SelfAbsorbed.ME : ‘It’s Your Life, We Just Write it Funnier’

Guess where I am??

Okay so the title was a dead giveaway. Here I am visiting London, a hopeful change from the never-ending thrills of that bustling Metropolitan island of Ireland. The Consumerista is graciously allowing me to stay at her fabulous bachelorette pad and taking me ’round to see the sights and probably obnoxiously absorb as much English slang and vocal nuance as possible. So what if I’m a yank? I can still say ‘bollox,’ right?? Well Paddington Bear does it…. Wankers.

Anyway, getting here wasn’t as horrifying as it could’ve been, though my decadent Ryan Air flight, with not one but three heavily made-up fight attendants, was a bit turbulent. I avoided a major malfunction by eating nothing but toast before flying, and fortunately, there were no children that I could see on this flight. And let me just say this: Ryan Air is like the Greyhound Bus of airlines, in that, I can imagine someone stabbing me in my sleep, getting stuck in traffic, and being seated with my feet in someone’s discarded weave. Only difference is, Ryan Air is typically on time.

The worst thing that happened mid-travel was quite a bit of turbulence, and the fact that I was seated next to four harping, cackling middle-aged women straight out of a Cathy comic strip. They were wearing clothes, makeup, and haircuts that made them look like they were actually 22-year olds who had just managed to lounge in their tanning beds for about, oh, say, 8 weeks longer than you’re supposed to. 

After landing, I found my way to Marks & Spencer, one of the most glorious things about the UK, and purchased myself an “Egg Mayonnaise” sandwich and bag of “crisps”. Grand total? £1.82. What the fuck?? How can the Queen allow such low, low prices?? You know there’s a war on, right? We need every egg we can get for the front, good God! And the mayonnaise can be used to lubricate our weapons! I was shocked but thrilled.

On the train from the airport into London, I realized why the sandwich cost me a mere £1.30. After struggling with the confusing triangular package like a retarded cat trying to pick a lock, I finally tore it open and found that “egg mayonnaise” isn’t egg salad like I thought it was. It’s just egg. And mayonnaise. Mehhhidunnoaboutthis… Salt? Pepper? No dice. And since I was traveling alone, I had no one with which to share my blah sandwich or complain to accordingly

Like that crazy triangle sandwich box prison, I find that things in Europe are designed especially to confuse Americans and make them look stupid. I’m onto you, Tony Blair (What? He’s not in power anymore? Oh who cares.) For instance, they want us to think Russell Brand is hot, and Kelly Osbourne has some business being famous. Sorry, not falling for that one.

Look, just because New York’s pizza is far superior to your own doesn’t mean you have to go out of your way to make parking the most confusing thing on the fucking earth and ordering take-out a major hassle.

And yeah, you guys call it “take-away,” whatever, same thing! The point is, you know damn well what I’m talking about when I say I want my Burger King kid’s meal to go, so cut the crap! And another thing, when I get my tiny child-size Fanta, I want there to be ice in it! Lots of ice! Not two measly cubes floating around limply in the cup, dissolving faster than the fucking ice caps.

….Alright, alright, settle down. It’s day 1. Truthfully I expect London to be a blast, and once I get off this fucking computer I can go spend my hard-earned money on some of the Queen’s finest merchandise in one of the Queen’s finest shopping malls, and later take a dump in some of the Queen’s finest public toilets.  It’s going to be a full day! Ta-ta!