Sunday, April 30, 2006

Bank Holiday Weekend

This weekend is a bank holiday weekend. I'm not sure why they give us May Day off here. I assume it has more to do with the traditional Roman Festival than the power to the workingman reasons, but I would like to think it is a mixture of both. Singing The Internationale around the May pole maybe? My plan was to relax Friday night. Maybe go to the pub for a pint but no more than that because after two nights of drinking, I felt pickled. Saturday was yoga in the morning then a walk along the river then maybe a movie in the evening. Sunday was Kew Gardens, Monday is David's birthday lunch at David and Amanda's house in Kent. Then life happened while I was making plans. Friday after lunch, I felt a tickle in my throat. Full on cold. Blah. So. . . no yoga and no Kew today. I'm hoping that tomorrow I will be ok for David's birthday. I did make a nice soup yesterday however. I took Barbara Kafka's recipe for garlic broth and mixed it with some ingredients from Rick Bayless' Mexican chicken soup. Even Stuart had some. I was well chuffed.

Friday, April 28, 2006

LA Times Festival of Books

If you are in Los Angeles this weekend, I strongly recommend that you go to one of my favourite things to do- The LA Times Festival of Books at UCLA. Next year I am planning a vacation back to America since I have now missed it two years in a row.

The Circus

They sent us to a Circus Training School for a team building event yesterday and it was a lot of fun although today my legs are killing me from the acrobatic balancing part. I was rather disappointed that we didn’t get to go on the trapeze, but given the number of people that we had and the opportunity for serious injury and likely death, I’m not surprised that they skipped that portion of the circus training. The walking on a wire thing was really frustrating and it gives you an enormous appreciation for performers that do it. I vacillated between having fun and feeling like an elephanty cowish blob when we did the pyramid thingy. They were taking pictures of all of us and I am rather terrified of what photographic evidence there is of the day. . .

Thursday, April 27, 2006

First London Concert

Jen (Preston) dragged me to my first concert in London tonight. . .Wolfmother. They are a mix of Led Zeppelin meets the Doors meets AC/DC meets White Stripes meets. . . I don't know what - but it Wolfmother. They are a lot of fun. Although I was rather frightened by the liberal use of the devils horns symbol from the masses. If they had yanked out a lighter at a slow song, I wouldn't have been surprised. So my evening was: Drinks Vietnamese food Venue drinks Concert Drinks Tube with people all more tipsy than we were. (We were rather concerned about one Bankerish fellow listening to his iPod that he would tune out and miss his stop but he pulled it together. He was wearing a black suit jacket, purple tie with pink swiggles and a pink gingham shirt. I have to say that I respect the London Mans ability to wear pink. I think it suits them. For whatever homophobic reason, you don't see men wear pink in the Western states of the US.) Kebab Water Blogging. Bed. Life is good. So what I got audited. I only owe a little less than 2K. I'm on a payment plan. . . It's all good dude. Rock on. * *Please forgive my use of the phrase "rock on" as well as the word "dude". It was brought on by retro head banging music and two double vodkas on the rocks with a twist. I promise it won't happen again.

Wednesday, April 26, 2006

You know you have been in England too long when. . .

Spying a woman on the tube wearing a monkey vomit hounds tooth jacket, flouncy skirt, fish net stockings, leather ankle scunchy Madonna circa 1982 boots and instead of thinking. . . “If she only knew how ridiculous those stockings are and how fat those boots make her look.” You think, “Maybe I should buy fishnet stockings and ballet slipper flats.”

Tuesday, April 25, 2006

Big Envelope

When you get a letter from the Internal Revenue Service, you do not want to get a big envelope. A big envelope means that you are being audited. Being audited is bad. Today I got a big envelope. For 2003. There is a benefit to being across the world in that I do not have to go to the meeting. I don't have my receipts anymore so it's a big case of "Okay. . . tell me what I owe." Sigh.

You have to be kidding me

Window shopping online at Banana Republic. A number of the skirts include the blurb, "Now in size Double-Zero". So there is some skinny anorexic bitch out there that a size ZERO is too big for her boney ass?? So not fair.

Feeling English

The Northern Line was dire this morning. I was running late to start, couldn’t push my way onto three trains and when I finally did, I was stuffed between two men. If you’re going to be that close to someone, you really ought to use a condom. At Oval I managed to squeeze over by the door against the flexi glass. A woman got on and she proceeded to take off her jacket. Normally this action would be fairly innocuous but when you are jammed in like we were, it is a grave offence indeed. I felt a, “You have got to be kidding me look” on my face. I noticed another woman watching the Jacket Remover and we locked eyes and we shared a silent, “What a dumb cow” moment. I felt very English.

PAYDAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

First paycheck in six months. I feel giddy. I am getting my hair cut. I am eating sushi. I may need to buy a pair of shoes.

Sunday, April 23, 2006

Happy St. George's Day!

Who is St. George you ask? He is the patron Saint of England. The myth about him is that he slayed a dragon and saved a Princess, but that probably didn't happen. . .What with there being no such thing as dragons and such. Also Happy Birthday Mr. Shakespeare!

Saturday, April 22, 2006

Having a lay in. . .

Saturday morning. Slept in late. Scrambled eggs with smoked salmon I brought back from Seattle, (The salmon. Not the eggs.) mushrooms, onions and sundried tomatoes. Stuart and I sitting in the living room surfing the internet on our his and hers powerbooks. Coffee. More coffee. Sunny, clear spring day. Even more coffee. Movies later.

Friday, April 21, 2006

World Cup Rules For Women That Don't Like Football

I am very lucky that Stuart doesn't like football. . . LIST OF RULES 1. From 9 June to 9 July 2006, you should read the sports section of the newspaper so that you are aware of what is going on regarding the World Cup, and that way you will be able to join in the conversations. If you fail to do this, then you will be looked at in a bad way, or you will be totally ignored. DO NOT complain about not receiving any attention. 2. During the World Cup, the television is mine, at all times, without any exceptions. If you even take a glimpse of the remote control, you will lose it (your eye). 3. If you have to pass by in front of the TV during a game, I don't mind, as long as you do it crawling on the floor and without distracting me. If you decide to stand nude in front of the TV, make sure you put clothes on right after because if you catch a cold, I wont have time to take you to the doctor or look after you during the World Cup month. 4. During the games I will be blind, deaf and mute, unless I require a refill of my drink or something to eat. You are out of your mind if you expect me to listen to you, open the door, answer the telephone, or pick up the baby that just fell from the second floor....it wont happen. 5. It would be a good idea for you to keep at least 2 six packs in the fridge at all times, as well as plenty of things to nibble on, and please do not make any funny faces to my friends when they come over to watch the games. In return, you will be allowed to use the TV between 12am and 6am, unless they replay a good game that I missed during the day. 6. Please, please, please!! if you see me upset because one of my teams is losing, DO NOT say "get over it, its only a game", or "don't worry, they'll win next time". If you say these things, you will only make me angrier and I will love you less. Remember, you will never ever know more about football than me and your so called "words of encouragement" will only lead to a break up or divorce. 7. You are welcome to sit with me to watch one game and you can talk to me during halftime but only when the commercials are on, and only if the halftime score is pleasing me. In addition, please note I am saying "one" game, hence do not use the World Cup as a nice cheesy excuse to "spend time together". 8. The replays of the goals are very important. I don't care if I have seen them or I haven't seen them, I want to see them again. Many times. 9. Tell your friends NOT to have any babies, or any other child related parties or gatherings that requires my attendance because: a) I will not go, b) I will not go, and c) I will not go. 10. But, if a friend of mine invites us to his house on a Sunday to watch a game, we will be there in a flash. 11. The daily World Cup highlights show on TV every night is just as important as the games themselves. Do not even think about saying "but you have already seen this...why don't you change the channel to something we can all watch??", the reply will be: "Refer to Rule #2 of this list". 12. And finally, please save your expressions such as "Thank God the World Cup is only every 4 years". I am immune to these words, because after this comes the Champions League, Italian League, Spanish League, Premier League, etc etc. Thank you for your cooperation. Regards, Men of the World

Thursday, April 20, 2006

Commitments

I’m working on my work commitments, which is a fancy-dancy way of saying goals. It is a bit more involved than a goal and while on the surface it appears to just be semantics, it does imply a greater ownership that just a goal. The structure of a commitment is: Commitment/Execution Plan/Accountabilities So a commitment might be: Go to war in Iraq Execution Plan: Create a culture of fear. Link unrelated events that provide an impetus to action Have a respected former member of the milatary produce cooked evidence. Have everyone say yellowcake and mushroom cloud. A lot. Hide from the American people the cost of the war Accountabilities Achieve the following US casualties: 2003- 486 2004- 848 2005- 846 2006 YTD- 198 Achieve the deaths of 34,000 to 40,000 Iraqi civilians by April 2006 Prevent the photography of coffins Never attend a single funeral of a dead serviceman Demonize the mother of a dead soldier Use the phrase “evil doers and “they hate us because of our freedom” and “you’re doing a heckuva job (enter name of lunkhead here)” You got the idea. . .(this was more fun that doing the work one.) I’ve been looking at the commitments of our US counterparts to get ideas (steal) and one of them made me laugh and scared me. Maintain work/life balance./ Maintain energy by participating in extracurricular activities, Maintain energy by adopting healthier habits, Foster spiritual life, and maintain proper perspective of what’s important./ Go at least one night a week without checking work email, Work out at least 4x a week; run at least 2x a week, Eat vegetables 2+x a week, Attend church every week, and read Bible at least 5x a week. I hope that his manager really didn’t approve this. Reading the bible 5 times a week while admirable is not an appropriate work accountability. And how the hell is a manager suppossed to measure that? It did make me laugh however.

Global Positioning System

GPS. I need it. I can get lost while holding a map. Part of the problem is of course I can't read maps. I am one of those people that feels like North is always the direction I am facing. I do eventually learn which way is north based on landmarks- In LA and Seattle west was water (although Seattle that meant the sound. Not the lake(s). And if you were in Alki, it just messed the whole thing up. Walking through a building I am never able to visualize what wall is facing what outside without actually looking out a window. Today I got lost walking back to work from lunch (at the very tasty hummus bros.) In my defense, London (and Soho especially) has all these little streets snaking around and nothing makes sense and everything looks interesting. Cut To: EXT. NARROW LONDON STREET - AFTERNOON Thousands of OFFICE WORKERS mill down the street holding iPods or talking on cell phones (er mobiles I mean.) A group of men wearing entirely too much hair product duck into a pub revealing-- NICOLE the directionless wonder. A thirty something with no attention span (the type that gets excited when you drive past a cow) she wanders aimlessly from Wardour Street through Soho ending up near Carnaby when she should be closer to Piccadilly. She tries to pretend she isn't lost so no one mugs her. The wind keeps pulling up her skirt and she clutches at it, holding it down as she hobbles down the street. She trips on a curb, falls into the street and is tossed up into the air when she is hit-- by a Black Cab. Okay, that didn't happen. The being hit by a Black Cab part. Or the worrying about being mugged part. Odds are you won't be mugged in Soho. You are far more likely to have your handbag nicked while you sit in a restaurant or the pub. The tripping part also didn't happen. That came later when my shoe caught on the door on the lift. But, yes. I need GPS. If they make one with a Samuel L. Jackson voice I'll get that. "Turn Left Motherfucker!"

Wednesday, April 19, 2006

Watching The English

David recommended Watching The English a few months ago and I have only now started to read it. Vol mentioned it a few posts back regarding the landmines an unsuspecting foreigner could get into while discussing the weather with a Brit. Reading it, I immediately see things that I have done terribly wrong according to this book. Things like shake someone's hand with confidence and introduce myself. Apparently that isn't done. It is also considered rude to ask what people do or where they live. Such land mines. Areas I have down almost as if I was from here, the invisible queuing at the pub and the pantomime with the publican, the please and thank you's when exchanging money, saying sorry when someone bumps into you and never speaking or looking at others if you can help it on public transportation. The longer I am here, the more I feel part of it, yet also further away from it, from the culture. Does that make sense? The more I know, the more I know I don't know type of thing. . .

Tuesday, April 18, 2006

Proof. . .

I’m old. I discovered it today. I’ve suspected it for some time, but today I was provided definitive proof. It’s not because my knees creak as much as Paris Hilton’s bed springs. It’s not because I am working on a Bonnie Raitt, Susan Sontag streak of grey. It’s not because I actually have Gregorian Monks chanting on my iPod. I’m old because today, I tut-tutted a young girl on the street. I had to return my videos so I got off the tube at Clapham South and along the high street there were three kids, I’m guessing twelve – thirteen years old. One was on a bike and he kept popping wheelies the way twelve-year-old boys do. His breaks had more squeak than stop. His friends, two girls, were walking along side him. One of the girls had Icelandic white blond hair and violent blue eyes and was at least a year away from filling out her training bra. She was holding a bag of crisps (potato chips) sprinkling them along the street. At one point she looked back at me, grabbed another handful of potato and Hanseled and Gretled it along the high street. When the bag was empty she stuck it into the metal wire cage around a tree. I couldn’t help myself. I called out to her, “Is that a trash can?” She turned. “Wah?” I think my saying trashcan is what got her attention. “Is that a trashcan?” I fished the bag out from the wire and handed it to her. “Go toss it in the rubbish bin.” She turned away from me, toward the rubbish bin, but she had to get a last word. She ripped the bag in half, let one bit flutter onto the street putting the twin into the bin. I have to say, I was rather impressed. As non-verbal improv fuck you’s go, it was nice. Well done little slapper on the dole in training. Well done. When she turned down her street, she turned around and looked at me, her eyes narrowed. I narrowed mine back. I was thinking, “Little bitch.” She was thinking, “Fat cow.” So yes. I am old. Any day I will start screaming, “In my day, we walked to school in our polyester bell bottoms tying yellow ribbons round the old oak tree!” Sigh.

Sunday, April 16, 2006

Feeling Pathetic and sad

So the boys are off in Porto doing the trip that I organised, Preston has a sleep in shift and I am here with no food in the house and the grocey stores are closed. This sucks ass. My plan had been to cook a little Easter dinner for myself. Not that I am a Christian but I will take any excuse to eat a baby sheep. I thought that they might have a few hours of being open in the morning like they do in America but Stuart told me that I was wrong so I didn't even try to go look. The pub should be open though right? Well. Right. I'm just going to have to turn that frown upside down. I'm going to have a bath then get something to nibble on and a pint at The Duke of Devonshire where I will finish reading Anna Karenina- one of the things I love about this country is that the pub is like a coffee house. You can go as a woman alone and not be messed with. . . (for the most part.) Then for dinner I am going to have sushi. Yes, a sushi Easter dinner. We got a reccomendation from a friend visiting from Germany about one in our neck of the woods in Tooting Bec - Fugisan. Is better than sitting at home eating the Stuart's chocolate that he foolishly left behind. Pub lunch, one pint, two pints, sushi, sake, finishing a great book, starting a book to be named later, time by myself. . . What was I moaning about before?

I grow old ... I grow old...

I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled. I whinged about my knees a few weeks ago. Cliff notes: They snap. They crackle. They pop. My knees are Rice Krispies. Except different. I am slowly making my way down the stairs in the dark to go to the loo. I'm reading the stairs with my feet looking for the Braille signs for the landing while I clutch the banister like an old woman. I miss a step. I fall back on my ass to the sound of snap, crackle, pop and pain. A good bit of pain. I'm rather glad that Preston didn't open the door of her room to see me spread out on the stairs, my dressing gown all kerfuffled. In a word. Pretty? Not so much. I'm adding swimming to the list of things I need to start doing. I suppose if they get really bad, I could just have my legs amputated at the knee, but I am short enough as it is.

Saturday, April 15, 2006

Home!

I'm exhausted but I am home. I'm exhausted but I know that this is now home. It's a nice feeling.

Friday, April 14, 2006

Going Home

I feel great today. Perfect timing to get on a plane and get jet lag again. At least I have an aisle seat. They took us to dinner last night to a lovely little Italian restaurant so any Seattleites that want to drive to Bellevue, I strongly reccommend Firenze.

Snore Wars

Preston's teasing of the boys continues. . . A long time ago in a land far, far away.......... Two men were born. One German. One French. Over the years, they both developed nasty smoking habits....... In a recent BBC investigation, it was proved that smokers are twice as likely to snore because of inflamed airways.... Other contributory factors are......drinking alcohol. Matthieu and Buettner are sharing a room in Porto..... HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Thursday, April 13, 2006

Weather

Yesterday one of the Brits on my team said, "I'm not talking about the weather." It cracks me up that they were annoyed by Seattleites talking about the weather. I guess they met their weather talking match. . .

Shananigans

Richard is taking my place for the Porto trip. The thought of Stuart, Matt, Ollie and Richard roaming Portugal is rather frightening. Preston sent them the following. . . Hello Boys!!!! Here are some tips for your weekend away. Pay heed. I want you all to come back both emotionally and physically intact.(well....as intact as when you left....ahem...ok...I just want you all back intact). 1. NEVER share a bed 'innocently' with a mate. Inevitably, you will wake up spooning each other and wonder where it all went wrong. 2. Spin the bottle is a game only intended for hetrosexual teenage parties. 3. If you're doing well chatting up a woman....and the other guys are laughing and egging you on....look again!!! SHE'S PROBABLY A MAN!!!! 4. There is no such thing as male bonding. It's just GQ's nice way of referring to gay sex. 5. Drinking multi-coloured shots are never a good idea, whether home or abroad. 6. All prisons abroad are likely to mirror the conditions in Midnight Express. 7. I'm not bailing any of you outta gaol. 8. The appropriate amount of alcohol consumption is the equivalent to what you normally consume in an average evening at home......to the power of 10. Good luck!!! Preston

ready to go home

Had a wonderful time last night hangimg out with Sara, Meredith, Brent and Katie. Got in a little after midnight, climbed into bed and slept. Until I woke up at 4AM. The work people are taking us out to a meal tonight so I can't back out. I would like traveling for business so much more if you could sleep in.

Wednesday, April 12, 2006

Priorities

Watching Condi on CNN. She's talking about Iran. I think, "As much money as she makes, you would think she would fix her teeth." I am amazed how insipid I can be. But she really should fix them.

Horrible Jet Lag

I'm riding out the worst jet lag of my life. I was going to go to dinner with Seattle friend's tonight, but I feel so crapified I'm canceled which I feel terrible about. Just ordered room service and then I am going to climb into bed.

Sunday, April 09, 2006

Don't know what to do with this tossed salad and scrambled egg*

Off to Seattle for a week of training. Is good timing because Tuesday is my friend Meredith's birthday so I am hoping I will be able to break away from the corporate social activities. I also have $67.00 on my Gap card and a little over $100 on my Banana Republic card so SHOPPING and not deal with the exchange rate they way I do when I shop here. It will be so nice to be earning pounds and spending pounds rather than losing money from the crap exchange rate from the US to UK. Of course you won't here me complaining about the exchange rate when I am turning pounds into dollars. . . Anyway off I go. I really wish I could have Scotty just beam me over there. I really hate long haul flights. God help me if I ever go to Oz. *Fraiser reference

Saturday, April 08, 2006

The X-Files

I didn't get into The X-Files when it first came on. I imagined that it was for people that ate a lot of paste in Elementary School. I thought the same thing about Buffy The Vampire Slayer. Both shows, a couple of seasons in, I became a huge fan. Buffy, I watched to the end and I went back and caught episodes from the first three seasons. I still think it was one of the best shows out there, deftly mixing comedy and the horror genre. The Body, Once More with Feeling and Hush are masterpieces as far as I am concerned. I stopped watching The X-Files a few years before the finale and I never went back and watched the early episodes like I had with The Buffster. The main flaw that with the show was I don't think Chris Carter ever knew what the big truth was for the “The Is Out There” so it ultimately became a big, make it up as you go along. That being said, this last week we have been watching the first season on DVD and I can really see how people got hooked. It’s really fantastic. It's also a big hoot to see the early 90's fashion.

Friday, April 07, 2006

Cheney's Aide Says President Approved Leak

This is a beautiful, beautiful turn of events that may result in my believing there is a God.

American Express Card and Mobile

I almost feel like a business woman. Yesterday my company mobile was turned on and today I got my American Express Card. I almost feel like a grown-up. You would think the fact that I am on average ten years older than everyone else that I work with would do it. . .

Thursday, April 06, 2006

One Year Ago Today. . .

Stuart asked me out for the first time. It wasn't obviously a date. Well, I wasn't sure. And if it turned out that he thought it was a date, I planned on blowing him off. I had met a boy the Saturday before and we had got on. Lots of e-mails and texting flying back and forth. (What's with it with texting here? I never texted in the states. I hate it. Takes me three hours to compose a simple sentence of one-syllable words.) Plus, I had a "boyfriend" back in LA. (More like, there was someone that I should have broken up with months before. Like when I got back from Hawaii and he left me a voice message that he had drank all of my beer. Sigh. It is my fault. When your "boyfriend" wants to meet you in Paris and the thought fills you with revulsion, it's a good sign that maybe you should break up. Another break-up reason is when they don't even give you a card for Christmas when you spend $300 on their Christmas present, but that is another story.) Weeks before I left for London a year ago, I told my friends (who all hated the "boyfriend") my plan. My plan when I came to England was to have a good time. In other words, my plan when I came to England was to have as much sex as possible. With as many people as possible. Of course safely. Then Stuart asked me out and I knew immediately walking down the sidewalk or pavement (whatever they bloody call it here) along Shaftsbury toward The National Gallery that I wasn't going to blow him off. I knew immediately. So much for Nicole going wild in London. Thirteen days later he proposed. We were walking along the tunnels in the underground to meet friends in Brighton. He turned to me and said, "Marry me." I said, "Ask me properly in a few months." It is amazing, looking back now, how slowly time moved. Everything made sense. It made sense that we made plans to marry so that we could be together after thirteen days. Thirteen days??? I don't even have the excuse of being on drugs to explain it away. One year ago today, the dominos were set up that changed the direction of my life in a way that I could not have imagined. I thank the gods. I am so glad I said, "Yes."

Wednesday, April 05, 2006

Follow-through

Work. Brainstorming session. What are the things that we consider to be part of providing stellar customer service? I say, "Follow-through." Everyone titters. I feel like a deer in headlights. That terrible, I said something funny, but didn't mean to say something funny, what did I say that was so funny feeling. My boss says, Well, I know what you mean. Why don't you tell them what you mean." I define follow-through adding, "I don't understand why that was funny." Boss says, "Let's wait until tomorrow when we have had a couple of drinks." While I have been unable to find anything online that provides a slang definition of follow-through, based on their reaction, my boss’s reluctance to define the word and the British compulsion to be a bit naughty, I infer the word to mean something with sex. Defining follow-through through that prism, I can imagine a few colorful new Oxford English Dictionary entries. Note to self. Do not say follow-through ever again.

When I heard. . .

That DeLay was resigning this is the sound I heard in my head. . . Ah, bliss.

Tuesday, April 04, 2006

AAANNNNND in this corner!

In the comments of one of my posts last month Kieran asked: "Could you provide the definitive answer: who has the best culture - the UK or the US? Go on, you can say. I'm only messing. What I really want to know is have you listened to anything by Joanna Newson? I've just discovered her and want to know more." I responded, "I've never heard of Joanna Newson so I did a search and I immediately wondered if you are taking a piss. Then I listened to the snippets of her album on Amazon and I became fairly certain of it. . . then it sort of grew on me a bit so now I really don't know. . . Stuart will hate her though so I may need to buy her stuff just for torture purposes. If you don't know her, check out Neko Case. UK vs US. I've always been an Anglophile, so I feel fairly comfortable here. It isn't an easy answer- and I am from the West coast which as a different culture than other areas of the US. Both have good and not so good things. For example. . . UK Good: Apple crumble with custard UK Bad: Washing Machine/Dyer combos that take three hours for one wash and the dryer just makes your clothes wet and hot. US Good: 24 Hour Grocery stores where you can purchase anything your little heart desires US Bad: No one uses or even knows about electric kettles." He hasn't left a post since so I hope I didn't offend with my flippant response regarding Joanna Newson. But, out of that little exchange, I have been thinking of doing a weekly UK vs. US thing. So. Here we go. I now have something to say every Tuesday on this blog. Guaranteed. This week's installment. UK Good: Pub Quizs. I've only been to two so far, but it was good fun and I would like to attend again. The problem is, the quiz at The Frog and Forget Me Not is so popular, you need to get there two hours before the quiz begins, which means you get far more pissed than a girl should on a Tuesday night. UK Bad: Mums with prams. Mothers pushing their children in strollers (at least in my baby heavy Balham neighborhood) seem to think that the child is a get out of jail free card that allows them to aim said stroller with said child, sometimes twins, often twins - straight at you as you as you walk down the sidewalk. I say this as one of the most hyper and polite members of the sidewalk community out there. I'm always thrwapping Stuart on the side of his head when he cuts off a blind man with a seeing eye dog. I am hyper uber psychotically aware of people walking toward me and moving over to let them pass (and why the hell is it always bloody me that lets them bloody pass? When is someone going to move the hell over for me? I'm just saying.) Mums here are VISCIOUS. They use their child as an excuse to take up all room on the sidewalk and to stop traffic. Seriously. If I see one more mother push her pram out against the walk signal daring the traffic to stop, I will choke her with her child's dummy. (Pacifier for my us readers.) US Good: Cheap manicures. You can get a manicure AND a pedicure in LA for $24.00. I try not to think about the fact that the woman scrapping the dry crusty epidermis off of my heal is probably an illegal alien and she is working off being smuggled to the US in a boat and that as she rubs the lotion into my arms in legs, she is thinking, "Stupid white girl. If she only knew how much I wish she would DIE. DIE, WHITE BITCH, DIE!" US Bad: George Bush. He's the President.

soon, soon. . .my precious. . .

Very soon there will be a pretty new template and you will need to go to just www.travelingtreefrog.com to find me. . . In fact, if you have bookmarked me, think about adjusting the link now, because I redirect to blogspot. Excited. . .

Sunday, April 02, 2006

Silly and Vain Girl

Shoes From Planet Evil I should know better. For the last five years or so my knees crunch when I walk up stairs. Lately, I have been feeling a sort of vague pain- sort of like I am always sitting in a cramped space. We went to the theatre last night to see Sinatra at the London Palladium (more about that later) so I grabbed my Kate Spade evening bag, put on a pretty red dress and the shoes that you see above. I'm one of those people that believe you ought to dress up when you go to the theatre. It never fails to shock me when people show up all casual and scruffy in jeans. Maybe it is because The Theatre is my church. I dunno. There are certain things that I think are a sin and wearing jeans to an evening performance is one of them. A matinee is another story. So I dressed up. Put on the pretty red dress and the shoes that I knew would probably hurt my feet because that is what you do. I can put up with feet hurting for a certain amount of time. I'm genetically wired that way. I didn't think about my knees. Walking down stairs was a bit of torture like something Mengele would have thought up. I need to start doing yoga again. The show. . . Big Band, dancers and big screens with Frank singing. Some bits worked better than others-- Sinatra in voice over telling stories of his life with that rat-a-tat, ring-a-ding style was fantastic but a lot of moments felt really disconnected. Cold. Slick with no soul. My favorite bit didn't have any Frank at all. . . The orchestra did their version of Tommy Dorsey's Hawaiian War Chant and the four female dancers looked like they were seriously enjoying themselves as they bounced around on the stage and among the musicians. It was the most visceral moment of the entire show. There was a whole JFK homage (Sinatra was a big supporter and friend and had organized and performed at the inauguration.) Of course there was so mention of Judith Campbell, shared mistress Marilyn Monroe or that he became a republican when he became older, doing both inaugural balls for Ronald Regan. For the song The Lady is a Tramp, they flashed pictures of famous women he had affairs with, which I found. . . kinda tacky. We all know the man saw a lot of tail-- but really people. The Mia Farrow montage of course forgot to mention that they split up because he insisted that she quit Rosemary's Baby and she refused. But all in all it was a lot of fun. Chance to hear some fantastic music and a lot of it was really touching. It just needed oregano. (That's my shorthand for something was missing. It needed oregano.) But I am glad that we went. One section that really amused me was one of Frank’s voice-overs. He was railing at "What the kids today wear to the Theatre. " I can't remember exactly what he said, but it was one of the variations of the "In my day" speech. Looking around The Palladium at some of the outfits last night, Frank would not have been pleased. But I looked pretty for the Chairman of the Board. I have the sore feet to prove it.