Probably if America’s government meetings were more like Britain’s, I’d be more interested in politics. My mom and I legit watched the British House of Commons Prime Minister’s Question session for half an hour the other night because it was pure entertainment. I seriously sat in awe.
Basically everyone yells and “jeers” throughout the whole meeting. People randomly shout out “hear hear!” and stand up, smiling and laughing, hurrahing and booing. Women wear pink suits, men wear pink and rainbow colored ties. Nobody holds back, and they all make it clear how they are feeling. At one point, the prime minister actually quoted something as “crackpot, dotty, and frankly absurd” and they began to “trade quips.”
If you know me, you know I do not like foreign accents. I have never been able to understand how people find them “sexy” or a turn on at all (unless we’re talking Hugh Grant). But after watching this, I think I’m developing a thing for British accents. Maybe. David Cameron seriously made me laugh out loud several times with his “come on!” And British slang is just plain cute.
I’m not saying politics should be “entertaining” per say, but these politicians acted like normal people and weren’t needlessly polite or fake, and I felt like I could relate to them. I feel like they got a lot off their chests and managed to accomplish some stuff too. Maybe people in England are just more fun in general. I can’t lie; I’d probably watch another Parliment meeting if I happened to channel surf by one on C-SPAN. Or download them on BBC. I didn’t just say that.
I don’t think I realized it at the time, but basically, I ate a lot this weekend. Looking back, I realize I had a completely fabulous weekend in food.
Here’s what was incredible about it:
● Hanging out at the Copley rooftop pool with Sas all day on Friday where we sunbathed and drank sangria and mojitos. And ate grilled cheese. What a life.
● Having a romantic dinner w/ Chels at Burton’s Grill on Boylston Friday night. We previously had a romantic date at the Burton’s in North Andover and just discovered one in the Fenway area. It’s well-hidden and not-so-well-advertised. But, you should totally go. Obviously it’s no Morton’s or Capital Grille, but they have great hamburgers and steaks, amazing appetizers (try the grilled stuffed zucchini), a huge wine list and yummy specialty drinks, and not-so-bad prices.
● Hanging out with the Adams clan and finally going to Tapeo on Newbury, where we sampled many exotic foods. Chels was an all-star and ordered frog legs and quail. Frog legs were surprisingly delicious…tasted like really tender chicken. And the quail was seriously to die for. I also had mussels that were amazing. Dessert was sherry battered strawberries and if heaven tastes like something, I’m pretty sure this is it. Uhh, going back to Tapeo immediately to eat more.
● Saturday night consisted mainly of drinks. Wine and then later Sky 90 and soda at Clark’s. A good time was had by all.
● Sleeping away much of the day on Sunday and then going to the Paris Creperie for the first time in a longg time. I think I used to go every weekend when I first moved to Brookline and now I remember why. They have the besttt breakfast crepes ever, even when it is no longer breakfast time. Delicious coffee too. And amazing smoothies. Wait, I love everything there. Some day I want to just hang out there all day and get a breakfast crepe, a lunch crepe, a dinner crepe, and a dessert crepe. Don’t laugh.
● Going to my parents (attempt #2 at dr. appt…success!) for dinner on Sunday and having a marvelous flank steak, and grilled sweet potato, asparagus, and squash. Thank you, Dad.
● Not eating breakfast and then getting multiple shots at the Dr. including getting my blood taken and then driving home successfully without passing out. Walking in the door and having Dad make me delicious soup for lunch.
● Having my fabulous roomie make me dinner. A buffalo burger, which surprisingly tastes exactly like a hamburger…but healthier. A nice end to a wonderful weekend.
Wow, I was a huge pig this weekend. But a happy one. If I had weekends like this past one every weekend, I’d be one happy girl. Probably a lot fatter too. Lunch tomorrow at the Copley farmer’s market!
Ben Franklin was on my train home today and I’m pissed I didn’t get to talk to him. I, unfortunately, did not see him until we pulled into the Andover station, when I then saw him exiting the train, fully attired in his traditional garb (it was freaking hot out today so I kinda wondered how he was feeling). My mom wouldn’t even wait with me in the parking lot so we could see what kind of car he got into. What kind of car would Ben Franklin drive?? Seriously, though. If it were up to me, I would have followed him home to see what sort of house Ben Franklin resides in. For all I know, he could be my neighbor.
Ben Franklin goes to Quincy Market every day (allegedly, Sundays included) and talks to the public about his life and accomplishments. One of my professors is from my town as well, and says she is frequently on the commuter rail with Ben. She talks to him and he tells her about his printing press and such. He legit talks to people as though he is actually Ben Franklin.
When do you suppose the gig’s over? Does he take his wig off and lay his costume aside when he enters his home? Or does he don a nightcap and traditional Ben Franklin night clothes? Does he fly kites around the neighborhood? And furthermore, how on Earth did Ben Franklin get his start as Ben Franklin? Do you suppose even he confuses his own life with Ben’s? It’s possible that he spends more time as Ben than he does as his actual self. I know I’d be confused.
Another point of discussion: Is it disrespectful to call him Benjamin Franklin “Ben?” If you see him…ask.
*The one, the only B.F. as published in BU’s The Daily Free Press.
From The Office…trying to figure out how one gets his start as a Ben Franklin impersonator:
Karen: So I guess you have the Ben Franklin wig and the costume and you figure, how can I put this to practical use?
Pam: Well I like to think that his dad was a Ben Franklin impersonator and he really pressured him into it.
New York has the Naked Cowboy, Boston has Ben Franklin. You can learn about him on the T, or you can read Social Studies Lesson Plans, and Education Resources to learn about the man with the bi-focals.
Gawker posted a hilarious article yesterday called “Can You Tell That a Woman is Single and Unlaid Just From Her Apartment?” and it has me worried/petrified that my apartment is screaming single (minus the cat, I do not, nor will I ever have a cat). The thing is, everything on this list that I have now, I had when I was in a relationship and I will have in future relationships. Will this make me be essentially single forever, whether I’m in a relationship or not? Do I need to grow up? And furthermore, why do people feel the need to write these lists that just make me feel pathetic?
There are some things on the list that no person should have in their apartment, single or not, including Framed posters (unless you’re in middle school and won it from the local fair) and Slovenly heaps of little-used makeups in the bathroom (that’s just dirty, I don’t care who you are).
Here are the things on the list that I do have in my apartment, and my excuses for why I have these things, because yes, I do feel the need to tell you my excuses:
- Piles of magazines everywhere, comprised of tons of pretentious ones that are clearly untouched and then severely thumbed-through Vogues and Luckys- I’m a publishing graduate student and a reader. I read a lot of magazines. Or I have a lot that I don’t quite get the time to read. And yes, the pretentious ones are usually a bit more boring and take longer to read. Is reading Lucky so wrong?
- Overflowing shoe rack- Does having a lot of shoes scream single? Do people stop buying shoes when they enter relationships? I wasn’t aware. I think my ex bought me a lot of my shoes. I like shoes, big deal.
- Scented candles- So? Now I’m getting defensive. Who doesn’t like a candle or two? It’s not like I have a shrine of them on my bedside table. Sometimes i like my room to smell like Macintosh apples. And there’s nothing like the scent of sugar cookies to get you in the holiday mood.
- Stuffed animals in the bed- Yeah, that’s kind of lame, I guess. I can’t deny it, but I’ll still make excuses for myself. I just have one and mostly because I sleep better holding on to something (omg, I do sound single). But seriously, if you saw how many stuffed animals I slept with as a kid, you’d be pretty proud of me right now.
- Anything pink- How about everything pink? Not pink in a childish way (I don’t think), but it’s my favorite color so I have a lot of it. Is that bad? Because it’s probably not going to change. My boyfriend wouldn’t need to have pink in his apartment, but that doesn’t mean I can’t have it in mine.
- Unedited bookshelves, esp. if they include He’s Just Not That Into You or anything along those lines- I don’t have that one, but I do have Dr. Phil’s Love Smart. I am a huge Dr. Phil fan and don’t try to hide it. So why would I edit it out of my bookshelf? I also never edited out The Guide to Getting it On, which probably isn’t smart, but it’s an amazingly entertaining book. Wow, thanks to Sara for getting me all these self-help type books…do you think I need help? You can tell me…really.
The Gawker article also invited readers to submit their own entries. The best submission, no doubt, is “Your date from three nights ago, begging to be unhandcuffed from the bed” I have proudly not sunken to that low…yet.
Probably another one they could add to the list: Getting all paranoid and defensive that you have a lot of these things in your apartment. Damn it.
I’ll be the first to admit that I’m a pretty horrendous driver, but I attribute this mostly to my extreme lack of directional skills. I basically couldn’t find my way out of a paper bag, but whatever; I’m good at other things. And I really don’t think I’m that horrible of a driver considering I’ve never been in any type of motor accident. And I’ve only been pulled over once (AND I was going 30 on a 30 mph road, I know this because I checked before I saw the cop. It was New Year’s Eve and NH cops hate MA plates. And I was legit 2 feet away from the house I was going to, which was slightly embarrassing considering they could see flashing blue lights from inside their house). Anyway, my ex-bf would complain and yell at me about my driving skills all the time. He said he couldn’t date a girl who was a bad driver and tried to instruct me. I didn’t have time for that.
I don’t have a car in Boston (or we’d all be dead) so I had to go to my family’s house today because I had a doctor’s appointment and my dad was letting me drive his car there. He just got a brand new GPS a few days ago and was excited for me to try it. Interesting purchase in itself considering my dad is retired and basically only travels from his chair on the back deck of our house to the hammock in the backyard, and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t need a GPS for that (unless that’s what retirement does to you). I think he just wanted a new toy, and finds a sense of wonder in driving around the town he’s lived in for 27 years seeing that the GPS woman knows all the street names.
Despite the fact that I’m no directional genius, I’m pretty sure I could get to my doctor’s office with some quickly jotted directions. But my dad convinced me to just set the GPS and do what it told me. OK, Dad. An hour later, his freaking GPS brought me all over the back roads of Burlington, MA, before it landed me where I needed to be. It took quite the scenic route. My fault I’m sure considering I got flustered by it telling me to take a right turn in .2 miles when there were 8 streets in a row that were .00001 miles apart. Anyway, I thought I knew how to get to my doctor’s office, until today, thanks to the GPS.
The fabulous part was that I talked on the phone the whole way back home, didn’t pay attention to where I was going, took about 37 wrong turns and got on 3 of the wrong highways, but I didn’t even notice because the GPS kept re-setting and getting me back on track without even accusing me of doing anything wrong. Take that, ex-boyfriend.
P.S. I know a GPS’s purpose is not to allow me to chat on my cell phone while driving and I know that’s bad to do and I should always be paying attention to the road. Especially when I’m already calling myself a bad driver.
P.P.S. If my driving skills don’t make me sound ditsy enough already, when I finally arrived to my dr.’s office, I was informed my appt. was actually yesterday. Do they have a GPS for life? Because I’m pretty sure I need one.