Refer to picture below. v
What my iPod makes me wanna do every morning on the subway. ^
So I’m sorry about that last blog. I really haven’t had too many memories that stick to my brain but this time I’ll try to dish out as much as I can scrape off my brain. OMG I really gotta piss, brb……
K, I’m back. Ok so what you may not know if I haven’t talked to you on facebook recently is that I been taking pictures for the local Camden Pub Crawl. It’s pretty sick, they pay me a bit (which inevitably gets spent on drinks) to take pictures with my Canon T1i (for all those of you who know cameras (yeah it’s not a f***in Mark III but calm the f*** down you -)) and I don’t have to pay for cover charge either. Last Saturday the only pounds to come out of my pocket was for a fish burger at the local….idk food place (
might be Al-Qaeda linked, but that’d be racist, so this whole parenthesis is off the record). ANYWAYS, yeah, I been meeting a lot of people on those crawls. I have to say my drinking tolerance has built up quite a bit from these, maybe it’s my food preparation I take before each crawl, or all the walking we do but 8 shots and 4 pints isn’t that intoxicating anymore. But before I sound like some frat boy braggin about non-life-applicable drinking tolerance, I better get back to where I am.
London. Is awesome. Ok yeah I haven’t done that much exploring outside of work and Camden, but just something about this place (and Europe in general) is so……chill. Idk, the lifestyle is very stress free. Maybe it’s cuz I’m on kind-of-vacation, but I could definitely live here. Beats the hell out of Arizona. Don’t worry, I’m talkin bout the state and it’s shitty ass location in the middle of noshitwhere, not my peeps livin there! The downside is definitely not havin my much missed Tukee-Tempe-Tucson partiers. If I could take my people and party across Europe we could all crash on the plane back, and I would die a happy college student (yeah it’s a little morbid but really you’re gonna forget about it within 30 min. So calm down dammit). It’ll probably have to do with that fish burger shop (
sorry, I had to say it, it was too good to pass up. OFF RECORD of course!).
How bout these Republicans and Obama tryin to come up with budget cuts?….Don’t care? Yeah neither do I. K maybe I do. Enough to bring it up. But not enough to continue.
K. I know this blog is about my vacation and so far all I’ve done is made myself a target for NSA. But I really can not think of anything else to share. My weekdays really just consist of, wake up, intern, facebook, bitch at Blizzard to unban my World of Warcraft account (yes, I am in London and dealing with Blizzard customer support (DON’T JUDGE ME LADIES!! A MAN NEEDS SOME ALTERNATE REALITY EVERY ONCE IN A WHILE!!!)) go to sleep. Then I repeat it all the next day. Until the weekend where I snap pictures of drunk people. Check my facebook wall to see them (if you don’t how to see it well then I don’t know how the f*** you’re reading this blog right now….unless…..you’re NSA! I SWEAR TO GOD I DIDN’T SAY SHIT!!)
End of transmission……..bom bom bow bow bududum bom bow bow.
Guess the song and I swear to Corn Flakes I’ll give you my box of Corn Flakes (which really does mean a lot to me) Not the song above, talkin about the bom bom bow bow.
Another week, and more money down the tube. And that’s partially literal:
(walking into the tube station)
(swipes Oyster card)
(light turnnnsss GREE- red.)
What’s an Oyster card? Does exactly what you’re thinking, helps me pay in oysters. How do you do that with a card? Well it’s easy, there’s this bank of oysters called, Bank of Oysters, where instead of gold and cash in a vault they keep, oysters. Now when I swipe my oyster card at the tube station, the BoO sends London’s underground the demanded amount of oysters. Why not money? Why in the hell would they want money when they have oysters! Ok, you probably didn’t know this but what does the underground run on? Electrici- WRONG! Oysters. How does tha- LET ME FINISH! You see, while Santa is on holiday-yes, Santa Claus-which is pretty much all year, besides his December recess, Santa takes a job driving the tube around London. It pays decent, puts food on the table. But those are the checks coming from the Department of Transport (or does it? Idk how these socialists work) but what most don’t know is that before Santa was slangin gifts across the globe, he was the no. 1 most wanted by the FBI for illegal OYSTER trafficking. In the underground rail system Santa actually takes the reigns of bio-genetically engineered oysters that are capable of pulling the weight of….a lot of weight. Underneath the rails, theres an underground river system that is home and channel to the speeding oysters. It kinda looks like this;
How do I know all this? I work for Parliament, duh. We get all these letters from animal rights activists demanding the British government to hand over Santa Claus and shut down his oyster trafficking ring. But seeing as there is no real evidence that the animal rights activists can bring forth to a court of law the government still denies any allegations since it is after all…
Or is it?
And yes Santa wears night vision in the tunnel, and has no beard. Why not? CUZ HE’S WORKING! DUH! That’s why he grows it out for Christmas. Sheesh, you’re just so behind.
I was gonna talk about this week but I’ll get to that some other time. I’m tired out from the week and the oysters have gotten the best of me (they telepathically suck sleep from the passengers in the train).
FREE THE OYSTERS!
Chill song for while you read this crap. Cuz really we’re all just chillllllllllllin…aren’t we?
Correspondence, correspondence, correspondence. So many letters! I wasn’t really feeling like blogging at this moment, but I have nothing else to do but blow snot into tissues. Yes, I have a cold. Like any other long term vacation, once again, I am sick.
Ah, so what did I do this week? Not much really. Wake up. Go to work. Type. Type. Type. Type. Lunch. Type. Type. Type. Type. Afternoon tea. Type. Type. Go home. Facebook. Sleep. Now just multiply that by 3 and you got my week.
BUT! Yesterday was slightly different with the protest and all. And the pints after work made a week’s hard work pay off. My colleague got me pretty much a pint for each days work. And I was kind enough use my hard-earned mythical G’s to buy us a round as well.
Let me just say though, the last thing a bunch of politicians and interns need, is a pub in Parliament. Doesn’t debating already get loud enough? No apparently not. But the subjects are interesting when you hear them from a fellow earth dweller. Here’s a little bit from last night:
Intern 1: (debating about, I don’t know what)
Intern 2: (debating about, knowing what I don’t)
Intern 1: (debating)
Intern 2: (debating)
Intern 1: (debating)
Intern 2: (debating)
Intern 1: (debating)
Intern 2: (debating)
Me: …….have you seen Spiderman 2?
BECAUSE! If you require visual assistance for these characters you’re probably imagining Bilbo Baggins as Intern 1, Vincent van Gogh as Intern 2, and Danny Ocean as Me….(yes, George Clooney, as myself).
When really it was more along the lines of:
Intern 1 looked like this…
Intern 2 was more…
And I was like…
If you were there you would have seen the resemblance. And actually if I were you, I’d make sure to keep the mech. arms, pirate bandana, and fake stache in the visuals. Cuz it really livens the scene since I had no idea what they were talking about. Like I said, film major…surrounded by politicals.
So what else is there to talk about? I don’t know really. This cold must be lagging the connection between my right brain and fingers. And it really does feel like my brain’s right side is imploding and coming out my nose every time I use a tissue. My ear hasn’t been able to pop in forever.
And that’s a long time.
Alright I’m off for now. More adventures to come soon, hopefully. It’s the weekend!
On the iPod. Forever will remind me of London’s subways, I mean, the tube.
Began the internship today, after getting a healthy one hour of sleep! It’s a long story. Actually it’s not. I’m just not gonna explain it cuz it’s not important. But thanks to being the third person on the shower I officially had the coldest shower of my life! Blue extremities cannot be healthy to start off a morning, and I’m not just talking arms and legs…
Circus animals? Yeah! Circus animals! I’m just gonna let you think about that for a while…
…k it’s really not worth the suspense.
After triumphantly managing my way through the underground railways of London, and wandering around to find out where the hell I exactly enter Parliament, I arrived at the offices of my MP. By offices I mean two rooms comparable to the size of my rinky dink Mesa apartment living room. Ok, maybe they weren’t THAT small.
Suspense is killing you isn’t it?
What’s my job? (You like how I ask questions for you? I write like I’m interviewing myself, makes me feel famous) in Britain they have constituencies, like states in the US you could say. “Basically” (-Ms. Doyle), constituents (people living there) send in letters to the Member of Parliament (MP), with whatever nags, or complaints, or opinions, or invitations, or frog legs they need answered. Scratch the frog legs. Actually, no. Keep them there. That might come in later. I and my colleague James receive those letters and decide whether or not they fall under my MP’s expertise (which is mostly economics and business stuff like that). If they’re something different, we tell the constituent to f*** off and get a job. Just kidding. ANYWAYS, instead of telling them to f*** off, we send a letter back to them saying we will ask the Secretary of State of Whatever. We call this a hold. Then we send a letter to the SoSoW asking them to regard this constituent’s concerns. This is called a pass. So for example:
The time has arrived!
The first letter I read was from a constituent regarding wild ANIMALS being banned from the CIRCUS due to animal rights violations. In response we sent a hold letter stating we have forwarded their concerns to the Secretary of State regarding Animal Health (or something like that). Then we sent a pass letter to SoSrAH(oslt). Once a reply is received we send that back to the constituent.
Austria just recently banned the use of wild animals in circuses. That’s why it’s a hotter topic now in the UK. Just fyi. Thank me later.
Now there’s a lot more other kinds of letters but I’m not giving you a frickin pokédex of all those. Come out here yourself if you’re that curious.
As for that pub crawl Saturday night let me just say that they never disappoint. Even if you’re a total loner you can still find a group of Aussies to show you a good time. Some memories from that night:
Me: Parlez vous francais?
Me: Je dois practicer
Frenchy: Yeah you do
Chug, Chug, Chug
Me: I’ll take another pint
Bartender: (fills pint)
Me: Thank you
Pub Crawl Guide: We’re off to the next pub! (looks at Me) FINISH YOUR DRINK!!!
Me: (looks at Guide) (looks at pint) (chugging commences)
Pub Crawl Guide: CHUG! CHUG! CHUG!
Guide and rest of Pub: CHUG! CHUG! CHUG!
Me: (holding back puke) (still chugging)
Guide and rest of Pub: CHUG! CHUG! CHUG!
Me: (finish) (still not puking) (stomach not feeling right)
Sexy Fine Bitches: (place Olympic medal around Me’s neck)
Paparazzi: (snaps away)
…….k those last two lines didn’t happen.
Austrian: What’s your name?
Austrian: No you say it, Vvvvvvuuuuullllfgahng!
Austrian: No! VVVVVVVuuuuullllfgahng!
(5 turns later)
Austrian: There you go.
Congratulations! You’ve made it through the whole post! You must really be bored. Feel free to think WTF on any of the sentences found in this blog.
I’m off now. All this googling as left me wishing for a pet tiger. You know you want one.
Ahhh, Europe, where you can drink all you want and not get bothered by bored ass cops with nothing to do but shit all over your social life and wallet on the city’s behalf. Not that I’m referencing AZ cops or anything…
So I’ve been here for about…3 days maybe? I don’t know, I got here Wednesday (I think) and have been mostly a hermit since. Luckily my flatmate (British talk for, roommate) has shown me around a bit here in Camden (part of London, north of Parliament where I’ll be working). Coming from Ahwatukee where people (actually, just me) drive everywhere, the whole public transportation system is taking some adjusting on my part. But I adapt, if I’m gonna be Jason Bourne I need to be able to lose my tail in something else besides a Golf.
Today I made my way to Parliament all by myself using the tube (subway, not the franchise (there’s actually a lot of those here) talkin about the train underground that goes gadunkadunkadunk). Had to find out how to get to work before my first day.
Working at Parliament? Yeah in case you don’t know why I’m in this former empire, I’m serving/working/partaking of/whatevering an internship with an MP (what’s an MP? I don’t know, but I think it’s kinda like a Senator) in Parliament. How did I get this gig, a friend of a friend. Are you into politics? You mean am I a poly-sci major? Hell no! Then why are you doing it? My mom made me.
Now before I get reamed by all the people that are gonna say, “you’re so ungrateful! You’re just doing that cuz your mom made you? That’s such a great opportunity! Blah blah blah blah!” HEY! Did I say I wasn’t grateful? No! So shut it! If you’re parents said you could live in London for a month and all you had to do was intern at an internationally known landmark, what would you say!? “No thank you, I’m not a political science major. I’d rather spend my time cooking chicken on an Arizona sidewalk”. No you wouldn’t say that, would you? An experience like this is hard to come by, and as a film/business major, experiences=future material.
Wow what a rant.
Anyways, besides re-watching Entourage episodes, I haven’t done much. Yeah I’ve explored Camden and a little bit outside of it. It is throwing me off not having an Entourage to explore with.
Tonight I may try going to a pub crawl…alone…WAHHHOOOOOO!!
Where’s my Pimp Ship First Mate when I need him? Oh yeah, the Hamptons.