Speaking of London...

The next time I go I'm definitely following Googlemap's directions. Check out #20.

The Hilarity of Being Earnest

This is a story about the being young and in love, and about how those two elements, when combined with ample amounts of alcohol in a public setting, can lead to untold ridicule and mockery.

Very early last Saturday morning, Joel and I boarded a bus in London. We'd been out with some friends of Joel's in the city, and after waiting at a bus stop for more than an hour, were happy just to be somewhere warm without the company of drunk, snarling, humping 18-year olds, who seemed to be the target demographic at the club we'd just came from.

We stumbled to the back of the bus, and we must've been overly vocal about our lack of knowledge of London and where we were going, because the guy I sat next to made it obvious -- without saying as much in a bland, affected British way -- that Joel and I were morons.

Fortunately, two drunk 18-year old girls stumbled onto the bus at the next stop. One sat next to me, one across from me and near Joel.

So, imagine: three seats. One with a drunk girl, the middle with confused me, and the third with an irritated guy who thinks Joel and I are utterly stupid.

Let's call the drunk girl seated next to me BabySpice, and her good natured drunk friend seated across GingerSpice.

What was so amusing about the conversation that follows wasn't what they said but how they said it: Earnestly and without awareness that what they were saying was completely ridiculous.

Ah, to be 18 again!

BabySpice: How should I tell him how I feel?

GingerSpice: Are you going to call him? Do I have to take the phone away from you?

BabySpice: How do I say 'I love you' without saying 'I love you'? Do I just say 'I love you'? I can say, 'I love you in my own way'.

(At this point, Joel and I and the guy who thinks we're morons are half-listening. I wince at the last line. That sounds like he's her brother!)

GingerSpice: I don't see why you're going through this.

BabySpice: Should I call him? Write him a sonnet? A Shakespearian sonnet? Wordsworth? Keats? Should he understand Shakespeare?

GingerSpice: No.

BabySpice: Keats?

GingerSpice: No.

BabySpice: Let me evoke Nelly Furtado...

(At this point, Joel, the other guy, and myself are all fighting back laughter and are trying very hard not to let on that we're eves-dropping. The drunk girls don't notice.)

BabySpice: I believe D.H. Lawrence says that the first sex is like a budding flower. I swear, I was having orgasms on the spot.

GingerSpice: Seriously, give me the phone.

BabySpice: 'I love you because you're less intelligent than me!' No! 'I love you because I'm more intelligent than you!' Will that go over well?

(By now, Joel and the other guy are practically crying. I've taken out my BlackBerry and am transcribing the conversation and am still trying to pretend that I'm not listening.)

BabySpice: I love him even though he's impotent! 'I love you so much I'll take E with you.'

Right around this point, the two realized that they missed their stop and ran off the bus. We waited until they were five feet out of the bus before we burst out laughing.

Knight Commander of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire

...that's Bono!

"'You have permission to call me anything you want -- except sir, all right? Lord of lords, your demigodness, that'll do,' he told reporters afterward."

The El Under Fire

...um, we're all screwed.

Clarification of the Day

Comes courtesy of this LA Times story on an allegedly kiddie-fiddling P.E. teacher in East LA (clarification at the bottom of the screencap):

The Future

So, I accepted UCLA's offer for admission into the MBA Class of '09.

Turning down Kellogg's offer was very, very difficult.

I know the two preceeding sentences, when taken at face value, make me look like a lunatic.

The Best Day Ever

Yesterday, I received a package containing 110 thank you letters and handmade cards from a 4th grade class in Oregon. Most had misspellings of my name (but cute misspellings!), "Mrs." directly preceding my last name (but a cute mistake!), and lots of verbage about how kind and nice I must be (but what a cute misunderstanding!).

Back in the fall, one of my clients requested that my company make a donation to this elementary school's reading and enrichment program. My client contact's sister, a schoolteacher, had apparently seen some of the highlighters and pens that my company tosses out at conferences and events, and she dug them. She originally asked for just pens, but when I requested the donation from our finance team they apparently put together a nifty packet of post-its, pens, highlighters, and multicolored flags for the students.

So, of course, the cards were all created using said highlighters and pens. My favorite comes from "Sam":

"Wow, there are so many pens and highlighters. Man, there are so many pens! It's really great that you sent these to us. Man, that's a lot of packets. I just can't get them out of my brain!"

My boss's response when he heard about all of this:

"Why are you giving away our office supplies??"

Sometimes you just have to let them go

Scenes like this are why my baby is better off at her grandma's...

New Favorite Band

I have two tickets to see Arcade Fire on 5/20 at the Chicago Theatre. Anyone want to go with me? Send me an email if you're interested.

This band seems to be everywhere lately. Can't wait. If you haven't given these guys a listen, you don't know what you're missing.

The band's Northwestern connection is just gravy.