The New Year's Resolution

Everyone makes a New Year's resolution, even if it's not to make a resolution—which, by the way, is a total cop out. So rather than making the useless resolution to eat better (HAHAHA) or work out more (which I'm doing whether I resolve to or not) or lose 20 pounds.

I'm resolving to update this blog more often. This thing has been untouched since finals week. Actually, probably before finals week.

So hold me to it, I'm blogging at least 3 times a week next semester, if not more often. This can't turn into the unupdated blog of disappointment.

Mo Finals, Mo Problems

As nervous as I am about the real world next year, I'm really super psyched that I will no longer have to write 12-15 pages about stuff I'm sick of talking about.

In the next two to three weeks, I will need to finish that paper (which by now is done and ready to be turned in), do a multimedia presentation — which includes a video, audios slideshow, audio standalone, still photos, text, maps, graphs, and interactives, write two essays for Holocaust, write two longer essays for Magical Realism (one of which is due next week, one of which is due during finals), and take a test in Italian.

Grumble grumble grumble grumble.

Amishville USA

I haven't seen my little sister Corinne since August, so going to get her tonight is sort of awesome. The problem here is that she lives in Bumble. And not just any bumble. She goes to Lebanon Valley College in Annville PA, in the heart of the Amish community.

I kid you not. When we decided when to pick her up for Thanksgiving break, we had to take into consideration that Wednesday is Amish meeting (church) night and that there would be mad buggy traffic going to her school. That's how Amish her school is.

I'm making a bet with Corinne that we'll see like 12 carriages tonight. Any takers?

In Ithaca, Comrade Finds You

So I was walking through Park the other day innocently enough, just going to the bathroom/taking a breather from Multi and out of nowhere I see my ex walking up the stairs.

We say hi, exchange some pleasantries, the like. I have nothing against the guy. I just, you know...

...thought he graduated.

The beauty of breaking up with someone and them graduating is that you don't see them again. And then in your school he pops up because he's dating another girl (who's really fun).

I just want to walk through Park and know that I won't run into people, you know?

The 12 Days of Chicken

We somehow managed to buy a ton of chicken here. I mean really. We have a 10 pound bag and then the Costco stuff we just got the other day before fall break. So our freezer right now is chock full of poultry.

And deer meat, which...

So we are involuntarily going through what we call the 12 Days of Chicken. Sort of like the 12 Days of Christmas, but with meat.

And without the gifts.

Or the ham. (Yeah, ham!)

Geeks are Mean!

I'll admit it: I tried to use torrents. And it didn't work out.

I'm a little bit of an anglophile, which is a little bit of an understatement. So I was looking around the interwebs to watch The Thick of It, the really funny show that spawned In The Loop. Over on this side of the Atlantic, it's damn near impossible to find, so I went looking around and found the first DVD online. After watching it, I was banned from the site. Why? Because nerds want a better description of the file they're getting, and mine wasn't detailed enough.

Ugh! How rude are these dorks?!

Priorities, Italy. Priorities!

As you all probably know by now, I've been taking Italian this semester to get in touch with my roots and learn a new language — which for me, geek that I am, is actually pretty fun. So far, we've learned a few verbs, the descriptions of people, how to say family members and how to introduce ourselves, count, say where we're from, and talk about sports. Right now we're learning about technology and how to talk about computers.

What I would like to know is how in the first 100 pages of our book we have learned almost nothing about Italian food.

Seriously. I don't know anyone who has gone out of their way to purchase an Italian laptop. They're not really known for their technological advancements. They are world known for their delicious, meat-filled and sauce-smothered pasta and cuisine. So at this point in my Italian class, I can tell you all the members of my family and talk about a football game. But I can't order myself dinner? Whuh?

This November, Vote NO To Negative Campaign Ads

God I miss England. Over there you're not allowed to have TV ads for politics, much less negative ones. But over here? I just saw six negative campaign ads in a row.

Six. Six!

(Well, 5, Kirsten Gillibrand's was just her standing there talking about how the state is sucking and blaming its problems on someone else)

I mean, is the election here yet? Because I'm over it.

I Guess I Look Trustworthy?

So this past weekend, John, Brooke and Eric came up to visit, which is sort of awesome. Got to go to Applefest and do the usual Ithaca stuff, but we decided to make a field trip up to Canada to see Niagara Falls from their side of things (meaning the clean side with the Horseshoe, not the lame parts).

So going there and coming back, we had to get our passports checked, which we did without complaint. On the way there, they pretty much didn't ask that many questions. Because they're Canadian, and they don't really think people care enough to bomb them. On the way back into the US, they questioned everyone hardcore. Made them take glasses off, confirm their middle names, ask birthdays, the usual. Everyone but me.

This is the third time this has happened to me. When I went into Germany, I got a quick visual scrutiny from Hans and Franz behind the counter, a stamp proclaiming I had entered through Schoenfeld International Airport, and I was on my way.

When I came back from 5 months abroad, I didn't get a second look coming back through Newark Liberty Airport. The guy looked at me, gave me a quick "How you doin'?" and a stamp and nudged me through security with my huge bag in tow. Not a look, not a question, it's like he saw my Italian last name and my New Jersey birthplace on my passport and figured I was legit.

When we came through Canada, I was the only person in the car that didn't get asked anything. John got asked if he was bringing stuff back through (a hat and a mug), how we all knew each other (high school friends), and how long we had been there (like 4 hours). Brooke got asked to confirm her name and got a visual scan —meaning the customs guy was checking her out. Eric got asked to take off his glasses, confirm his middle name, and confirm his birthday. I got asked no questions, they simply smiled at me and handed back my passport.

I find it amusing and sort of frightening that security doesn't seem to pick up on me. I mean, I have nothing to hide, really. But you never know. Certainly makes traveling to foreign countries easier, though.

"Whoa! Gas was 74 Cents!"

Okay, so Kelly and I decided to start our "Rickmania" movie night (meaning a night of Alan Rickman movies) a little early because, well...

...we've never seen Die Hard. And we felt this needed to be fixed.

So we're watching the movie - which is fantastic, by the way, go rent it if you haven't seen it yet - and as we watch this insane gun battle on the rooftop of the Nakatomi Plaza, we notice two different things other than the plot.

1) I notice that the building used for Nakatomi Plaza looks suspiciously famliar to the building that Irina jumped off of at the end of season 2 of Alias.
2) Kelly noticed the price of gas was insanely low. Now granted, the movie was made in 1988, but still. $0.74 for gas? No way!

Now Panic and Freak Out

So following all the terrible attacks on college campuses, Ithaca College decided to institute this loud-ass siren and alert system to let us know if there's a crazed axe murderer or bandit on campus. And I gotta tell you, I really appreciate this. It's nice to know where to run and hide in case there's a crazy on the loose.

I've thankfully never heard this used in a real emergency, but the testing is pretty freaking scary, I gotta tell you. I was sitting innocently enough upstairs in Emerson on my laptop when out of nowhere this loud siren goes off:

"THIS IS A TEST OF THE EMERGENCY RESPONSE SYSTEM. THIS IS ONLY A TEST. WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWOOOOO
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO."

And then after that, everyone's phones started going off at the same time, like The Ring. Everyone who signed up for it (which is like everyone) gets texts and phone calls and e-mails about the test of the system, or of the system going off itself.

But holy shit, was that scary.

Dylan's Been In the Army Too Long

So after a long discussion with Morgan (meaning the length of a Holocaust class), we've decided to go out for Halloween as Captain Morgan and Alex from a Clockwork Orange, respectively.

In this conversation, we discussed what Kelly Paul was thinking of doing, and revealed that Dylan needs to get laid, STAT.

Blatant Boob References vs. Bringing A Dog

It's sort of a tradition in Ithaca that when it's still warm out (meaning the first two weeks of school, usually until Labor Day), everyone flocks to the gorges to swim, cliff jump, tan, drink, and smoke away from campus. It's always packed with girls attempting to show off their bikini bodies to any other willing college boy and/or townie, and guys trying to straddle the line between badass and dumbass while jumping off cliffs and avoiding serious injury.

I myself have done this with more success than most of the frat boys that do the same. That little blob in the red bikini jumping off the 65 foot cliff at Six Mile? All me, baby.

So when I went to Six Mile to do some swimming with Dave and KellyPaul last Saturday that really, everyone there was trying to get some play. And they weren't even subtle about it.

As we were sititng on the steps, this adorable black lab jumped into the lake and started paddling towards us.

"Her name's Chelsea," said this cute townie with too many tattoos for my taste. Although the back one was crazy; he had a spine tattooed on his spine. The dog must've known his owner's intentions, because she cozied up to every girl in a bikini in the place, melting hearts and getting her master an in. I personally thought this was adorable, because I love dogs and happen to have a cute one of my own.

Dave was laughing his ass off at this, saying "Dude, this guy is shameless. He's using a dog to get girls. That is blatant."

Just as he said this, about three semi-good looking girls (I admit it, they were pretty) saying "Oh my God, my suit is like soooooooooooo see-through!"
"I know, I should've worn one that isn't white!"

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay to be subtle, ladies.

The One Time I Wish Mom Went With "Alessandra"

I was sitting in Italian class learning how to ask people's names and how to respond (In this case, "Come ti chiame?" to ask "What's your name?" and "Mi chiamo _________" to answer). We all answered back, and then we learned the alphabet.

The issue here is that there are only 21 letters in the Italian alphabet, and "X" is not one of them.

Kelly had the same problem, since there's no "K" in the Italian language (they go with the hard C there, so I don't know what her Italian equivalent would be).

But then I remember talking to Mom and asking her what names she and Dad were considering for me when naming me, and she (shockingly, to me) mentioned that Alessandra was briefly in the running. Which, in this particular instance, would've made things a little easier.

This is not to say I don't like my name. Really, I do love it. It's not often that I use the whole 4 syllables of it (Alexandra), but I do use it in my bylines for the Ithacan and on my resume. It's used for what my Mom wanted: She wanted a name with lots of nicknames that looked good on leterhead (and to be honest, Alexandra Palombo looks pretty awesome, if not intimidating to a 5 year old learning how to spell for the first time). I use Alex because my parents have called me that since I was born.

But really. Mom? Dad? For the purposes of this blog post and this class? Alessandra. Just saying.

Lots of Jewish Conversations Today

Earlier in the day, Morgan and I were talking in our Holocaust class about how we didn't really plan on havng the class together. She said the following little gem:

"I was going to write on your wall something like, 'I can't wait to see you! Yay Holocaust!' and then I was like, 'Wait...'"

And now later in the day, I start talking to Madeleine online and the IM happened. To put this a little in context, earlier in the conversation both me and Madeleine were talking about how her classes start on September 8th, which this year is Rosh Hashanah. Which then led us to talking about growing up with Jewish people - or not, in my case.

New School Year, No Slacking On The Blog

Okay, so I was a little busy this summer. You know, working 2 jobs plus and all. But that's no excuse for not posting for all 3 months. So now that I'm back at school and have things to procrastinate, I'm thinking that posting every now and then might be nice. I'm considerate that way.

That said, I still have nothing up on my walls really. Which is upsetting for me, because by now they're usually completely covered.

Hey Flunkee! Your Music Sucks

Dear Summer School Students -


It has come to my attention that you not only can't pass 7th grade algebra, but that you have shitty taste in music.
I

I have no problem with you listening to music so long as I can't hear it. If it helps you work better, fine. If you're ignoring your work because you're listening, that's cool too, just do it quietly.


I have no reason to be listening to your shit gangsta rap (because you're from the mean streets of Delaware) or Justin Bieber (makeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstop).


Thanks much. Keep on working/dicking around.

Lasagna: Now With More Carbs

Naturally, this happens when I leave the UK.

It just came out that food giant Tescos has just started making lasagna sandwiches for their premade food section. Now I don't know how good this would be cold, but you guys! I mean, this is a Friday night drunk food miracle for kids at uni all throughout the UK! I'm mad jealous right now.

Business in the Front, Party in the Back, Banned in the Middle East

It's happened. Iran banned the mullet.

Along with ponytails and spiky hair, mullets are no longer allowed in Iran. And I gotta tell you, for once I totally agree with Iran. The haircut is gross and sort of looks like you got your hair cut in a hurry. Like you didn't have enough time for them to get to the back of your head before you had to run out of the stylists' chair and away from the COPS cameramen trailing you to your...well, trailer.

I will say this, though. I do appreciate the fact that the USA gives me the freedom to have shitty hair. I mean, it doesn't make the mullet any less gross. But I do have the freedom to choose to look like a hot mess.

USA! USA! USA!

Monday = Beach Day

So the issue here is that my friends and I never have off work at the same time, and therefore we need to hang out on a pretty finite schedule.

So when Anne and I realized that she'd be gone in a week to go to Honduras until August for volunteering - and I would be working 2 jobs as usual - we decided that hanging out must commence. One of us threw out the idea of going to the beach for half a day, and this little day trip was born.

The plan thus far is to meet at my house at 11:45 and trek down together to get some sun and surf in, then grab a pizza for dinner and get back by like 9. Should be pretty good weather, fingers crossed!

Now With 100% Less Wisdom Teeth!

It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be.

I went to get the much dreaded surgery done on Friday morning, after hearing many many horror stories of chipmunk cheeks and feeling funny. So after they put the awkward hair net and the blood bib on me, they left for like an hour, leaving my Mom and I like no good magazines to read and nothing much to do in that room. Then Dr. Doherty walks in all calm, looking very tan and blonde and friendly, shoots me up with something, and the next thing I remember is waking up asking Mom the same like 3 questions over and over in the recovery room.

After sleeping for like 2 hours on an ice pack I woke up feeling fine and hungry. A bowl of Jell-O pudding and some pain meds later, I was good to go. To the point where the same day I got them out, I was at the pool hanging out with Corinne and her motley crew. No swelling, no illness, no wisdom teeth.

I mean, yeah, I was on the pudding-pasta diet for like 3 days, which was fun for like a minute. And I hated the gauze mouth bit, it felt really weird. But it was an awesome excuse to not go to work, and I feel pretty good.

Kelly Paul Makes A Porno

You have to understand that Kelly Paul is like the shyest and most fun girl ever, and not really the one I expect to make a porn.

Well, unless it involves puppets.

Then maybe I could see it.

Teenagers Bug The Living Shit Outta Me

(And yes, this blog post's title is a reference to My Chemical Romance)

I've been working summer school for about 3 summers now, and this is my second summer as a paraprofessional. Basically what that means is that I fill in for teachers when they're not here - like this week, when one is at a conference - and I make sure that people are working and that the tech they're using is as well.

So as I've been in for the English teacher this week, I've had to not only grade and keep everyone sort of quiet (whether they work or not is their choice, not, my issue - as long as they don't bug me or others, I'm okay with whatever they choose to do), but also take attendance. I don't know the kids personally, and I only know a few of their names because a few are repeat offenders of summer school. So I've been taking attendance by going around the room and getting peoples' names.

Unfortunately for me and their attendance records, they've been telling me the wrong names to mess with me. I thought this kid Malcolm was this other kid Ahmad this whole time. And the boys in the corner? Forget it. They've been giving me each others' names as well.

Now call me crazy, but if I'm being forced by my parents and my school to go to summer school because I slacked off during the year, I want to get credit for getting my ass out of bed at 6 AM over what should be my summer vacation. I want to make sure that even if I'm not working, even if I'm screwing around on video games (like most of the kids here seem to d0), that I'm marked down present so my mom doesn't get called and I get whooped.

Ugh. Teenagers. Can't believe I was one.

Sing Us A Song, Random Piano Man

I'm sort of bummed I'm not in London for this, but apparently there's this artist that's putting pianos all over the cities of London and New York City so that people can just sit down and play.

The whole thing is supposed to encourage creativity, and honestly, the idea is pretty fantastic. Just having the chance to see an amateur busker going for it on a street corner - or see Cyndi Lauper jamming in Time Square, as she supposedly did.

My only fear is the road hazard. I hope no one gets mowed down halfway through like Fur Elise or anything. Like you're driving down the street and whoops! Street musician roadkill.

Summer School Silence

I was sort of expecting the first day of summer school to be a freaking nightmare, but shockingly it's going pretty well.

It started off sort of crappy.

My alarm went off at 6, which, ew. After hauling my ass out of bed by like 6:15 and getting dressed and all I moseyed my way down Kirkwood Highway to Stanton, where the fun fest is being held this year. Found myself hanging with the other teachers in the gym lobby, with them yelling at a few kids to take their hats off (they refused) and taunting them for seeing the same kids again from the school year.

Which is just cruel, really. If you didn't pass Spanish the first time with a teacher, you're stuck wtih them again? Bummer.

But once I got in the classrooms after straightening everything out tech wise(for some reason, I've been designated tech support. I know, right?) I discovered the kids were relatively well behaved. I mean yeah, there's the idiot in the corner that was with me last year for the same thing and isn't doing work, and then there's one to my right who's staring at the start up screen, but the kids around me are doing surprisingly well. Like, they want to get their shit done and go home.

It's Official: I'm an Apple Whore

It started when I got a Macbook Pro for my "beloved" Park School of Communications when I started my freshman year of college. I'm entering my senior year of university (yikes) and I'm still a big fan of my baby DiRegno.

More on how I name my appliances after shows I love later.

I then got an iPod classic because my Dell DJ - which I adored and still really do like - couldn't sync with my school laptop. Which isn't really good, because I could only put new music on it and charge it when I was home on breaks every few months. I fell in love with that as well, and how easy it was to use.

And when that one started to fritz on me 3 years later - meaning I've restarted it like 30 times in the last 3 days - I decided to break down and buy myself a newer model. I needed something capable of holding 20 plus GB of music (thanks, BoGirls!) and some photos if I could swing it that way. I decided to go with the 32 GB iTouch - one that could shuffle just by shaking it, had WiFi, and could essentially do everything that an iPhone can do except make phone calls. I found one for $250 at Costco ($50 cheaper than it was at the Apple store) and have fallen in love with it.

Unfortunately, this pricey little toy came in the same week that I had to replace my cell phone. So it's a good thing I have two jobs this summer.

My Driver's License! Now with 100% More Federal Compliance!

I guess one of the perks of getting my whole purse and wallet stolen was the fact that I had to renew my license for my 21st birthday. So Corinne and I took a field trip to the local DMV to get my new license.

After missing the turn and almost hitting a dude in a pickup on the way in, we took a number and got behind the other half of the state. Seriously, like 50% of the population of Delaware must've been there, and like 50% of that 50% had tattoos and looked like trash. We were A286, and we came in where it was A212. So it was good there were two of us to talk, because I had no book with me.

Once I got up to the front of the window - 2 hours later - I provided all the information to the guy behind the counter. He stared at me like I was stupid and asked "And where's your old driver's license?" I had to explain my whole purse got stolen, and he pretended to be sympathetic. He told me that I had enough stuff to have a federally compliant license (well, duh, that was the point) and when it came time to pay, he saw my check and said "I can't accept third party checks." It was one from my Mom, I don't have a checkbook myself yet. Thank God Corinne was there, again, because she had her debit card and ID and I can pay her back.

So yeah. I have a license now. And it's semi-cute. And in a month, it'll be flipped horizontal.

Knock Knock! Who's There? Your Purse Got Stolen

Unfortunately for me, a good date sort of ended with a stolen clutch.

I was mini golfing with John and must have set my zipper purse down for a minute when I realized I had left it behind. I went back for the thing and realized it was gone. It wasn't there, and no one on the course had it. These guys on the side of the place were driving away and laughing hysterically.

The purse didn't have too much cash in it, but it did have my debit card, Kohl's card, student ID, and license.

Mmmmm...the sweet taste of FAIL.

In The Summatime, When The Weather's Fine...

It's been a while since I talked about what I've been up to. Other than getting a new phone (which is seriously my favorite new toy, it's insane), I decided to go to MMRBQ with a bunch of the crew around here. MMRBQ is this huge concert that WMMR hosts every year, and this year the lineup didn't disappoint. The bands playng were Automatic Fire, Dive, Skillet, Fuel, Three Days Grace, Alice in Chains, and Stone Temple Pilots. I'm not a fan of hard rock, so really I was just going to do something and because I figured an all day rock show with my friends would be fun.

And it was awesome! Unfortunately what started as a 6 person group going turned into 3 people - me, Madeleine, and Chad (Madeleine's boyfriend). So essentially I was third wheeling it, but it was fun. I knew that I wouldn't feel too bad as a third wheel because they're not much for PDA thank God. So after introducing Chad to the beauty of WaWa hoagies, we were off to Camden. And the concert was great! I mean, the two headliners were okay, but the best one was Skillet, this Christian hard rock band. They played an acoustic cover of "Enter Sandman" and I was sold.

That was the main event of the summer so far. Today Corinne and I decided to celebrate her last day of classes at CSW by laying outside in our bikinis and trying to tan (or burn, in my case) in the 93+ degree weather before I went off to Chelsea's barbeque for a little bit. Tomorrow is lunch and chilling out with Laura and Rachel.

Ah, summertime...

Lost Is The Abusive Boyfriend I Never Wanted

There are a few shows that I've become obsessed with over the years. My first two "Must See TV" shows were Alias and West Wing (both of which I own on DVD and still watch, in sequence). Later came my current obsessions of House, Damages, Big Bang Theory and Glee. The obsession I don't talk about as much is with Lost, and I'll tell you why: because I love the show, but I'm not as hardcore as Anne Gould Northgraves.

I will say this, though: in my time in London, I really didn't watch the show at all. Yeah, I know, it's the 6th and final season of a cult hit. Yes, I followed it from the beginning. But I didn't have the patience to put up with it when I was enjoying a different country and all their TV 0fferings.

I decided that since it was summer and the show was ending soon, I really should catch up with the last 15 episodes. And I am soooooo confused right now. I won't go into details, but I'm only at episode 2, and I'm really wondering why I decided to get back into this show.

I mean, think about it. I love the show, but it hurts me to follow it around. It's like an abusive boyfriend. Everytime I try to go away, I get bitch slapped (or flash sideways-ed) into submission!

I just hope it doesn't take Maury to get me out of this.

Girl Going Back Home

So unfortunately, my journey here to Jolly Ole is coming to an end. I have met 4 cabinet members (including Gordon Brown), traveled thousands of miles on National Rail, been to 6 countries (UK, Ireland, Germany, Czech Republic, the Vatican, and Italy), spent far too much money because of the crappy exchange rate, stayed up for 48 hours to watch an election play out that I helped shape in a very small way, and had more fun than I've ever had before.

I am so sad to leave here, and yet I really want to see my family. I have never felt so safe or at home in a foreign country, and I cannot WAIT until I can come back here for a longer time. So thank you, London, for showing me a fantastic 4 months.

But Really, Who's Prime Minister?

I feel like I have to write a really really long entry about elections over here, because it was the most amazing and exhausting experience I've had here. And yet the UK still has no definitive leader.

The whole mess started on Thursday morning. My alarm went off at 6:30 and I laughed at it and fell asleep for another half hour. When I did get up, I managed to get myself together and get down to Southend around 9 AM. And as soon as I dropped my bag off at the office, I was out at a polling stations telling (recording polling numbers so that the party can see who actually went to vote, and who didn't). Froze my ass off with a few other sort of rude Conservatives down in Southend.

When Dennis made it to the station, I was off to "knock up" doors (which sounds pretty wrong, but it's basically just knocking on doors to make sure they voted) for the next however long. Kevin and Chris and David Norman were off in the Labourmobile (the picture right here) with a loudspeaker on top, yelling at people to go vote - and sometimes to use better language when insulting the Labour party. I went back to Coleman Street to do more telling, ended up talking to this little kid who asked what language I was speaking. Clearly, he understood every word I was saying, but I just sounded different. Thought it was pretty funny.

The exciting part of the night was the count. Over here, they still do the paper ballots rather than the electronic votes that we do (or the crazy ones they do in Florida, which is probably for the best, to be honest), so they had to hand count every single vote in the constituency - the area has over 70,000 people in it, and that's just Rochford and Southend East. So before the count could even begin, they had to verify that all the votes were real, and that everyone agreed on how many there were. So the prelims for the counting started at 10 PM. The actual results didn't happen until 5 AM the next morning.

The bar upstairs was where a lot of the action was, and where all the comfortable warm chairs (the sports center was FREEZING) and alcohol were. It was also where the televisions were with Sky News (they have better election coverage than BBC) and the BBC were showing. Got to watch the whole country vote, got to see Ian more excited than I've ever seen him and almost smack Tim when they called Birmingham Edgbaston for Labour. That's also where we went to drown sorrows when Angela Smith lost her seat to the Conservatives.

The other responsibility was to watch the votes and make sure that they were all going in the right piles. Rob was pretty good at this one, he was watching this one table from Victoria like a hawk. When they finally did turn in the verdict, it was around 4:45 AM. James Duddridge won, to no one's surprise, and gave a nice speech. Kevin got second and made a very nice speech. They called the Southend West right after, and Tom got third place. And then we all went to sleep for like 4 hours before the local count (which unfortunately didn't go as well as hoped).

Turns out that Kevin won a spot on the council in Lewisham, though, so there you go.

Finals vs. Prime Minister

I was given a pretty easy choice around 10 PM last night. I could go to class this morning and take my British Comedy final, proctored by Mr. Bill, which consisted of watching a show and analyzing it for why it was funny. Or I could go to Basildon, wave a "Vote Labour" sign with a mob of excited supporters, and shake hands with Gordon Brown.

Naturally, I chose door #2 (not Number 10, although that would be awesome). I just had to manage to convince Bevan Jooooooones and Mr. Bill that I would make up my final and be back that afternoon to do so.

After a few frantic e-mails around 10:30ish, I decided to wake up early (7:30 AM) and go bother Bill when he got there at 8. I jumped around the front door a little until he strolled up to unlock at 8:10. I asked him, and he took a second to mumble, "Sure, yeah, have a good time."

My next order of business was to make it down to Basildon on time. Kevin said that I should get to Basildon station at 9:15, so that I could hitch a ride with him and Ian. The issue here is that Basildon is halfway to Southend - meaning it would take at least a half an hour to get there. Furthermore, it takes a half an hour to get to Fenchurch St, via Tower Hill. So essentially, I had to leave Fenchurch St. by 8:45 - meaning there had to be a train like as soon as I got there.

Clearly, the powers that be were smiling on me today and as soon as I got my ticket, I saw that there was a train leaving in 3 minutes to Shoeburyness (which I fortunately made it on to). Made it to the station literally at 9:14.

And the rest was rainy history. I made it to the office, got to hold up a "Vote Labour" sign and shake Gordon Brown's hand. We also got to yell at some Conservatives who showed up late to taunt him and get some press. Unfortunately for them, they showed up 20 minutes too late.

ETA: Am I the only one who thinks that Gordon Brown looks a little like Victor Garber?

The One Name Power Surge

I was checking my e-mail today (all of the addresses, as sad as that is) and I realized that my work e-mail is alex@southendlabour.com.

And for some reason, that just made me feel really important. I didn't need a last name, I didn't need anything more than "Alex." People would get e-mails from me and know who it was. And for some reason, that just made me feel really important. Maybe I'm easily flattered, but is that so wrong?

My Bad, Haiti

I have a (rather obvious) confession to make: I have rarely met a low cut neckline I didn't like. I have very few modest necklines in my wardrobe, and I tend to prefer a good v-neck or scoop to a mock.

That said, I think that immodestly dressed women causing earthquakes is a little bit extreme, Muslim Clerics.

I mean, I guess anything is possible. So if this is true, my bad, Haiti.

Now If He Sold Thin Mints, He'd Be In Business

"Hello there, I'm your prime minister. Are there any local issues you're worried about?"

I mean, what would you do if Gordon Brown showed up on your doorstep? Obviously offer him tea, sure, but I think I would like squeal. Even if I didn't like him, that's sort of awesome that the Prime Minister of your country popped up on your stoop.

Labour's unfortunately not doing too great in the polls right now, so Brown has a ways to go before he catches up some lost ground.

Now if he were selling cookies, I think he'd do great.

It's Really Not that Hard, People

Maybe my impatience has only grown from living in a city. My parents observed this as we were crossing streets here, and my dad was like "Geez, you barely looked before you ran across!" or complaining that they kept losing me in the crowds of people around the city because I was going too fast.

But I really wish people in London would learn how to walk.

Example. I was in the tube station today coming back from Oxford Street and I was trapped right next to the moving tube train because people decided not to move along the platform. As I was leaving the station, I almost got trampled by the people walking behind me because the people in front of me decided to stop dead in a mob scene of human traffic (not that sort of human traffic, just people walking).

This isn't the first time, either. I thought Corinne was going to die in Primark that one time.

And Dennnnnnnnnnnn?

So as Elise and I were sitting here ready for a chill Friday night as our roommates plus 12 others were pregaming for a bar of some sort. I had a drink myself to make them slightly less annoying (it didn't work). Out of nowhere, Elise has a Harold and Kumar food craving moment (Only without the pot).

"I really want Chinese food right now," said Elise.

Thus began the very difficult journey of finding decent Chinese food places that were open at 10:50 on Easter weekend in London. I gotta tell you, it's about as easy as finding a close by Catholic church in this city. Which is not easy.

We finally found a place that is open. But it's 20 minutes away in Putney, which means the delivery will take forever. And when we ordered the sweet and sour chicken, they asked us if we wanted the meal or sweet & sour chicken balls.

We ordered the balls, and I'm really hoping we don't get sweet and sour chicken testicles.

And You Thought The Puerto Rico Voting Laws Were Weird

So on the ride home from work yesterday, while the radio played crap soft rock from the 90s, Kevin explained to me why the Zimbabwean population in Southend is so important. I didn't realize that they can actually vote.

Over here in the UK, the law says that if you live anywhere in the Commonwealth of the UK - former colonies, not including the US - you can vote in national elections and vote in local elections, but not in EU elections. Furthermore, UK nationals living abroad can vote in EU and national elections, but not local ones. So while our country is going on about immigration issues, these immigrants can actually vote on how the laws will affect them.

And that's leaving out Scotland and Wales. Both parts of the country have their own parliaments now, thanks to Tony Blair. But both are also still represented with seats in British Parliament.

Indian Food: The Cure for the Common Cold

So the lesson of the day is to never let your cell phone die.

I planned on tripping down to Southend for the afternoon for some canvassing. So after a quick trip from Fenchurch St. to Southend East (faster than East Anglia, for sure. I am now a fan of c2c trains), I was ready to go. Problem was, my phone was dead and I couldn't call my boss.

So I went to the internet cafe near the station and looked up the number for the office. The people at the Christian Fellowship were obliging and let me use their phone (I should hope so, they're shit Christians if they didn't, right?), and when no one was there (duh, they were out canvassing), I decided to trek over to the office to pick up some stragglers. And 2 hours later, I found them.

We did some canvassing that night as well around town, but we didn't get too far because of the rain. Instead, we went with some phone canvassing (which didn't go well, from what it looked like with Rob) and then went for curry next door. Which took about 2 hours and was really good.

Open Letter to Train Jumpers and Gang Bangers

Dear suicidals and murderers -

It has come to my attention over the past few weeks that you seem to favor trains and train stations as a method of killing either yourself or your rivals. I ask this of you: please refrain from using these methods.

Not to sound selfish or anything but it's really rude to disrupt people's transportation because you feel the need to off someone.

For example, me and 300 of my closest fellow London commuters took an extra 2 plus hours to get home from all corners of the Southeast because someone thought it was a good idea to bump someone in the way of an oncoming train. We had to get off at Shenfield, wait an hour, take a bus to Gidea Park, wait a half hour, and then take the slow train up to London Liverpool Street, from where it took me another half hour or so to get home.

Thursday transport was disrupted when some teenage gang bangers thought it was a great idea to stab their fellow school chum in the ticketing area of Victoria station on the London Underground. My journey wasn't held up, but tons of other people had issues getting to places - like Gatwick Airport - because the entire station was shut down.

So the moral of this story is this: if you're going to kill yourself, please don't do it in front of a train. It's quick, but it disrupts so many people's lives. Especially the poor driver! You don't want to be a burden to anyone, and yet you just scarred the guy for life!

Furthermore, if you're planning on commiting a homicide, please don't do it in or around a train or tube station. There are plenty of back alleys in the UK, please make use of them instead.

Fall Back, British Summer Ahead

Turns out that they do have time changes in Britain. I just didn't realize it because of the name.

Over here, when they "spring ahead" it's called British Summer Time, or Greenwich Daylight Savings Time. Apparently they started doing this in 1916 to save energy or what have you, just like we do in the good old US of A.

Problem is, I didn't realize this and ended up having to call the bosses to let them know that I was running an hour late for work. Ian got a pretty good laugh about it.

And By "Trim," I Mean Half My Hair

In the past two weekends, I've been to Ireland, Stratford, and Oxford. But what have I focused on?

My hair. Because I'm vain that way.

Before this past Thursday, I had hair that I could in theory Lady Godiva over my bosom should I so chose to do so, but I hadn't had it cut since Christmas break. Which normally isn't a big deal, but it had gotten to the point where I was sitting in class and peeling apart the split ends. I decided to make a venture to one of London's cheaper salons (which are still more expensive than the Schilling-Douglas I'm used to frequenting back home). I went to Supercuts first because I figured they were cheap and, well, super. Turns out their water was screwed up and they were waiting for a plumber. Being the impatient girl that I am, I decided to hit up Abella's Hair & Beauty on Cromwell, because that was the only other cheap(ish) looking salon I had seen around. I wandered in, sat down, and asked for a trim from the tiny Arabic man inside. I can only assume he was Abella. He showed me what he was trimming off.

He then proceeded to chop of 6 more inches of my hair.

Odd enough, he shampooed me after he hacked off my locks. And then blow dried it and over charged me. Weird. But I honestly can't complain too much, I sort of love it. I didn't want short hair, but considering the last time I had hair this short was senior year of high school, it's sort of fun.

4 Countries in 10 Days: Me Finally Writing about Spring Break

Oh, so about those 10 days where I wasn't in the UK. Forgot about that.

(All my pictures are on Facebook, so really, go to there for better stories and photos)

So we decided for our Spring Break to hit 4 cities in 10 days: Berlin (Germany), Prague (Czech Republic), Venice (Italy) and Rome (also Italy). First up was Berlin, which we were supposed to fly into on Thursday, March 4th. First we had to get to the airport. There's a train to Stansted, the Stansted Express, from Liverpool Street. Unfortunately, because a few people were running late, we had to take a later train than expected and therefore got to the airport about 15 minutes before the plane was supposed to take off. By some miracle (and a sprint through the airport in my socks), we made it onto the plane, which had been delayed by some miracle of God. We landed and tried to get a train, and I ended up finding the one German guy who spoke perfect English and was going in our direction. So as we were getting off the S-Bahn, Steph decided to pay him for his services with a fruit cookie. We made it to the Heart of Gold in Berlin (best hostel ever? I think so) and ended up taking an epic 4 hour free tour of the city. Got to see the Brandenburg Gate (which is the picture up there, at Pariser Platz), a few memorials, and pretty much all of Berlin in one day.

The next day we were off to Prague, and after a really sort of sketchy uncomfortable bus trip, we reached Prague/Praha by 11:30ish. Once again, we didn't know the language - this time we didn't even have Paloma, who spoke the language. Now without Paloma or Sabina (who decided to go to Munich instead of go to Prague), we were at the train station with metro passes, koruny, and no idea where we were going. Steph ran into another guy who spoke English and led us directly to our hostel's street. She wasn't too quick with the cookies, though, and he left before we could properly say thank you. We figured out (we being me, Steph, and Carrie) that the koruny is weak against the dollar - meaning we could actually eat a real meal in Prague rather than eating street food like in Berlin - and then we set off for another set of free tours. We took two, taking the whole day and covering the entire city (including Prague Castle), ate dinner, and generally decided that Prague was amazing and fully worth picking over Vienna.

Next up was Venice. After a rather amusing train trip on the Hogwarts Express from Prague to Salzburg and then from Salzburg to Venice San Marcos (with the last leg being a nerve-wracking transfer in Austria), we reached one of the more beautiful cities I've ever seen.

And then it fucking SNOWED.

Dead serious! We were expecting 50 degrees and sunny. Turned out to be 30 or less and 4 inches of snow/slush that the Italians were completely unprepared for. We were also unprepared, me with non waterproof boots, Steph with Keds, and Carrie with my Chuck Taylors on (which was great for packing my bag but bad for keeping your feet dry). It didn't stop us from eating gelato every day (which is unreal, it's so delicious) or trudging through the city to see San Marcos Cathedral and the Modern Art Museum. But it did stop us from staying out past like 7, because we were tired and freezing our asses off. This was the city we chose to spend 2 full days in rather than any other, and I don't know if that was the right choice or not. Anyway.

Next up was Rome, with no transportation issues getting there (oddly enough). We got to see the Trevi Fountain, Spanish Steps, and Pantheon on our first day there. Unfortunately, I found out later from Dave that the Via Della Palombella, or "Palombo Street," was right behind the Pantehon. Bummer. The next day we hit the biggies: The Colluseum (beyond awesome) and the Forum (even better), as well as the Vatican and St. Peter's Basilica. We literally went to another country by crossing a road. Got some great pictures, had some yummy pasta/pizza, got to keep a giant bottle of Coke, and (other than some difficulty getting to Ciampino airport via the train), we got out just fine and back to London.

And when I got back, I was still sort of on break because my parents and sister came to come visit. I had to take classes, sure, but I also got to go on the London Eye, in the Tower of London, in the Tower Bridge, in Westminster Abbey, in the Imperial Warm Museum, in Wimbledon, and other wonderful places that I didn't get to go to before without them here. I also got to show them around a country/continent they had never been to before. Mom needed some help figuring out the money (she didn't know what all the coins were, so anytime she had to pay, she needed me there), and Dad didn't have much luck with the beer or the coffee over here (warm and too frothy, respectively). Corinne seemed a little bored, but she's not a huge traveler like me. They all seemed to like the London Eye and the views, and we all thought Wimbledon was awesome too. Sort of funny the first day, they were all falling asleep on the London Eye (they were pretty freaking tired after that flight).

But the spring break didn't end there! Not only was I playing tour guide for my family for the week after I got back (which was really really fun), but the girls and I had booked Ireland for the weekend afterwards. Not only did we not realize how close to Spring Break our trip was, but we also didn't realize that we decided to go to Ireland on St. Patrick's Day weekend. We oddly didn't go out to the pubs (we wanted to, but they were expensive) because we had to wake up all the mornings we were there. The first night we got there we were just tired. The next we went to the Cliffs of Moher (where they shot the Cliffs of Insanity for The Princess Bride, part of Harry Potter, and the segment of Late Night with Conan O'Brien where he went in search of his Irish heritage). And the next day my alarm didn't go off and we almost missed our flight back to London (sense a theme?) because we had to get on the plane by 7:40 AM GMT. We made it and made it back all in one piece (very very tired), and it was fun.

That's it. That's my whole spring break rolled into one very long blog entry.