Groupon, groupoff: On becoming a travel discount master (mistress?)

We leave for London in a week! A week! Don't know whether to get really excited or to throw up about leaving my babies. It maybe kind of helps that little Loki has been a lot like this lately:

adorable but also dangerous and maybe slightly deranged

When I started dreaming about this trip, I signed up to receive notifications of London and Liverpool deals through Groupon.co.uk, Livingsocial, and Wowcher. And then my inbox exploded so full of offers for afternoon teas and Brazilian waxes that it was insane. Also alcohol. Sooooo very much of alcohol.

But it was worth it, because I have scored some really great deals for things. I did have to use some self-control, though. It would have been easy to buy a ton and then basically have our entire schedule dictated by needing to use up the Groupons we'd paid for. So I really only chose things that were actually on our list. I also spent a lot of time on Yelp and Tripadvisor to make sure that the restaurant/experience/whatever was worth choosing.

I installed the Ebates button into my browsers so it could remind me when I'm on a site where I can get cash back. (For example, 6% back at Livingsocial.) So that happened too. And here's what I've got so far!

Groupon for London Fish & Chips in Covent Garden (yes, it looks like a weirdo chain but actually has great reviews)

This wasn't actually on my list, because I didn't know about it. But it looks fun.

Groupon for the Liverpool Big Wheel

Groupon for an afternoon tea.

I've never done the tea thing, but decided that a civilized afternoon tea in London is a thing I probably should do in my life. Also it's pretty much my birthday. So there. I spent, no lie, at least a month researching afternoon teas and checking out every Groupon/Livingsocial/Wowcher/whatever that came my way. I agonized. Agonized, I tell you. My salvation finally came through Christin, a lovely blog reader living in London (lucky!) who was also looking into afternoon teas. She sent me a link for the Wellington Afternoon Tea at the Wellington Lounge in the InterContinental Park Lane Hotel and the heavens opened and I may have started sweating. 

You guys. This tea. Go read about it right now I am not even kidding. 

And while I enjoy my afternoon tea, I can think about the part where I am sitting exactly on the site of Queen Elizabeth's childhood home, where she lived with Colin Firth until they moved into Buckingham Palace. Which turned out to be a good thing, since the house was destroyed during the Blitz of London. So, um, I guess thanks for that, Wallis Simpson?

Colin Firth not shown.

Except yay, there he is!!

Seriously. If this thing turns out to be a disappointment, I may level the building a second time.

Picture: Tolga Akmen/REX

2 for 1 Tower of London entry. (Why thank you, 2for1 London.) The red ceramic poppies filling the moat are a special installation to commemorate the 100th anniversary of WWI. Each poppy represents a British military fatality, and there will eventually be almost 900,000 poppies covering the moat.

image source Porters Restaurant

2 for 1 dinner at Porter's English Restaurant in Covent Garden. I'm leaning toward the chicken, mushroom, and bacon pie myself.

image source Porters Restaurant

And a dessert. Because culture.

2 for 1 Thames sightseeing cruises

Discounted Beatles London Walking Tour (You'll never guess who needs to see every single Beatles site in London. But I found the tour and the discount because I am awesome.)

Discounted tickets to see Jeeves and Wooster in Perfect Nonsense. But before we get too excited, is Matthew Macfadyen still playing Jeeves? Answer:

But that's ok. It will still be delightful.

And then there are the things I'm just going to have to suck it up and pay full price for:

Matilda the Musical

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime

The private taxi Beatles tour of Liverpool

Warner Brothers "Making of Harry Potter" Studio Tour

All the foods at Borough Market. (Pssst. Click on this link, but don't let the people around you hear the sounds you are about to make.)

And of course we are going to hit museums and the British Library and walk all over the place, but do any of you have some spots we should consider? Tell me now before I miss out and hate myself forever!
                             

My year in cities

Found this little meme online and decided to give it a go. Just to twist the knife I did 2006 as well. You list all the cities where you stayed at least one night. I'm cheating and listing towns, because sometimes I just felt like staying in a town/campsite/darling farmhouse on the moors where I can beat the windows and bellow for Cathy to come haunt me. Which is my right.

Anyway.

2006:
Provo, UT
Loughborough, UK
Leicester, UK
Newchapel, Surrey, England
Castleton, Derbyshire, UK
Keswick, Cumbria, UK
Hawnby, North Yorkshire, UK
Maspalomas, Canary Islands, Spain
Prague, Czech Republic
Preston, UK
Eagle River, AK

Aaaaand then we have this.

2007
L****, UT
Alexandria, VA
Port Orchard, WA
Cedar City, UT

Yeah.

2007? Kinda sucked. It's a really good thing that Alexandria, Port Orchard, and Cedar City are on that list, since that's probably all that kept me from just wandering out into a poop-smelling cow pasture during a snowstorm and letting the elements take me. Really, really need to make sure that 2008 is better. I've got Hawaii on the list now but not much else. I think a lineup like this would be pretty good:

2008
Honolulu, HI
Poipu, HI
Cedar City, UT
Eagle River, AK (when coolboy comes home from his mission in July)
Dubrovnik, Croatia
Santorini, Greece
London, UK
Paris, France

Really. Is that too much to ask?

If anyone wants to put their 2007 list up in the comments section please feel free! Or, if thinking about your 2007 makes you want to sob loudly at your desk, not that I know anyone like that, your desired 2008 list would be great too. I could use some more ideas.

Happy Guy Fawkes Day!

I nearly forgot! Today we commemorate the failed plot of 1605 to blow up Parliament. So if any of you have been hankering to burn something, tonight's a good night to do it. If anyone questions you you'll have a ready excuse. If, however, your target is a government building, you might want to keep in mind what happened to Guy (at least according to the good people at Madame Tussaud's).

I'm just saying.

Um, okay . . .

So yeah. Two days later YouTube deigns to post my video. Three times. Because that is how many times I tried to share the love with you all. Those weirdos.

I blame you, England

Have been going through the video collection at the library and culling mercilessly. I am the perfect person for this job because although I hate throwing away my own things I quite love chucking other people's. While in the Western section I saw this, snorted like a Clydesdale, and fell on the floor laughing.


And then the pit of Hell opened its gaping maw to receive me.

Names are funny

Not mine, obviously. Mine is tasteful and classic. Both my real name and my Internet name are. My one main rule when it comes to baby names is this: If they can't be taken seriously as a successful cutthroat lawyer with that name, it's out. This especially applies for girls. My other rule is that I can't tell any of you vultures which names I like because you'll steal them. (Example: I have wanted to name a son Aidan since 1993. Like that's gonna happen now. Jerks.)

It was fun to see the difference in names out in England. I met darling little boys named Thomas and Henry. I met girls named Sian (pronounced "Shawn"). I met people with 2 or 3 middle names. And I found out what the Brits think of some of our names. One lady was completely thrown by the name Amber and wanted to know if that was actually really a popular name in the States. Which, oh my, yes. I must've had at least one Amber in every class growing up.

One English friend started dating an American fellow named Randy. WR could not hear his name mentioned without collapsing into giggles. I will never think of that name the same way again. Also, hope that when WR is a hotshot lawyer he has to represent someone with that name. Because that'll be awesome.

Once I mentioned how much I'd liked the name Aidan to an English friend and if I remember correctly his response was, "Why would you want to go 'round giving your children Irish names?" Because it turns out that my friend was racist. This might have been the same friend who was racist against Scottish people and called Braveheart "Scottish propaganda." If so, you know who you are.

*Blink*

So this is pretty much it. I have no idea how this year went by so fast. Suddenly I'm getting on a plane and have no idea what to think or feel. Except I hope they have cheese with the on-flight meal. And chocolate. Even if it is breakfast.

I just turned in my dissertation. Felt a bit dazed when I saw the hard cover w/my name printed on the spine, just like a big-girl book.

Closed out my Barclay's bank account. My masters degree cost $22,000, which is $8,000 under budget. I kick trash. People should marry me for my fiscal skills alone.

Tonight my sweet friends are throwing me a goodbye party, and then someone will drop me and my bags off at the curb of the Leicester Bus Station.

And then the trek begins. Let's go over this, shall we?

12:15 am--Catch National Express bus to Gatwick Airport

4:00 am--Arrive at airport.

7:00 am--Check in for flight. Will be told that my luggage is too heavy. Will suck it up and pay the fines.

9:00 am--Fly to Atlanta. Take herbal sleep aids with in-flight meal. Lots of them. Live without water OR lip balm. Seriously, people. You think the terrorists are going to use lip balm??

1:00 pm--Atlanta arrival. Sit around for hours. Without lip balm. Because The Precious went to Alaska early, will not be seeing her. Will formulate half-baked answers to potential interview questions.

5:45pm--Fly to SLC.

9:05pm--Fly to Alaska amongst the fleece-wearers.

12:05am--Arrive in Alaska and terrify my mother with the sight of my dead, gaunt face, peeling lips, and grouchy demeanor. Wait 6 hours for luggage with half the population of Anchorage. Drive 45 minutes to house.

1:30am--Pass out in bed at the end of 34 hours of traveling.

12:00pm--Attempt a coherent phone interview for a UT library job. Will probably start a) sobbing, b) speaking in tongues, or c) snoring at some point during interview. Wish me luck with that, please?

The one thing I'm sort of not letting myself think about is how much I will miss everyone and how rubbish I am at saying goodbye to people. And I don't want to think about how much I will miss beautiful England and the color green. So I won't think about it right now. You'll get many a tear-stained post in the future about that, I'm sure.

Had better go check my bags one more time, but I hope people will still keep reading this blog when it's not all English and cool anymore and when it's just about this girl who got a masters degree so she could go live with her parents in the tundra.

Took this picture on Sunday in Bradgate Park. See why I want to cry?

Don't walk, people. Run, drive, or fly.

Everyone needs to go see Wicked right now. Seriously. I would buy a full-price ticket to go back and watch it again tomorrow if I could. So, so fabulous.



First off, the set is amazing. As are the costumes. And the music. And everything else. I got chills the second the music started, and then kept getting them over and over again, which is how you do it, Mary Poppins. At the end I had no hesitations about giving a standing ovation, since it absolutely met the "must be so fabulous as to make me forget where I am and possibly transport my soul from my body" criteria.

I have never been in a better or more excited audience. When the curtain went up everyone went completely wild and started clapping and cheering and whistling. And then every time someone new/famous came on stage everybody went nuts again.

Idina Menzel . . . there are no words. None. She was amazing. Anyone who can make it to London to see her needs to do so, now. In January someone else takes over the role, and will be fine I'm sure, but still. Go now.

Goldilocks and I sat next to these two adorable English teenaged boys who are total Wicked groupies. They were wearing the t-shirts and had all the gear and evaluated whether the people onstage were doing it right. ("Too English." "Too American--definitely." "Hasn't quite sold me yet, we'll see how she does in the second half.") I think that last one was about Glinda, who grew on me as well.

Pretty much all the characters have UK accents now, with the exception of Elphaba and the Wizard. It works.

There was only one disappointment: In the big Defying Gravity number Elphaba is supposed to rise up into the air in this big dramatic moment, but something went wrong and she didn't go up--just stood in the middle of the stage and finished the song. I sat there thinking, "Okay, now she's going to go up. Or now. Aaaaand here she goes. Wait. . . she's not going up. Why isn't she going up???" But still, if you didn't know it was meant to happen you probably wouldn't have noticed because your jaw would be hanging open at her singing.


I was so glad finally to see Goldilocks after two months of us both being holed away with dissertations and madness. Only hers is due at the beginning of October so she's still hard at work, so everyone please send good vibes her way.

We did some other fun things in London as well:

• Tate Britain to look at Pre-Raphaelites for Goldy's dissertation
• Lunch at Wagamama, where I had coconut ice cream w/mango sauce and toasted coconut shavings
• Walked along the Thames & got some great pics, including a video clip of Big Ben chiming
• Discovered the South Bank Book Market, which NO ONE EVEN TOLD ME ABOUT BEFORE.
• Experienced sardine-tin conditions and horrible delays on the Tube
• Sprinted to the train station, attracting the unfortunate attentions of a group of drunken football fans who started running alongside us and shouting things, which resulted in some regrettable and uncharacteristic language from me. Please remind me never to open my mouth when I'm about to die from an exertion-induced heart attack.
  
• Weren't let on our train and had to get on the next, where we didn't have seat assignments.
• Sat in First Class & didn't even get narked on. Had a sob story at the ready about how we were trying to get away from the drunken football fans. I volunteered to be the one who cries, since I already had the hyperventilating down. But no one even checked. First class is nice, y'all. Got my breath back and read my Wicked program like the geek I am.
  

It was a gorgeous day and the perfect way to say goodbye to my beautiful London that I love. It was a little bit easier this time because I no longer have to get all panicked and think, "Okay, this is it. I may never come back here again." Now I accept that it's a matter of when rather than if.

Finished!!!!!

Hah HAH! Have turned it in for binding! Have had massage!

The massage was lovely. But the thing is, I have come to realize that the therapist I used to go to back in the days of back-destroying travel was a brilliant, brilliant genius superwoman with dark powers. She was the only thing that kept me from walking around like a hunchback for two years. I saved per diem money by eating Wendy's salads every day on the road and would then give the rest of it to her twice a month, at which times she would work. me. over. No lie, the woman did not rest until she got through every layer of muscle on my body and worked out every last bit of tension. She made me whimper a few times. She was the first (and last) person who ever used the words "hard as a rock" in connection with my bum. Only she didn't mean it in a good way. And she would spend less time on the rest of me so she could tackle the calcifying disgrace that is the back of my shoulders.

The girl I went to today did not do those things. Even though I told her right away where it hurt and what needed attention, she seemed to be more going through a set routine than actually trying to fix me. I wish that instead of giving my kneecaps and the inside of my elbows such rapt attention she could have possibly turned some of that back over to the parts of me that actually get tense. There was this one part where she kept running one finger down the inside of my arm from my wrist to my elbow. It made me think of the episode on Friends where Ross gets stuck giving an old guy a massage and has to make it up as he goes, incorporating wooden spoons and Matchbox cars. ("He said he liked the cars!")

On a more positive note, though, the room was decorated very well, with pretty little tealights. It was all very relaxing. And she used this massage oil with lavendar essential oils that smelled fabulous. That is my story.

Running on fumes

I'm so close. So close to being done.

I'm also an exhausted, bedraggled, emotionally-fragile basket case. Yesterday I took a break from writing to watch a couple of clips from Grey's Anatomy on YouTube because I was suddenly in the mood for some Patrick Dempsey (because really, when is not a good time for Patrick Dempsey?).

Let me state here that I've never even seen this show before even though I've read some recaps. (Note: the recaps do not tell you how gorgeous pretty much everyone on this show is. It's like the Beautiful People Show.) So yes. Show I've never seen before and have no emotional attachment to.

And yet.

I sat there in front of my laptop completely sobbing about Meredith and McDreamy and The Love They Share. "Sniffff! He lo-o-o-ves her so mu-u-u-uch! Mwhahhggghhhaaahhhhggggg!!! " Don't even get me started about the clip where she had put her dog to sleep. Could. Not. Handle. It.

Sometime in the next 12 hours I'm going to finish this thing, and then I'm going to get myself to the massage therapist. And I will probably spend the entire 75 minutes sobbing into that little toilet-seat-shaped thing you put your face in because it will be the first time I've unclenched in about 6 weeks.

Gah!

Okay, be calm. No need to panic. Have to finish the dissertation this week, so really should not be writing blog posts at all. But I was without Internet access for the last two days and almost died from the withdrawal symptoms.

I wanted to thank everyone, though, who wished me a Happy Birthday yesterday. I got some lovely and thoughtful texts and emails and e-cards and G-talk voice messages. ("Yes, I love technology . . . ") My favorite, though, has to be the Google video of The Precious singing Happy Birthday in the manner of an indentured servant who is routinely forced to sing while putting on pajama bottoms. It kind of made me bark like a seal.

Because Lady J had to go up to the Lake District to do geology things, she dropped me off at the Preston Temple on Monday. So I worked on my laptop in the accommodations, and then the next day I did temple work during the day and worked on my bibliography for 4 hours in the evening before she came to get me. And then my dried-out eyes fell out of their sockets.

Observations about the Preston Temple:

• It is beautiful there. Of course.
• It was Scottish week or something, and it turns out Scottish people are loud compared to English people. Everywhere I went there were Scots calling out things like "It was rrrrrainin' yesterrrrday!" and cooking really smelly fish and saying words that I could not even make out.
• The cafeteria food at Preston is naff. My choices for lunch were soggy macaroni & cheese, a dessicated pork slab, or lukewarm chicken in an indeterminable red sauce. The dessert was supposed to be rhubarb crumble but looked like brown vomit. So. Happy Birthday to me. At the London temple they have this retired French chef serving a mission there, so you get things like lobster bisque and turkey with tarragon and profiteroles there.
  

But I'm not too bitter, because Sunday night Lady J made this amazing warm chocolate mascarpone cheesecake. It's made with double cream and egg whites and ground almonds and dark Belgian chocolate and I kind of wanted to make out with it right there. SO good. And more like a really rich brownie thing than a cheesecake. I would show a picture but that new Beta Blogger is on my craplist right now. It won't work with Picasa AND it won't let me post comments on blogs that haven't updated to Beta yet. What the heck is that about???? Anyway, I've been eating the cheesecake for breakfast with sliced bananas and double cream on top. Will have to buy all new clothes soon.

Other highlights:

Have booked a 75-minute massage for Friday afternoon. Could not be more excited.
Have booked trim and highlights for Monday. Ditto.
Wicked is in 3 days. There are no words.

Dirty baaaaaaabe

First off, you have to go see this--Savvy and I are considering taking our act on the road.

I can't believe I get to see her precious self in less than two weeks. We will both squeal so loudly that possibly airline security will arrest us. And maybe the Nazgul will turn up. Also I'll get to see Baby Ethan some more, which I'm very excited about since he was newborn the last time. And everyone knows newborns aren't real people yet.

Other good news for the day: I talked to my advisor and he says I'm in good shape and just need to finish the thing. So yay for that! In my euphoria must remind self that have not actually finished yet so cannot relax and begin the festivities.

Amyjane asked what's on my list for the next two weeks. And since I imagine (key word) you're all dying to know, here it is:

Dinner tonight at a locally famous chippery. It's in a nearby village called Rothley and you have to book ahead if you want to eat there. Lady J says if you want real fish & chips then this is the best place.

Housewarming toast for one of the YSA tonight. I'll be seeing people that I haven't seen in months, so I'm excited. It's called a toast because everyone brings yummy bread with something to put on top of it. I can fully support that kind of a party.

I want to go dancing next week.

I'm likely going to the Preston temple for a day to clear my head.

Wicked is next weekend. Cannot be more excited.

Goodbye-ish party next weekend or week after. Will distribute possessions among friends in manner of dying person or similar. Ladies, speak up now if you want the flat-iron with ceramic plates. Only used twice!

I have a honey-scented bath bomb and a chocolate scented bubble-bath bar from Lush. They, along with a nice long candlelit soak, are my reward for when I get the dissertation in to the binder.

If the Loughborough College opens up and has appointments before I leave, I'm going to get a massage and have my hair done. Otherwise I will resemble a frizzy-haired hunchback in all the wedding photos, and we don't want that. Better for people at the reception to ask me why I'm still single than to take one look and have their answer.

The simple news that Nature told

Yeah, I'm thinking England might be trying to tell me something.

The foul-mouthed school kids are back in school and walking past my window in their adorable uniforms.

The weather is getting cooler.

And then there's this:





Only I've got news for England--I still have 2 weeks left and there are things I mean to do!

So there. Now just need to get these last pesky chapters written so I can get to that. 

So there was this one time in Prague

On our first night there I won the Fraidy-Cat award.

We walked around the Palace grounds, which are huge and beautiful and consist of lots and lots of buildings. It turned dusky while we were there, and it was beautiful and lovely. But as went down this one narrow street we started seeing less and less people until we were the only ones. And I got nervous out about walking down an unfamiliar dark deserted street, because I'm always paranoid about being found dead in a ditch somewhere and having people read the headlines and say, "Stupid American girl! What was she thinking doing x? American girls who are that stupid should just stay home."

After we got a bit further down I could hear a couple of men shouting in Czech the other end, and finally informed Banana and Cordelia that there was no way I was walking down there to get killed during some drug-deal-gone-horribly-wrong, because what they were probably shouting was something like, "I am so angry with you for what you are saying and I am going to stab the next blond girl who gets near me!" So I was being all tense and freaky. Just as they were about to give in and go back up to the front entrance with me, another group of tourists appeared behind us. So that meant we were safe to follow them down to where the yelling was.

So . . . you know the drug deal? It was actually the National Shakespearovske Festival. They were doing Othello. Hence the shouting. But I would like to point out that I was actually kind of accurate when I guessed what they were saying.

Yeah. The girls had a pretty good time laughing over that one, and every time we saw advertisements for the festival over the next three days (which happened a lot) they would go "Oooh, [Nem]! It's Shakespeare! Scary!!!"

Only check out this picture! It is scary. I don't care what anyone else says.

Hips don't lie

So my sister, because she is a dirty bigmouth, may have possibly outed me and my recent listening habits.

First off, I don't have a radio. I don't have an iPod. I've never even had a CD player in my car. That's how out of the loop I am with the popular music. I just barely figured out that you can watch music videos on YouTube. I'd been using it to watch clips of my boyfriend John Krasinski on The Office and cry over the love we share.

But it turns out that when I'm tired I need to be listening to something upbeat to keep me from falling asleep or zoning out in front of the computer. So I found a London top 40s website to listen to.

So here are the songs that keep me awake and shaking my booty in my chair.

(Note: If you choose to seek out any of these songs do not even think of holding me responsible for any subsequent corruption. I have my own soul to think about.)

Hips Don't Lie, Shakira (currently the #1 single in the UK)
I'm Not Here for your Entertainment, Pink
Ain't No other Man, Christina Aguilera
Stars are Blind, by PARIS flipping HILTON. Oh. I feel shame.
I don't Feel Like Dancing, Scissor Sisters
London Bridge, Fergie the Trashqueen (the radio version, not the CD version with all the swearing)
Mymymy, Armand Van Helden
Sexy Back, Justin Timberlake. I had no idea that's who that was.
Suddenly I See, KT Tunstall

These are the ones I wish I wasn't hearing:
Smile by Lily Allen, whose accent makes me want to jam a skewer in my ear.
Unfaithful by Rihanna, who I want to beat with a chair for being such a nasty ho. Cicada says this song hasn't made it to Utah yet. Utah is lucky.

And then there are other songs that make me go "GAH!!!" and shut the browser.

Yep. I don't shower or brush my teeth anymore or leave my house, but I am quite possibly the trendiest I'll ever be.

This is proof that I love you

I can't write a real blog post, as I still have my head down in my computer. But good things have happened.

1) I got a blessing on Sunday and immediately felt better and calm and happy, and I still feel those things. Plus, hey, God SAID I'm going to finish this thing. I wouldn't bet against Him.

2) My computer has been behaving for the last few days. I love her for that. She can feel free to burst into flames as soon as this thing is done.

3) Cicada has agreed to proofread my dissertation for me so I've been emailing her chapters as I finish them.

And just after she agreed to do that a few days ago, we had this IM conversation, wherein it becomes apparent that Cicada is a fonts junkie and that I didn't learn as much in AP US History as I thought I did.

Nemesis: Ugh. Some German guy just published his thesis on my topic and it's online. I'm doing my best not to go look at it because I think that would just freak me out. Only I'm sure it's better than mine!

Cicada: No. It's not possible. YOURS is going to be the BEST.

Nemesis: I just want to pass. Luckily his is about different stuff from mine. Kind of. Not that I'm looking at it.

Cicada: No. Of course you're not looking at it. But seriously---DON'T look at it.

Nemesis: I'm not, I shut it.

Cicada: Because that will seriously make yours more difficult to write.

Nemesis: I just looked at his bibliography, and skimmed the bit he wrote about the treaty. Done. It's gone.

Cicada: Okay. Now, you're worth it, you're good, and you're beautiful. Get back to work and you'll do GREAT.

Nemesis: It was the acknowledgements page that threw me. Turns out he's friends with all the A-listers. Only I've interviewed loads of them, and that's good too! So take that, Kraut.

Cicada: haha. Never forget that we beat them back in the 40s.

Nemesis: And we'll do it again. ok. Thanks. I feel better.

Nemesis: So which do you think looks smarter, Times New Roman or Arial?

Cicada: Ack! For WHAT?

Nemesis: For the dissertation. Those are my two choices--they do practically everything in Arial over here. It really took me aback when I first saw it.

Cicada: Are you SERIOUS? They only give you those two choices? Times is easier to read in large quantities, so I'd go for Times.

Nemesis: Yeah, cuz serif. But still. ARIAL, people.

Cicada: SERIOUSLY. You just don't PUBLISH in a sans serif like that!

Nemesis: Oh. They do. And it looks like a 7th grader wrote it.

Cicada: Well, just remember that we beat them back in the 1700s.

Nemesis: AND 1800s.

Cicada: Well, technically, they burned down the White House in the 1800s, you know.

Nemesis: Yeah, just before we BEAT them.

Cicada: And BOTH sides claim they won that one.

Nemesis: Uh, tell that to Andy Jackson and his bales of cotton.

Cicada: No, seriously. In school we're taught that we won that one.

Nemesis: You're joking! Canada as in British Canadians?

Cicada: Well, we were not Canada back then. So we were the British.

Nemesis: Oh yeah, isn't that when we tried to take over Canada? That wasn't the best idea.

Cicada: hahahahaha. It still isn't a GREAT idea.

Nemesis: So maybe it was a draw. We didn't get Canada, but by gum we're still Americans.

Cicada: And at least you know that Times is a better choice than Arial. Dumb Brits.

Nemesis: Seriously. How is mine supposed to beat that German guy's if it's in a crap font?

Cicada: You really couldn't sneak a pretty one past them? Like Bell MT or Garamond or Perpetua?

Nemesis: Let me check. I already have to bind the thing in a MAROON cover. With gold lettering, mind you.

Cicada: Oh wow.

Nemesis: Okay. It just says "Times New Roman or Arial fonts are recommended"

Cicada: Ahhhh, so that's to prevent people from using Comic or something. You can TOTALLY get away with using Bell or Garamond or Perpetua. Those are my three favorites.

Nemesis: Well, I know you to be a woman of impeccable taste. So lemme play around.

Cicada: Rockwell is also very fun and distinctive.

Nemesis: Yeah, only they're not so much about fun and distinctive here. I'm already thinking Bell might be out because of the swoopy 2s.

Cicada: I know. Those are my favorite part. Rockwell is like somewhere between a serif and a sans serif. Garamond and Perpetua don't have any fun swoopies.

Nemesis: Don't have Rockwell, don't have Perpetua. I'm thinking Garamond might be the winner.

Cicada: Garamond is a good one and is also fairly standard.

Nemesis: Sweetie, thank you. Just looking at my words in Garamond makes me feel more sophisticated. I just might pull through.

Cicada: How much more do you have to do? When's your deadline?

Nemesis: I have to write about 7,000 words in the next 5 or 6 days, depending on when the advisor wants it. Then I need to make his changes and turn it in for binding.

Cicada: That's not so bad. You can totally do it!

Nemesis: I've got my caffiene strips and my ibuprofin. Hit it.


Later

Nemesis: I'm back. Lady J says I'm on thin ice with the fonts. She says they do everything in Arial now because some discrimination legislation was passed that said no one can use fonts that might make it difficult for people to read.

Cicada: Uh . . . using Arial makes it more difficult to read than using a serif font. Didn't the legislators research that?

Nemesis: Guess not. They get crazy about Health & Safety and discrimination and all that here, it's pretty mad.

Cicada: I don't understand how font = discrimination. Please explain.

Nemesis: Somehow they got it into their head that funky fonts might make it difficult for people with vision problems to read. So any government or university publication has to be in either Arial or Times New Roman. Or something.

Cicada: I seriously feel like throwing up right now. PLEASE blog about this.

Nemesis: Okay.

Author's note: No offense was intended to the good people of Germany. I'm just a gibbering idiot whose brain is slowly turning to mush. I was born in Germany. I love Germany. Call me!

Prague Pics Part 2

Banana and Cordelia. And yes, she will be called Cordelia until she gives me a different alias to use!


The outside of St. Vitus cathedral.


Our first dessert in Prague, which was fabulous, I tell you.

Another cool view. 

Some Prague pics

Picasa is being weird and only letting me post a few pictures at a time. So this may take a couple of posts. Think of it as a 3-course meal or something. That way it's fun and posh!



The view from the Clock Tower in Old Town Square. I also got a picture of the millions of tourists below me waiting to watch the astronomical clock. We never actually saw the thing chime, which is okay.


View of the Prague Castle compound, where you can easily spend hours and hours walking around.


The stained-glass window by Mucha in the St. Vitus Cathedral (up in the castle). SO cool.


If you stay at the Traveller's Hostel in Prague, which I recommend you do, take a towel. Otherwise you have to buy one. And it doesn't actually cover anything. All the other hostel residents will thank you--in their minds if not verbally. 

Back from Prague, safe and soundish

I'll write real report later--perhaps much, much later.

But I'm back and it was great. Prague is absolutely gorgeous and I love it there. Everyone needs to go. My immune system did not love it so much though, as I managed to pick up a cold and now feel like poo.

Which would be fine, except I have to write 7,000 words or something horrible in the next 5 days.

Pray for me.

Pictures coming soon!

Heather walk

Here are some pics from the heather walk I did on Saturday. It started pouring rain as soon as we started walking, but Lady J had us all prepared with waterproof trousers and jackets. We looked hot and not at all like drowned rats wrapped in tarp. Luckily, the rain calmed down once we were at the top so that we could actually see the views.


For dinner we went to the Scotsman's Pack, which I'd been hearing about all year from Lady J. The food was wonderful. I had haddock encrusted with hazelnut and basil and goat cheese on top of mashed potatoes. The only scary part was when I bit down on a bone that tried to impale my gum and pop out my lower retainer. Other people had grilled duck, roasted guinea fowl, and rack of lamb. A German couple sat near us and leaned over to ask what "gammon" was. It was amazing what a complicated job we did of explaining, but they eventually understood and everyone was happy.


For pudding (US translation: dessert) I had blueberry creme brulee, even though the chocolate brownie looked so very good. But really, when am I ever going to make a blueberry creme brulee myself? Other people got apple pie with a pitcher of cream, raspberry almond tart with a pitcher of cream, sticky toffee pudding, and the brownie with vanilla bean ice cream and hot fudge sauce. I passed out in the car on the way home.

Lady J says the edge we were walking along is probably where they filmed the "beautiful" scene in P&P. So there's another thing ticked off my list!

I leave for Prague in the morning, so I hope everyone has a good week! I'll be back on Friday.