My Own Worst Enemy

If procrastination was an Olympic sport, I would take home the gold.  Instead of packing for my trip tomorrow, school work, or laundry I drank wine and listened to the CD my best friend made me before I left.  I've heard each song a million times, it's one of those CD's that could easily be the soundtrack to your life (thanks Ash!)  Tonight Cowboy In Me by Tim McGraw hit home, maybe it's the wine....

"I don't know why I act the way I do, like I ain't got a single thing to lose, sometimes I'm my own worst enemy"
"The urge to run, the restlessness, The heart of stone I sometimes get, The things I've done for foolish pride..."

Kind of sums up my life right now.  I'm not saying that because I'm remorseful about my actions or anything.  I just feel kind of lost, at least when it comes to men.  Hours after I posted my blog from yesterday, the Barrister texted me to apologize for being pushy with me lately.  After I told him I felt pressured the last couple of days we talked on the phone for an hour.  The conversation made me realize that A:  He has discovered my blog B:  He is smart enough to realize when I start to pull away and why C:  My flat has been bugged, Nixon style.

He seemed to address every statement I made in my blog and make excuses/comments/reasons for every action or statement.  So Barrister, if you are reading this sorry about saying your were rubbish in bed the first time, at least I gave you a code name! 

He also decided tonight was the perfect time to tell me about my flaws, it was interesting to hear, I told him he was right about 90% of them.  He brought up great points until he decided to tell me why I left the US.  Sorry but there is no way someone that has known me 3 weeks will ever understand why I left or what I left.  That one is reserved for another day and a closer friend. 

All of this dancing around a fire has made me exhausted, I couldn't be more excited to leave London.  Maybe it will bring some sort of clarity or at least a Guiness haze.  Off to Ireland until Sunday!!!!  Look out Irishmen, two American ladies are coming (oh, who am I kidding I'm no lady!).

Beni vs. Barrister

I am fully aware that I have a found a great guy in the Barrister but that doesn't mean I have to stop everything and give him all of my attention, despite how he is starting to act.  I knew it would only be a matter of time before he would expect more, want more, and inevitably annoy me more.  He seems to have forgotten our conversation about my fear of committment and my intention of not being exclusive.  It is not in his best interest to continue saying phrases like, "when I'm married....", "I've always thought I would propose to someone at a place like that"; "What am I going to do when you're away?"  The list could go on and on.  If I have to hear about marriage in passing one more time I am going to punch something, most likely his pretty little face!  I don't get it, he's 23, he's a puppy by all standards, yet he seems to have his life planned out.  I have 3 years on him and the only plan I have to accomplish before turning 30 is traveling to 30 different countries (I'm only at 8).

I came home last night to a Skype invite and a Gchat invite, he doesn't use either but apparently because I do, he does now.  And then there is the issue of the booty call...I take complete responsibility for awakening the inner whore in him but the thing about a booty call is you have to be able to back them up.  I have worked years on perfecting the art of booty calling a boy, I feel like I can pull it off.  Nice, sweet, puppies can't, it just seems strange.  He booty texted me last night, I said no.  He continued pushing me to come over, after 5 texts that he meant to be sexy I stopped responding for a couple reasons.  The first:  He can't pull it off!  2:  He just saw me the night before.  3:  I was on a date with Sex Eyes.  The Barrister is standing in quiksand, his constant need for attention is weighing him down fast.  I hate that he is losing ground with me.

I didn't really expect to hear from Sex Eyes, especially considering the fact that I am 99% sure he witnessed me making out with the Jamaican hottie.  I was definately surprised when he texted last night asking me out for drinks.  How could I not go?  Like most drunk nights involving an encounter with the opposite sex, you have to wonder how strong your beer googles were.  I just about peed my pants with excitment when I saw he was even hotter than I remembered.  People usually don't go up a notch, at least not in my life, they are always as cute or usually less cute than my drunk ass remembers.

Sex Eyes aka Beni (odd name I know) is talk, dark, and handsome.  He's stylish without being obnoxiously metro like so many european men are.  And then there are the eyes...yum!  Considering his bold, ballsy way of picking me up on Saturday I was prepared:  He's looking for one thing...my mother warned me about this kind of guy (recently in fact!)...I will be one of many women this week...

We headed to a quite lounge/bar in Holborn.  I grabbed a booth and he got us drinks.  I like that there is no debate about paying...men just do it.  I don't have to pretend to go for my wallet while secretly expecting them to pay, I hate playing that game.  His accent is just as heavy as I remembered and I quickly realized that although he can speak fluent english, he's not exactly an expert on our language.  I am exactly what many people hate about Americans,  I know next to nothing about countries outside of the US, especially little ones like Albania.  I had to Wikipedia it just to figure out where the hell it was, it's near Greece for all my fellow dummies!  Shameful but what can you do, I'll look into buying a globe.  Conversation was good, a little harder than others I've dated just because of the language.  After hearing him talk about the clear water and beaches of his country I might have to put it on my list of 30!  Plus I could put the 3 words I learned last night to use!

He was sweet and affectionate (holding my hand under the table and a random kiss or two....not every night here is a bathroom stall kind of night thank god!) without losing his sex appeal.  He made it very clear, well as clear as he could considering he taught himself english after moving here, that he liked me and would like to see me again.  He also claimed that he is never forward or bold with women but there was something about me.  I don't know if I buy it but whatever, still nice to hear.  A little before 12, he asked if I wanted another drink or wanted to go home.  I declined the drink, mainly because night buses are outside my bubble for the moment and I needed to catch the last tube.  I have been asked in many ways, mostly trashy and dirty, to go home with a man.  He asked what I thought about spending the night together in one sweet, sexy breath.  And as much as I wanted to, I said no.  He told me that was completely fine, he's not that kind of guy, he just didn't want the night to end.  I decided to behave, that and he gets up at 5am even with his sex eyes, I am not getting out of bed that early!   We walked back to the tube holding hands and he asked when he could take me out again.  Since I'll be in Ireland all weekend, I set something up for next week.

There is something about him, I don't know if it's lust or the fact that he is the definition of a sexy man (did I mention he does construction, normally not for me but he pulls it off), but I can't wait to see him again.  I know I am playing with fire, something is going to give, can I really date two men at the same time?  It's like a stallion vs.  the cute,cuddly, reliable puppy.  At least I can say without a doubt that I have been 100% honest with the Barrister about us not being exclusive or bf/gf.  I hope I have a little while to figure this out before it blows up in my face because I do like them both.

My new love: Primark

Today is my One Month Anniversary with London, I must say it's been a pretty good relationship so far...well I could do without the rain.  I decided to celebrate my budding relationship with this city in true girly fashion.  I am not a shopper by any means, most times I would rather poke my eyes out than fight through a mall.  It's most likely because I am always poor.  Nothing has changed, in fact I am more poor than ever but 120lbs of luggage will only get you so far (especially when 20lbs are shoes).  I have no clothes, a good portion of the things I packed have no purpose here and the things I deemed unworthy of London are the things I want.  Typical!  After hearing from some girls at school about the magical cheapness of Primark I decided to check it out.  Think Forever 21 or H&M, cheap, crowded, and not the highest quality.  It was mobbed but I was willing to fight the crowd and the 30minute wait for a dressing room to take advantage of the prices.  I didn't pay more than 10 pounds for anything, most things including shoes, shirts, & jewlery were a pound or two.  I am in love.  These clothes may only make it through two washes but for now I am in love!

For a mere 60 Quid I got:

• 1 Sweater
• 1 Buttondown Tunic w/Belt
• 1 Cute tank
• 1 Cami
• 1 Bathrobe
• 1 Jersey Tunic
• 1 Long Sleeve Shirt
• 5 Pairs of Opaque Tights
• 1 Pair of Navy Tights
• 1 Make Up Bag
• 1 Large Purse
• 1 Pair of Ked type Sneakers
• 1 Pair of Flats
• 1 Bracelet
• 1 Pair of Dangly Earrings
• 2 Headbands
• 1 Pair of Jeans

Even with the terrible exchange rate I made out like a bargain bitch!  A great way to celebrate my anniversary, it's a good thing I don't have to feed myself often or else I wouldn't be able to afford food for a few days!

Snog 3 and 4: Jamaica and Albania

I don't pretend to be insecure but even I was impressed by my game last night.  It was a rare night, I could do no wrong, and I took complete advantage of it.  I mean you have to, what are the odds that you can pull it off or even get the chance to again.  Last night, I was the ultimate opportunist.

I forced myself to go out, I was tired and really didn't want to but I agreed to meet Kevin, a hot Jamaican I met a couple weeks earlier.  I started the night annoyed since every tube line seemed to be closed or delayed, a real pain in the ass considering I had to travel to Stratford.  I had no expectations for the night and had even less of an idea if I was going out for a drink with a new friend or I was on a date.  Another one of Kevin's friends was supposed to meet us (friends: 1, date: 0).  We walked to a small club that used to be a strip club and he paid for my cover and coat check (friends: 1, date: 1).  It was pretty empty but I spotted a hot guy with amazing eyes right after we walked in, I figured what the hell and smiled at him.  While Kevin told me to put my money away and bought me a pint (friends: 1, date: 2), the hottie and I eye fucked each other....all in innocent fun of course.

Once Kevin left to take a phone call, the hottie with sex eyes came over to the bar.  He didn't say anything, we just smiled at each other until Kevin returned.  For the next hour, I was entertained by Sex Eyes and the terrible dancing that had taken over the floor.  Kevin and I didn't have much to say, in our defense it was too loud to talk.  We started taking shots and drinking more pints and slowly moving closer and closer to the dance floor.  I hadn't seen Sex Eyes in a while so I focused on my hot Jamaican.  Kevin had been buying all my drinks all night so I offered to grab us a beer.  I ordered the drinks before I noticed Sex Eyes next to me.  In his thick accent, he told me he thought I was attractive and wanted to take me out.  Although I had no ties to Kevin, no confirmation of a date, I felt like I was cheating or doing something bad...which made it that much more hot.  Sex Eyes asked for my number but since I still don't know it, I told him to write his down.  Sex Eyes aka Beni, wrote his number on a bar tab and slid it across the bar.  At this point I couldn't help smerking as I walked back to Kevin. 

As Kevin and I danced, I could feel Beni staring at me.  I left Kevin to go to the bathroom and before reaching the door Beni grabbed my hand and led me outside.  He continued on about how much he liked me ( I tried to point out that he didn't know me but he wasn't convinced that mattered) and kissed me.  I forced myself to pull away from him and head back outside but not before agreeing to go out with him tuesday.  I knew Kevin had no idea but it seems like he had a feeling because he uped his game.  My Jamaican is incrediably sexy, dancing with him was even hotter than I thought it would be, Johnny Castle has nothing on him.  We danced for hours until Kevin kissed me, which was right on par with his dancing skills.  It was clear that the Jamaican would be amazing in bed but I declined when he asked me to go home with him.  As much as I wanted to, I couldn't.  I don't know if it was the Barrister, Beni, or the beer but I just knew it was all too much for one night.  My answer did not stop things from getting pretty heated on the dance floor, we finally went outside to get some air.  We planned to see each other again on Wednesday and headed back into the bar.  We stopped in the hallway to kiss and before I knew it I was in the Men's Bathroom with him.  Before any judgement is given, I had NO intention of bangin' someone in a bathroom stall, I have some standards!  He pressed me up against the wall and kissed my neck.  It was only a couple of minutes of intense making out before 2 security guards opened the door (I still don't know how they did it) and told us to check into the hotel down the road.  We were escorted to coat check and asked to leave the club.  I have officially been thrown out of my first club in London.  To be honest I wasn't even phased it was past 4am and I didn't need anymore booze or sexy dancing for that matter.

Kevin and I took the bus, he kissed me when he reached his stop and told me how much fun I am.  If he only knew how much fun I had.  After Kevin left, the Barrister called me, apparently my ass had called him earlier.  He wanted to make sure I was ok and knew how to get home.  Despite it being 5am, he stayed on the phone with me until I got home.  I can't help feeling a little bad, not bad enough to be exclusive with him but bad enough to take him to the movies tonight.

Portobello Market

The movie Nottinghill has made that neighborhood and Portobello Market famous, I have heard for weeks that I need to go.  Parts of the market are open everyday but on Saturdays everything is open.  The Barrister and I left Oxford early so that we could go when we got back to the city.  For the second day in a row it was sunny and considerably warm by London standards.  The market is overwhelming and crowded.  Stands and stores spill into the street selling antiques, art, jewlery, fresh food, and anything you can imagine.  Just incase anyone was worried they wouldn't find that special pair of Mind the Gap boxers, fear not there are a few tourist stands.  I can't really think of a market in the US to compare it to.  I loved it, you could spend a day there and still not see everything it has to offer.  The antiques were the most fascinating: old cameras, Nazi war uniforms, first edition novels, lace, sewing machines, boxes, and silver were just some of the hundreds of stands.  It's one of those few places where you don't mind pushing through a crowd or waiting in line to see an item that caught your eye.  It was busy, exciting, and smelled like every kind of ethnic food imaginable.  Any of my vistors to London will be forced to go with me!

Oxford with the Barrister

Traveling with someone can potentially ruin a relationship; even after one night you might have the urge to smother someone with a pillow.  Luckily for the Barrister, I used the pillows for their purpose friday night.  After a really good couple of days with him earlier in the week, I figured I shouldn't shut myself off to him just because I don't want a serious relationship.

I slept over Thursday night, partially because he has a nice big bed and partially because I could sleep later since the station is closer to his flat.  He woke me up around 8:30 to get showered and ready to leave.  Apparently he learned quickly that I'm grumpy before I have coffee in the morning because the coffee was on before I even rolled out of bed.  We had a quick cup, showered, dressed, stopped at Starbucks so I could get more coffee and boarded the bus.  Considering Oxford is about 2 hours away, I thought it was really cheap to get there, only 11 pounds for a roundtrip!  Within 10 minutes, I was asleep on his shoulder until he woke me up when we arrived in the city.  I could tell he was so excited to show me around Oxford, he was almost bursting with random facts and lists of must see sites.

He led me up and down the beautiful streets, stopping to tell me about the respective college or cathedral we were passing.  Oxford is set up similar to Cambridge, around 30 colleges making up the University.  Again, I cannot imagine attending school in these buildings or living in mansions dating back before the discovery of North America.  It's hard enough to understand when you're with a tour, it's even harder to be shown around by someone who lived it.  We stopped at Christ Church first (Harry Potter fans be jealous...filming was done here) to see their famous Cathedral.  We were held up by some American Harry Potter fans asking a million questions about the dining hall, I refuse to see the movie but apparently it was a pretty big deal to these chicks.  I was slightly embarassed for them.  The perk of dating an Oxford Grad is that we didn't have to pay to get in anything (all colleges and cathedrals charge something) and we got to see things that were private.  The Barrister felt pretty badass when  we were shown into the private courtyard off of the cathedral which is said to be where Lewis Carroll watched Alice play, slighty creepy but still cool.  The cathedral curators followed us throughout pointing out specific pieces and telling us stories of war, revenge, and Henry VIII's overly big ego. 

After Christ Church we went to Magdalen College, Barrister's hood.  It was cute when he puffed out his chest and strolled into the office, bantering with the two men who worked there.  He was in his glory and I loved it.  It was a beautiful campus, they even have a fuckin' deer park and a meadow with a river running through it.  Who the fuck has that as an everyday part of college life.  Again, we were allowed in places marked private or areas for students/faculty only.  We walked around the outside of the meadow while he told me stories from college.  Americans will never understand what going to one of these schools is like, we don't have parties in the meadow, punt down the river, or wear tuxedos to exams.  It's beyond us sadly...well at least for Rider and Drexel Grads it is.

Once we were done reliving his college days, we went to Queen's cafe, the oldest coffee shop in Great Britian.  Amazingly strong coffee!  We wandered in the market quick before heading to the hotel to check in.  Props to the Barrister for booking a nice hotel, not that their would be roach motels in Oxford but still I'm down with any hotel that has a four post bed and comfy robes....I had every intention of rewarding with sexual favors later.

Next stop was a pub called Turf, it was down a small alley, impossible to see from any street, a tourist would never stumble upon it.  We sat outside with a couple Ales, near a pit of fire.  After 2 or 3 pints, we figured we should eat something.  We went to a quick dinner, then back to the pub for more pints.  So far, I was having an amazing time with the Barrister, the Ale and the fact that I didn't want to kill him once made me want to bang him....immediately.  With that disclosure, we got a cab home. 

I can't speak for all women but I think finding a guy who truly enjoys going down on a girl and does it well, is kinda like finding a unicorn or a bum who does cartwheels for cash....surprising and fun!  This may also because I date selfish morons.  Impressively, the Barrister went downtown for an hour, I actually had to stop him for sex.  Clearly, he remembered there is something to be said for foreplay!  Although giving a blow job is not my idea of a party, I returned the favor, afterall I had to reward the above kindness.  I can't even pretend that I put in as much time as he did... like the rest of the day, the sex was incrediably fun!  As we laid there naked talking, I decided to tell him how fantastic it was but not before admitting that I thought the first time was rubbish.  To his credit, he laughed and kind of agreed.  I don't know that post-sex is the most appropriate time to say something like that but what the hell it was bound to come out eventually!

All things said, it was a pretty great day/night out of the city!

The Meeting of My Men

Lawrence has quickly become my closest friend in this country and the thought of him meeting the Barrister made me beyond nervous.  With my best friends another continent away, I have had to rely on my opinions of him without any input from others.  The Barrister and I headed to Earls Court to go see an acoustic show at the Troubadour with Lawrence.  Within minutes of meeting each other they found comfort in one thing, mocking and joking about me.  The conversation was spurred by Lawrence's earlier Facebook comment about me "You're like a tiger, fun to watch, but I would never get in a cage with you."  The Barrister thinks this is very accurate but is willing to "get mauled"....

Besides having to put up with and feed me constantly, they have another thing in common in being law students, so I didn't have to worry about a lack of conversation between them.  The venue was very small and dark, we grabbed a table and I was immediately in love with the night.  The first two women up were wonderful, I even bought one of the girl's CD, she was amazing.  The act that followed was not as amazing but it was certainly entertaining.  A skinny guy in a blue tight leopard print shirt and glitter face paint (he sounded like the people who sing Du Haus and The Darkness), the boys took to making fun of him within seconds.  Before I had a chance to shut them up, they were singing to each other and laughing.  I tried to stop their new friendship but they both pulled out their blackberries and Facebook friended each other.  My London worlds are getting smaller and smaller, CURSES!

Earlier in the day, the Barrister offered to take me away for the weekend to Bath.  As much as I want to go to Bath, the idea of spending a whole weekend together was too much for me to handle.  I lied and said I had plans and could only do a day trip.  I knew he saw through my lie so after a couple of drinks, I admitted that I lied and it was too soon for us to go away together.  Feeling guilty, I explained how easily I get freaked out and how I have the urge to run away from situations I think are becoming to serious.  Not surprisingly, he said he knew and that I have nothing to be nervous about.  As I suspected, he told me he was not seeing anyone else and has no intention of doing so but he realizes he cannot expect the same of me.  Apparently, he told Lawrence he knew I was hooking up with other people and didn't care.  This may or may not have been before Lawrence threatened his manhood if he hurt me.  And then The Barrister said something that made me respect him, "I am not trying to tame you or push you into a situation, you will be tamed when you want to be, that's what I like about you."  With that we left the bar.  Lawrence liked him a lot, despite his innocence, he went as far as saying that he would be good for me.  The meeting of my men was a success!  I am very lucky to have two really good guys  in my life over here!

After getting my drunk eating fix at McDonald's (I know typical American, but I made it almost a month without fast food, I should get points for that!) we headed home.  The rest of the night went great, I found myself being affectionate and sweet with the Barrister.  I woke up today and decided I wanted to go away with him.  Fuck it, go big or go home right? 

Today was by far the nicest and warmest day in London in a month, I made plans to go to the park and get some grub with Lawrence but first stopped to pick up some stuff with the Barrister.  The nice warm day turned into my UK nightmare!  England is determined to shit all over my parade today.

Debit Card declined and pin locked.  I may need to wait for a new card...awesome no money for another week!
My key card to my flat declined, apparently I owe them 1000 pounds.  Another fun piece of information was that they are charging me a extra 20 pounds more a week than I was orginally told.  I either have to move out by March 20th or pay those bastards more money.  Oh and I have 3 days to do it before I'm kicked out.  My iPod officially kicked the bucket today and if that wasn't enough I also lost my school ID two days ago (1 week after I got it).  FML!  London is trying very hard to get rid of me.....

A Booty Call

Most people would argue that a booty call is not the way to build or strengthen a relationship, I disagree.  A old fashioned booty call (or text in this case) triggered by some drinking was all it took to get the Barrister to be a little more assertive and open about sex.  Not only did it spice things up quite nicely, it also started an honest and funny conversation about sex.  Apparently, us fine American women are the dogs' bullocks (ie: the tits, badass, amazing) and not just because of our terrible accents.  Also shockingly enough, I am not the Barrister's first American, yet he was not shocked that he was not my first Brit.  I may have opened Pandora's box but that's ok because he now has my attention, at least for a little while longer.  I'm introducing him to Lawrence tonight at an aucustic show, I am curious to see how this is gonna go down

Valentine's Day

The last time I celebrated VDay with a boy, I was 20 and we were the annoying couple that couldn't spend a night apart.  Needless to say, that wore off within 9 months and a boy hasn't bought me flowers since.  Part of me hoped that last night would be treated like any other dinner with the Barrister and the other part acted like a 12 year old when he showed up with flowers and a card. 

He even got all dressed up and looked adorable.  We went to a cute Italian Restaurant in Covent Garden for dinner.  Earlier in the day, I was being urged by Lawrence and the girls from class to find out a little bit more about the Barrister's sexual history.  They all felt he had become clingy and smitten because I was possibly his first.  The idea made me incrediably uncomfortable but knew there was a possibility it was true, I figured we have been dating long enough to the "relationship history"  talk.  The conversation started heading that direction, I figured it would be easy to find out and see what kind of experiences in dating/sex he had.  Out of no where Barrister started complaining about people asking those questions.  He brings up a valid argument, what is the point, you are never going to be happy with the answer and the past is the past.   There is a very fine line between prude and manwhore, I have no idea what number I would want.  It all made complete sense but for some reason I was still dying to know but at this point felt way to weird asking how many bitches he banged.  So I settled for asking how old he was when he had his first "real relationship"....that was as nice as I could put it and I needed to know whether he was a virgin (that would explain the first time akwardness).  Luckily, I did not rob the poor kid of his viriginity but he hinted that I am pretty early in the list.  I was relieved but he seemed put off by the idea of when I lost mine, he made some comment about Americans being a little quicker than the rest of the world.  Touche, I deserved that one.

After dinner, we came back to my place and watched a movie.  Even if he was disappointed by our earlier conversation he didn't show it and he didn't hesitate to make some moves.  I have to admit it is getting better each time.... 

Before we went to bed he asked me if I wanted him to get us tickets for DMB in late March.  He had never heard them before I said I liked them, cute gesture but it's not until March.  I'm a little uncomfortable with the future planning of events.  I'm an idiot but I don't know how much longer he can keep my attention.

Round 3

I am quickly realizing that my 25 year old body does not recover quite as well as it did when I was 21.  For the 3rd day in a row I got out of bed after 1pm and felt the signs of a hangover coming.  It doesn't help that I come home drunk and chow down on an obscene amount of food (last night it was some odd version of doritos topped off with pita bread and humous).  At this point I think it might be impossible to clean myself up and look decent for my date tonight.

My new gal friends and I went out to dinner then clubbing in Soho.  Rebecca just landed a Marketing job for an amazing restaurant/bar in Leicester Square.  We got to enjoy the 50% off the bill perks of her new job, for about 25 pounds, we had a bottle of wine and an amazing three course meal.  The view was the only thing better than the meal.  From my seat I could see the London Eye, Parliment, Big Ben, and Westminster.  Ashley's roommate joined us after dinner and we headed to another floor for drinks.  Considering the kind of place we were at, drinks weren't too pricey and it was a really good price if you got doubles.  Double Gin and & Tonic seemed like a fantastic idea for the night.  It was pretty empty so we headed to another floor.  Within 5 minutes we realized we were way too old for the crowd.  I keep forgetting that 18 year olds are allowed in bars and clubs, I'm still not sure if the crowd was even that old, they looked 12.  We left pretty quickly and headed to Soho.

By the time we found a place to go into any kind of buzz we had was gone.  We went straight for shots and more doubles.  It was a really small club and everyone centered around the stripper pole, mainly because it was like watching a trainwreck.  I saw at least 2 vaginas, you kind of lose count after a couple.  My urge to judge them was put on hold when I saw that these chicks were doing things on a pole that I would have broken a bone attempting.  They have clearly been on a pole before.... I shouldn't speak too soon because if I continue to drop that much money at a bar, I will have to find a pole and shake what my momma gave me.

Besides the half naked shot guy and a hot bartender, the men were not my type.  They were cute but I am pretty sure 90% of them were gay, shot guy and bartender may be in the 90% also but they provided some eye candy for the night.

I have to find some way to get myself together today.  Barrister is picking me up at 7 to go out to dinner for Valentine's Day.  I usually hate this holiday, I'm hoping he doesn't annoy me and give me more of a reason to hate this day.  I think I have been dateless on Valentine's Day every year since college, which isn't the worst thing because every year I am skiing (and by skiing I mean falling then drinking at the Lodge) with my friends in the Poconos.  I think being single on VDay is easier than missing out on fun traditions at home. 

Fingers crossed for a good night......

Snog #2.5: Daniel

Good old Danny boy only gets a .5 because I'm pretty sure you need two people to snog, I know things are different here but I think that's an international standard.  He ate my face, I had no part in any of the 5 times he tried to kiss me.  It made for a very awkward bus ride home.... 

Other than that slightly awkward situation, last night was good fun.  Ashley's Great American Bash started off slow but before any of us knew it, their flat was filled with people from all over the world.  We attempted to play American drinking games but struggled without the proper equiptment (beer pong balls and solo cups).  Someone suggessted we shot gun beers, I haven't done this in years and it's not exactly my strongest drinking talent but I ended up doing 3, wrapped in an American flag.  My first one was a little bumpy, the beer exploded in my face, I don't think pint sized cans are meant to be shotgunned.  Lesson learned.   After the shotguns, the rest of the night is fuzzy, according to the photos on Facebook, I had the time of my life.

It's pretty official at this point, I have friends.  Thank god, I don't think I could have lasted much longer with only one friend.  Rebecca, Ashley and I are all going out to dinner tonight then to a club.  Should be another interesting night, my poor liver....

One of the Jamaicans I met the other night texted me today asking to meet up tonight, this is almost becoming too easy, the accent gets them everytime!

The Art of Puking on a Double Decker Bus

Amazingly it wasn't me who puked, it did however sum up the night in pure American fashion.  Americans are known for doing everything in excess, drinking included.  My new American friend, Ashley and I proved that stereotype to be true last night.

London Met held their International Students party last night at the Rocket (the campus bar/lounge).  Discovering the cheap drinks and shot early in the night, we were off to a pretty good start.  We get along very well, I think we both remind each other of people from home.  Not to mention its comforting to have someone that is going through the same thing as you.  We debated heading to another bar but considering that we would only have an hour of drinking at a pub we stayed and took advantage of the cheap buzz we had going on. 

By midnight there were a ton of people dancing, we watched from the bar, neither of us dance unless bombed so we worked on that with another shot of Jager.  Shortly after two Jamaicans (names unknown this morning) were buying us beer.  At some point in the night, we were dancing with said Jamaicans.  A little later in the night, I lost Ashley, which was fine as I was having my own little party with a couple of European dudes on the dancefloor. 

I'm not sure exact times but I believe around 2 we stumbled out of the bar and headed to the bus to go back to Ashley's place.  My first ride on a double decker bus was pretty exciting (exciting for a drunk girl, sober girls realize its just a bus!) until Ashley started looking funny, I know this look so I immediately stood up.  And then she puked all over the floor of the bus, the poor dude in front of us was understandably offended and ran to the back of the bus.  We jumped up, I grabbed Ashley and we ran off the bus two stops early.  As soon as we got off the bus, the situation was hysterical.  It was even funnier to me since I wasn't the puker.  In college a boot and ralley was the sign of a good night, in London a boot still might be considered a sign of a good night.

After waking up her roommate, who was not amused by our story, I left to catch a cab home.  I found out that there are virtually no cabs a 3am, so I did what I always do...drunk dialed.  The Barrister was awakened to call me a cab, it must have been the most annoying drunk dial ever, I couldn't tell him where to send the cab.  Luckily one drove by 10 minutes later.  I got a pretty extensive history lesson on the way home, the cabbie was so intent on teaching me the difference between "British" and "English" that he forgot to turn on the meter.  Which was great since he only charged me 10 pounds!

Tonight is Ashley's Welcome to America party, it promises to be filled with beer pong, flip cup, jungle juice, and American snacks!  Looks like Round 2 tonight!

The Urge to Kick the Kitten

For those rooting for the Barrister, one of two things are happening:  His days of dating me are numbered or I am sabotaging a potentially good, healthy relationship.

He came over last night, took me out for a drink, then came back to my place to watch a movie and spend the night.  I made him watch "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia", luckily for him he thought it was hysterical.  I can't date someone who doesn't find the humor in their offensive behavior.  It was pretty nice until this afternoon.  I felt like he was like a kitten circling around my legs for affection.  Potentially cute except, I'm a dog person and I feel the extreme urge to kick kittens when they rub up on you.  The Smitten Kitten routine got old very fast today, I wanted to punt his cute face out of my personal bubble. 

We woke up today, I showered and made it very clear that I was headed to Starbucks to get coffee and respond to all the emails I have ignored in the past week.  He came with me to get a quick cup of coffee.  One cup turned into two, which turned into him talking to me and me ignoring his every word.  As I typed away, he stared at me and told me how cute I looked when focused.  I love the attention but it's bullshit, I look slightly retarded when I'm concentrating on ignoring someone.  But he kept on yapping for over 2 hours.

Finally, I got annoyed, turned off my computer and said I needed to get back.  I walked him back to the tube, he kissed me goodbye and said he couldn't wait to see me on Sunday.  I let out of sigh of relief as I walked away, 20 minutes later, I got a text from him saying how much fun he had with me....

What is fun about sitting and watching someone type?  I don't get it but apparently I'm missing something, I am starting to feel smothered.  Maybe I'll feel different on Sunday when I don't see him for a few days.  All I know is I'm excited to go out with people from class tonight.

An ordinary day

Since I didn't have class today, I planned on being as productive as possible, I had an internal to do list which included food shopping, laundry, catching up on emails, meeting with my course leader, and a trip to financial aid.  I had all day to accomplish this crap and instead I slept till 2 then rushed around like an idiot.  I met my course leader, she said 5 words to me, it was a complete waste of time.  I headed to financial aid next to endorse my loan checks and file for my loan refund.  After 40 minutes in line or I as I keep being told "queue", I signed 3 checks and waited in another line to file for a refund.  While I was waiting I heard another American getting fired up...20 minutes later I joined her in her fight against Financial Aid.  The poor guy behind the counter made a joke about "What is it American Independence Day or something?", neither of us laughed considering they were holding our money hostage. Unknown to anyone in the office, all Americans were emailed and told to come yesterday and today near the end of the day to get their money.  There was no money to be had, all of us Americans missed the deadline, it would take another 2 weeks at least for our refunds to hit our accounts.  Needless to say, I flipped out, I demanded they do something unless they wanted to give me housing and feed me for the next two weeks.  Apparently they were too overwhelmed with us Americans and didn't have enough staff.  I guess they didn't realize the first week of school would be busy, jackasses! Luckily whatever we said worked, we didn't win but the school did give us 1,000 pounds each to hold us over.  Glad to see that no matter where you attend school, Financial Aid offices are a nightmare.  It's like they get off on giving out false information to students and watching them sweat over living expenses.

That quick trip turned into hours of fun so no laundry, no food, a pretty unsuccessful day.  The only thing remotely exciting is that Ashley from my class asked if I wanted to head to Ireland next weekend and get out of the city before we have to get jobs and do real school work.  I've already been there but what the hell, there is always more room for pints of Guiness with the fightin' Irish.

School Days

I loaned $40,000 bucks to study over here and I write two sentences about the UK school experience yesterday, I don't think Sallie Mae would have fronted the funds if they saw I was more interested in snogging than getting an education.  The UK school system baffels me, a 70 is considered an A, yet it is possible to get up to 100.  Why the hell wouldn't they just score on a 100 point scale, it makes no sense!  I'm siding with the American grading system on this on.  I have spent 7 years in college and the last 3 I hated every class.  I picked my major at 18 and couldn't have been more excited.  The past 3 years and god knows how many thousands of bucks later, I only showed up because I had to.  I can't even remember the last time I was excited about a class (besides Dr. Millen, but he was hot, different excitement), I am actually excited about my major again.  Shame on Drexel and my job for making me burnt out about event planning....

I plan on marking today as the first day that I felt like I would make it here, after class I had lunch with people from all over the world (3 Americans, a German, 2 Spanish, a couple of people from the Netherlands, and 2 Brits), we were all in similar situations...missing home and trying to make it in a city that is not our own.   The wonderful thing about Event Marketing majors is that no one is quiet or antisocial, it's impossible to be so.  Ashley from MD,USA is having an Welcome to the USA party on friday to which we were all invited, since she has very few friends of course.  On Thursday, there is an international students party, we're all going, if it sucks we are bailing and getting drunk together at a bar.  I feel like I can be friends with these people, which is an amazing relief.  I walked out of class to 3 texts and actually double booked myself for Thursday, I have the international students party and the Americans that I met in Cambridge, invited me to the bar the same night...yay for people to hang out with!  I'm going to wait and see which I want to go to, but I'm pretty sure I am going to play with people my own age.  With my classmates, I am not the cougar, thank god!

As much as I am starting to love London, I can't say I don't think about my friends back home all of the time.  I miss them and my family more than I ever thought I would.  Skype is an amazing tool, but in some ways it makes it so much worse, I can't look at my best friends without feeling some kind of sadness that I'm not pounding beers or downing a bottle of wine having heart to hearts with them.  But thanks to them and my family, I had enough balls to get my ass accross the pond.  

Since no one is here to tell me I am being a douche, I have no idea how to react to situations.  Barrister bribed me with free dinner last night...I went over to watch him cook for me and watch Glee.  I have the ultimate defense if he pisses me off....I will tell him how the season ends!   Today he called to check in on how my day was, cute to most women but not me.  Once he told me he gave me my own ringtone (The Queen and I, Gym Class Heroes....a song that I said I wished played each time I walked down the street) I got a smidge freaked.  Of course it didn't help that last night he told me he made reservations for VDay already and I happened to see an email from a florist for the dreaded day.  There must be something wrong with me, most people would eat this shit up, I on the other hand feel the need to bang other dudes to reaffirm the fact that I am single....well that and he was hot, but still there has to be something wrong with me.  Who gets freaked when a guy makes plans fot VDay, I would have killed for that last year.....

Snog #2: Tom

I was itching for trouble and thanks to the nice shot girl pouring me one too many shots of Sambuca, I found it in the form of a hot brit named Tom. 

Lawrence and I went to Zoo Bar for the Expat's Superbowl party, there were promises of thousands of Americans, direct feed from the US, and MTV cheerleaders.  In reality there was hundreds of Americans (and some Brits), no direct feed, and cheerleaders who knew one cheer and thought they stepped out of Bring it On.  Pretty early on, I spotted a chick in an Eagles jersey, I had to meet her.  Turns out, her and her husband were from South Philly and moved here a year ago.  Within an hour, another Philadelphian found their way over to our corner.  It was great to be around people from home!  I left Lawrence chatting up a cute chick to get a beer.  A group of cute Brits and I started talking about the game and I never went back....well I did once or twice to make sure Lawrence was still occupied with his chick. 

They were very fun guys and before I knew it they were picking me up and putting me on the bar so I could see and buying me shots.  Before the end of the first quarter, I had my sights set on Tom, a 6'3" hottie with a great smile and what I figured to be a bangin' body. 

2nd quarter:  Tom and I are taking shots, Tom tells me Brits are better than American guys.  According to him Brits know how to treat women, I debate this fact.  He leans down (well practically has to bend at the waist) and kisses me as if to prove his point.  He wins.  Well in reality I guess I was a winner too, fantastic kisser!

3rd quarter:  More beers, we are all very into the game.  I have no idea where Lawrence is.  Tom and I bet on the game, the winner and loser get the same prize, the only difference is my place or his.

Beginning of the 4th quarter:  I am clearly going to win.  The bar has stopped serving alcohol, we decide it is the perfect time for an exit.  Tom and I take a cab to my place, he gives me a piggy back ride down the block. 

Post game show:  He's a big guy, an assertive, knows what he's doing guy.  Much different than the Barrister, first of all he's in my age bracket, I don't feel like a cougar sleeping with him.  I like the Barrister, hes cute but I don't feel the urge to rip off his clothes.  Tom on the other hand, I couldn't resist.  After 2 hours of pure fun, we passed out.  We woke up this morning a little hungover.  He had to go to work and I had to go to class.  He kissed me goodbye and asked for my number. 

I don't really expect a call from Tom, I think he was just for fun but I would not be opposed to seeing him again. 

With all that fun, it was pretty hard to go to class today.  I had one lecture and one seminar.  My class is filled with really cool, talkative people.  I made buddies with an American from Maryland who is in the same boat as me, pretty friendless.  I may be on my way to finding friends, yay!

Redemption

When I got back from Cambridge, I called the Barrister up and asked him to go out for a drink.  I haven't been out much in two weeks and I was itching to get into drunken trouble.  Even though I knew I couldn't get into too much trouble when I was out with him, I still needed to go out.

We went out and drank at a pub.  It was a lot of fun, especially when I got into a big debate about American football and Rugby.  I lost but, I gained some points just for being loud.  One brit in the debate, told Barrister he planned to "chat me up" because I was hot.  The Barrister wished him luck and watched as the drunk brit got no where.  I apologized thinking he would be upset that I was talking to other dudes but he thought the whole thing was entertaining and cockily said, "It's funny, especially because I know you are going home with me."  We closed down the pub and took a cab to go to his place. 

I have to admit I was kind of nervous to go home with him, I didn't think I could handle another awkward sex session, there is only so much my ego can take.  I don't know what happened the last time, what made it weird but whatever it was, it was gone.  The Barrister spent hours last night and this morning redeeming himself, I am now a big fan of getting him naked.  And I'm a bigger fan of him making me coffee after morning sex.

Even with my new opinion of him in bed, I still refuse to get too caught up in this.  Afterall, this is called the Snog Blog, it would be a pretty shitty blog if I get in a relationship before snogging half of Great Britian!

Tonight, Lawrence and I are going to a huge superbowl party and I hope to add another brit to the dating rotation.....

Cambridge

It must be amazing to go to school in Cambridge, I can't imagine my resident hall being a Tuder style mansion dating back to the 1400s.  About 20 students boarded a bus and headed to Cambridge at 8:30am, it was the earliest I have been up since arriving here.  Even through the fog and clouds, it was obvious that Cambridge is stunning.  We had an hour tour through the town and walk through courtyards of the Colleges that make up the University, there are 31 colleges included in Cambridge University.  I still have no idea how English schools are set up, I have been told about 3 times and it still makes no sense to me.

12 of us split up to go "punting" down the Cam River to see the backs of the schools and the amazing bridges throughout Cambridge.  Punting is basically a Gondola in Venice, a guy balances on the back of a small boat and pushes the boat down the river with a big stick, I'm sure people in Cambridge would be appalled at how I described that.  It was beautiful and kind of creepy with the fog over the water and the cold got to you very quickly, I'm sure it is even more amazing in the summer because by the end we were all huddled together trying not to freeze.

After our punting trip, we headed to St. Mary's to climb the tower and view the town.  I would like to think I am in reasonable shape but these stairs killed me!  I climbed 123 stairs which are very narrow and in a tight spiral.  Thank god no one was drunk, one tipsy step and someone would have died.  The view on top was completely worth the burning feeling I felt in my thighs.

I headed to lunch with two other American girls who are in London doing a study abroad program.  Jokingly, I mentioned being the oldest person living where I am.  To which one said, "No way, there is someone here that is like 27."  Awesome I will be 26 in two months....I'm the old chick, I miss the days when I thought 25 was old.  They also seemed very confused by the fact that I gave up being a real adult and came here.  After lunch we did what all dumb girls do, we went shopping and bought things we don't need.  But in my defense, those dresses will look fantastic if London ever gets sunny and warm.  I realized while hanging out with them how much easier most people studying here have it.  They are currently living with 6 other American girls and have classes with all Americans, nice but what the hell is the point of moving to another country.  I refuse to take that route, I have American friends, great ones, I don't need more.  When I am done, I want the United Nations of friends!

Being Wooed

Despite my hesitations about continuing to see the Barrister for petty shallow reasons, I spent the day with him.  Dating here is completely different than at home and not just because of the venue change.  The Barrister, also fairly new to London, took me sightseeing.  We visited the Tower of London and walked on top of Tower Bridge, both things I have been wanting to do but refuse to pay for.  Luckily for me, he didn't refuse to pay for both of us.  We stopped along the Thames to get ice cream, it was actually warm enough to eat ice cream.  I felt like I just stepped into a Romantic Comedy...I wanted to laugh and make fun of the situation but I resisted only because he seemed so genuine about the thing.  He must have googled dating/wooing and took notes.

After hours of walking around, we headed to shop and pick me up some stuff I needed (towels/dishes).  I mentioned earlier that he should watch I Love You Man, so while we were out he bought it to watch that night.  We went back to his place, cuddled on the couch, where I got to watch TV for the first time since I left.  God I missed TV!  He left me laying on the couch, poured me a glass of wine, and made me dinner.  I am getting pretty spoiled here, between the Barrister and Lawrence feeding me, I am starting to get back to my chubby bunny state.  The Barrister did pretty well in the kitchen, it doesn't take much to impress me when it comes to food, but I absolutely love people cooking for me!  I could really get used to being treated this way, it's a nice break from how dating was in Philly....granted I dated morons but still. 

I declined to stay the night since I have to be up early to go on a trip to Cambridge but he made it clear that he couldn't wait to see me again.  There are no questions, no deciphering hidden messages, and no mixed signals with the guy, he's a smitten kitten.....

As he walked me back to the tube, he mentioned Valentine's Day.  The thought of the holiday makes me want to run....I think I am allergic to this wooing, the ice cream on the river,the cooking for me, and the telling me I'm cute in the morning.  I am definately living someone else's dating life, where are the drunken hook ups and booty calls that I have come to call dating?  That way is much easier.....but then again this isn't too terrible either.

Great First Impression!

"Pay Attention", that's  a phrase I've heard umm...forever.  Today I really wished someone would have been sitting next to me pinching my arm as I zoned out.  After a 30 minute lecture from some Admin guy at London Met, we were to break off and attend an hour session with our course leader.  Just as the slide presentation ends, I returned to reality and hopped up when I hear "something something Marketing" and follow a pack of students into a room.

At no point during the course leader's speech or 3 professor introductions did I ever think I was in the wrong room.  About an hour later, we all left the room to head down to enroll.  Immediately I was turned away because I forgot my passport.  On the tube home, I realized that not one of the classes mentioned in the "something something Marketing" session had anything to do with events. 

I returned with my passport and the realization that despite being older and having more years in school than most of the students in line, I was mosly likely a bigger jackass too.

By the time I got up to the postgraduate office and gave my name, they had already emailed me asking what course did I intend to be a part of.  It's all fixed now, I guess in theory I could have picked one or the other but I'm sticking with Events Marketing...they only have class two days a week, the other has three.

I am going to try really hard not to embarass myself or show my stupidity again in school, at least not for another couple of weeks. 

In Bed with the Barrister

The Hoe Disclaimer:  I knew there would come a point when I would have to decide how honest I would be and how much of my life I would make make public (that's assuming that more 10 people will ever read this).  I didn't really count on making that decision less than 2 weeks after arriving but a girl can only behave so long and most likely to my Mothers dismay, I am going to write about it (sorry Ma, you may want to skip this one)

Yesterday was Date #2 with the Barrister but before that I had lunch with Lawrence and one of his friends from school.  We ate amazing and cheap India food and had a couple glasses of wine.  When we finished at about 6, Lawrence and I decided to go to his favorite restaurant for a drink, afterall I had over an hour to kill so why not indugle in a drink called "the Zombie".  This drink lives up to its name and I would never drink one by myself, its huge and the amount of liquor in it is really impressive or appalling depending who you ask.  I was impressed only because it didn't taste like liquor and they served it with a shot in the middle that was on fire.  The bartender was kind enough to also let me taste some booze that we don't have in the states....we all laughed about the idea that I had to now go on a date......

As usual I was running late, I can still get away with it since everyone assumes that I got lost.  I met the Barrister under the signs of Picadilly Circus and we headed into Chinatown for dinner.  He was all dressed up and I felt slightly bad for the buzz I had going on.  Chinatown in London is exactly like any Chinatown in the US, lanterns and lights hanging from the streets and dead poultry in the windows of half the restaurants.  Luckily our restaurant did not hang dead animals in the window.  We sat overlooking the main street and ordered a bottle of wine and food.  Like the other times, the conversation was great, not one moment of awkward silence.  He told me that he had mentioned me to his friends and they all joked about him "pulling" (picking up) an American girl and asked for details.  Over dinner we talked about our families, how we grew up, and some of the things we thought were important in work and friendships.  It was generally a nice time,   he paid and we headed to Soho to grab a drink. 

We followed some dude into a place that had specials and free cover.  The lounge was filled with couches and couples barely listening to the terrible house music the DJ played.  We had a couple drinks and decided to leave after laughing at some chick dancing for a little too long (she was dancing like a maniac and laying on the floor, never to the beat of the music).  As he hailed a cab he asked, "Your place or mine?"  This didn't really need a response considering he has a bed that fits more than one person....

When we got back to his place, things escalated at the pace it should have.  He stopped kissing me only to tell me how much he liked me and how he cute thought I was.  Nice touch on his part.  Accents and uniforms are my kryptonite and seeing as he has one of those down really well and I had a good amount of booze in me...the clothes came off pretty quickly.  The good part is the Barrister is a giver....the bad part is the Barrister and I did not seem to be as good in bed together as we were becoming in everything else.  I will admit I have taken my clothes off for worst people and enjoyed sex with people less but something was just off.  Neither of us seemed to be on the same page.  I have never really been insecure in that arena but as soon as it was over I had my doubts.

After a couple hours of it all (I can't say every moment wasn't up to par, he had his moments) we cuddled up to go to bed.  I feel asleep to him rubbing my back.  I woke up to him kissing me good morning and in my head I was pretty sure the sex was making me like him less until he told said "I really like waking up to you in the morning, you look adorable, Can I get you anything?" Like a sucker, I liked him some more and figured it was a fluke incident and maybe alcohol was to blame for the poor showing the night before. 

But it wasn't.  We layed in bed and drifted in and out of sleep for the next 4 or 5 hours.  Things started up again and I decided to see if it was still awkward sober...it was.  Not as awkward but still not what I thought it would be.  This time I have no idea why, I don't even have an excuse.  One thing is clear, although I am not exactly proud of this, it is very obvious that I am more experienced than the young Barrister. 

We took a shower and went a grabbed coffee from Starbucks and said goodbye so he could go to class.  He asked me out for friday.  We are going to the Tower of London and then he's cooking me dinner.

At this point I have to decide how shallow I am going to be.  I can chalk up the sex to nerves and first time awkwardness.  Or I can break it off now because I don't want to deal with this whole situation.  While I didn't come over here to get involved with anyone it has been kind of nice to be treated this well by a guy.

Maybe I will just let him cook for me and then decide depending on how good the food is.....

Ugh!

I always know I'm in trouble when I start worrying about what to wear on a date, If it were up to me we would all wear beaters and sweats.  It doesn't help that I'm throwing a tantrum because I don't feel I packed the right 110lbs of my clothes or shoes.  The downside of being in Europe is men actually care about shoes and fashion and I am about 3 years behind on all of that.  I just started buying high heels over flips flops about a year ago.

Well there isn't much I can do at this point, I'll have to find my arrogant American attitude somewhere on the way to the tube....

There is slightly too much pressure on dinner tonight, I blame the hours of texting the Barrister and I did last night.  At least if my date goes to hell, I'll have a good lunch with Lawrence....he's bringing a Canadian with him too.  What happens when an American, a Canadian, and a 1/2 Brit and 1/2 American go to lunch????

The Tate Modern

I spent four years living in Philly and went to the Art Museum 3 times.  Not nearly as much as I should of, I realize that now but in my defense they charge you, even on the free days they judge you if you don't donate!  One of the perks of having only one friend and one guy I snog (totaling a whole two people I talk to) is that I am forced to go do things during the day.

I spent the afternoon at the Tate Modern Museum on the South Bank of the Thames.  It's 5 floors of art.  I am not the most cultured person on earth but I would like to think I know enough and have been exposed enough to appreciate most types of art.  The funny thing about museums is everyone in there puts on their best artistic face on and gives their best critique...even funnier is most people sound like idiots.  Armed with my ipod, I walked through every room, some rooms I loved and others I absolutely hated.  I could spend my life in art museums and I will still never consider an all white canvas or a mirror on the wall, art.  No matter what moron says it depicts the vast emptiness of modern culture or the unique beauty in each of us....I call bullshit.  Painting a canvas all red with one big yellow dot in the center is not art its an overrated piece of refridgerator art that you made in kindergarden.  With every piece I hated I found one I loved (Andy Warhol pieces or "Water-Lilies" by Monet) or one that I found incrediably disturbing (like a video of a guy playing with himself in a tub of bodily fluids or one entitled "menstruation"...you get the point).  Despite my harsh  assesment of some rooms, I still loved the 3 hours I spent there.

In other news, my iPod is dying on me....it has seen better days, I don't understand why I can't have nice things...if this bitch dies on me I am going to be very upset....it allows me to avoid awkward situations.  I have no big plans for the rest of the day which is fine because tomorrow I have lunch with Lawrence then dinner with the Barrister.