Back in the City
February 16, 2007
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I’m back in New York, back in the Times Square Hilton. The fourth hotel check-in in… five days? I’m losing track. I’m tired, but out of whack and not really going to sleep. So here are some of my main beefs about the States:
Yes, I know I’m English. I have been all my life. I’ve had this accent all my life. So you pointing it out and correctly identifying my nationality comes as no great surprise to me. Do you want me to point out that you’re American? Ah, you just want me to do something quaintly British. If I say "quite, yes" will you leave me alone?
Automatic flush toilets. I haven’t managed to figure out what triggers these things. It appears to be slightly shifting weight from one cheek to another, cos it sure as hell aint as simple as just ‘standing up’. Oh, and why is the loo paper tissue paper thin?
I’ve never eaten so much processed food in my life. Restaurant veggies from a can. Salads with ham and cheese that could have come from the cheap shit aisle of the nearest supermarket. Vending machines in the office containing only fizzy drinks.
Flying does funny things to my bowels. I’m doing a lot of flying. I’d share, but I also want to tell you that somehow I’ve got a bruise or a blood blister on my tongue from accidentally biting it the other day which is utterly gross and I don’t really need to over-share too much detail, y’know?
TV news is insane. As in, awful.
The slip of a girl at the Ben n Jerrys stand at the airport yesterday wished me a Happy Valentines Day. I can only assume she was working cos school was having a snow day. Happy Valentines Day? Don’t Valentines me…
There’s no fuzzy black cat here. I’d rather be home.