Good times with the Kelsinator.

Kelsey and Claire Take London Part II was a clear SUCCESS, with one or two small failures (the main failure, of course, being that Kelsey and Claire Take London Part II ever had to end…the other failure being that we missed our flight to visit Catherine in Spain last weekend…) (Catherine, we again beg your forgiveness).   Because Kelsey was in London for a semester junior year, we didn’t feel pressure to go run around and do all the touristy things.  So we did a lot of hanging out and it was really nice.

Memorable moments include:

-       seeing a little British schoolboy get pants-ed on a busy sidewalk.  (He cried…it actually broke my heart.  Further evidence that British children are terrible.) (Also, British Will informed me that here they call getting pants-ed "getting ankled".)

-       knitting with Kelsey.  We are old ladies.  Old ladies with sweet new hats.

-       having a Powerpuff Girls photo shoot.  Ashley’s hair is dark, my hair is blonde, Kelsey’s hair is red (!).  The photo shoot was inevitable.

-       Kelsey joining us for Friday the 13^th burger and a beer.  We were “extra” gossipy this week.  (Afterwards, my coworkers told me to tell Kelsey that we’re not always like that.  Kelsey…..we’re usually like that.)

-       On the way to burger and a beer, we saw an old lady fall and then less than a minute later we saw a guy fall off his bike.  FRIDAY THE 13^TH!!!!!!!!!!

-       going out on Friday with Kelsey and Ashley in Piccadilly and ….Brixton.  (Brixton…famous for rioting in 1880, 1981, 1985, 1995, and 2011.  Maybe not our brightest move.)  In Piccadilly, we found ourselves in a few of the same pubs from Kelsey and Claire Take London Part I, with guest appearances by Will, David, and Casey.  Déjà vu all over again. 

It’s probably time for me to unpack my suitcases.  I miss you, Kelsey!

Come back.

Side note: I think you all can expect posts with a little more consistency again.  When I have people to talk to and share with in real life, I have less need for this thing.  Now that it’s just Ashley and me here again, separated by the vast expanse of the Atlantic Ocean from the people we so desperately love…expect more blabbing.

Hoolaboola, New Jersey.

Yesterday, at our Friday burger and a beer lunch, British Will tells me that he and his girlfriend are taking a trip to New York City this winter.  (On a previous occasion when we had been talking about New York, I had laughed in his face when he didn’t realize there was a whole New York State attached to New York City.   I couldn’t help it—he thought New York was just Manhattan.  Now that I think about it though, a lot of New Yorkers probably believe this too—but more like The World is just Manhattan.  Still, I think I accidentally hurt his feelings by outright laughing at him, so I was extra careful this time to be sensitive to his knowledge of American geography.)

“Oh sweet!  What have you planned?” I ask.

“Well, not too much yet, but we are actually going to stay with a mate of mine in New Jersey.”

COMMENCE FREAKOUT.  BRITISH WILL IS GOING TO NEW JERSEY.

“OH MY GOSH, YOU’RE GOING TO MY STATE!!  WHERE ARE YOU STAYING??”

For some reason, British Will’s enthusiasm does not quite match mine.  “Uhh, in some town close to the city—funny name, really, I think it starts with an H…umm, Hoolaboola, or something.”

Hmm, Hoolaboola…

“…Hoboken?”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s the one.”

Not wanting to have a repeat of our last New York conversation, I managed to limit my urge to laugh to just a small chuckle to myself.  Hoboken, Hoolaboola...I'm sure plenty of people make this mistake.

And I guess I wouldn’t be too excited about staying in Hoboken either, but if it were called Hoolaboola…??!!  I could definitely get excited about that.  (For out-of-staters, Hoboken is pronounced HO-bo-kin—accent on the “HO” because that’s how we do things in New Jersey.  Or just think of it as a word for a hobo’s family and you should get it about right.  It is also the home of Cake Boss.)  (Hoolaboola, on the other hand, is pronounced exactly how it looks.  It could very well be the home of Cake Boss.)  I think I will now always refer to Hoboken as Hoolaboola.  I'm sure it will catch on (how could it not?).

British people are funny.

Specifically, British Will is funny. British Will, fellow intern, sits across from me.  I do and will continue to refer to him as “British Will” (his real name is Will) so as not to confuse him with American Will, who, should he ever require mention in this blog, will simply be known as Will.  British Will is pretty great, probably my best work friend.  Hopefully I’m not violating his privacy too much by writing about him on the internet...

Anyways, British Will gets a big kick out of doing an American accent.  I also get a big kick out of British Will doing an American accent because he is hilariously terrible at it, and always looks to me for validation that he didn’t do half bad.  Yesterday, for instance, we were talking about one of the partners of the firm—an American guy, probably about 50 or so—who speaks very loudly and enthusiastically, and often says, “Cool, cool, yeah, cool.  Now, question…(then proceeds to say something that is usually not a question).”  British Will attempts an imitation (hilarious), and then quickly moves on to do his best “American Girl On The Phone” (as if this is the natural impression progression).  (Heh heh, impression progression.)  So British Will is practically dying after his whole slew of “Cool!  Totally!  Ohmygod!  Cool!  Cool!  Totally!”  I, too, am laughing, which confuses British Will, who goes,

“Why are you laughing?  I bet you sound like that when you’re talking on the phone to your friends!” 

No, British Will.  I’m sorry, but no American girl—no human being (except, I suppose, a British guy imitating an American girl’s accent)—ever sounded quite like that.  Then today at lunch, (on Fridays, a group of us go for lunch at this pub for burger-and-a-beer deal—5 pound 60!)  British Will devoured his entire burger-and-a-beer in less than 10 minutes, approximately.  I point to his plate and go,

“Dang!  You were hungry.”  To which he replies,

“DANG!  I guess I was.”  Extra emphasis and volume on the “DANG!”  He then continues to say that he thinks he will incorporate “DANG!” into his vocabulary, as it will make him sound more American.  He tries it again, this time with his version of a Southern twang. 

“DANG!  I sound like I’m from the South now, right?”

No, British Will.  I’m sorry.  Not yet.  I really hope he keeps trying though.