• I hate being in a meeting where people don’t listen – one person will say something, and then the next 30 minutes are spent with the others (who were daydreaming or just too stupid to follow the conversation) basically repeating what was just said but acting like their contribution is a major revelation. And then everyone has to get into a circular conversation where they are repeating the same thing, and getting more and more excited about it… when this was all discussed during the first 10 minutes of the meeting had anyone been paying attention.
• It’s horribly xenophobic, but I hate it when people don’t speak English in a sensible manner. Take this morning. I stop into my local quickie mart for some tissues.
o Me: (looking around)
o Store owner: “I can be helping you?”
o Me: “Yes, Good morning! I’m looking for tissues…”
o Store owner: “Oh, so sorry, we are running out of those.”
o Me: “I’m sure you are, it’s freezing outside! I only need one pack – can you show me where they are?”
o Store owner: “We are running out.”
o Me: “Yes… I only need one pack, not a box. Are they over here?”
o Store owner: (VERY LOUDLY) “Miss, we are RUNNING OUT!”
o Me: “(very confused) Do you have tissues or not?”
o Store owner: “We…are… running out.” (exasperated)
o Me: “Wait… are you RUNNING OUT, or do you mean you have RUN out… as in there are no more tissues?”
o Store owner: “No tissues! We running out! NO TISSUES!”
At which point I left the store, mumbling under my breath about the importance of proper verb tenses and how I strongly suggest that he invest in some vocabulary lessons. I swear I felt like Elaine on Seinfeld with the Soup Nazi. And so then I had to sneak into the local Starbucks, act like I was about to buy something and then snatch a stack of napkins and run.
• Why does the guy who smells like spoiled relish and day-old pickle loaf always sit next to me on the shuttle bus to work? And why does he look like he should be in a boy band but smells like he is homeless?
• Did England used to be a tropical country and people just forgot to tell me? I’m not sure why it is breaking news that temperatures are approaching the equivalent of zero degrees Fahrenheit. Yes, it’s cold, but I remember walking to the bus in the late 80s and early 90s in negative degrees (F) weather. And it wasn’t front page news. Hey England, winter is cold. I strongly suggest you invest in some warm weather gear and lay off the Daisy Duke jean shorts and stilettos. How about taking some of those sheep who like to rock out in the middle of the road all the damn time and making some sweaters? Just a thought.
• I think I might be joining a new family – it’s called Aunt Bessie’s family. Because Aunt Bessie can throw down on some grub. Check out my homegirl here: http://www.auntbessies.co.uk/
• I seriously had an argument with someone last week about dental care in England. He is English, and was telling me that his dentist told him that flossing was “unnecessary” and a form of “voodoo dentistry”. He then proceeded to try to argue that NHS dentistry is just as good as, or better, than American dentistry! Half this country’s teeth look like a 20 year old picket fence after a tornado and the other half look like they’ve never been cleaned… ever. EVER. This is what I don’t get. How do you NOT notice when you look in the mirror and see four inches of plaque along the gum line? Not everyone is going to have perfect straight teeth, and no one’s teeth are naturally blinding white. I’m not talking about that. What I am talking about is getting your regular floss and brush on. For the love of baby Jesus, visit a dentist – at least once a year. I think this should be government funded because if people freshened up their grills over here, I would definitely see that as a public service. I’m not embarrassed to admit that I refuse to let any dentist on this side of the Atlantic touch my choppers – I wait until I go home. I’m also lucky enough that my sister is the freakin’ Tooth Master, and so she hooks me up.
• I have figured out why the UK gave me a visa that only lasts 3 years - because I think they know that after 36 months of all England all the time, I’m pretty sure I won’t be able to take any more… unless I’m living in a fully renovated castle and married to someone whose name begins with Lord/Count/Viscount/Earl/Your Royal Majesty and whose bank account features many, many zeros.
• That being said… my adoration of all things royal is fading. As I learn more about myself and what I want and need in life, I have discovered that I would go INSANE if I had to be confined by the rules and expectations around the royal court. The fact that I wouldn’t be able to act the fool whenever and wherever I wanted really diminishes the appeal of wearing a crown on my head.
• I had the best time this weekend with my friend Marianne and her daughter. Zoe is ten months old and hilarious. We had crazy hip hop playing on their computer through YouTube, and I was dancing around their living room in blue socks, purple leggings, a denim skirt and a black hoodie (with the hood up) with the baby. Marianne was right there cheering me on. This is why I love my friends – they let me hold their baby while rapping “Poppin bottles in the ice, like a blizzard. When we drink we do it right gettin slizzerd”. The best part is that little Zoe was smiling and clapping and totally getting her baby swerve on. Further proof for those who are fully convinced that I am “not right”.
No comments:
Post a Comment