Smack, Chirac!

I got bored. The blog changed. Thoughts?

In any case, let's get to it:

1. Go see Borat:Cultural Learnings of America Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazhakstan. If you don't find it funny, there is probably something wrong with you and we can't be friends.

2. And because I don't think I could go a few weeks without making fun of France...
I posted last spring about France's anti-CPE riots, when the frogs rose up en masse to stop a law to essentially make the job market more flexible. I made fun of them then, and I stand by it now. HOWEVER, I will give them a bit of credit in that the way the CPE measure went through was well messed up. Dominique de Villepin (Prime Minister) sort of just made it law. It didn't go through any legislative bodies. Checks and balances? What? De Villepin used an article of the French constitution (an emergency clause, if you will) to essentially force his measure through.

And, lo and behold, in my Comparative Constitutional law readings, I found even more ammo as to why France's constitution (the 5th one they've made, might I add) is completely bent-Something, I have to add, that a lot of French people agree with. And so I give to you, France-The Arab Gulf State:

"France and Kuwait differ from the US in a few aspects, such as allowing the President/Amir a part in the amendment of the Constitution, and allowing him much wider powers to dissolve the elected body for limited periods. It is also notable that both France and Kuwait, in granting freedoms, are careful to insert such phrases as, "in accordance with the law and/or public policy and/or morals," "answering for any abuse of such freedom"--thus preserving to the Government from time to time discretion to legislate on acceptable levels of freedom." -Commercial Law in the Arab Middle East.


Smack! No more moral high horse, my gaullois friends.
All for now,
F

Flatmate Profile: John

I've been lucky in terms of the people I've shared living space with. Everything except The Unfortunate Post-It Incident my freshman year has been fairly normal.

Then I moved to London. Enter John, my current flatmate.

A Glaswegian born and breed, he's lost every trace of his Scottish accent, except when drunk, when it turns into a lispy, slurry, incomprehensible ramble. This is most of the time.

Unemployed since I've moved here, he receives free housing thanks to the British government. This makes my rent lovely and cheap, and British Projects are nice enough, really.

The flat is an exercise in What is camp? : A full length poster of Marilyn Monroe decorates the closet door and Marilyn Monroe collages line the walls of the toilet. Elsewhere, large, fake gold statues of grecian women clutter every table in the house. Other finishing touches include an enormous collection of model cars and multiple pictures of every (female) monarch the UK has ever had.

The color scheme is "muppet." Purple is not only the accessory color of the season for fashion, but for our living room. (Who knew?) A big sparkly purple festoon covers a mirror, and a large purple plastic DOME sort of sits on a table by the TV.
The color of my room is somewhere between mint green and vomit, and John's room is brick red. There's a bit too much red paint and he's threatening to paint the toilet room and the foyer walls with the excess.

John's activities including watching "Good Morning Britain" show in its entirety, ( 7-12 am, i believe...), smoking a lot of hand-rolled cigarettes, blasting Tina Turner, Cher, or The Ronettes at full volume, and staring out the kitchen window while drinking Sanka.

Likes include "girlie mags" ("Chat" and "Love it!"), musicals, and penises. No, I should be more clear. And I quote, "The thing about penises is, I like big ones." Thus, his main activity is bringing home random men about every night, or every other night. There must be no more new gay men left in North London. Seriously. I've done the math.

Never a dull moment here in N1, and despite all the ways we differ, we get on quite well, and he really is a lovely man. This blog can only begin to capture his eccentricities, and one day when I sell my screenplay to Wes Anderson, John will surely make an appearance.

Goodnight from London.

London's other white meat.

Something this wrong can't be anything but hilarious.
from BBC News:
"Pelican swallows pigeon in park"

Here's to you, wallet

I've tried to adapt since I've come to England.

I can dance with one hand raised, punching the air, to just about any song. Similarly, my butt and hips have become redundant while dancing.

Furthermore, I enjoy celebrating the various holidays and celebrations of the UK. Here in London, The Brick Lane Festival was pretty sweet, and I'm looking forward to a cozy British Christmas season.

Unfortunately, my wallet decided to celebrate a holiday of it's own--
The (british) National ID Fraud Prevention Week. By getting itself stolen. I kid you not: http://www.moneyextra.com/features/feature-national-identity-024347.html

There is a British National ID Fraud Prevention week, FAR different from the American National ID Fraud protection week, which is in February. Why we need two different weeks for prevention and protection, I don't know. Why even we need these weeks AT ALL is a greater mystery. AND perhaps the greatest mystery of all is why my wallet wanted to martyr itself in the hands of some Pikey.

At least I am, entirely-accessories included-getting into the spirit of things. And so, I raise my glass to you, wallet, as you suffer a painful death in the hands of some icky vagrant. At least you know how to celebrate.

Wallet, far right, treating itself to some beers, circa February 2006

Like sex on two wheels.

'Post more regularly,' they say. When the fans speak, I've got to listen.
There haven't been any large, embarassing or super-interesting moments recently, and thus, I've been hesitant to write. But, I'm in London- nothing's really ever that boring.

And so, with a slight nod to Alice Carney, I present to you, what's hot/not, L-Town version.

What's Hot:
Having classmates wear burqas. It definitely shakes up any image you might have of them being oppressed shrinking violets. On the contrary, I'm intimidated. The class we have together is Islamic Law- In an academic debate, one of us follows an interpretation of it, and one doesn't...!(not to mention all the various sunna that I'm learning I would be breaking...)

What's Not:
The awkwardness that came when I realized I had NO way of recognizing them outside of the classroom. I mean, we're not talking minimalist, sparkly, multi-colored veils here. I mean, up-to-the-eyelids black gowns, transforming them into black flying squirrels. And so I end up awkwardly waving at both of the girls at SOAS that wear them, not knowing which one I sat next to in class...


Especially Not Hot:
British Home Secretary Jack Straw expressing his desire that women not wear them (at least when they're talking to him..) articleness: --although it must be said it's been blown up more in the press than what he actually said...why is he spoiling for this fight?!

Hot:
The Healthy Urban Lifestyle. A phrase first coined by Joseph, it refers to walking everywhere (and maintaining that Swan-like thinness) and running on crowded Urban streets. Car exhaust? Bah! Nothing!

Not:
Running on the beach. Who needs the ocean when you can have asphalt?

Hot:
Angel. The tube station and it's environs, where I live.

Not:
The phrase "daddy's little angel", the angel emoticon, and the slutty angel Halloween outfit. I'm reclaiming Angel for Islington!


Hot:
My bicycle. Potentially, the sexiest thing ever. She is 80's fabulous, white with red stripes a 10 speed racing bike. WITH 90's kellogg's cereal box rooster ornaments on the spokes..(or so my British friends tell me) If I go on, this will slowly become a sort of personal-ad-sounding and maybe even slightly pornographic. Which is not okay, because she's MINE, bitches.

So far, no accidents. I've been bicycling around London for the past day, and yes I'm very proud of the fact that I'm still in one piece.

Not:
Sorry, nothing even vaguely un-hot about my bicycle. Although, I'm shopping around for a name...any suggestions?

Shari'a Legally Blonde

I am a nerd.

Keep in mind that I don't consider this to be a bad word. It's never stopped me from engaging in debauched behavior, nor enjoying myself to excess in various parts of the world.

But this thought, nevertheless, occured to me the other night, in a very posh bar somewhere near Goldman Sach's headquarters in London. I'm a few mixed drinks into the evening and I'm chatting with my friend's colleagues, all bankers.

10 minutes later, I'm almost in a fistfight with one of them. About grammar.

In more sober hindsight, it occured to me that 1) the girl that started the debate had what I've learned is an "un-posh" accent, and must've had a chip on her shoulder about it 2) I should really never ever do such things in social settings, ever ever again.

But I digress. The fight started because she said that "AMERICAN ISN'T ENGLISH."

This is my favorite fight to pick. No, American isn't English English, but i'll be damned if any linguist can tell me we speak an entirely different language. Structurally? The same. Spelling? Yeah, variations. Accent? sure, they've got the upper hand there. But I will not let Brits think they have the monopoly on the entire English language.

This is what I'm calmly trying to explain to her when I tap into her apparent massive insecurities.

"I speak a dialect of English, just like you speak a dialect of English," I say.

She turns slightly pink in the face.

"I may not speak the queen's english, but We are More Correct because we invented it!" (lame, lame argument).

I mumbled something about cockney rhyming slang, when her phone rang. At this point, I turn to a French friend who is sitting on the other side of me, ever so slightly scared of the whole conversation...

"Je m'excuse, mais, j'adore disputer..." She overhears this. "THAT'S it! I can't handle this! I know you're talking about me!"

I tried to translate to her that I was just excusing myself, and saying that I loved to argue, but all reason was lost on this one. I had another drink and bounced down Fleet Street.
........

Confirming my nerd-ness is my recent acceptance to a law program here, at the School of Oriental and African Studies in Islamic Law...I'm excited as hell, and almost late for my first class.

So, I'll be in London for the next year. Now it's your turn to visit.

The French are coming!

So, I'm in London. (Hence the blog title change). It's raining.

No matter what language you pose it in, I still will be reluctant to answer the question of what I'm doing here. It's really a complicated chain of events that got me here. It began with a war, and things sort of snowballed from there. I'll be staying here anywhere from 3 months to a year, again, depending on the snowballs.

C'est un peu dodgy.

What I have been doing the past 3 weeks is being underpaid. I've been working at a swish, new, well-hyped French restaurant in Chelsea. No names will be used until I see what the New York Times review says next week. Naturally, all of my co-workers were French, making my contact with the Gaullois in London massively larger than it was in Paris.

Encore, un peu dodgy.

I quit recently, not because I didn't enjoy my new frenchies or the restaurant or management, but because this whole "service" thing doesn't really float my boat. I'm more of a "be served" sort of girl.

At least I did learn.. Fun and Exciting New Ways to Include Sexual Harassment In The Workplace! Man, I will say it was endlessly amusing. A few examples:

Situation #1 As I'm standing in front of the bread basket, a co-worker reaches around me to reach the bread.

Me: "Touche pas a mon pain!" (a very clever word play in French, thank you very much..translation: Lay off my bread..)
Co-worker: "Man, if you guarded your ass like that from your boyfriend..."

Situation#2 I don't hear something my boss says.

Boss: "Well, you know that masturbation makes you deaf.."
Me: "But, uh, I, uh, have a boyfriend?"
Boss: "Is he English?"
Me: "uh, yeah"
Boss: "That explains it..!"

Oh, I shall miss them..! Seriously. All this American whinging about sexual harassment is annoying.

Off to trot around in the rain... P.S. someone POST COMMENTS, for fuck's sake!