15 June, 2006 | 1 Comment

At least one person in the US is counting down the days till my arrival. One out of 300 million ain’t bad!

15 June, 2006 | 3 Comments

I went to the American Embassy today for the first time. They actually have an IRS office there and I wanted to drop off my federal taxes in person. Since I’m living abroad, I got an automatic extension until June 15th. So naturally, I waited until June 14th to complete everything.

The embassy is rather easy to find – it’s the big ugly building surrounded by scores of concrete barriers to protect it from car bombs. I’ve never seen another building in London that is such a fortress. After walking through the maze of barriers and fences I encountered a rather jolly English security guard. I told him I wanted to go to the IRS office and he said I shouldn’t bother, that I should keep my money and spend it. I asked him why the embassy was being protected by machine-gun toting Brits, rather than Americans. He said it makes more sense this way, because if the embassy is attacked, the British will die before the Americans. I found him quite amusing. He also sang to me in French, though I’m not sure what I did to deserve that.

I am so glad to be done with my taxes, you have no idea. Last night I was almost in tears. I had to file three different returns (one fed, two state). On one of the state returns, because I was only a part-year resident, I had to take my adjusted gross income and add, subtract and divide it, like, ten times to arrive at my estimated tax or something. And what I ended up with was a huge negative number, like $-999. Surely that can’t be right? I screwed something up, obviously, but instead of having a meltdown over this, I just changed the negative numbers to zeros. And the good news is that now I get back three hundred bucks! [If you want me to do your taxes next year, I’ll totally do it.]

So I handed over my tax return to the woman in the embassy and she stamped it, assured me it was on time and that was it. It’s horrible to think that our tax dollars are paying for these soulless bureaucrats to live in London. Before I left, one of the Americans working in the office said to the person standing next to me – “Here, this is yers.” Yers! I haven’t heard someone say that in months.

Statue of Franklin Roosevelt in Grosvenor Square, next to the embassy.

September 11th memorial in Grosvenor Square.

Close-up of September 11th memorial. ["Grief is the price we pay for love."]

Tags: American Embassy, Taxes

14 June, 2006 | 2 Comments

I haven’t had a good day. Actually, the past two days have sucked. So anyway, I went to Sainsbury’s to find something for dinner, but was not successful. I walked around the aisles zombie-like under the fluorescent lights. And then I saw a bag of what I would call “gummi bears,” but Sainsbury’s calls “jelly babies.” So I decided to have that for dinner. And when I got home and opened the bag, I discovered that the jelly babies (which are much softer and plumper than gummi bears) have been dipped in powdered sugar. And that just made my day. So the moral of this story is that even when life screws you over, there’s always sugar to lift you up and make things right.

14 June, 2006 | Comments

I recently filmed a video inside the Russell Square tube station, which is my local stop. I wanted to show my American readers who’ve never been to London what the Underground looks like. I also have this habit of standing at the edge of the platform and looking into the tunnel as the train approaches. For some reason, I find this exhilarating – the rush of air, the ground vibrating, the lights off in the distance. I don’t have a death wish (or at least, not a conscious one). It’s just something that I like to do. So before I leave London, I wanted to document my Russell Square tube experience – complete with the usual sort of commentary.

I have now decided, however, that it’s not appropriate to post this video in its original format. A train approaching Russell Square station via the tunnel that I filmed was bombed last July 7th. This is an event that I have effectively blocked from my mind for obvious reasons – you can’t frequent this station and think about that. It wasn’t something I thought of when I made the video, but now I don’t feel comfortable posting it.

So anyway, my tube video is now a very short clip set to music. I didn’t want to scrap the idea completely, because Russell Square station is close to my heart. Stripped of all commentary, the video seems rather pointless now. Still, you can visit my YouTube page if you want to see it.

Tags: Russell Square

13 June, 2006 | 2 Comments

My favorite English chat show has to be The New Paul O’Grady Show, which is on each day at 5:00. Nothing makes me laugh more than the mere sound of Paul O’Grady’s voice. He is famous for hosting a variety of TV shows in drag as the character Lily Savage, but now he’s appearing as himself. He is wonderfully neurotic and funny and campy. His dog Buster usually sits on his desk during the show. Each day at the start of the program Paul reads letters from viewers (and cringes in horror if they address him as “sir”). Last week someone wrote to ask if he would make an appearance in the Big Brother house. He was disgusted by the thought and said he wanted to seal off the Big Brother house and turn on the gas. How can you not love someone who sees the world like that?

I recorded him reading one of his viewer letters this afternoon, just so my American readers can hear his Liverpudlian accent. His show is going on hiatus after this Friday to make room for Richard & Judy. Boo hiss!

13 June, 2006 | 2 Comments

We’re having a thunderstorm right now. According to my alarm clock, it is 90 degrees inside my flat! I don’t know what this is in celsius, but rest assured it doesn’t get much hotter unless you live on the equator. Outside it’s only in the low 70s. Anyway, I think I might start working at the British Library, where it’s cool.

I forgot my ATM code again this afternoon. I entered what I thought was the correct code and then the ATM machine displayed the snottiest message letting me know it was wrong. It was like – that’s the wrong code, you dumbass bitch. Of course it didn’t say this literally, but that’s how it made me feel. Luckily I remembered the code before it shredded my card.

And in happier news, my friend J is now engaged to the sweetest guy ever. He should be cloned! I have bestowed the official Anglofille Stamp of Approval upon J’s fiancé without hesitation. There are very few men who are worthy of this honor, so you know he’s cool. I couldn’t possibly be happier for them.

12 June, 2006 | 7 Comments

So it seems as if I have acted upon my aforementioned desire to flee this lovely hall of residence. I usually don’t make decisions quickly, but this afternoon, after 4 hours on the STA Travel website, two transatlantic telephone calls and untold aggravation, I am now in possession of an insanely over-priced British Airways ticket to the USA. Yippee!

On 26 July I will fly directly to Los Angeles from London, a nice long 11-hour flight (EEK!). My sister promises to pick me up from LAX and not dump me on Super Shuttle. After visiting with sis, I will travel to my parents’ place and stay for a few weeks, then head East for the last week or so to visit a few of my dear friends. I’ll fly back to London from Philadelphia on 30 August and then leave for Paris a few days later. Whew.

All of this means that I only have a little over 6 weeks left in London! I haven’t registered this yet. It’s all so sudden. I’m sure I will begin to freak out at any moment, but I think I made the right decision. All the people I knew in this place have fled and I just don’t think it’s healthy for me to go a whole year without seeing my friends and family – you know, the people who actually care whether I live or die. So anyway, I’m excited!

12 June, 2006 | 1 Comment

Tonight, Britain’s Channel 5 will begin broadcasting Big Love, the American sitcom about polygamists living in Utah. In the US this show was broadcast on HBO, a premium cable channel, but here it’s being shown on terrestrial (network) TV. As I’ve already written on this blog, this show is disgraceful. It glamorizes and sanitizes a group of people who are nothing more than sub-human trash. Is this what the world has come to? Is it cool to make mindless entertainment about a “lifestyle” that promotes and encourages child rape, domestic abuse and even murder?

If you have any common sense, you won’t let yourself be subjected to this garbage.

Links:

Warren Jeffs on FBI’s 10 Most Wanted List

Tapestry Against Polygamy

ChildBrides.org

The Principle

Tags: Big Love, Polygamy, Channel 5

11 June, 2006 | 1 Comment

I’m going to buy a fan today. Don’t worry, I’m not complaining about the weather. The June temperatures outside are delightful. Indoors, however, it is another matter.

I live on the top floor of a big building that heats up inside rather quickly. Essentially, I am living inside of an oven. I didn’t sleep well last night. I get cranky when I’m hot. That is, crankier than usual. In my room I have the window open (notice the singular there), but the windows in this building are suicide proof (they only open a tiny crack), thus preventing stressed out Ph.D. students from leaping to their deaths. While I think this is a vital safety precaution, the possibility of slowly roasting to death should have also been considered.

Every day the reception area in this building is filled with boxes and suitcases and there is always a string of cars parked outside. You see, everyone else is escaping. And now I’m not sure I want to be left behind in this building all summer either. The mere thought of August scares me. I think I might need to flee.

[This is the window inside my prison cell flat, open as far as it will go. That ginormous crane -- which is even closer and bigger in person -- has several World Cup flags attached to it. There is no escaping the madness!]

10 June, 2006 | Comments

The World Cup officially kicked off in Germany yesterday and I will be writing about it now and then. The purpose of these posts will be to piss off as many people as possible. I guess I should admit at the outset that I hope England wins. I mean, someone has to win this thing so it might as well be England. Americans don’t give a damn about the World Cup and as such, an American victory wouldn’t be cosmically just. It would be like one of those people who buys a lottery ticket one time just for fun and wins $100 million. People like that suck.

So anyway, I’m watching a bit of England’s first match this afternoon, against Paraguay. I’m determined to see what all the fuss is about. I’m pleased to say that it’s quite entertaining so far, but for the wrong reasons. Every time one of these so-called “tough guys” gets even a teensy weensy bit injured, he writhes around in pain on the field in such a dramatic fashion that even the most tantrum-prone toddler would have to give him major props. Wah!

For a totally different perspective, check out my fellow American in London, The Vol Abroad, who’s got the fever.

Tags: World Cup

10 June, 2006 | 4 Comments

Borough Market was on my list of places to go for ages and I finally made it there yesterday. It’s the oldest market in Britain, located under the elevated railway arches of London Bridge station and in the shadow of Southwark Cathedral. During the week it’s a wholesale market that sells to all the top restaurants and chefs in London, but on Friday and Saturday it’s open to regular folks. It’s the perfect place to shop if you’re going to throw a dinner party. However, since I am not in possession of a real kitchen or even a dining table, I just went for the sheer spectacle.

I wasn’t sure if Borough Market would live up to the hype, but I was pretty amazed by what I saw. I had fun just browsing around the greengrocers, who must sell the most photogenic fruit and veg in the UK.

For sale you can find artisan breads, stinky cheeses and fish, wine, all sorts of carnivorous delights (including ostrich), jams of every flavour, honey, pastries and of course – flowers. There are also French, Spanish and Italian goods aplenty and circling the market you’ll find pubs, cafes and bakeries. Not surprisingly, nearly every person walking around the market was noshing.

[Emmerdale is a cheesy soap opera.]

My food choices are limited due to my swinging non-dairy, non-red meat lifestyle. But even I managed to find something to buy (like there was any doubt). I found a vegan stall selling brownies, raw carrot cake and veggie burgers. I also bought a loaf of 100% complete rye bread (a real treat!) from De Gustibus and I looked around the pastry heaven known as Konditor & Cook, who very helpfully have a handy guide for the picky eater, detailing what’s diary free, egg free, wheat free, low sugar and even low fat (uh, why bother?). And the pub a few doors down has a nice loo (always important).

I couldn’t leave without buying flowers, of course. I snatched up a bunch of Sweet William, which attracted many envious stares from the harried commuters I passed on the tube ride home.

As I emerged from King’s Cross station and walked down Euston Road, a shirtless and rather adorable young man behind the wheel of a delivery truck that was stopped in traffic called out: “Did you buy those for me?” You see, money spent on flowers is never wasted.

Tags: Borough Market

9 June, 2006 | Comments

Today I heard a recorded announcement in the London Bridge tube station reminding people that because it’s hot outside (77 degrees!), we should all carry a bottle of water with us. I’m sorry, but if you’re not smart enough to figure this out on your own, you deserve to be thirsty. Good grief!

9 June, 2006 | 2 Comments

If you graduated from Harvard yesterday with a bachelor’s degree, you owe me big time. Do you realize that I risked my life so that you could begin your studies in the fall of 2002 and graduate this week? Do you have any clue what I went through, you little bastards?

Perhaps I should start at the beginning. In the wake of 9/11, I was still new to the Boston area and was looking for a job. To pay the rent, I worked as a temp. (I have a long and storied career as a temp, spanning five states – god, that’s pathetic). If you sign up with a temp agency in Cambridge, Mass., you end up at Harvard. There is no way to avoid this.

The weeks following 9/11 were a very tense time, especially in the Northeast. I made the rounds at Harvard, working in the Dean’s office (where occasionally some irate person would call, prompted by Fox News, and scream at me because Harvard took money from the bin Laden family. I usually just hung up on them. Unprofessional, yes, but then I was a temp and didn’t give a shit.) Eventually I ended up in the undergraduate admissions office – that gatekeeper of elitism – just as the anthrax frenzy began.

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8 June, 2006 | 6 Comments

A round-up of delectable gossip just for you…

My mom sent me an instant message the other night. [She’s just recently learned how to do this. I usually stay up quite late and when she sees that it’s past midnight and I’m still online, I’ll get a message that says “What are you doing up so late?” It's quite heart-warming to think that her nagging has travelled 5,000 miles.] So anyway, the purpose of this particular instant message was to let me know that she bought a baby gift for Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie and that I shouldn’t worry – she remembered to put my name on the card. Do you see what kind of wacky family I have?

I just can’t let the birth of the Chosen One pass without comment. Isn’t it lovely how Angelina has embraced life in Namibia? Like most of the women there, she flew in her L.A.-based obstetrician to oversee the birth of her child. Aren’t there any doctors in Africa good enough for Angelina? Of this whole disgraceful PR campaign, NYT columnist Caryn James wrote: “Remarkably, the press has swooned for this stunt, recasting the cad and the femme fatale as humanitarians instead of two people who brought along their Los Angeles obstetrician and who knows how many other loyal retainers to Africa to stage-manage their baby’s birth.” This is celebrity whoredom at its worst – and that’s saying a lot.

Moving on…I have been debating whether to retire my celebrity crush on Russell Crowe. This isn’t a decision to be taken lightly. I’ve fancied Russ since I saw him in Gladiator – that’s a bit of a long-term commitment, eh? But I’ve finally come to the realization that Russell is toxic and that he should be banished from my life. Yesterday I read a nasty exposé of him in the Sydney Morning Herald and you know, he’s just yuck.

And finally, this is my favorite celebrity-related headline of the week:

Keanu Reeves Says He Wants to Get Married

There are so many jokes I could make about this – so so so many jokes. But I have decided to rise above it.

Tags: Angelina Jolie Can Bite My Ass

7 June, 2006 | Comments

Here are my “Word-of-the-Day” entries for the past week!

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7 June, 2006 | 2 Comments

There is a chain of gyms here in the UK called LA Fitness. Here is their latest promotional campaign:

Yes, most women I know exercise stark raving naked. I looked all over the LA Fitness website to see if I could find a man portrayed in a similar way, but alas, all the men on the website were wearing clothes. I know, major shock. It’s not just that the women are naked that’s offensive to me – it’s the idiotic, silly and degrading way they’re posed. Imagine a man being pictured in the same exact way. I’d love to see that.

These ads are obviously a pathetic attempt to increase their membership numbers. I can only imagine the type of people signing up based on this ad campaign. If I had an LA Fitness gym membership, I would cancel it. Thankfully, I don’t. If you are disgusted by these ads, you can e-mail them.

Tags: LA Fitness

7 June, 2006 | 4 Comments

Via Feministing, I read a shocking BBC News story about smugglers holding “slave auctions” at UK airports, where women who’ve just arrived in the country are sold into prostitution.

“We are now seeing ’slave auctions’ being held in public places at airports where brothel keepers are bidding for women destined for prostitution.”

One auction had taken place outside a coffee shop in the arrivals hall at Gatwick Airport, the CPS said. Others were believed to have been staged at Heathrow, Stansted and other UK airports, it added.

This is too horrific to believe. Interestingly, the BBC News story is accompanied by a photo of a phone booth filled with tart cards. I can’t even imagine how many of the women advertised on those cards are being held against their will. Yet another reason to rip them down!

6 June, 2006 | Comments

Someone recently found my blog via the Yahoo search string “Covent Garden dominatrix.” Sorry to disappoint you, but I no longer work that neighbourhood.

6 June, 2006 | 1 Comment

…perhaps this is a phenomenon I should get used to…

I rented an apartment from an agency in Paris. My wire transfer of the deposit didn’t go through initially because they gave me the wrong bank code. And in between the initial failed wire and the subsequent successful wire, the dollar took a nosedive against the Euro. Bad dollar! I ended up having to pay $70 more the second time around! This is not good.

During the whole wire transfer mix-up I e-mailed the guy at the agency to ask for the correct bank code. He totally blew me off for days, despite this being an “urgent” matter according to him. Finally I called him and asked if he got my e-mail. “What is zees e-mail you speak about?!!! I know nothing of zees e-mail, Mademoiselle!!!” This was followed by heavy breathing/sighing, the rustling of papers, and a stern command shouted at an underling nearby. Later, when I asked him if the owner of the apartment I’m renting speaks English, he shouted “OF COURSE SHE SPEAKS ENGLISH!!!” in a disgusted tone, as if I was too stupid for words.

Overall, it was a lovely conversation. I didn’t take it personally though, because it was all rather entertaining. Perhaps he wasn’t being mean, necessarily, but rather just his hot-blooded and overly dramatic self. For some reason, during our exchange, I pictured him in my mind as looking like Jean Reno – and who wouldn’t want to be yelled at by Jean Reno? Just the pronunciation of his last name - the throaty RUH-no - can send a tingle up a girl’s spine. So the next time I speak to a cranky Frenchman on the phone, I will use this trick. You should too.

5 June, 2006 | Comments

I’ve suddenly been getting a tremendous amount of web traffic from this blog, which linked to my post on the wacky men I live with. I think that post and its aftermath is an episode we’d all like to forget, thank you very much.