out that spanner = American wrench. (What the Brits call a wrench is something used only by plumbers for some super-secret plumbing purpose.)
I was able to buy myself a spanner at a local store in Canterbury town and after spending a good 45 minutes cursing and throwing things, I was able to get the bolts off the back of the washer/dryer. (I think its fair to say that I was also supremely proud of myself at this point.)

And? Voila! The washer/dryer works just fine. No bouncing. No dancing. No BANGBANGBANG. Just the normal “silent” mode - which is really a low hum sort of like a wasp’s consistent buzzing. Oh, and by “works just fine” I should add that it still takes me 4 hours to wash and dry a set of sheets.

No wonder the Brits drink so much beer. Doing laundry over here is depressing.

More later…

Last Day in the Hotel (yay!)

Mood: Tired
Theme Song: "Movin On Up" - Ja'net DuBois (Theme from "The Jeffersons")

Tonight is my last night in the hotel - I cannot express how pleased I will be to unpack my suitcases and boxes. I remember thinking that living in hotel would be so exciting and glamourous. I think that even if I were in a 5-star penthouse suite, I would still get sick of it. Yes, there's fresh towels and amenities every day but there's no sense of permanence or ownership.

I spent yesterday miserably sick. It must have been a 24-hour virus because I feel sort of okay today, but yesterday was bad news. I won't gross anyone out with the details - I just hope I never have to go through that again. My whole body ached and there were shooting pains all through my stomach. In talking to the hotel staff, it seems a bug of that sort has been making its way around the staff. So I'm sure I picked it up since I have been practically living at the hotel.

My coworkers are awesome. They all knew I was not feeling well and so they moved all my boxes down to the reception area so it would be easy for the movers to transport. Jenny went to Comet and picked up my TV and washer/dryer so that I wouldn't have to wait 2 weeks for delivery, and Emma drove me to and from the flat today since they knew I was feeling all wonky and am confused by British roads.

The end result? All my boxes are in my flat!!! :) I am going to unpack tomorrow and then go to the various stores to get groceries and other things - like lamps, bath mats, etc. I cannot wait to get settled in.

I learned quite a bit today about British driving laws.  It seems that Brits have to pay what is called a "car tax" every 6-12 months. Upon payment, they get a round sticker that they put on their windshield. They also have to get MOTs done - unlike our emissions tests, which can be perfunctory at best, this test goes over the functionality of the car. Do the wipers work, do the seatbelts work, are the tyres bald, etc. I told Emma that if we had MOTs in the U.S., half the cars would not be on the road. Seriously! How many times have you seen a car held together with duct tape, plastic, what looks like a jump rope - all kinds of stuff! But apparently in the UK, if your car isn't up to snuff, you're not driving it. Period.

I'm doing much better in my driving. I only made one mistake today. I went to the cash point (ATM) to get money for the movers and when I was turning out of the parking lot, I almost turned left into the right-hand lane. Luckily I caught myself and stopped, reversed and went in the left hand lane. The people at the stoplight behind me were cracking up. I might as well have had a big sign on my head that said "American!!!"

I have two new favorite UK TV shows - 1) Countdown and 2) Eggheads. Both are game shows, but they deal with trivia and wordplay. I don't know how to explain it exactly, so I suggest you Google them if curious. Countdown is especially awesome - and hard.  And of course, I'm continuously addicted to Celebrity Big Brother. The highlight of my night last night was when Stephen Baldwin got Alex to pledge his soul to Jesus. Nothing against the Lord at all - but the whole thing just was soooo cheesy. And reminded me while I don't like super evangelical people. Or really anyone who pushes their beliefs/religion/whatever on others.  Can't wait to see who gets voted off tonight - I am really hoping for Katia, personally.

Oh, and I learned that grilled cheese is called a "cheese toastie". They don't really understand grilled cheese. Which is hilarious. I had to explain - take some toast, melt some cheese, put some toast on top. Funniest conversations ever.  But I did get grilled cheese and tomato soup. Nothing like American - but closer than chili con carne!!!

WTF BBC??

Mood: Incredulous/amused
Theme Song: *speechless*

Why - WHY - did I flip to BBC 2 and see a black and white clip - obviously from the 60s - of 4 Japanese women with flippy hairdos singing “Can’t Buy Me Love”? With accompanying dance moves? (Of course it sounded more like “Can’t Buy Me Ruv”)

WTF, England?? Who sets up your TV programming? Between this kind of weird sh!t and the Japanese channel (#7), I spend half my TV-watching wondering if someone slipped some acid into my room service.

Ok now some person from the 60s named Sandie is singing “Ticket to Ride” (they are obviously doing some kind of Beatles retrospective) - and this bubble just appeared on the screen - a la Pop Up Video - informing viewers that Sandie had plastic surgery in 1997 to preserve her “iconic feet”.

I am not making this stuff up, people.

As I’ve said before, Austin Powers is making so much more sense. Especially his funny little song/video about “BBC Heaven”.

BBC 1!BBC 2!BBC 3!BBC 4!BBC 5!BBC 6!BBC 7!BBC heaven

UK Driving, Part Deux

Mood: Tired
Theme Song: “Survivor” - Vanilla Ice

Currently watching today’s installment of Celebrity Big Brother. Yes, I’m officially addicted. And I don’t care what Stephen Baldwin says, he is on something. That man is insane.  I have also developed new respect for Sisquo. I just want to adopt him or something, like a little puppy.

I had another driving adventure today. When I woke up, snow was falling and the roads were wet. I cleared off Le Peugeot and safely navigated my way to work. Except for I took the wrong exit on the second roundabout and found myself driving into a housing estate. I put on my indicator light to turn around but the guy behind me still felt like being a real arsehole and blowing his horn. For the first time in England, I flipped someone the bird - and it felt good. I was like, Yeah! Suck it! Freeeebirrrrrd! LOL

Driving
At lunch, my coworker Jenny served as navigator as I drove to the Comet store. (No, its not a superstore for bathroom cleaning powder - its like a Best Buy or Circuit City). The ride there was fairly uneventful, but I did learn alot about British road signs and how “lane control is key in Britain”.

http://www.driving-test-success.com/uk-road-signs.htm

I also learned that when a Brit says “turn right”, they don’t mean make a 90 degree right turn. They mean bear right in a roundabout. I almost turned directly into incoming traffic due to that wee little misunderstanding.  I got to drive on the motorway (the M20) and I swear it felt like that scene in Clueless where Dionne (the lovely Stacey Dash) accidentally drives on the highway and they all think they’re going to die. It wasn’t that bad, but it was as nerve-wracking. There were no near collisions, accidents or incidents though.

On the way back, I learned all about roundabouts - basically don’t stop unless you see incoming traffic coming from the right. The Brits don’t take kindly to me stopping randomly “just to check things out”. Also, the lights here are weird. They go RED - then ORANGE and RED at the same time - then GREEN. And then the opposite. Seeing an orange and red light at the same time was weird.  Jenny is a total saint for coming with me, because I would have been SO lost!

Jenny also helped me negotiate great deals on a TV, a washer/dryer, a Hoover (vaccuum), and a Blu Ray player. But more on that later…

P.S. - I have TWO men and a van coming Friday. Yes!!!

Alice in Wonderland - Getting Better Every Day!

Not sure if this is a good thing or not, but every day I understand more and more of Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland. And British humor in general.

And after my adventures today, the following excerpt from AIW is especially relevant:

The Knight announces that the name of the song “is called `Haddock’s Eyes’” and the following famous conversation ensues:

“Oh, that’s the name of the song, is it?” Alice said, trying to feel interested.


“No, you don’t understand,” the Knight said, looking a little vexed. “That’s what the name is called. The name really is `The Aged Aged Man.’”


“Then I ought to have said `That’s what the song is called’?” Alice corrected herself.


“No, you oughtn’t: that’s quite another thing! The song is called `Ways and Means’; but that’s only what it’s called, you know!”


“Well, what is the song, then?” said Alice, who was by this time completely bewildered.


“I was coming to that,” the Knight said. “The song really is `A-sitting On A Gate….

England Made Me Cry, Post Codes and Other Nonsense

Mood: Relieved
Theme Song: “You Spin Me Round (Like a Record)” - Dead or Alive (the 86 Version!)

What a day, what a day. I woke up with a horrible stomachache, which I can’t help but attribute to the bizarre hotel food - or to the fact that I’ve pretty much been eating the exact same thing for 8 days now (what the hotel calls - and this is their spelling, not mine - “Chilli-Con-Carne”). That meant I didn’t eat breakfast, and not having at least something in the morning makes me grumpy. Plus, when I went downstairs to await my taxi, there was no one at the coffee stand - which means I didn’t get my morning tall semi-skimmed decaf latte. :(

Lunch was an adventure. I went over to the Pheasant - a pub/restaurant across the street from our office. Guess what I ordered? Jacket potato with chili con carne! No joke! I tend to stick with things I recognize and that I know are reasonably healthy and tasty. The adventure came when I asked for “sour cream”. The waiter brought me something called “salad cream” - which is a DISGUSTING (sorry British people) type of salad dressing. After clarification, I was brought the pub’s version of “sour cream and chive dip” - which tasted nothing like sour cream, chives or dip. Even the British person with me was confused.

And now to the latest round of me vs. England, and England is thus far up 2-0. The first loss on my side was due to the fact that I cannot shop online because my credit card has an American billing address. And for my “security”, I must present the card in person. Reminds me a bit of the U.S. and the insistance on putting those stupid safety caps on gallons of milk. This second loss involved me doing something as simple as calling a local store and asking for directions from my office.

Sounds simple, right? (insert buzzer sound) *WRONG*!!! I tried Google Maps, Mapquest and Yahoo! Maps before also trying the store’s website “Locate a Store” function. For some reason, I was not getting anything - none of them really seemed to recognize the address. I called the store’s customer service and explained my predicament. I explained that I was American, new to the UK and so I needed some fairly explicit driving directions.  After getting the woman to understand that the website was not working (despite her insistence that it was), she started giving me directions from my postcode. I interrupted her to explain that I didn’t want directions from the postcode, I wanted directions from my office - and I gave her the street address. So she then gives me directions again - from my post code. This went on and on (a good 5 minutes) until I finally explained to her that I didn’t know what she was talking about and I didn’t know the area. She responded in a very snippy voice - “You don’t know where you are, you don’t know where you’re going - you don’t know much of all, then, do you?” At which point I hung up on her and started crying.

It was at this point that a co-worker took pity on me and explained UK post codes. Unlike in the states where a zip code represents an entire area or neighborhood (i.e. 98012 is Mill Creek, WA), a post code in the UK refers to the actual building or a small block. The first four characters refer to the overall area - i.e. my post code is TN25 4BF, so the TN25 refers to Ashford, Kent. But the final three characters actually pinpoint the location to street, block and sometimes a building, if the building is large enough.  Therefore when the Snippy Lady was giving me directions from my post code, she was giving me directions basically from the office park where my building is. And I had no idea.

It doesn’t help that there are 9000 names for the same thing over here. My company is in something called Eureka Park. Which is also Lower Pemberton. Which happens to be on Trinity Road. But the mailing address says nothing about Trinity Road. Madness!

Now, to explain my song choice of the day, let me just say that I have driven, for the first time, on UK roads. And survived. Granted, I went 1.5 miles from the office to the hotel - but I encountered THREE roundy-roundys (roundabouts) and I made it safely through every one. I stayed on my side of the road and aside from looking for a rearview mirror where there was nothing (on my right), I did okay. It was so weird, though. I naturally wanted to veer right and I had to really pay attention so that I didn’t accidentally drift.

And finally, in other exciting news, my work friends are helping me hire a “Man with a Van” for moving my boxes on Friday to my flat. The whole thing sounds decidedly like a B-level movie on Cinemax and I can’t wait to see the aforementioned man who comes with the van. According to Jenny, he should be a “right burly chap” - but I apparently don’t want one from Folkestone because all the men from there “look like frogs” (quote from Louise).

British TV

Yes I know weird stuff comes on in the middle of the night everywhere, but here is a rundown of Brit hotel TV at 2am on a Sunday.

British tv right now: bbc1 - news; bbc2 - ceefax, bbc3 - weird 60s war documentary/movie thing; ch 4 - photo of katia and jonas from Celebrity Big Brother sleeping in same bed (seriously this has been on for 27 min now); ch5 - supercasino gambling infomercial; ch6 - Police Interceptors (brit COPS); ch7 - bunch of japanese people receiving awards from other japanese people; ch8 - sky news; ch9 - CNN Larry King and Carnie Wilson (wtf?!) is on; ch10 - Zumba infomercial in German

Celebrity Big Brother - My New Addiction

Many of you know that I haven't watched much TV at all over the past few years, save for when I am traveling. Since I've been stuck for the past week in my hotel (thanks to all the WHITE DEATH), I've been watching more TV than usual. This led to me discovering, quite innocently, the travesty that is the current Celebrity Big Brother. Now, I've never really been in to reality shows (with the exception of Joe Millionaire, which was the TV equivaent of a fiery crash on the side of the highway - you just HAD to look) but I swear this one has me hooked with its completely inexcuseable combination of stupidity, hilarity and "omg did they really just say that?!" moments.

For those of you new to the party, this edition features such notable American "celebrites" as Stephen Baldwin, Sisquo (yes, Mr. "Thong Song" himself), Ivana Trump and Heidi Fleiss. There are also a bunch of British "celebs" too - the only one I really recognize being Lady Sovereign. (And I'm not sure what being in the Sov Fan Club says about me...) Some girl named Nicola (?); a former footballer named Vinnie who is now an actor and who played the Juggernaut in the most recent X-Men movie; some girl who used to date the Rolling Stones Ronnie Wood; a guy named Jonas but who all the Brits know as "Basshunter" - which I think refers not to fishing but to music in some weird British way; some guy named Alex who is a cage fighter, has been known to cross-dress and who is famous for dating the UK's Katie Price aka Jordan, a woman who seems to be like a cross between Paris Hilton and Pamela Anderson in terms of fame for no reason and abundant plastic anatomy; and finally the lovely Stephanie Beecham (spelling?) who used to star on Dynasty and seems to be the only sane one in the bunch. She's this very posh, sophisticated older woman who seems to be in a perpetual state of amusement about teh whole lot.

What makes this show such a delicious train wreck is that these people are all messed up, each in their own way. There's our girl Heidi, who constantly looks as if she's on a Xanax diet. Her upper lip is messed up in some way that I am not sure I can attribute to too much lip injections. In fact, her whole face looks off. She has given up the sex trade to work with exotic birds and run coin-operated laundromats in a self-proclaimed "white trash" town in Nevada. Right.

Then there's Stephen Baldwin. Stevie B. Who is apparently at BFF status with Jesus. He claims to have been clean for 20 years, but as a colleague of mine pointed out, he filmed "Threesome" in 1994. And anyone who has seen that movie knows that a sober person in their right mind would not have seen that as a good career move. I mean Lara Flynn Boyle only survived thanks to "The Practice" and Jack Nicholson. So anyway, Stevie B is forever prattling on about his sobriety and his love of the Lord. He got permission to read his Bible for 1 hour a day, which thus far has turned into him preaching to the others for at least that amount of time. I don't want to imply that I find anything amiss with his religious fervor - what is so entertaining is how WEIRD he is about it. It's the way he speaks, like his words are balls in a pinball machine and they are finding their way to his mouth totally out of his control and completely at random. It's the way his eyes kind of glaze over like he's been hit by a stun gun. And finally, its his fashion sense. Just not right - on so many levels.

You have to check out the show to see all the characters for the fantastic, glorious hot messes that they all are - but I'll leave you with this tantalizing morsel. You get to see Sisquo in a Borat-style bathing suit. And hear his "booty" complimented in a British accent. I don't even know how to explain THAT part of the show.

You just have to watch it. I promise that while you may feel a few brain cells committing suicide, you will be deliciously amused and walk away feeling much, much better about your non-"celebrity" life. ;)

Snow, snow, snow!

Parking Lot at 9:55pm GMT

Parking Lot at 12:15am GMT

Snow keeps falling…

White Death!! and Other Oddities

Mood: Antsy
Location: Ashford, U.K.
Theme Song: “Baby, It’s Cold Outside” - Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald

The hotel FINALLY has working internet. I hadn’t realized how addicted I am to my interwebs until it was totally cut off! So the UK is currently in the midst of the most severe winter weather it has had in over 20 years. This has resulted in a bit of panic and chaos, as most Brits are not used to driving in snow. I have actually heard a few people say they couldn’t travel because there were 3 inches (!!) of snow on the ground. In all seriousness, I can somewhat understand the fear since the roads aren’t plowed very well (or at all) and the whole country is running terribly low on grit (basically sand; they don’t use salt).

I spent yesterday afternoon slogging through the snow in Canterbury (http://www.canterbury.co.uk/) and viewing various flats. It was a miserable day to be out looking, but I’m glad I got it over with. I found a really nice 2 BR “maisonette” in a good part of town. The biggest selling points of the flat were a gas “hob” (basically the oven range - they call the oven part a “cooker”) and built-in closets in both bedrooms.  Which brings me to…

Weird Things About UK Flats (Apartments)

1. The washing machine is in the kitchen. Actually its a “washer/dryer” which is a combination washing machine and dryer. Unless you get a newer one, they pretty much suck.
2. The freezer part of the refrigerator is on the bottom, and refrigerators themselves are really skinny.
3. Most of the bathrooms have those European-style heated towel racks.
4. Dishwashers are a rarity.
5. Most flats don’t have closets. The solution is to purchase a wardrobe (yes, exactly what you’re thinking - a big piece of furniture like in The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe) or a rolling rack.
6. Storage space is a joke - there really isn’t any.
7. The tenant has to pay the taxes on the property - something called council tax. This fee covers local rubbish pick-up, police, fire, emergency, etc. And its expensive! For my flat, I’m looking at about £80 ($128) a month.
8. Space is obviously at a premium and so bedrooms, living rooms, everything is much smaller than Americans are used to. A few of the flats I’ve viewed reminded me a bit of a Barbie Dream House.
9. Unless you get lucky and end up renting directly from the landlord, there is no escaping the estate agent, and their fees. These are basically leasing agencies. You know how in the U.S. you can just walk into an apartment complex and just pick and apartment and go? Maybe pay a $50 application fee? No such luck here. I had to pony up a non-refundable £211.50 ($339) fee just to cover my application and background check!
10. The price of the flat will sometimes come as “pcw” or “pcm”. The first one is “per week” and the second one is “per month”. I’m not sure why things are priced out per week - the whole thing smacks a bit of scary, smelly boardinghouse filled with fresh-out-prison weirdos.

Here are some of the flats I looked at, just to give you some local flavor -
http://www.zoopla.co.uk/to-rent/details/3472835?featured=1
http://www.zoopla.co.uk/to-rent/details/3236371
http://www.zoopla.co.uk/to-rent/details/2935307

10 Random Thoughts

1. Did CNN UK really just scroll "Yemen to Fight Al Qaeda: In it To Win it?" across the screen under Blitzer?!

2. EuroSport channel is awesome. I get to watch something called "Schanzen Bischofshofen" which seems to involve dudes in lycra on skis jumping in the air. Nice! Also learned that "Arger Hoch Zwei" means "Double Trouble" in German.

3. The Meerkat commercial is hilarious. Google it - "Compare the Meerkat". I don't understand why there is a meerkat but I guess its like trying to explain the acid trip that brought us the Geico gekko.

4. UK is really freaked out by snow. Like, worse than Cincinnati. As in "don't leave the house!" fear of snow. Bizarre.

5. Someone PLEASE explain Gogos to me.

6. UK has their own version of COPS called "Police Interceptors". No catchy reggae theme song BUT there are still drunken idiots doing dumb ass things and getting arrested. Nice to know that some things transcend cultural barriers.

7. Cricket is news. Still don't understand it. Oh, and darts is a big deal. I guess with all the fear of the SNOW people have to pass the time indoors and throwing darts is as good of a thing to do as anything.

8. I have learned more about US News and world politics from UK news than I ever did in the states. That's sad.

9. The hotel gets something called HKN which is a Japanese channel. I would not advise drinking or doing any drugs before watching it since it is FREAKY. Flipped it on last night to see drunken samurais being attacked by a fly with a Japanese man's head. Oh, and there are no subtitles which makes for extra fun.

10. Burger King is nasty over here, too. (It was that today for lunch or some mayonnaise laden surprise from the quickie mart)

The Journey Begins...

Mood: Fiesty
Location: Cincinnati-Northern Kentucky International Airport
Theme Song: "Upgrade U" by Beyonce (wishful thinking on my part for the upcoming 7 hr flight)

Sitting at CVG, waiting for my flight to Chicago. Given the recent fiasco on that Northwest flight on Christmas, I'm pretty happy to be flying American (for once). I've apparently achieved something called "sapphire" status on the AA Oneworld Alliance. I haven't seen much benefit to it except that I didn't have to pay to check my bags, which was a definite plus.

First hilarious travel moment of 2010

• Woman in bathroom outside Terminal 2 Security Line handling her business and belting out Steve Winwood's "Roll With It" at the top of her lungs. Can I just say that I love Northern Kentucky?