Postdated from the UK. Missed Y'all!

Circa July 6th:

Contrary to my prior assumptions, I did in fact make it across the pond. I am currently sitting in the kitchen of my "Home Exchange" buddy's house, drinking instant coffee (they only believe in tea around these parts) and mourning the last 4 hours I spent laying in bed awake.

A few things I've picked up on thus far:

1. British English is not the same language as American English.

2. Brits spell things differently to suit their accents (ex. tons = tonnes, Claritin = Claritynn, etc.)

3. Searches are difficult when things are called something completely different than what they are (i.e. grocery cart = trolley)

4. It rains in London...always. Ads in the US that celebrate the arrival of sunny days and fireworks alike read, "Make the most of Summer" here. This seemed odd to me until I couldn't leave the house without a jacket, scarf, and umbrella yesterday.

5. The food here is almost unrecognizable. Everything is drowned in salt and margarine, so I have resorted to fruit, salad, bread, and wine. Wish me luck!

6. I like American teeth. I like them white, shiny, and in a line - that is all.

7. They will put anything and anyone on TV here. While they mostly air American shows (Will & Grace, 16 & Pregnant, etc.) their British remakes or originals are downright jarring. My personal favorite thus far "Embarrassing Bodies: Teen Edition"gave no warning, nor the polite 'Cops' blur out before full blown (no pun intended) infected genitals were shoved in my face. Lovely.

Thats all so far from good ol' London Town, but today we plan to visit my namesake, the Tate Modern (did I mention no one asks me to spell my name here? Rather pleasant) and I could't be more thrilled to ride the Tube like a proper Londoner. Cheers!

Circa July 15th:

it's been quite some time. I've been in London etc. and CANNOT wait to get home. I miss real food, the sun, and most importantly, my people.

The 'tube' here (the underground rail) has been practically idiot proofed for foreigners and residents alike. The maps are color-coded, clear, concise, and a lady with a lovely British accent announces each stop, what trains are available for transfer at that stop etc. Because of all this convenience, I hate it. It takes ages to know where the hell you are going on the NYC subway, and therefore only the deserving and the sharp-witted can handle the beast. Also, London has sacrificed efficiency in favor of politeness - which is a trend that extends far past the walls of the tube.

New York gives a big middle finger to tourism, and stupid people alike - which is precisely why I miss it. The entire time I've been in London it's felt like Disneyland. Terrible fried food, fat people, rides, lots of pleases and thank you's, and almost nothing of substance. Changing of the guards at Buckingham palace was a D-Land parade if I've ever seen one.

Also, I'm not sure why people complain so much about American's being fat, when I can now tell that it is genetic. Our fore bearers, the 'great' Brits, are the same, super-sized tubs of lard we are, just with a side of mayonnaise.

The most redeeming aspect of the British society is that they recognize the value of American television, and play Friends reruns in a continuous loop on channel 4. Ugh, I know. Stuck up American. COME AT ME BRO. All I want is to talk to someone with all their teeth and hair (the two seem to be an either/or thing here.)

Gotta love the lezzies

In honor of my most recent exit row mates, the Teva lesbians, and the hell that is the Phoenix airport - I bring you lesbians who look like Justin Bieber :) http://lesbianswholooklikejustinbieber.tumblr.com/

I will also soon be brining strep throat to the UK...I'll update you from my Philly lay over this time tomorrow!

Airport Living

I remember why I hate Arizona. More than tourists, more than crowded San Diego beaches – the state itself enrages me. First off, everyone who works at the airport was actually born in this country – I’m already out of my element. (Yay state legislature). Lady with a baby (questionably with one on the way to boot) in the smoking section. Most people are too unassumingly nice for their own good. The asian guy on the plane next to me actually spoke english, and the Einstein Bagel people stopped to have a 5 minute conversation with a little boy only after checking 12 times if everyone waiting around had been helped. Try getting that service in California. Scratch that: try even getting the Starbucks order you already paid for in California. The only person who wasn’t unassumingly nice was wearing a Yankees cap and didn’t think I would notice him watching me eat my sandwich. Go figure.

I really wish I were one of those people who are easygoing travelers. I am instead, one of those people who is in a bad mood at the airport for no reason in particular. I am simply put out by the thought of airplane travel. It’s not that I’m not good at it, it’s just that I would rather hitchhike. I have nightmares about airplane claustrophobia, am highly skeptical of the new security body scan x-rays, and have a general distaste for lines and the invasion of my personal space. I hate how my skin gets oily and my hair gets static, and the way the seats are so damn close together even my butt falls asleep by the end of the flight, no matter what.

Last but not least, people always joke about airplane food – but can anyone do something about airport food? I’m sick of the same things in every terminal across America – Burger King, Chili’s Too, and Cinnabon. NO WONDER EVERYONE IS FAT. Not to mention all the “real” Mexican food advertised in this airport, served by white people. Get me to hawaii with my gays, ASAP!

who knew...

...that a bad pick up line could become the theme for a whole night?

I realize it's been a while, so let me catch you up. Graduated about a week and a half ago. Loving life as a quasi-adult. Went to say hi to a friend up the street at Mitch's Surf Shop on my way to getting my graduation present (a really cool clear Marc Jacob's watch) fixed (needed some links taken out for my baby wrist). Lucky me, knowing everyone to ever be employed at Mitch's payed off and I was saved the inconvenience of a jeweler...but not before I was greeted properly by the staff.

As I walk in to the store - no makeup, hair up, flip flops - I hear from behind the counter "Comin' in hot." I paused briefly to ponder whether or not this is my cue to finish the rest of the overplayed P!nk song, and realized that it was merely an unfortunate pickup line. I look up to see a strange facial dichotomy of overgrown goatee and braces (I swear adult braces are following me everywhere). Baffled as to what my next move should be, I folded and put away a shirt that was on the counter. They really should have hired me when they had the chance.

Anyway, later that night I am sitting at the Living Room (I hang out there way too much as it is the only place in La Jolla that stays open past 10 pm) and Kimball announces that he is "nearby on his hog". I tell the table that we have more people "comin' in hot on the hog". Little did I know that "comin' in hot" was the greatest gift adult braces Steve could have given me today. It is now not only a party term, hookup term, and transport term, but actually was made a reality when Kimball and I skidded into the In N' Out parking lot at 11:30. Literally, comin' in hot. Thank you, Steve.

Apoca-lame

Using the fact that I am typing this as evidence that the world did not end yesterday at approximately 6 pm (Harold Camping never did mention if that was Pacific or Eastern Standard Time) - life goes on.

The day after the apocalypse I went to the grocery store, wore a yankees cap, and got some dirty looks. Nothing out of the ordinary. I feel like everyone should at least try to make this triumph over Christian extremism a little more special for each other. Is everyone really that disappointed we didn't perish in some shitstorm yesterday?

On May 21, I counted down impending doom; predicting a warm shower of meteoroids through the overcast San Diego sky, after ruling out the possibility of death by tidal wave, considering the coastline appeared normal. After I deciphered safety had arrived in the form of 6:02 pm on my phone clock (does anyone actually have a watch these days?) I ate some sushi off a miniature boat in a whirlpool moat at a bar. (Yay, cheap Japanese food).

In the hours leading up to what I ironically anticipated as the end of humanity (and my sushi date), I listened to my favorite R.E.M. song, cringed at the thought of becoming an Alien sex slave, and realized - the apocalypse wouldn't be the worst thing.

This is for a few reasons.

A) Selfishly, because at this moment in time (mere days away from graduation), I am full of nothing but hope and potential - and as any daytime sitcom will tell you, my life can only go south from here. Bad weather, a dead-end job, and an inexplicably fat, yet lovable husband. If this is truly what I'm looking at, this is the best possible time to go up in flames.

B) I don't believe in hell. (I said a fearful "just kidding" to the ceiling for each time I discussed the joke that is organized religion yesterday, but I'm confident in my findings today). Even if there was a hell, all my friends are going down with me, and if anyone could make it a party out of it, it's us.

C) If 2% of the world's population (theoretically the most devout Christians) really did get raptured into the sky, that also would be awesome. Those people are nuts (i.e. Harold Camping) - and the rest of the world would have a little more breathing room.

In all, I'm glad we're all (well, most of us anyway) still alive today. Should we learn anything, it is not to listen to cult leaders. But hell, what do I know?

DDS

I hate the dentist. I hate the dentist so much I didn't go for a year. I hate the dentist so much I have three cavities.

Today, a week after my first routine check-up in a year, I got a cavity filled. Just one of the three. They like to spread these things out at Dr. Patel's office.

When I say 'I got a cavity filled' it sounds like a routine procedure. Let me assure you, today was anything but routine. I waited for my dentist, an ambiguously aged Indian man who insists on spiking the hair above his forehead, even though it is four inches too long for this purpose. You know you are too old to spike your hair when there are visible grays.

He waltzes in after causing what only sounded like innumerable pain in the office to my right, and without much warning jammed a HUGE needle into my lower jaw.

Oh, hi. Didn't see you there. Oh, you're gonna keep that in there for a minute? Gotta jiggle my cheek to make sure you get it deep enough in there? Sweet. I'll just be here waiting for you to take it out. No, no, take your time. It's no problem, really.

He disappears as quickly as he arrived with a quick "Sorry!"

I proceed to have a panic attack and uncontrollable tears roll down my face as I imagine the horrors that await me once he comes back to feed upon the poor tooth he just paralyzed. I'm done for. The loop of anxiety overtakes me: He is going to fill a cavity. OH MY GOD he is going to drill in my mouth. Okay, think about something else. Something else. WHY CAN'T I THINK OF ANYTHING ELSE. It's just a cavity; people do this all the time. OH MY GOD HE IS GOING TO DRILL IN MY MOUTH.

Suddenly, the incredibly nice secretary shows up (she likely heard my sobs from down the hall) and asks me if I want her to turn the air on, or if I would like some soda. How can she think of room temperature at a time like this? What does soda have to do with anything? I'm not overheating, I'm simply having a panic attack.

Although her adult braces made me uncomfortable (adult-anything for that matter, is disastrous. Adult acne, adult onset diabetes, you name it), I was not about to be rude to her, so I let her turn on the air conditioning. This mistake is what caught me up in a feverish dance of indecisiveness. Was I overheating? Sure. Sweatshirt off. Shivers. Well, I guess it's too cold to overheat. Sweatshirt on. Why am I sweating? And so on...

Finally, he returns. I have just gotten my tears under control and the left side of my face is sufficiently numb when he drills away like a happy little dwarf mining rubies. Like all anxiously anticipated events, the actual drilling was far less traumatic than my 20 minutes of incessant blubbering - which lead me to the sad realization that at age 18 I am still not fit to visit the dentist on my own.

As I was leaving, someone mentioned to me that I needed to book an appointment for my next two cavities to be filled.

"You better give me drugs next time unless you want another scene like that!"

Heigh ho, heigh ho! Off to kill Tate we go...

Manorexia. A real thing?

"Dude I totally have workout bulimia."

"I did the Master Cleanse for 20 days once. I dropped like 10 lbs."

"Ugh that Chinese food was so much. I so wish I could throw up right now."

"Our diet starts tomorrow. I swear to god all we are gonna do is run."

"Could we go on a fruit and vegetable cleanse to start our group diet?"

"I wanna drop 40 lbs by the end of summer. They did way more than that on 'I Used To Be Fat."

The above quotes, believe it or not, are from a session spent in my friend's "cave", the basement hangout at their house. Yes, we spent a solid 45 minutes, including the walk we went on, conversing solely our respective weights and fitness goals. The methods among teenagers range from actively unproductive to extreme dieting - did I forget to mention the friends I was with were guys?

I understand guys wanting to "get big" - in their words - but to borrow tips from the eating disordered teenage girls next door and trying the get-thin-quick cleanses popular among housewives seems to go a bit far. Honestly, this conversation would never occur between two straight 18 year old men in any other place than Southern California. Living in the land of year-long beach weather has made us all a little neurotic about out appearances, I just never thought in escaping my girlfriends for an afternoon I would face the same conversations.

Case in point, Dennis Quaid of Hollywood, California's true state capitol:http://www.clickorlando.com/news/7965067/detail.html