I apologize for being so negligent of my blogging duties! I was rather busy garnering these here experiences (amongst others) and, you know, trying to live my life beyond the flourescent screen of my laptop and clicking of my keyboard. But here they are, these are my confessions, (you know you just sang it in your head). However, in the true spirit of being on my semester abroad, fuck it, it’s my life (and these three months don’t really count as real life anyway) bitches! So to get in the spirit, a little mash-up that sets the mood? No regrets. I apologize for nothing. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=og_8Trt_nTs
1. I cannot tell a lie. The fire alarm that went off at 3:00 a.m.? Yeah. That was me.
After a night of dirty dancing amongst a glossy-eyed yet exuberant mob of young Londoners, I returned to my room covered in spilled drinks, sweat, and probably many other unpleasant things I would rather not think about. Even in my exhausted, slightly drunken stupor I knew that the next morning would not be pretty if I didn’t clean myself up now. Thus, I got in and took a steamy, refreshing shower. In my relief to have Herbal Essence scented locks and exfoliated pores, I paid no mind to the very important sign located in every bathroom of the Loring Hall dorm: “Steam will activate bedroom smoke alarms. Keep door closed.” Within a moment of opening the bathroom door and not slamming it shut behind me, the very angry, impossibly loud blaring of the fire alarm went off. Standing dripping wet and wrapped in my towel, I began to hear people grumbling and shuffling about in the corridor. Oh my god. If I go out they will know it was me and everyone will HATE me for setting off the fire alarm at three in the morning! That’s when I decided to hide in my room until the drill was over and never tell a soul about it. WHEW. It’s good to get that one off my chest.
2. That girl in Hyde Park looking like a complete goober scooting along on roller blades– who ate shit, not once but TWICE? Yeah, that was me too.
One of my new British friends happens to be a competitive roller blader with mad skills. His fb page is littered with photos of him doing really intense rails, leaping around, and in general, doing really badass things on roller blades. He offered to take me and my three American girl friends to beautiful Hyde Park to learn how to blade. He used to work at a skate shop nearby and could get us equipment FO FREE! Poor boy, he didn’t know what was coming to him. He could not foresee my general lack of motor skills. Needless to say, the left side of my butt/upper thigh will never be the same. The bruising after two very embarrassing falls on the SAME EXACT SPOT has turned my ass into a canvas of the deepest shade of plum. It is an expansive, all-encompassing sort of bruise. I thought about putting a picture up but it would not be stomached for the weak of heart. The pure, unadulterated gore would certainly turn people off from ever reading this blog again.
3. That girl who went to Fabric and didn’t have fun? Yeah that was me.
After almost three weeks of being in London, my friends and I had yet to make an appearance at a Central London club. We decided to rectify this situation on a Sunday night after a few glasses of Frosty Jacks. I got all dolled up in a very tight, little black dress, put on red patent leather heels, and was ready to take on the night and make my American party sisters proud! (Paris and Nikki, the Kardashian triumvirate, and Alaina Rook? It seems a pretty natural grouping, does it not?) We took off on a journey to Fabric, a club about which we had only heard good things. What is a journey without getting lost, however? After wandering some sketchy, deserted streets for half an hour (suddenly the patent leather pumps were not seeming so glamorous), we finally made our way into the club. VIP line of course (the heels were back in good graces). House music was thumping about, however, it wasn’t very good and sounded more like elevator music. Boys were bustling about on all sides, but none could really captivate the imagination (in an attempt to flirt with one of my friends one unfortunately hook-nosed Swiss fellow told her she had a “strange face”. That’s when we really knew it was time to say adios to Fabric). After staying ljust ong enough to justify the ten pounds we spent on cover fee, we high-tailed it out of there to find a McDonald’s and to get something truly satisfying–like a McFlurry.
4. That girl who has been gazing whimsically upon the auburn-haired lads littering the Goldsmiths halls and classrooms? Yup. Me again.
I’ve never been one to fancy a red-headed male* but some of the gingers at my new school put the reputation to shame. Think Edward Cullen (I’m so deeply sorry for the Twilight reference, it’s the only way I could think to put in the magnitude of this hotness). Would I like a copper haired man with porcelain white skin and beautiful green/blue/hazel eyes? My new, resounding answer is an emphatic yes, please. We shall see how this new infatuation with the man of scarlet locks unfolds, but who knows? Perhaps once you go auburn you never go back?
*Exception: Rupert Grint. Who could not love the boy who brought Ron Weasely to life? I recently met a girl who actually spent a night raging with Rupert Grint. I had the urge to kiss her and pull her hair out simultaneously, seeing as this is only THE DREAM OF MY LIFE.
Blog on Amsterdam to come shortly! I know you are bursting with excitement for that little diddy to arrive but PLEASE try to contain yourselves.