Polite britons

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/americas/7843154.stm

I've always said that being british is special. We are polite. We want to be left alone. We know how to queue (as martin freeman tells us in hitchhikers guide). We pick hair out of our food and don't complain. We wait patiently. We don't make fuss. We apologise for EVERYTHING, even to lamp posts when we walk into them. We have particular phone ettiqute . We're pretty much just wonderful. And the article above adds to my thoughts and validates them.

Richard branson pickle.

Regrets in my life: Not seeing radiohead in August in Glasgow. And not seeing silverchair in salt lake in november 2007.

(I'm listening to radioehad so that's what made me think of that.)

Yesterday was an awesome day. J-Mc and I sundanced and saw some really bizarre stuff that I think Jon hated, and I kind of felt sorry for, more than anything. We saw a movie called Stay the Same Never change... and in the magazine/review it sounded amazing. The actual movie itself was hard to watch and very disfragmented and incredibly hard to understand. The director, afterwards, gave no valid explanation other than 'it's hard being a 17 year old girl.' We decided that it was all about men hating. Which it was. I mean, some of it, I really got, other parts were just weird.

Later that night, after some taco bell goodness, we went to see slumdog millionaire. If you haven't seen it, see it. It's well worth it. So good. Such a brilliant concept and idea, with a lot of little quirky symbolic added extras. Two thumbs fresh, well and truly. Amazing.

On the way home though, we were chatting about something or other and Richard Branson came up, as he always does, not a day passes without the mention of richard branson, his cola, his hot air balloons, and his space camp programme.

Anyway... I made a comment last night that if the world was ever in trouble of blowing up I'm sure Branson would have some kind of escape plan and pod that he would invite a few unsuspecting civillians to join him in. They would watch virgin tv, and listen to virgin radio, and put their money in virgin isas. It would be a new and beautiful virgin life. haha... Virgin life... start again, on another planet, in another space pod with Virgin After Earth Life. I also went as far as saying that Richard Branson would become like Willy Wonka and he would put golden tickets in his virgin cola or something and those people would be lucky enough to leave earth in his space pod. How very Wizard of Oz mixed with Charlie and the Chocolate factory. (I'm thinking about his hot air balloon just now.)

Today I was reading my news page, the best place for news, Reuters Oddly Enough section, why concern yourself with real news? Really.

And this is what I found.


Made me laugh... everything I said last night is true.

I have an Idea

This is by far one of my most favourite parts of Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.

I often say it,

I

Have

An

Idea.



The first time I watched and loved this movie it was with Eilidh and her mum on Christmas Eve or something like that. It was followed by the Life Aquatic. I then downloaded it and loved it. However, at one point in my life I did own it on DVD but sold it because back then it didn't interest me as much. Strange.

Friday Stats

The smell of chlorine is different here.

I've been swimming twice since i've been here.

The first time involved rain, and snow, and misery.

The second time involved a car.

The second time was more enjoyable by far.

The second time had these stats.

200m FC
200m BS
50m Fly
50m BC
50m Fly
50m BC

200m FC Legs
100m BC Legs
100m Fly Legs
100m BS Legs
100m FC Legs

200m FC arms
100m BC arms
100m Fly arms
100m BS arms
100m FC arms

50m FC
50m BS
50m FC
50m BS

50m Fly
50m BC
50m Fly
50m BC

300m FC Flippers and Paddles

100m Swim down

2500 yds training, 100yds swim down

104 lengths.

in just over an hour... skimming about 7 minutes off my time.

Amazing.

The sizzle to the lizzle.

So, since I became a master I've been in Utah four times.

I've spent close to 12k on flights.

I've lived in 4 different homes.

I've driven 4 different cars.

I've eaten in a million different restaurants.

I've made friends with hundreds of different people.

I've been to 5 different wards.

I've been in 3 different temples.

I've been outside 4 different temples.

I've been to 5 different cinemas.

I've been to one maze.

I've attended 5 different isntitute classes.

I've eaten in 2 different Dee's.

I've never been to St George (I did in 2006 with Kate, but I wasn't a master then).

I've swam in 3 different swimming pools.

I've walked, I've slid, I've run, I've fallen.

I've been on the back of one motorbike.

I've been to 2 thanksgivings.

I've bought countless items from Urban Outfitters, American Apparel and Nordstroms.

I've bought a tonne of books from the desseret books and borders.

I've posted 5 things.

I've recieved mail to 4 different addresses.

I've been trax over 30 times.

I've been on 7 first dates.

I've triple dated.

I've double dated.

I've single dated.

I've been to the movies on my own.

I've been to a piano bar.

I've played crazy golf... it was crazy.

I've watched countless hours of TV.

I've met 8 homeless/non-homeless people on trax.

I've written a tonne of angsty blogs.

I've eaten shortbread with a German man.

I've petted three cats.

and I've bought one Skunk Lamp.

It's the best thing in the world.

Happy New year and stuff.

I was back in Salt Lake for it. I have no pictures, there was no event... it was just me and J-Mc kicking it in his apartment.

I've not been up to much that past few weeks.

Eating, living, breathing, designing, talking, cuddling, churching, watching, and Sundance.

My sundance cherry was officially popped on Saturday morning when I watched a movie with Rory and Keiran Culkin. It was alright, it was interesting, it was very Art.

Friday night was awesome though... Marcus and I did some special 'shopping' and then we went to the chocolate shop in the avenues and ate too much chocolate and drank too much chocolate. Then we actually saw the midget owners coming out of their house that is to the back of the shop. It was like watching Charlie and the Chocolate factory or something.

I've been trying to convince Jon to go to Midget town with me since we found out the real location, perhaps soon. :)

Friday also invovled that awesome jenny powell and our three attempts to find the chip shop in Layton. I was car sick by the end of it, and the place was closed. And we ended up eating at Red Robin.

Anyway, good chat, good banter, lots of scottish connections... and so life continues.

I'm so hungry right now, I think I need to need to go eat something. Si si.

Cameron Diaz's Lips

Glasgow airport... my mum came in with me, which never happens because she usually has to run home to work, but she parked and came in with me and waited in line and we laughed and sang and cried... well not really, but we did talk to the lady and here's the story. The lady behind the counter hated English people. She had to call London to book me on my LA flight (because I was flying BA and going Glasgow London, London LA, LA Salt Lake). When she got off the phone she made a face that meant 'stupid bitch', I know that face... she made it... she was thinking it. Anyway she hated calling the london people, and she told me then that I had been upgraded a class to world traveller plus, rather than world traveller. That means more leg room right? Sweet.

I got on my London flight, and legged it through terminal 5 which has a Wagamamas, and some beautiful architecture, I don't know why people hate T-5 so much. I loved it. It was an amazing experience.

When I got to the gate for LA there were loads of people kicking about and they all queued and I just held back, because the plane can't leave without me... fact. So I just waited and I was one of the last ten to go through.

As I got to the desk, the woman took my ticket and told me there had been another seat change. She handed me my ticket and I said... awww have I been downgraded again. To which she said, No... Nooooo. In a way that was like she was denying all knowledge of me ever being upgraded.

I got into the queue and there was a mother and two small children in front of me. She was telling them that they were in the tail of the plane and that they were the most important people because it meant the tail wouldn't float off into the sky. The kids didn't care and they just kept running against the glass panes and chasing each other.

My new seat number was 60J... my life started to appear a little less than exciting, because I figured with a number like 60 I would be in the tail too, with small children... for 11 hours.

Fun. Gag.

Moments before I reeached the door I thought to myself 'i wonder if I'll ever be rich enough to fly first class and sit upstairs.'

Moments later I was at the door and the stewardess said to me '60J, up the stairs and the first seat on the right at the front.' I just about melted to the floor. Up the stairs?

UP THE STAIRS?

I started walking up the stairs and it was so quiet.. it was like another world. There were about 20 seats or less and mine was at the front. Here's where i got my left and right mixed up though, good old lessons I should have learned when I was 10. I went to the left and started to pull stuff out my bag. I glanced over to the right and saw a blonde lady, very pretty, on the phone. She smiled at me, I smiled back and then I realised I was sitting next to her... or rather opposite, and then switched sides and started texting my farewells from my O2 number.

After about 30 seconds I realised the lady next to me looked like Cameron Diaz. One minute and twenty seven seconds later I realised it was Cameron Diaz. I think I gasped, my lungs filled with air and I just started texting everyone. She was on the phone and kept saying things like 'Oh Jude you are so wonderful.' 'Oh jude it was so great to see you,' 'Oh jude, I need to call Katie,' 'Jude, come stay with me,' 'How long have I been single... three years now,' and the clincher 'Remember that movies I was in, the producers, well I met so and so and blah and blah.'

Now. this was either someone playing a hugely elaborate joke, or it really was Cameron herself. I honestly think it was cameron herself, and I just couldn't talk to her. I just stared. She was beautiful. She had freckled skin, and brilliantly blonde hair, her earings were large gold hoops, and she was wearing an aaron jumper with a brown, short leather skirt. She was huge when she stood up, and she looked like a normal person, gorgeous, and normal.

I was in love with her.

She didn't shut the shutter between our seats, so we technically had dinner and lunch together. She ordered a salad for starters and a salad for her main course. She didn't have lunch, and she ate peanut M&Ms in a large bag like you get from the cineworld counters, or from Asda on the special buy three for three quid.

She was amazing, and I made her laugh. My pen burst all over me when I went to fill in my passport customs form thing and she kind of laughed at me.

She watched movies, and she bumbled about like one of her clumsy characters. She dropped things, she shuffled about, she was wonderful. She put the shutter up when we were sleeping, and I, yes, I slept with Cameron Diaz... top to toe... with plastic between us. But there we go.

It has now become my biggest regret in life that i never spoke to her. yes this is pretty much where the story ends... other than the knowledge I have that she traevls on a newly issued UK passport that was given to her by washington. And she has a hybrid English American accent and she uses a pink motorola razr phone and she's beautiful and wonderful beyond all reason.

I do declare though, that the next time she sees me, she'll recognise me... and wonder where she knows me from, and then she will realise she loves me. She will also remember how shiney and perfect my fringe was for 11 hours... just for her. By the time I got to salt lake my fringe was gross, but just as long as it was good enough for Cameron I was fine.

It has to have been the best christmas present, and the best flight of my life.

I saw her once we got off the plane too. And while we were on our way to passport control we had to go down this set of stairs or escalator with airport security at the bottom checking passports. Of course there was a traffic jam... and people were about to start getting crushed at the bottom of the escalator. Thanks to Eilidh's experience with the london crushing escalator I remembered what to do... sadly, americans don't put their emergency buttons anywhere useful, and i had to go digging in the crowd for it. Look at me saving the day one button at a time.

I made it through passport control no problem, and the 11 hours before hand, where I sat thinking of all possible questions and outcomes, slipped away. That was one of the reasons I couldn't speak to Cameron, i was stressing too much about getting through passport control. Seriously. I had to keep talking myself down from anxiety attacks and what not. Everything is magnified in the air. I promise you.

Gutted though. I heart cameron.

British Airways though... top class. I hope I fly with them forever, seriously. Best service, best ground staff in LA.. they were fabulous.

United Airlines... I hope I stay away from them forever. They were unhelpful, and completely passive about everything. It really sucked. I had little time to catch my SLC flight, and I was six terminals away... and rather than get a bus I walked... in the LA heat... with Ugg boots on. I was sweaty beyond all reason.

Then my passport wouldn't scan, and then I had to queue in a queue that didn't move. And I tried to get a 'I'm a transfer, my bag is on the plane, I've been travelling for 15 hours, I'm sweaty and gross' queue jump, but they just weren't having it... and this english woman leeched on to me while I was begging and she was like 'Well you think they would be more helpful.'

Alas... United suck. Let it be known. If I was an American I would make a formal complaint. I'm not though, I'm just going to whine about it to anyone that wants to listen.

I made the plane. And I got to salt Lake just after midnight, and it was just so amazing to be back with Jon again... regardless of it being 7am at home, me looking gross, one of my bags (a dog carrier for maddy) being lost and left in LA and my actual suitcase taking it's sweet time to get off the plane.

I met an awesome girl on my last flight, good ol' mormon, I enjoy the salt lake flights because there's always mormons, but yeah, she was amazing ashley ord I think her name was. She was happy, blonde and completely normal. I high five her and her awesomeness.

And here endeth the tale of the Diaz.

Christ... mas.... Mas... Christ

Right, so i've taken my sweet sweet time to blog about this. This is my first blog of the year and we're already 19 days in. I'm quite appalled at myself. But there is a shoddy explanation – I was internet deprived for my first 11 days of being here, and then from then on I just couldn't be bothered because there was too much to talk about. I'm feeling it today though, so this might get a little long. Or short... Maybe I'll do lots of short ones.

Anyway.

Christmas was super ace cool face and it involved el familia of the extended variety, something i've not seen or had since I looked like this.




sadly I took no pictures of el extended family... i'm a fool. I did however take these of the local family.



Pamer Pie and her wings... although she tells me she's not a pamer pie and she's a sweety pie (becaue Lola calls her sweety pie and I call her pamer pie... i don't think she knows what either one is, but I can imagine a pamer tasting savoury rather than sweet, so it just means that 1. she loves her mum and 2. she likes sweet things over savoury).




Lola herself with the sweety Pamer Pie.



My mum and my slug eating soup, with zero about to menace the world.



Zero herself.



And me... getting out of a box. Wicked. I am a cat, I do love boxes.


Over the christmas and new year period I took one picture that sums up everything, I found the scene outside the old parts of Gartnavel hospital, where I was because I wanted to photograph thing with Eilidh and her old friend Georgia (whom I have also known as long as I've known Eilidh). It was a pretty sweet day, and we won't rest until we have the pictures we desire.

This is the picture though, that I took that day, that i love beyond all reason. It's my desktop pattern just now too.



I went to midnight mass with eilidh and her mum too, and I swear the bishop looked at me weird when I went up to get a candle and not take the confirmation... I've never realised until now though, that everyone... EV ERY ONE drinks from the same cup... kind of grotty if you ask me... it's a playground for glandular fever... speaking of which, I need to go see Otto this week. Like today or tomorrow.

Okay, so post christmas involved saying my goodbyes to eilidh, which is always the saddest part about christmas, and then packing for America.

I left on Tuesday morning (the 30th) and there may or may not have been some upset stomaches and leaking eyes at the airport. It seems like I am destined to just be a vagabond forever.

Ahhh Glasgow Airport.