London Calling.

Posted on December 7, 2009 by MAL

Another weekend in London.

Friday night. Wine Tasting at Vinopolis with Gemma and Liam. The five tickets didn’t seem like enough at first, but combined with the rum tickets, the whiskey tickets, and the Gin cocktail tickets…they were enough. Plenty. Pulled out my “double fisting” joke. Went down well.

Big commercial wine tasting tour/building built on top of 2nd century Roman wine cellar. Old rustic bricks exposed contrasted with white plastered walls.

Young Latvian champagne expert excitedly lectured to our private group for thirty minutes. I was entranced by her and the way her “W’s” lilted into “L’s”. Vintage champagne means exceptional year, not old. Exceptional means different conditions not necessarily better. Informative.

After the F Word with Gordon Ramsay this week and the Thai restaurant Jock and I went to the week before, I have not been able to get the taste and desire for Thai food out of my mind. So, I convinced everyone else the same. Cheap, semi-tattered restaurant next to the Arab Boy pub in Putney delivered tasty, melt in mouth Pad Thai. Arab Boy delivered heavy silky chocolate-decadent dessert and bold Shiraz.

Saturday – London shopping. Almost finished all Christmas presents for states.

Saturday evening – Jock’s mates from work and South Africa. Fascinating bubbly people. Then, spoke about hair for 2 hours with extremely bright red-headed woman. Thinking of changing back to darker…

Christmas party at Gemma’s sister’s house. One moment house full of people, next moment, just us six dancing, and asked to leave. How did 3:30AM come up so quickly?

Sunday – Nando’s!! Yum! Apparently, Nando’s is in Washington, DC. That will be a must when I move back to states. No one does chicken better.

X-Factor. Happy to see nasally Danyl leave the show. I hope Joe wins.

Weekend. Done.

Prom Date

Posted on October 14, 2009 by MAL

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The day after Alton Towers Theme Park, I had to run 3.5 miles, pack and get on a bus to London. God, what a stressful life I lead! (sarcasm!)

Important re-date with senior year high school prom date.

Mark and I had been friends all throughout high school; as we had a mutual sense of humor, had fathers born in the Caribbean, a genuine love of partying, and both had a fondness for men.

No one wanted to be my date for my junior prom. No, seriously, I had three different guys (as opposed to the same guy three times) give me excuses for reasons why they couldn’t go. I didn’t beg them, oh no. Instead, I had a mother intervene. Yes, my mother kindly, and perhaps slightly bitterly and a bit anxiously, asked the poor friend of my stepsister’s sitting across from us at the dinner table to PUHLEASE take her daughter off her hands and escort her to the junior prom.

Too embarrassed by the Junior Prom incident, I refrained from going anywhere near straight boys for my Senior Prom. So, Mark thankfully took me off my worried mother’s hands (I’m sure she was convinced I would never find someone decent). Perhaps he didn’t want to be left alone with me either, but he invited his friend Jack to join us.

We made a fierce threesome – Mark and I in color coordinated pink and blue pastel outfits and Jack, well, just dressed normally.

We hadn’t seen each other in six years, and although I am no longer on facebook, my mother saw a posting Mark had put saying that he was traveling through England, she emailed him, and told him I was here. Yes! Not being on facebook worked again! I conquered!

Great day out. We picked up as if no time had passed, reminiscing about how bad of an influence we were on the other, and bringing up old jokes and laughing just as hard.

Tour of Parliament Building, Big Ben, Westminster Abbey, Notting Hill and an incredible pastry shop called Ottolenghi.

I had this out of body moment where I saw us much older, with lines in our faces, doing the same thing sixteen years from now.

High school certainly doesn’t feel like ten years ago, and yet here I am. “Where does the time go?” I thought to myself – alarmed that I sounded a bit like I promised myself I would never sound.

Seeing old friends does that to you, I guess. It puts your journey into perspective. I feel more experienced, but the crux of who we are remains the same.

Click here for more pictures.

Dear Alcohol,

Posted on September 28, 2009 by MAL

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You exhaust me. After I left you a month ago, I came back to you – as I always do. You lurked behind every social situation, you tested my limits, and you knew my weaknesses.

You always made me look bad by somehow smearing my makeup, getting stains on my new dress and making my eyes go all droopy. You splashed about, flaunting your image of a cooler life, but yet, you never held up your end of the bargain. Time and time again, you failed me and my baby inside my tummy (Just Kidding! No baby there!).

This weekend was no different. And I let you have your way with me. I don’t need you, I don’t think about you when you’re not around, but when you are there; when you do tempt me in London, at a club and with friends who are celebrating their new house – I think to myself, I’ll just have a couple of ya. Then, when I start to feel really good, I think – yeah, those shots of tequila are a brilliant idea! Sambuca? Sure! Southern Comfort and Lime juice? You know I wanna!!

You make me want to puke. But instead, I’ll just suck you dry through a straw. What do you say about that, huh?? Only real ladies suck you through a straw.

You taste more delicious the more I drink of you. But why are you determined to ruin my mornings after I taste all of your varieties? And why do you like to leave your scent all over my boyfriend? He’s mine! Not yours!

You’re determined to get in between me and my boyfriend. I know you and your wily ways.

You might make me more feisty, and spring challenges on me like heels on stairs, doormen who are determined to keep me out of the perfectly decent club that I would truly make a better place with my presence but he doesn’t get that, or a random girl in the bathroom in a pink skirt that is way too short for her own good prying her way in front of me to apply her horrible matching pink lipstick. Doesn’t she realize she looks like trash!?! You make me tell her that.

But beware, I can say no. I can. I can beat you down. At least for the next month…

I’m heading to Ireland next month, and God knows I have to drink you there. But, I’d appreciate it if you’d tell your Guiness friends to start coming in the Light variety. Ok? Thanks!

And, one more thing. I am going to decide to stop competing against our British friends. I hang up the towel and say “Americans can’t drink as much as the Brits.” There, I said it. Happy?

Lots of Unrequited Love,

Your Dehydrated Friend,

MAL

P.S. Here are some pictures from this weekend before you took over. I know I look angry, but that’s actually just me trying to look cool with your cousin champagne in hand.

Birthdays birthdays and more birthdays

Posted on August 14, 2009 by MAL

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August is apparently the most popular month for birthdays (and if WikiAnswers says it is, than you know it’s true) – meaning lots of parties in August.

Last weekend, Jocko and I headed up to London to visit my friend Gemma for her 28th. We partied late and danced our tookushes off. Here are some photos:

This weekend, Jock and I are heading to the Brecon Beacons in Wales which is a National Park (camping, hiking, kayaking, caving!) for my birthday. I really can’t wait to get out in the wilderness, pitch a tent and get back to the Earth. This is what I picture it will be like – rain! Although, honestly, I don’t care. I don’t mind if I get muddy, wet and smell bad because I will be one with nature, damn it!

I opted not to bring any make up, but Jock said we may be going to pubs for dinner so kindly assured me that I will probably want to take some at least. Ouch. I guess it is what I feared all along – I look like a monster underneath all that finely applied concealer. At least I won’t have to look at myself!

In all honesty, he just said that because he knows how I will not leave the house without at least mascara on – never have never will. I guess mascara is my version of my Grandmother’s red lipstick.

It does make you wonder though about that first time you bravely show your naked face to the man you love – wondering if he cringed or shuddered…and I say it’s brave because it’s freaking scary. Horror stories of screams and a gasp invade your thoughts; worries of waking up to a note scribbled “I thought I loved you until I saw your naked face. You’re not the woman I thought you were dot dot dot”; and fears of the zit on your chin talking and coercing him to find someone else with a clear face. I may have moved to NY at the age of 19 with $35 in my pocket, white water rafted in Colorado and traveled through Eastern Europe on a train by myself – but baring my large pores, short eyelashes, mole, and pale skin to him was the ultimate risk.

Ah well, he’s still here, isn’t he? Can’t be that bad (wink wink).

I also didn’t want to shower all weekend, but Jock said there would be facilities to do that as well – can’t a girl just get a break and smell and look bad for one weekend? I understand though, because I wouldn’t want to sleep next to me sans shower either.

So, wish us luck – pray for good weather and blue skies, and scary pictures to follow next week…

Indian Food, Americans and a Short Man

Posted on June 24, 2009 by MAL

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Lynnette, Rachee, Me, Caroline

Curry night – a delicious way to start the weekend. Four couples, lots of naan, loads of tikka sauce, scoops of yellow rice, half pints of lager for the ladies, one beer spill by the boys, a bit of drool over Fergie the singer (not to be confused with the Duchess of York) from the boys and several swoons over Take That the band (minus Robbie Williams) from the girls. Bellies engorged, conversations flowing, a brief stint to the bar next door and tiredness set in. Jock and I had been up especially early that morning running, and had to wake up early the next day for Londontown! Friday night done and lovely it was.

Bryan, Liam, Matt, Dave, Jocko, Charles

Americans in London Alert! I have to admit…it was refreshing to have two fellow Americans with me all day Saturday. Being able to spout whatever comes to mind, not thinking before we speak, nor caring how loud we get. God, I’ve changed. Americans used to embarrass me – until I realized I was one. Charles and I together means trouble – perhaps it’s the Towson roots, quarter life angst, or our memories of being in Tours, France together and destroying that poor small town – whatever it is, he’s fun…and so is his boyfriend.

After brunch in Soho, two bloody marys and a hard milk shake later, Charles and Bryan left me for Sister Act unsurprisingly (I would have left me too for that show) – and I joined Jock at a Canadian pub in Covent Garden. I got lost, Jock came to find me, and we watched rugby. Once in the pub, no words were exchanged – apparently it was an exciting game. Like football and soccer; don’t get or like rugby.

Met two of Jock’s friends I had never met before – little Matty and Daaaave. Matt doesn’t look that short in the above picture, but they say he is. Dwarves, trolls – anything small Matt is called. In fact, there must be a law amongst his friends saying “thou shalt comment on Matt’s smallness each time he is in sight.” There were even a few random texts from friends outside of London reaffirming his stature. He takes it all in a short stride.

Saturday was a really really good day. The laughter didn’t stop nor did the pub crawling. Plus I got to speak some French – always makes the day a bit brighter for me.

Unfortunately, Gemma wasn’t in town that weekend – so Jock and I are heading back to London this weekend to see them both. Really looking forward to seeing them both again.

Thursday night is the first meeting of the “Ladies Who” Club – yay!