Random thoughts, brought on by the slowness of this desk job:
Tanned flesh looks better than white. Why is that? It's all the same, really, but for some reason I feel like you can get away with a little more 'junk in the trunk' if it's not winter white. This thought comes after a very real and hilarious conversation with my friend Alice a few weeks ago about how we didn't have time for jobs if we were going to be picnicing in the sun and going to the gym all summer. We're kindred souls, me and Alice.
It is physically impossible for me to read a book sitting in a green space or park in Cambridge. There are just too many interesting people to watch. I mean, the other day I tried, but there was one couple speaking animatedly in a language I couldn't recognize, one dude was clearly trying to work on his tan (unsuccessfully, I might add, because he was wearing a suit and the sky was grey and cloudy), and there was a gangly group of tweens I didn't quite trust not to make any trouble. Those people were far more interesting than the mediocre fiction I nabbed from the library.
Speaking of books, I'm reading 'Notes from a Small Island', which documents the writer's last hoorah through Great Britain before returning to the Mother Land (America). He includes an interesting list of things 'that you must be British to appreciate'. I won't share his entire list, but will highlight two things, both condiments (if you insist on inluding them in that category). Both are popular 'around these parts':
HP Sauce- What, precisely, IS it? And why, please tell, would you put the awful stuff on any actual food?
Marmite- Again, why?! Don't torture yourself.
I think I'll stick to the normal stuff, like mustard and, the greatest condiment ever, salsa.
In the book, Author Bill also says you can't see the Cotwolds effectively without your own 'motive power'. We want to see the Cotswolds. Therefore, we need to buy a car. That, my friends, is practical and persuasive logic, don't you think? :)
Back to food. (Sorry, I'm hungry! This office thinks lunch should be at 2pm!) There is a food truck, of sorts, around the corner from our flat called Teks that serves a nice tortilla wrap and chips (french fries). And while I will eat at this one traveling food cart, I hold firm to my stand against eating street meat. Collin curses me and my highly annoying stand against street meat every time we pass the sausage trolley in the centre of town.
Yesterday at work a man named Hugo said to me, 'I'll see you later.' To which I replied, 'Alright.' Hugo paused, turned, and said, 'Yes, actually, I'm doing quite alright today.' It wasn't a question, Hugo. Sigh. Two countries divided by a common language.
I feel like an old, British man because I've become a bit obsessed with the weather. More than once a day, I check (like a fiend) to see if the sun will show it's face. The next two days? Sunny with a high of 75. I'm happy to be alive. (Reliant K song, anyone?)
Tanned flesh looks better than white. Why is that? It's all the same, really, but for some reason I feel like you can get away with a little more 'junk in the trunk' if it's not winter white. This thought comes after a very real and hilarious conversation with my friend Alice a few weeks ago about how we didn't have time for jobs if we were going to be picnicing in the sun and going to the gym all summer. We're kindred souls, me and Alice.
It is physically impossible for me to read a book sitting in a green space or park in Cambridge. There are just too many interesting people to watch. I mean, the other day I tried, but there was one couple speaking animatedly in a language I couldn't recognize, one dude was clearly trying to work on his tan (unsuccessfully, I might add, because he was wearing a suit and the sky was grey and cloudy), and there was a gangly group of tweens I didn't quite trust not to make any trouble. Those people were far more interesting than the mediocre fiction I nabbed from the library.
Speaking of books, I'm reading 'Notes from a Small Island', which documents the writer's last hoorah through Great Britain before returning to the Mother Land (America). He includes an interesting list of things 'that you must be British to appreciate'. I won't share his entire list, but will highlight two things, both condiments (if you insist on inluding them in that category). Both are popular 'around these parts':
HP Sauce- What, precisely, IS it? And why, please tell, would you put the awful stuff on any actual food?
Marmite- Again, why?! Don't torture yourself.
I think I'll stick to the normal stuff, like mustard and, the greatest condiment ever, salsa.
In the book, Author Bill also says you can't see the Cotwolds effectively without your own 'motive power'. We want to see the Cotswolds. Therefore, we need to buy a car. That, my friends, is practical and persuasive logic, don't you think? :)
Back to food. (Sorry, I'm hungry! This office thinks lunch should be at 2pm!) There is a food truck, of sorts, around the corner from our flat called Teks that serves a nice tortilla wrap and chips (french fries). And while I will eat at this one traveling food cart, I hold firm to my stand against eating street meat. Collin curses me and my highly annoying stand against street meat every time we pass the sausage trolley in the centre of town.
Yesterday at work a man named Hugo said to me, 'I'll see you later.' To which I replied, 'Alright.' Hugo paused, turned, and said, 'Yes, actually, I'm doing quite alright today.' It wasn't a question, Hugo. Sigh. Two countries divided by a common language.
I feel like an old, British man because I've become a bit obsessed with the weather. More than once a day, I check (like a fiend) to see if the sun will show it's face. The next two days? Sunny with a high of 75. I'm happy to be alive. (Reliant K song, anyone?)
This post made me miss you more. Shame on you. HP Sauce is big in Kenya too. It is weird.
ReplyDeleteOH, CB, I miss you too. I have to agree with Carrie, it makes me miss you even more and I am certainly glad that I will see you in LESS THAN A MONTH (wha!?!?) and get to have these kind of conversations with you in person. And I promise that if you say "alright" to me, I'll know that you mean "yes" or "Sure" or some variation and that you aren't asking me if I'M alright unless you say "are you alright?" LOL.
ReplyDeleteThe final reason I'm glad I'll see you in a month is that your time spent with Collin has now made it so that I truly could not be sure with 100% certainty who wrote this post. It was very Collin-like, except the part where you talked about Alice and where you talked about Collin. You need an intervention before you become exactly like him, so I'm glad I'll be there in a few weeks and we can have American girl time together and it will be fun (I mean we'll be American and girls, not that we'll be playing with American Girl dolls, though I think those are neat-o dolls).