Tuesday, August 31

I got mah hurrrrr did (I got my hair done)

oooo guurrrrl, work it.

I was desperately in need of a haircut. I've been putting it off for weeks now because of how ridiculously expensive hair appointments can run in Boston. I'm a relatively low maintenance girl when it comes to my hair (confession: I can go up to 3 days without washing it) so I don't like to pay a lot for it. Nonetheless, I made an appointment for this great salon on Newbury Street. My hairdresser's first availability wasn't for two weeks and a haircut and blowdry would've easily cost me over $100, but it was deemed necessary so I was ready to chalk it up to the beauty gods and deal with it.

Until today.

I am up in good ole' New Hampshire visiting Mommy and Daddy Dearest for a few days and decided enough is enough; I was either going to get my hair cut while I was up here or pull out the weedwhacker, cross my fingers and hope for the best. I called the only hair salon in town (please note: when I say New Hampshire, I mean UP in New Hampshire...as in, pull out your flannel and your tractor and get ready for some down home fun part of New Hampshire) and surprise!!! they had an open appointment for me immediately.

Now I may be low maintenance but I am not a complete degenerate. I'm still a girl after all...so I was a bit nervous going into the salon but I was ready for whatever Jungle Jane of New Hampshire had to throw at me.

My appointment was at 3:30. Guess what time I was finished? Go ahead, just guess...4:00! and the results? Amazing!!! I love it. I got almost 3 inches chopped off, freshened up the layers and she fixed the butcher job I did on my bangs. (I have this sneaky little habit of taking the kitchen scissors to my hair and "trimming" my own bangs in particular fits of frustration on bad hair days- no bueno)

but you know what was TRULY the best part of it all? The total cost of my hair appointment?

I'm going to scroll down a bit for dramatic effect here because it's just that amazing....


$25!!!!!!! TWENTY-FIVE DOLLARS. VEINTE y CINCO PESOS. 100 quarters. 2,500 pennies. Including tip!!!!!!!!!!!

I mean, c'mon, seriously? I wanted to hug her. Heck, I wanted to make out with her for that price. I was so overcome with emotion for this woman I practically skipped out of the hair salon. Now, don't get too excited. I am sharing this information with you purely for bragging purposes. I will not divulge the name of the girl I went to nor where the salon actually is for fear of ruining this sweet lil setup I got going for me. Before you know it, they'll be lines up cars up 93N and this salon will get wind of what's happening, realize it's not 1993, and jack their prices back up to normal standards. It just goes to show you, you shouldn't judge a book by its cover. Here I was, being snobby Sally, assuming Boston was superior and I got a totally fantastic haircut up here for a fraction of the cost. Lesson learned, my friends, lesson learned.

Please feel free to revel in the beauty of my new 'do.

Hey! Hey everyone! Come see how good I look!

Beware: Blogger in mirror is not as conceited and vain as may appear.

Monday, August 30

2010 Emmy Awards

The best part of awards shows?

the clothes. hands down.

I have a confession to make: I think these award shows are incredibly boring. After the opening act, I really only care about the big categories and I can find out who wins those online. My attention span is like that of a small child, I can hardly commit to a TV show during the commercial breaks, let alone three hours of decisions that could realistically take 5 seconds to announce.

but the clothes....ohhhh the clothes. Best dressed, worst dressed, and everything in between...now THAT is captivating television.

Around the world today bloggers, newspapers, and celebrity gossip hounds are giving their two cents on everyone's outfits. Anyone who knows me well knows that I will always give my two cents, sometimes it's more. Sometimes I'll give you the whole dollar's worth and that's when I really get myself into trouble. I tried to get Joan Rivers to join in on the celebrity bashing I'm about to commence in, but she is busy running her own show about it.

Fine, Joan, don't join me. It's cool. Your face scares me anyway.

First up: January Jones

Oh, Mrs. Draper! What happened to you!? January Jones, you and I are going to have a serious discussion here. I am so concerned by your style decisions this evening. Are you not feeling well? Is that why you couldn't be bothered to brush your hair before walking the red carpet? Your dress is a mess. It's like Madonna circa 1984, a 1950's housewife, and the cookie monster had a threesome and your dress is their illegitimate love child.

Lauren Graham (I know you love her Rachel, sorry for what I'm about to say)

The commentary I'm about to spew on Lauren Graham's outfit will be spicier and more interesting than what she wore. Girlfriend's got a rocking body, why is she hiding it under all that fabric? Show a little skin Lorelai Gilmore, it's okay. I'm pretty sure Betty White took more effort into her appearance this evening than you did. and she's 88 years old. nuff said.

Kelly Osbourne

Believe it or not, I have nothing snarky to say here. She looks fantastic!!! Especially when you consider what she used to look like. Yikes! (okay so maybe a little snark)

But seriously....love the hair, love the dress, love the new figure. Keep it up Kelly. In fact, please take Courtney Love and Amy Winehouse out to a quiet dinner at a nice restaurant and teach them everything you've learned.

Heidi Klum

I could wax on poetically for hours on the perfection that is Heidi Klum. She can do no wrong in my eyes. She's had like 10 babies in the past 5 years and there is nary a mom jean or mom haircut in sight. Normally, I'm not a big fan of short dresses for such a big event, but when you've got legs like hers, it'd be a crime to hide them. Plus, she's got my entire college tuition and first house payment dangling around her neck, so that helps.

Mindy Kaling

No. Just NO. no. no. NO!

Claire Danes

A million other websites are already praising her as best dressed and I have to agree. She looks a-mazing! Sometimes less is more (ahem, Mindy Kaling, I'm talking to YOU!) She certainly has come a long way from her "My So-Called Life" days. Jordan Catalano digs it.

(source) <-- aren't you proud of me for actually labeling my source for once instead of just blatantly stealing photos from google images? I figure if I want to be a legit blogger, I need to start acting like one. Next step, improving my grammar (but don't hold your breath).

Happy 6 month anniversary QQ!

August marks my sixth month of blogging and that's a rather large feat for myself. While I'm certainly no Perez Hilton, I'd like to think I have a steady stream of readers and followers who enjoy my verbal diarrhea and senseless crap talk intelligent conversation.

In honor of my six months, I dug through the archives, dusted off some of my favorite posts and put the here for you to read and enjoy all over again!

February- my first one! See where it all began

March- I had a hard time choosing between my March posts. I was particularly funny that month, but this one takes the cake because it got the most comments

May- this is my absolute favorite post I've written. I hold it close to my heart and it's essentially my mantra and the entire reason I write this blog.

Have you noticed April is missing? Don't worry, I know how to count. I know it's actually 7 months but April doesn't count in this anniversary blogging because I took the ENTIRE month off. woops. It's not my fault though, there was a volcano in Iceland.

June- a day in the life post, it was fun and different. no pictures though- bear with me.

July- a bridezilla is born... all about my engagement, of course this made the list. duh.

August- the first of many "I'm freaking out over London" posts

Happy six month anniversary Quarterlife Quandary!!! Here is to the next six months!

Sunday, August 29

A rare occurrence

A blog post of this nature is quite the rarity here at Quarterlife Quandary so brace yourselves...

I am actually going to relate one blog post to another. *gasp* what did she just say?! Yes, it's true. This is a follow up post. Maybe I'll like this so much that I'll continue on in a string of related posts, making this blog flow seamlessly from one post to the next instead of a random assortment of my rambling tangents...but I doubt it. so don't get too excited.

In any case, I bought new running sneakers today! woo-hoo!!! As I said before, I was going for a minimalist sneaker. I did oodles of research reading reviews, learning about heel to toe ratios, trying different pairs on and I finally found a pair I love. They are the Saucony Kinvaras in Hot Pink. Yes, Hot Pink. I think that might be my favorite part about them.

I learned A LOT today. Here's the Cliffnotes version:

1. Saucony is pronounced SOCK-A-KNEE. I was always pronouncing it SA-CONE-EEEE. I was wrong.
2. Heel to toe ratio is important for minimalist sneakers and the whole barefoot/natural running theme. The smaller the ratio in millimeters between heel height and toe height the better. Anything under 8mm is considered "flat", which means your focus is on the balls of your feet as opposed to your heel striking and that is what you want. These bad boys only have a 4mm difference. Score 1 for me!
3. These shoes cost $100 cheaper than the Newton Trainers I was favoring in the last post. I rule, Newton's drool.
4. They only weigh 6.7 ounces. I chug more beer than that in a single sip. Score 3 for me
5. They are hot pink. *ding! ding! ding!* we have a winner over here folks!

(that is the extent of my modeling...Bryant Park here I come. In other news, how ridiculous am I pairing my LV bag with my workout clothes? I think I was hoping that throwing on some earrings and that bag would compensate for the fact that I hadn't showered and was walking down Newbury Street. woops)

A close up for posterity's sake

I am really excited to lace 'em up and hit the streets...but its 34980283402398 degrees outside right now so I am waiting until the sun goes down (and until my DVR'd episode of Rachel Zoe project is over). I am undecided about how many miles I will try today. Technically speaking, these shoes are drastically different than the ones I've been running on so I don't want to totally kill my legs. I am shooting for three miles so keep your fingers crossed!

I leave you with this picture of me holding my stinky, yucky worn down old sneakers.

Don't be blinded by my beauty. Haters.

Tuesday, August 24

The Situation's Sneakers

I have been on a secret mission these past couple months. It's more like a morbid curiosity slash obsession. I am hooked on this idea of barefoot running. Okay, now it's not what you're picturing. It's not like I'd be scampering through the woods Twilight-style, forgoing showers, deodorant, and civilization. Let me explain:

As I was reading Born to Run, a lot of what was discussed in the book made sense to me. Our ancestors weren't running around pre-historic America in their $180 Nike Shocks. No Cavemen waited outside FootLocker for the latest pair of celebrity-endorsed Jordans. They covered more distance than many of us could ever dream of and yet they did it in self-fashioned sandals or even barefoot, and yet we are the fools rushing out to get the latest "super cushioned, ultra balanced neutral, over pronated under pronated give me all of your money for this latest model" sneaker. And the irony (ohhh the irony)? Runners today are getting injured more often than the generations before us. Plantar Fasciitis and IT band injuries were relatively unheard of for centuries. Anyway, before I get too lost in running mambo jumbo, I highly recommend reading it. Even if you aren't a runner. It's an amazing story with some information sprinkled in. geez, Random House should pay me to promote this book. (Hey Random House, I'm going to grad school for Publishing. I'm fun and cool and like to write grammatically incorrect run on sentences and overuse parentheses. Wanna hire me?)

But I digress...In any regard, I harbor a deep desire for the "barefoot running" shoes. Have you seen these things?

Now before you call me a hypocrite for just saying how I want to do barefoot running in the paragraph above, let's be real folks. I live in a city. in 2010. Do you know how nasty people are? I cannot go running around Boston or London barefoot. Ew. God. I'd surely contract herpaghonnasyphilaids (try saying that ten times fast). Plus it'd totally contradict the whole less injury argument if I impale myself on a broken beer bottle within the first mile. So, I'll need some sort of footwear. That is where these fabulous little shoes come in.

Aren't they ridiculous? They are. Don't fool yourselves. You know it and I know it. I won't be wearing them out on a date with Sean that's for sure. After months of secretly stalking them over the internet, pouring over blog reviews and coyly staring at the color choices on their website, I finally tried a pair on today. They are intense. I am not so sure I'm ready to bite the bullet. Fine, I'll admit it, I'm a little scared to get them. The key to these shoes is that they essentially retrain your entire body how to run. I won't launch into a diatribe on heel striking vs foot striking but to boil it down: basically your calves feel like boycotting against the rest of your body after the first run. You use muscles you've never used before in ways that haven't been done in a long time. Apparently it takes months to rebuild your mileage base back up. It scared me. I've worked so hard at making the strides I have I don't want to lose them. (haha, get it? strides? puns are so fun!)

I tried on another shoe today too, the Newton Performance Trainers. I like to think of it like the barefoot-in-training shoe:

They've got similar elements to the five fingers without looking like a complete idiot on the streets. See how they have the ridges in the front? Instead of an elevated heel like most sneakers, it forces you to run on the balls of your feet, which nature tells us we are supposed to be doing anyway. I am leaning more towards these ones, except for the fact they are like $100 more than the Vibram Five Fingers. Of course. It's like a honing beacon for me. Find the most expensive item in the store and covet it. grrrr.

Okay enough technical running talk. even I'm bored at this point and it's my own blog. Can we discuss the colors these shoes come in? Aggressive. Hey shoes, 1987 called, they want their colors back. Milli Vanilli and Punky Brewster were rocking them when I was still in diapers. The Newton ones are the color of the Situation's tan by the end of shore season. With that being said, I kinda like them. ohhhh the mind of this little lady is always a mystery.

Wednesday, August 18

Whew. Okay...

I guess this whole moving to London thing is really happening.


Sean and I spent the majority of our day today on the phone with realtors trying to find an apartment. It was equal parts hilarious and overwhelming. I giggled like a school girl every time they spoke. The accent just doesn't get old and I am so much more willing to give my money to someone when they say "cheers" at the end of the conversation, which doesn't really bode well for me since I am moving to a country where they say it all.the.time. I better get over this Brit crush quickly.

At the same time, it was an incredibly overwhelming experience. I felt like such an idiot. When I first started researching apartments I was pumped by how cheap they were. Everyone kept advising me how expensive London was and I just didn't see it. I was very proud of myself and was shoo-ing off those naysayers. That is until I realized I wasn't thinking in pounds, I was thinking in dollars...and the dollar is complete crap right now. booooo. Also, most apartments, or "flats" I should say, are priced per week instead of per month, so one month's rent is really like 4.3 weeks. double booo. add on top of that the fact that we need an apartment to be completely furnished, near my school, near the job Sean hasn't gotten yet, oh and we have no idea what neighborhood means what since I've never actually BEEN to London and you've got stress with a capital S. tequila anyone?

On top of that, I sent in my Visa paperwork today. It was like releasing my first born child out into the wild. I have spent months getting all the proper documentation for the stupid thing. This visa better provide me a lot more than just an extended stay in Europe. For all the trouble and hoops I've gone through, I want first preference in all lines at Disney World, free airfare around the world, and to be the first female President. seriously. I sent my Visa baby out into the world in a double sided, labeled folder with a GIANT typed message on the front that read "If missing ANYTHING please notify me at..." with all of my information. The British General Consulate in New York now has my passport, my financial statements, photographs of myself, my fingerprints, college transcripts, 3 different completed applications and my sanity. Say a prayer I get them all back please (it is a toss up at this point which is more important- the passport or my sanity).

Day by day, it is becoming more real that I am picking up my life and moving to London for a year. Holy crap. I am equal parts scared and excited. As it gets closer, I am hoping the excitement overtakes the scary. I am feeling very Julia Roberts a la Eat Pray Love right about now, except my story is more like Eat Study Love. (I don't want to deviate from it too much. The Italy section of the book was my favorite and we all know this little lady loves her carbohydrates)

whew. I feel better...blog therapy is so much cheaper than retail therapy.

Monday, August 16

I love lists

There is something so oddly calming to me about creating a to-do list. The bigger the better. Take a gander at the doozy of a list I created for myself this evening.
Now I am the first to admit I am a bit of a neurotic stressball sometimes, and so I think creating to-do lists allow me to make sense of the chaos. I'm also a massive control freak and there is no better feeling than crossing items off your to-do list in a particular bout of productivity. (okay I can thinking of a few things that feel better than that- but get your minds out of the gutter kids!)

So tonight I am spinning my wheels a bit. It's Sunday. Normally I'd have that familiar ache of dread in my stomach knowing the start of a new work week is right around the corner. Tonight? Not so much.

Work is over. I am on the official countdown to London town and it is such a surreal feeling. I started working when I was 14 after being deeply inspired by the Babysitter's Club business ventures and I've been working ever since.

(side note: who didn't LOVE The Babysitter's Club? Kristy was so business savvy and Stacey was such the cool kid. ah the good ole days)

All day I was feeling off. I wasn't quite sure what to do with myself and my head was running a mile a minute. After the gym, I sat down with some ice cream (how do you like that juxtaposition?) and started making my list. What I thought would be only 5 or 10 items ended up being a two page multi-bulleted 25 item to-do list. I may have gone a bit overboard, I'm pretty sure "brush teeth" doesn't need to be on my list, but you know what? I feel a hundred times better now that it is all out on paper...

and this list will stop me from arbitrarily shopping and/or eating out of boredom, so really its a win for everyone.

Saturday, August 14

I said yes to my dress!

I am trying to keep this blog from turning into the wedding mania that the rest of my life has become. You should see the bookmark bar on my computer....goodbye CNN and MSNBC.com, hello Theknot.com and Style Me Pretty. With that being said however, I HAVE to gush about my wedding dress!!!!

I. freaking. love. it. It is, without a doubt, the most amazing article of clothing I've ever owned. I'm pretty sure that after my wedding I will continue to wear it every day. Whenever I'm having a bad day, I will put it on and dance around my apartment. Maybe I'll wear it to spice up the more mundane daily errands like the grocery store, the bank, the gas station...the possibilities are endless really.

For obvious reasons, I'm not going to post any pictures of the dress or me in it because Sean is one of my biggest blog readers and supporters...but I promise its dabomb.com (yes, I really did just say that). In the meantime, you can look at this picture of me in a dress I didn't get it, with 92390234234 electrician's hooks being used to keep it on. Does anyone else find it ironic that you pay thousands of dollars for this delicate white dress that is held up with Home Depot clips that cost $1.99 each?

While I am so excited I have found my dress, I have to admit that I am sad the trying on process is over. It was the ultimate shopping experience...what? you want me to sift through racks of beautiful, sparkly, lacy gowns and try them all on for you? ummmm okay! oh and you want me to twirl in front of a big mirror, stand on a pedastal and accessorize the dress with shoes, jewelry, and a veil? suuuuure, twist my arm.

Going into this weekend of dress shopping, I wasn't stressed out at all. I'm a decisive person with years of shopping experience under my belt :) so I knew that when I found the dress that was right for me, I'd know it. I just had to trust myself. However, by the end of the day on Friday, I was stuck between two dresses...and they were complete opposites. I kept going back and forth. I tried each of them on several times. We took pictures, we emailed said pictures to my dad for his opinion...but no decision could be made. As my mom and I headed to the 3rd place on Saturday, I still had no idea what dress I would choose. At that point I realized I probably didn't like either one of them THAT much if I couldn't decide.

The place we went to on Saturday was truly a diamond in the rough. It was about an hour outside of Boston in the middle of a dirty, industrial town. As we winded our way through the ghetto (and I mean ghet-tooooooo) my mom and I looked at each other uneasily wondering what we would find on the other end...but surprisingly it was great! It was like the clouds parted and this bridal shop was a ray of glittery, wedding-y sunshine. I ended up pulling about 10 dresses to try on. "The" dress was the 3rd one I tried on. Immediately I knew I liked it. I put 2 more dresses on, but by then, all I wanted to do was put "the" dress back on...and I knew at that point it was going to be my dress.

I put it on again and went out to see my mom, and that is when the waterworks ensued. My mom cried, I cried, the sales lady cried. We were blubbering messes. It's funny, Friday night as I lay in bed, I tried to imagine myself getting married in the two dresses and I just couldn't wrap my head around it. I figured it was because I had never been married before and obviously didn't know what to expect. However, as soon as I put my dress on Saturday, I pictured everything. I saw myself walking down the aisle with my dad, dancing with Sean under the moonlight, pictures with my bridesmaids (okay tears are happening again) and I just knew it was the right dress for me.

Now is the hard part. I have to wait 6-8 months for it to be made and so I won't see it again until April when I come back from London for my spring break...and I still have an entire YEAR before I get to wear it for the real deal. It's a good thing though, otherwise I would've most definitely put it on Saturday night the second Sean left for work. and again yesterday....and probably this morning too.

Dress, I miss you already. I can't wait for us to be reunited. Until then, I will stare lovingly at the pictures of you. Especially when I am hungry and tempted to eat a tasty treat. My mom and I went out for celebratory drinks and lunch Saturday afternoon after finding the dress.

What better way to celebrate a figure-flattering dress than with cheeseburgers, fries, and margaritas? pssshhhhh. Dress, you will be my muse for the next year. Whenever I'm feeling lazy, I will just glance at the photos of you and remember that unless I want to trade you in for a moo-moo from Walmart (oh god. the horrors!) I better get my butt to the gym. literally.

Monday, August 9



I'm sure you've noticed by now the blog has a new look. woo hoo! I wanted to take this time to update you on a couple of things:

1. Thank you so much to Rachel and Victoria for their making my blog look fabulous. After the months of neglect I've bestowed upon it, you saved our relationship. I'm pretty sure I heard my blog trash talking me to other blogs,it was ready to leave me...so you are more than just blog designers, you are relationship counselors.

Side note- just in case I didn't make it explicitly clear by linking their blogs to mine and giving them a shout-out, you should go read their blogs as well. It's a toss up of what is cuter on Rachel's blog: her baby or the Gossip Girl inspired Blair Waldorf headbands she wears. Victoria is my first blog friend. We've never actually met but I feel like we know each other well. We are kindred spirits...except that she thought I was black. and single. (Neither of which are true by the way, just in case you are confused too.)

2. As many already know, I'm not actually in London yet. I'm still here in the good ole' US of A until the middle of September, but everything else in my blog's tagline is true. Let's just switch "in London" to "wine drinking" until September 23rd. deal?

3. My blog has guilt tripped me into continuing with Twitter. Don't you love my clever side title "Sometimes I twitter"? It's so appropriate because it's so very true. I don't like tweeting. What respectable 26 year old woman "tweets" anyway- am I a bluebird? But I will persevere. Twitter is the future, plus sometimes people give away free shit. (sorry for the swear Mom but crap or stuff just didn't have the same oomph in my creative process)

4. Be my friend. But more importantly, be my blog's friend. There are a couple ways so let me tell you how...see over in the right hand column? Go ahead, you can look...I'll wait here. Okay so if you scroll down you'll see options to follow me. Now doesn't that sound like a great idea? Who wouldn't want to follow me? I promise I won't bring you anywhere bad. I'll bring you to fun places like BerryLine for the most amazing frozen yogurt in the world or the bar for tequila (and who doesn't LOVE tequila?!). So go ahead and click that little button that says "Follow" and add me to your google reader while you're at it. That way when you are in a rush and sneakily trying to fit in your facebook stalking along with your blog stalking before your 9 am meeting, you don't have to go all over the internet searching for blogs. Just open your google reader and *bam* there I am. Lastly, comment. and comment. and comment again. Now I must admit, I read an embarrassing amount of blogs on a daily basis and I don't comment on most of them but I am making a pledge to change that and you should to. Don't just be a lurker. Come out into the light! Let's stop lurking together.

Okay my level of shameless self promotion has reached a nauseating level, even for myself, so I am going to end it on this note:

THANK YOU to everyone who reads my blog, whether you comment or not. Thank you to all the people who read this and have made positive comments on my facebook and who have encouraged me to continue writing. You guys are the reason I've kept this up and you motivate me to continue it more and keep it growing. If it weren't for you guys, it'd just be me writing and calling Sean and my parents and making them read it...so they thank you too.

Wednesday, August 4

What if?

What if I am not cool enough for London?

These are the thoughts that plague me as the countdown is on for the big move across the pond. (Okay if we are going to be painfully open and honest, the thoughts that really plague me are more of the "ohmygodwhatamIdoingwithmylife" freak-outs coupled with ever daunting financial aid stress but who wants to read about that on a Tuesday night?)

London is hip. and cool. and trendy. It's cool enough for Gwenyth to raise Apple and Moses or Bananaface or whatever they named their super cool Coldplay children and for Madonna to get her infamous "British" accent. They say things like snog and fancy and they go to the pub for pints...which is just so much more mature and sophisticated and worldly than going down to the cornah bah for a beeahhh. (ohhhh Boston stereotypes how you slay me)

Plus, they have Jordan. Or Katie. I'm not sure what she goes by these days

Orange tan. big fake boobs. trashy attitude. It's fantastic, whenever I get homesick for reruns of the Jersey Shore, I'll just look for her and immediately feel at home.

or I could be BFFs with Posh Spice. (Now I realize the Spice Girls are like 10 years history at this point but Victoria Beckham will always be Posh to be mmmkay? Can we also notice her outfit- for her son's soccer practice? and that stance? fierce. )

Although on second thought, I fear I'd be hungry ALL.THE.TIME. and I love frozen yogurt. and peanut butter. A LOT. more than I love Posh. so I guess this friendship is destined for demise, but I won't object to casual dinner parties between Sean, myself, her and a one Mister David Beckham. our flat or yours darlings?

mmmmmmm. drool.

Secretly though, I want to be friends with Kate Middleton, Prince William's girlfriend. I think we could hang out. We'd shop for cute pea coats and riding boots. We'd trade crash diet secrets with Fergie and have late night heart to heart chats about the perils of dating a Prince.

(Sorry these pictures are ginormous. Imagine they amplify how much I want to be Kate Middleton's friend. and how much I love that freaking cream white pea coat.)

Seriously though, on a scale of 1 to 10 how cool am I going to be in London? I wasn't such a big hit when I lived in the south. Loud, opinionated Bostonian does not play well with repressed Southern Baptist types...but southern clothing? pshhh I had that in the bag. Give me a Lilly sundress and some pearls and call it a day. But London is a whole new ballgame. I have fears of myself having one too many "pints", letting my verbal diarrhea get the best of me and end up yelling out in the bar phrases like "bloody hell!" and "anyone fancy a snog!" (Sean would probably not appreciate the latter seeing as snog means to "passionately make out")

I think I need to practice. We have roughly 7 weeks left until we leave. Perhaps this weekend I shall throw on some jeggings and ankle booties and go hit up one of the Eurotrash bars in Back Bay to practice my English jargon. This should be fun.
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