proof that new years resolutions hold no water.

I made a resolution to write and post in here at least a few times a week. I amended that to a few times a day...andddd its now the middle of January. Blame it on the fact that I was in London for 3 weeks and was so enamored of the city that I was overwhelmed with creativity? Maybe not.

But it's back to reality.

In the wake of Obamania and the inauguration, I think us Americans have been pumped dry of political talk. So I'll leave the talk about change, our new President facing an uphill battle, and various bouts of economical pessimism to the experts. I will, however, shamelessly plug a piece about the inauguration from across the pond.

We all have new years resolutions...some have to do with losing weight, being healthier, or being more open to "new ideas" but the truth is at one point or another all the resolutions falter. Promises of daily 20 minute cardio regimes aren't kept and the ever-tempting devil's food cake starts to call your name too loud and before you know it you're planning resolutions for the next year.

So, instead of wasting all the time planning and fighting the inevitable, let's all just use the get out of jail free card, skip pass GO and collect $200.

Oh, and use that $200 for food.

Delicious, fattening, butter-laden food that would make Paula Deen proud.

This foodie talk is prompted by the new season of Anthony Bourdain's show on the Travel Channel "No Reservations." As my girl Emily already knows, the food channel is tops as far as food challenges, food reality shows, and DIY food shows. But TC wins because I'd MUCH rather watch and listen to good ole Tony traveling about the world in a Jack Kerouac meets Hunter S. Thompson style than Rachael Ray any day.

Bourdain's season of "No Reservations" opened with a taste of the Washington, D.C. area and the foods it has to offer. Some of the places Bourdain visits I have heard of, others I haven't. But Bourdain's tour of the Diamond District delves more into the politics of the political epicenter and asks more questions about the invisible race lines drawn across the small city than "what sauce is this?" All of that is well and good, but I want to see food.

In my short intercultural travels I encountered tantilizing eats, a lot of mash that needed seasoning desperately, and the widest variety of fish and chips. Some fish and chips were served in paper cones, some on plates, and some on wooden planks. Like Dr. Seuss's "One Fish, Two Fish" fish and chips came in lots of shapes and sizes...a few shaped in the phallic style. Truth be told, we should have known better, this fish came from a Holiday Inn (boo, who goes there while in London? mistake #1).

Hands down, the best eating I had while in England came from a small cafe near Canterbury Cathedral called Chambers. Chambers claims to be the origin of the Americano coffee, with tall tales of pilgrims on the quest to Canterbury. A woman owns the the restaurant, her apartment is upstairs. She makes various coffees and sweet concotions but the daily special on this fateful Tuesday was a belgian waffle.

A belgian waffle, topped with Nutella and a side of ice cream. This was unlike any belgian waffle I had tasted before; it was sugary and crunchy full of flavor. In one bite the cold ice cream, smooth Nutella, and crisp waffle made for the perfect amuse-buche of deliciousness. Easy to make at home, and well worth every single calorie, I highly recommend that everyone make this savory treat.

Did you think money was heaven sent?

"Lady Madonna, children at your feet.
Wonder how you manage to make ends meet.
Who finds the money when you pay the rent?
did you think that money was heaven sent"


Kudos to the Beatles for calling out the future; also known as the world economy in 2008-2009. Wonderful. If you haven't read the headlines anywhere lately, pull your head out of the sand. We're all on a course for potential demise.

Here in the UK, Merrill Lynch (a pretty hefty employer in the city) is cutting 1,900 city jobs. But, its not the only company in the city that's looking to lighten its load. Barclay's bank, famous to us Americans abroad for their lack of ATM withdraw fees and someone reasonable conversion rates, is looking into unloading 2,000 of their UK employees. In the journalism world, papers are retiring faster than 75 year-old men under a pension. Then again, everything's retiring faster than anyone over 60, thanks to the US's wonderful Social Security program that every one is paying into but 2/3s of the taxable public won't reap the benefits of.

Newspapers are all consolidating, dying out, and folding under because of the massive lack of advertisements as well as the advent of cheap internet news sources. Yes, we all recognize that the "new wave of media" per se is based entirely off of the new, shiny, digital frontier. Apple Computers has aided that "new wave" as a result of their iPhone, equipped with gobs of applications.

My study abroad group met today with technology people from a prominent British publication, who is not suffering quite as bad as many stateside papers (e.g. Chicago Trib and bankruptcy) -- this publication happened to move into a stellar, eco-friendly, brand-spanking new building. Anyways, we met with these two employees who were practically giddy with the advent of this usable technology. Twittering, blogging, face-booking, any kind of application with "-ing" at the end of it, you name it. All of this is considered to be tools for a journalist to utilze to convey real time news and the idea that "hey, we're not making this shit up, we actually went here, check our geo-tagging."

Frankly, its all a bit much to handle. But the horizon is more confusing than ever, seeing as there may very well be no newspapers to write for by the time graduation rolls around. All of these gadgets, widgets, and whatchamacallits are well and good in their own right, but what happened to the good old days with the intent of plan news uncluttered with gadgets? Take CNN, and the Situation Room's addiction to touch screens to draw, circle, and slash upon different regions of the US. One of these days John King is going to finger something inappropriate (that's what she said, anyone?) and then what will become of the touch screens?!


The road to hell is paved with good intentions, as the saying goes, but it seems like things will only right themselves when hell freezes over. Happy 2009.

shake, rattle, and bowl.

So, here in Russel Square just north of central London I have experienced many an amazing thing. One of which is Shake, Rattle, and Bowl at Bloomsburg Alley, an underground bowling alley. A bowling alley that, twice a month (the 1st and 3rd Saturdays) transforms itself under the guise of a 1960s underground dance club. IT WAS BRILLIANT. If only I had known, I would've gone all out. The music was typical of the 50s and 60s eras; everyone was dressed to the nines. We're talking about wingtip shoes, skinny ties, lasses with cat-eye makeup and the epitome of Audrey Hepburn. Man, I missed my opportunity. There I was, standing clad in Ugg boots, a ski jacket, scarf, and oversized sweater looking more like I popped out of an early Friends episode than my typical Audrey-esque attire. Believe you me, the 3rd Saturday which is fittingly my last full weekend here in the UK I am going all out. I think that today was our last "offical tourist" day; we celebrated a friend's birthday atop the London Eye (which I highly recommend, even if you aren't a fan of heights). All thats left is a trip to Arsenal Stadium and a visit to the National Potrait Gallery where Annie Leibovitz's exhibit "A Photographer's Life: 1965-2005" is showing; an exhibit that I missed in Washington, D.C.

london calling.

brilliant.

absolutely brilliant.

I'm currently in London, doing a 3 week study abroad. It's only day 3 of the trip but we've had our share of adventures. The Underground is RIDICULOUSLY confusing, but glorious in that there are cushy seats. Brits are all about their carbs, but it seems to be working out since we walk about a million kilometers a day. My favorite things so far? Abstall & Strongbow cider, and Strawberry Beer. We've met our share of the locals and its all fun and games. We've done all the obligatory tourist sites, including London Bridge (the sequel) and Big Ben. Today....Abbey Road and Jack the Ripper Tour.

busy sidewalks...in the air theres a feeling of stress.

So at my gym today I hear a trainer say "Man, I hate finals."

My question is...who loves finals?

They're the single most stressful point in the semester; aside from midterms. Granted, there are some perks (as pointed out by my roommate): you basically make your own schedule since there isn't any more class and you have more time to do other things -- like crossword puzzles and endless games of Scrabble.

However, there are more downfalls to the weeks of finals. It is a stress-laden time. Some people have up to three finals on one day alone. Not to mention the entire concept of finals is terrifying. God forbid anything happened to you during the semester and you missed more than a could classes...you never know what information will pop up on those damned finals. The most mundane piece of information could pop up and screw you over.

Who thought that ONE test covering an ENTIRE semester was a good idea? They should be punished, along with the genius who figured that stilettos were a hot fashion item instead of a torture device.


6 letter word for finals? f _ _ k ed.

somewhat productive procrastination...thanks to Food Network.

Today is proclaimed a "reading day" by my university.

The truth is, said "reading day" implies luxurious amounts of loafing around trading novels with your friends and schmoozing over red wine.

Quite the opposite, this. is. finals.

But of course, what would finals be without copious distractions and procrastination?

As I sit right now, I am conveniently attempting to pen some witty prose instead of put the writing to better use towards my history paper. Alas, cinnamon rolls are in the oven, a pot of coffee awaits, and light jazz that could be from a Woody Allen film dances about the empty apartment. It curls around our round kitchen table and settles in the ears of me and my roommate, we are procrastinating -- waiting for cinnamon rolls. We tried to preemptively avoid this procrastination setting in; we thoroughly cleaned the entire apartment last night so it wouldn't be a valid excuse to not to the paper looming ominously in the future.

In true college student fashion, we didn't go to bed at a decent hour either. We were not partying, we were not studying voraciously for our finals -- we were looking up recipes for this week's dinners.

And watching Paula Deen compete with Iron Chef Cat Cora against Tyler Florence and Robert Irvine in Food Network's Iron Chef America Holiday Dessert Battle.


Did I mention Tina Fey was a judge? Now, this episode could have re-aired later on this week at a more convenient time but it was nearing 2a.m. and what's another hour of lost sleep when you can watch Paula Deen melt Velveeta, pour it into fudge, dip it into more cheese, and cover it in nuts?

Sigh, if only TV came with smell-o-vision.

Another ample distraction this week? A replay of Bobby Flay and my personal favorite, Giada De Laurentiis face off against Rachael Ray (boooooo!) and Mario Batali.

All this talk of cooking is making me crave those cinnamon rolls. and Food Network. There goes my "reading day" and history paper.

Sneaker Pimps

Remember Reebok pumps?

We're talking old school air-pump shoes that started out in the early 90s. Back when basketball shoes were first emerging on the scene and became really big. Jordans, Air Force Ones, and most importantly...Reebok pumps.

I got in an argument with a friend today about Achoo's shoes in Robin Hood: Men in Tights. (Which is arguably the BEST Robin Hood ever made; let's face it -- The Princess Bride's Cary Elwes was a hottie back in those days.)

The bantering started about the brand of Achoo's air-pump shoes. My argument was that the shoes were Nike. Because, honestly, most popular shoes from the 90s were Nike. His argument was that they were Converse. I consider myself to be a connoisseur of converse; I've worn them since I was two years old.

To settle this argument, we turned to the Holy Grail of answers in a pinch...Google. As it turns out, neither one of us was right. Reebok prevails.

In my defense, there ARE Nike pumps, but they do not have the basketball pump on the tounge of the shoe so I wasn't completely off.

.

My dear friend, however, was ridiculously off point. Converse shoes do not come with a pump-function in any style. But I'll give him a few points for guessing Converse just because original Chuck Taylors were basketball shoes. But, Google "Converse pump" and this is the image you get:




...even though Robin Hood: Men in Tights pokes fun at the tights aspect of the Robin Hood outfit...I don't think this completes the costume.

Perhaps for Maid Marian?