Power Lost (To a Moroccan Girl)

I spent this last weekend in the beautiful country of Morocco, and I had a wonderful time.
I ate amazing food, bought beautiful things at amazing prices and saw the wonderful Julia Gibas who I have been having sleepovers with for 21 years.
And though there were many experiences to talk about in Morocco, the most important story is how I was bested by an 8 year old Moroccan girl.

Her name, was (and still is) Selma.
Selma doesn't speak English, she speaks French and Arabic.
I don't speak Arabic and quickly realized that I no longer speak French either.
Saturday morning, right after breakfast, Julia left me for 5 hours... and Selma took over.
My hand was taken by her tiny one and my power was lost forever.

About an hour and a half was spent spinning her around, having her run into my arms, jumping with her, carrying her around and kicking and sweeping a soccer ball, exhausting stuff, let me tell you!

Finally we retired to the TV room, where she had me dictate her French so she could grade me...
I received an 8/10, much to my surprise (seeing as I didn't even understand half of what she said, and the rest I did not remember how to spell). She then made me memorize the names of her family by looking at a photo album, and when I failed (as I of course did because I am terrible with names) she yelled the names at me, quite fun. Then we drew pictues of me, Julia and her.
Then she drew in my tattoo.

It's blurry, I know, but it's a picture of a little girl and a sun.
After we had lunch she dragged me back to the TV room, said a lot of random things to me that I didn't understand and eventually somehow tricked me into giving her a massage?
I have no idea how that happened, that's the power of 8 year old Moroccan girls I suppose.

Frankly, it was all quite stressful (though at times fun).
But thankfully I somehow managed to get a fair amount of Irish Lit reading done, and somehow snuck in an hour long nap (mostly due to the fact that Julia was 2 hours late getting back)

What's important though is the lesson you should have learned from this blog post.
LEARN FRENCH!
Or else a small Moroccan girl will control 4 hours of your life.

Goodbye from all three of us!

Who's On Mia's TV? (I'm Thankful for My Boredom Cure)

It's almost Thanksgiving time!
A time to think about what you are thankful for.
A time to stuff your face full of turkey and mashed potatoes.
A time to be American.

Which is why I probably shouldn't write a blog post about Thanksgiving (you know, cause I'm in the UK)

But I will write about something I'm thankful for... and that's my TV tattoo.
As many of you know, this summer I had an old fashioned TV tattooed onto my left forearm (I named it Phil). And as you probably know if you've seen this television, it has a blank screen.
And what does that mean?
That means my arm has a lovely little box just begging to be drawn in whenever boredom strikes me.

Take, for example, when I was bored in British Pop early in the semester.

This was my first project, I was pleased.

Then there's the not so impressive bored waiting at Glouster Road Tube Stop for the Circle Line.

While I was pleased with the pink TV, the screen just ended up looking a bit stupid.

Then of course we have the lovely, weird, strange, I was not tired at 3am and got an idea for a computer project one...

 

This one really made me happy, even if the quality isn't the best.

There's also the only one ever drawn by someone other than me.

Or there is the time I found Nessie on my arm after coming home from Scotland, who would have ever thought he'd be there?

Lastly we have one for you to figure out.
Last night I was watching a British program online while at work and decided that I wanted the star of that British Program on my arm. So, I found a picture of him, flipped it upside down, and drew it on my arm.
Can you figure out who it is?
(special prize if you can)

PS
I'd love to know what your favorite piece of TV art it. Though of course there will be more as time goes on. Maybe you even have ideas for what I can draw next.

NOW I AM OFF TO MOROCCO!!!
HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

Bake Sale!

At this very moment people are telling me that they hate me, over and over again.
But it's all for charity.

In front of me, greeting every person that enters the building, is a table full of (mostly) home-baked goodies from cupcakes to chocolate cookies to blondies to "bites" and then of course are what I like to call Mia's Wonderful Chocolate Mistake Cookies.

You see, I was planning to make chocolate chip cookies. Last Thursday I bought two boxes of Betty Crocker Chocolate Chip Cookie mix so I would be ready for my bake sale contribution on Tuesday. I even made a batch for my flat simply to test out my skills. The outcome was interesting, but tasty (and made on a homemade baking sheet comprised of a broken down box covered in tin foil). The cookies themselves where a sort of mini-scone cookie hybrid.
I think this is due to the fact that the British simply don't know how to make real cookies.

Needless to say, I expected my cookie making to go flawlessly, and at first I thought it did. I mixed it all together, formed cute little cookie balls, placed them all nicely in row on my cookie sheet and popped them in the oven. Then I sat down on the couch with the remaining cookie dough to wait the ten minutes, but the moment I finished off the dough I realized that I never added the egg to my batter!

OH NO!

I pulled those little cookies right out of the oven, popped them back in my mixing pot (we don't have bowls) cracked an egg over them and mixed. The turned into a chocolate sticky mess (you know, cause the little chocolate chips got all melty after sitting in the oven for a minute).

I was very concerned, but my mistake cookies turned out more cookie like than the batch made on Sunday and turned from mini-scone cookie hybrid to brownie cookie hybrid. Joy!

Now the only bad this is that there are two cookies, a cupcake and a handful of tiny brownies staring at me and making me want to eat them. But, I mean, it is for charity...

We Were Raised Well (Creative Students Make Drinking Games)

Because my flatmates and I are in college, because we have no internet at home, because we were raised with loving families, and because we like spending time with each other there are two things we enjoy doing on weekends.

Drinking and playing games. Sometimes both. (it's about 50/50)

We should not be judged for this.
In fact, I think, in part, we should be a bit admired for this. It proves that we do not spend all our time in front of our television or shut away in our rooms. Of course, who knows if this would be the case if we had an internet connection, but that is not what's important here people!

What's important is we bond over games like Set and BS and Kent and War and Go Fish and Old Maid. (maybe you see a pattern here?) If you don't see the pattern, I'll spell it out for you. We only have Set cards and normal playing cards. It gets a little boring.

So what do we do?
We get creative and find ways to play branded board games without owning the game.
Namely Things... ! (a wonderful game I often play with my family or on Girl's Nights)

But this weekend we're taking that creativity even further.
That's right, we've turned Things... into a drinking game! And what a game it will be. I have fully prepared us by looking up bootleg Things cards online and when I go home I will prepare the paper.

We are wonderfully motivated and creative children (who are actually fully legal adults, some even in two countries), so don't ever doubt us!

And of course, we must be praised for finding ways to embrace the college lifestyle while clinging to our childhoods!

(sorry mother, love you!)

Not to Be a Downer, But... (A List of Complaints)

I feel like being a whiny little brat and complaining today, so what follows is a list of complaints from yours truly.
Enjoy!

People who use their laptops in class because they think the class isn't worth their full attention really annoy me, and I think it's very rude. I want to slam their computers closed.
But I don't.
Because that would be rude.

I don't like headaches either, they are also annoying, and I have had one all day.

Wobbly desks, and desks that things slid off are stupid.

My fingers are cold, but it's hard to type in mittens and I have no gloves.

I hate when no one in a class will respond to a question, even though you know they all have an answer, they just can't be bothered.

It's a bit of a bother that no matter what face Jimmy Carr makes he still looks funny.

I don't like how cold the London Center gets, I'm pretty sure there are areas inside this building that are at least five degrees colder than it is outside.

I wish the Christmas elves had decorated my flat...

Slow wifi upsets me, mostly because I've been trying to download a song I bought for days but it always says it will take an hour.

I am not a fan of how stupid HomerConnect is, even if I personally had no issues with it today.

I have had "These Eyes" stuck in my head for about a month now... Thanks Latrice.

I don't want to write a Hamlet paper by next Thursday, I really really don't.

I find it quite annoying that because the thin white part covering the raw leather has come off just over my right big toe in my older pair of Nike dunks, the toe of my sock get died red whenever it rains.

I am not as annoyed as I should that I currently only have one pair of jeans, but it is more annoying when it rains.

My mittens tickle my wrists, which makes me not want to wear them, but then my hands get cold.

Though I am pleased that I get a king sized bed next semester, I am annoyed that I own every size of bed sheet except king sized.

My landlord makes me very angry.

I want a kitty, or a puppy.

I am sick of finding long hairs that aren't mine on my clothes.


On a bright side, I am quite amused that someone at the London Center totally has a Morrissey haircut.

Truth.

Elves and Goblins: The Christmas Explosion

The moment November started in London Christmas exploded.
I have a theory that there were elves, disquised as goblins of course, waiting all around London Halloween night and the moment midnight struck they popped out and decorated EVERYTHING!

And now it is impossible to going pretty much anywhere in London without being reminded that Christmas is... MORE THAN A MONTH AWAY.
Still, I'm not allowed to complain, because this country doesn't have Thanksgiving as a buffer between the goblins and the elves.
And, I must admit, there are a few pluses to this Christmas explosion.
That would be food, because now that Tesco has been taken over by the Christmas elves there is lots of Christmas food.
Like...
Cranberry and Orange Jaffa Cake Bars!
And Mince Pies!! (which I have been wanting since I got here)
And best of all, in case I was missing the idea of Thanksgiving leftover sandwiches (which I wasn't yet) the elves have given me a wealth of British Turkey Feast sandwiches (which I am currently eating and finding quite lovely)

Mostly though, I'm happy about the mince pies.
And excited that this year's Christmas theme in London is Narnia.
Thanks elves!

Thanks Victoria...

The goal was to meet at Victoria Station at 9:45am at the bottom of the escalator by Yo! Sushi and the pub. The plan was to go on a tour of The Daily Telegraph at 10:00am with the rest of the class. But instead of standing by an escalator at 9:45, Latrice and I were just stepping onto the 52 bus to Victoria.
Talk about epic fail.

Today there is a tube strike in London. Not that many lines are down, but the only two lines that could have quickly taken us to Victoria, just weren't having Notting Hill, probably because it's too posh for them, but we're not posh, just our neighborhood...

About 3 buses had already rejected us before a man told us that if we went to a different bus stop, one just around the corner, we would be greeted by countless buses going to Victoria. He lied. This magical Victoria transport land did not exist, only one bus went to Victoria from there. I think he just didn't want us to steal his spot on the 148, bastard. Not only did only one bus go to Victoria, Victoria was the last of many stops on this bus. And of course there was a large group of children on the bus whose teachers didn't realize that Royal Albert Hall was their stop until the bus had been sitting there for 2 minutes, and then had to sit for ten more while the massive load of children shuffled off.

Finally, at about 10:45, we were at Victoria Station, an hour late. We sort of... stumbled into the Daily Telegraph building and informed them that we were part of the tour group, and that we were very late. They let us up. We then informed the security guard that we were part of the tour group and that we were very late. He agreeded to let us in and then took us into the actual newspaper area in search for our group. We looked all over, asked a women where the tour guide was, she told him that the tour guide was giving a tour at the moment... our guard/giude/search party man informed her that we were part of that group, and needed to find it, she couldn't help.

Finally we found them, they were amused we were so late, but impressed that we hadn't given up. Then the tour giude finished his sentence and... the tour was over.

At least we were in the group picture...

There's only one person to blame for this.