Posts Tagged 'Lent'

Bitch best blog more!

For starters, I just thought I’d say how much I love hearing that people read my blog. A bit self-important, I know, but it’s nice to know that people either care enough or are bored enough to read a bit about my life. I don’t think I thank people enough for stopping by, so as my favorite McBride would say, there that is.

To trade in for my three sentences of self-importance, I’ll share how I’ve suffered twice (in recent memory) for my lack of Englishness.

I work at a pasty cafe. Most of you know that. Now, working at a pasty cafe, you get asked a certain variety of questions and as such are readily prepared to answer most any of them. For example, “What flavors of pasty do you guys have?” Or, “What comes with the light lunch?” Even once, despite seeing our display full of fresh pasties, “Do you guys have any pasties?” I won’t lie, I have my moments where I mess things up, but generally speaking I am entirely capable of running the counter on my own.

That is, of course, until a man approaches the counter, and to the best of my hearing, he inquires if we have any “oise”.

“Any what, sir?” Mayyyybe I just heard him wrong.

“Oise.”

Maybe not. “Pardon me?”

Impatient look. “Do you have any oise?”

Shitshitshit, still have NO idea what he wants. “I’m sorry sir, just one more time for me…”

Cue the GOD, how stupid IS this girl? look. “OISE. Do you have any OISE??”

“Excuse me, let me get Abbie.”

Abbie walks up, all smiles. “Hello there, what can I get for you, sir?”

“I just wanted to see if you have any oise.”

“Oh, no sir, I’m sorry, we only have the cold drinks. We don’t have any ICE.”

ICE?! Ice?? I am sorry, but there is no way on the PLANET that that man asked me for ice four times. Nope. Oise, yes, he asked me for oise plenty of times. But ice? I don’t care how strong your English accent is…oise? And for the life of me I don’t know how Abbie understood him. And on the first time.

The next day I was in the kitchen talking with Sharaz when he starts telling me about this really funny thing that happened to him the other day. Sharaz, for the record, works at the bar at the Holiday Inn in town. So he deals with a variety of customers (hello gypsies!), including many very English ones (Norfolk Turkey Association, anyone?). Aaaanyway, he starts telling me how this guy came up to the counter and kept asking for something and Sharaz, for the life of him, had no idea what the man was talking about. Turns out, all the guy wanted was some OISE. So I take that as proof that I’m really not all that retarded at living in England. Yes, you could point out that English is my first language and it’s not Sharaz’s and therefore I have no excuse. But you’re not going to, because we’re all awesome here, and we’ll just write off the whole “oise” scenario under the same category as the soup story.

We sell a variety of soups at my work, depending on the day. This particular day, we were serving Tomato & Basil soup. I regularly get ridiculed by my managers as to how I pronounce this certain kind of soup (toe-may-toe and bay-zil), because according to the English, I say it ten kinds of wrong. You’re supposed to say,  “toe-mah-toe and ba-zil”.  Which I never say. And has never been a problem.

Cue ridiculous English lady.

“Excuse me, what kind of soup are you serving today?”

“Toe-may-toe and bay-zil, ma’am.”

“What was that?”

“Toe-may-toe and bay-zil.”

“Pardon, what are you saying?”

“Toe-may-toe and bay-zil…” Still getting a blank look. You have GOT to be kidding me. FINE, I’ll say it:

“Toe-mah-toe and ba-zil…?

“Ahh, yes, thank you!”

At this point, all of my co-workers were listening and watching from the back, busting out laughing. Because what’s funnier than watching me be forced to speak English-English as if American-English were incomprehensible? Apparently, not much.

So there you have it, two accounts of me still being blatantly American, in all of their over-written glory. Totally could’ve reeled off those stories in two sentences…but hey, as a certain Lindsay Ransom and I believe, what is a good story if you tell it too quickly?

Speaking of Lindsay, I have her to thank for my recent return to the land of jukebox classics like Stay by Frankie Valli and The Four Seasons. God, I love that song. And playlist.com, for letting me play it and all the other classics I don’t have on itunes to death. I’d say I’m just waiting for someone to come complain about my Happy Days overplaying, but halls are basically empty due to our current month-long spring break.

Yes, UEA for some reason has a whole month off for spring break. And can I just say quickly how much I hate using the term spring break now thanks to Sam Wilson? Every time I use that term in his presence, he drops his voice an octave and shouts “SPRING BREAK” in his best MTV spring-breaker impersonation voice. Because apparently spring break is less of a widely-used term here, and more of an Americanized concept of what kids go do during Easter holidays.

EASTER! I can’t believe that it’s this Sunday already! This is where I’m supposed to tell you that I’ve been an amazing Lent-er, and kept up with all of my dietary promises of a few entries ago. Sad to say, I survived a good…hmm, let’s be honest here…a good six days before I lost it. Accidentally, mind you – but I just as easily could have gone back to the Lenten diet after I realized I’d broken it. Instead, I continued HORFing down my deep-fried tortilla slathered in guacamole and sour cream and decided to be a bad person. So much fail, I know. I’ll blame my over-extended Ash Wednesday ambition for that one.

My Easter plans, if all works out for the best, include visiting the awesome-sauce Zach Coventry at his home in Kent. Kent! Does it get more English sounding than that? Well, I guess it could, if you lived there, and your last name was Coventry, and your middle name was Westwood. All of the above of which apply to Zach. So that makes Zach one of THE most English-sounding people on the planet. Brings to mind a certain picnic filled with Mr. Wheatsworth and some large-leaf lettuce leaves…oh, amazing times.

[Just hit 1111 words! Make a wish!]

If you’re wondering where the name of this post came from, you can thank Alex Davis and his literary, word-phrasing genius. And if you’re wondering if I intended on making this the most name-drop-tastic post I’ve ever written, the answer would be no. But that hasn’t stopped it from certainly becoming such.

In other news, life is a bizarre breed of amazing right now. I’m looking forward to summer, not really believing that we’re already a week into April. How the hell I’ve been living in another country for nearly eight months is beyond me. I watched the film Amélie the other day, and it solidified my need to go see Becks in France. Granted, the film is a bit on the quirky side, but I love it, and it does a fantastic job of capturing the whimsically happy feeling of everything being alright.

I admit I got a little screencap happy there for a second, but seriously. I love looking at anything from that movie…it is one of the most visually engaging films I’ve seen in a long time!

And in hopefully my last segue of this beastly post – speaking of films. I watched Elizabeth the other day as well, and might just have re-fallen in love with Vincent Cassel. Most of you likely won’t recognize the name, so I’m going to be awesome and jog your memory, starting with this gem:

Voice of Monsieur Hood? Yeah. Vincent fuckin’ awesome Cassel. He plays himself a badass Russian mafia guy in Eastern Promises, (okay, so Nikolai could probably kick Kirill’s ass, but come on, Nikolai is theoretically Aragorn, so whose ass couldn’t he kick?) and is part of the super classy, unfairly attractive cast of both Ocean’s 12 and Ocean’s 13. Here’s a sample or two, if you have a few minutes to spare:

So much win! Okay, I’m done with the clips and the pictures and the segues, I promise. Just go watch Amélie, or something with Vincent Cassel in it. That’s all I ask!

Besides that – that being the ridiculous 1456 word post I just threw at you – life is strepless, class-less, and definitely still amazing. Even better? Home in two months. Home, and summer.

And as we all know, there’s nothing better than a lazy summer with the crazy kids of El Do.  ♥

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Life in High-Speed and Technicolor

If the rest of my life goes by at the same rate as the past two months, I’m pretty sure I’ll be eighty by next week.

Today is March 1st. That is RIDICULOUS! How, how, how can it possibly already be March? My mind is officially blown.

In other news, I turned twenty last week. Something about twenty sounds so much cooler than nineteen, so needless to say, I’m pretty happy. The flat got together and did the cake-and-balloons deal (=]) and we had cheeseburgers and malts. Malts! WIN! I wasn’t exactly sure how to go about making malts, beyond that they’re basically milkshakes with malt, so all things considered they turned out pretty well. Basically, I’m in love with Iceland, and I’m pretty sure that every college town in America needs one.

Iceland is magical. It doesn’t exactly collect the cream of the crop in terms of society, but damn…the selection of frozen food is BOMB, and it is dirt cheap. And it’s frozen. Which means it lasts…basically forever. I can forget about the chicken kievs (6 for £2.50!!) I have in the freezer till next Wednesday and they will still be just as tasty, as opposed to, oh, the mince that I picked up for spaghetti but forgot about and now it’s moldy and ten kinds of fail.

One of the downsides of Iceland is, go figure, their lack of fresh produce. They do have a fresh produce section, but I don’t know if I’d call it kosher. As in, I went looking for some tangerines the other day and couldn’t find any. Found myself a £1 bag of ten “Easy Citrus Peelers” though, which look (and sort of…?) taste like tangerines. Case in point.

On a fantastic food note, though, we have the discovery of MALT LOAF, many thanks to my flatmate Matt. I promise you, you have not LIVED until you’ve had malt loaf slathered in butter. It ranks right up there with Lyle’s Golden Syrup in terms of epic English foods that must come back to the states with me. And in terms of American foods to bring back here come August? How about some Bisquick and some Lucky Charms. Holy shit, what I would do for a bowl of Lucky Charms right now.

This is malt loaf. ITS FUCKING AWESOME.

This is malt loaf. IT'S FUCKING AWESOME.

Lyles Golden Syrup is liquid win and is best consumed on its own with a spoon.

Lyle's Golden Syrup is liquid win and is best consumed on its own with a spoon.

And since I can’t seem to stop talking about food, I’ll go ahead and lay out for you all my current Lenten diet. I’ve given up cookies, cakes, candy, chocolate, and fried food. On second thought, I probably should have given up butter or cider…but last time around (and by last time around, I grossly exaggerate and actually refer to about three years ago) the whole cookies, cakes, etc. seemed to work pretty well, so I thought I’d give it another whirl.

This past week was Reading Week, so I haven’t had any class for ages. It’ll be nice having a purpose in life besides pasties come Monday…er, come tomorrow. Turned in some coursework though on Thursday, so I guess I had a slightly academic week.

Must say though…definitely spent more time with my two besties Titus Pullo and Lucius Vorenus than I did on my paper. Yes, the Rome bug has bitten again – and this time, I blasted through Season 1 and Season 2 in a concise four days. Why, oh why did HBO cut that series? I kid you not, people…Rome is TEN KINDS of epic, and seriously…if you enjoy quality shows, or anything of the ancient world history variety, or especially if you’re awesome like me and love both, you HAVE to watch Rome. HAVE TO.

Titus Pullo and Lucius Vorenus: quintessential BAMFs.

Titus Pullo and Lucius Vorenus: quintessential BAMFs.

Finishing up with that and refusing to come back to reality has me itching for another trip through the fifties/sixties epic movies; you know, The Ten Commandments, Spartacus, Ben Hur, yada yada. Nothing entertains quite like Technicolor and the blatant disregard of race when casting movies of the ancient world. JOHN DEREK I LOVE YOU.

John Derek, my 1950s love.

John Derek, my 1950's love.

[Sidenote: I just searched thesaurus.com for a synonym for ignore. On the sidebar of the results page, it had a “Related Searches from Ask.com” list. Number one related search? Why do men ignore women? Just…at this point in time, no words. Irony for the win.]

For once in my life, last Tuesday, I had GOOD phone luck! Reggie is, I swear, the luckiest phone I’ve ever had. I misplaced him a few weeks ago – left him on the desk in the main office of the Arts 2 building – and Tuesday, once again, I nearly saw the last of him. Amidst a bit of drunken revelry in the LCR, I managed to upend my purse and lose nearly the entirety of its contents. This includes, cause I’m awesome, my ID (£20), my phone (£90), my bus pass (£148), my camera (£150), and my keys (£40). Would you like to know the two items that managed to stay in the purse? Two pieces of chocolate liqueur candy. Of ALL of the things to not fall out…the candy. WTF LIFE YOU FAIL.

Anyway, because Laura and her ENV friends are awesome, we somehow managed to locate all five of those essential items. I don’t even know how that’s possible, almost as much as I don’t know how it’s possible for me to LOSE them all…but hey, it’s a good thing, so I won’t question it.

And right now, just cause I can, I’m going to say how much fun it is creating tags for posts. I know they pretty much don’t even matter…but I’m a fan of making endless amounts of them. I swear, every time I write, I end up with like five more tags than my last post…regardless of relevancy. Once again, because I’m awesome.

It never ceases to amaze me how a piece of information can just sit in your brain and then – BAM! – just re-hit you and suddenly seem like a surprise. For instance, when I was making a mocha (pronounced, by the by, “mah-ka” on this side of the Atlantic…which makes me laugh to no end) for a customer yesterday when I realized, out of nowhere, that next year I will be living in a house that I am paying the rent for using money I earn at a job independent (sans tuition) of my parents. And with three guys, no less. When did that happen? When did I turn twenty and gain that kind of responsibility? It really, really, weirds me out. In fact, if it didn’t excite me about twenty millions times more than it weirds me out, I don’t know if I could handle it.

But, well, as things stand I think it’s safe to say that I’ll be just fine.


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photo cred to myself and Maggie J. Moxie