Newsies sell papes.

I'm developing another strange habit. That of buying a newspaper each Friday night (not strange) at 3am (strange). The newspaper is the Guardian Weekend Edition. It's so terrific.

I tend to gloss over the world and UK news, which I usually track real-time during the week through the "Internets". What the Guardian is really great for is irreverent sports reporting, the travel section, a weekend magazine, and -- a must have -- The Guide. Also a really good color scheme and layout format. 

Irreverent sports reporting comes care of Barney Ronay's column and Russell Brand's back page editorial. These are both so consistently brilliant that they cause me to contemplate quitting with the blog and never writing anything ever again: I just can't measure up. Sports are covered tongue-in-cheek throughout the Sport section which puts things into proper context, I think. I wish US papers could be so smart. And I also wish US papers could get away with the occasional swear word and lewd reference. If you're reading a newspaper you're either an adult or at least precocious. 

The travel section is an obvious one -- good coverage of travel deals and how to get places and where those places are that are worth getting to and other various tips and tricks and such.

The weekend magazine is called Weekend. There's another gem of a column written by Tim Dowling which usually consists of anecdotes from Tim on how his wife has managed to belittle him to their friends, colleagues and children during the past week. Weekend is also good for at least one good article.

The Guide lists out London's next week of events -- film, exhibits, clubs, live music, theatre. It provides an endless to-do list. They also profile different media each week (games, internet, etc.). The Internet page points out interesting new memes, sites and virals. There's always a gem there somewhere. For example, this week I found out that (by one measure) Iceland is the world's most peaceful nation and also why the urinals at Amsterdam's Schiphol airport are so clean. 

(A picture of a fly ... we are so simple.)

Professional validation

Today we made a long-awaited move from our stockbrocker-infested managed office space to a nice, new, clean, shiny, all-singing, all-dancing office of our own.

A happy move if there ever was one. And moving is usually never fun.

I celebrated by eating a meat pie.

So...

The US men's soccerball team is really awful.

We made England think they were good again, but really we were just playing ... exactly like we did in the 1998 and 2006 World Cups. Spineless, uninspired, predictable. Dunno ... it was just sad. It was hard to be patriotic, especially when the crowd only does one cheer, which during the course of the game regressed through these phases:

USA! USA! USA!
USA! USA! USA!
USA? USA? USA?
USA. USA. USA.
usa. usa. usa.
usa, usa, usa...
usa.
~Mexican wave~

Thankfully I put a bet down before the game that Steven Gerrard would score the last goal. And he did, giving me a return of £6 and 0 minutes of my life back on an initial investment of £55 and 2 hours of my life.

The one bright spot was the moment I realized that Americans are still leading the world in the creation of single-use t-shirts with irreverent hand-written slogans.

My favorite said "Remember WWII? You're Welcome."

You bet your wife

Here's are the wagers for tonight's game:

If England wins I have to buy my colleague Mark a bagel (sesame seed bagel with a splash of butter and a hint of marmite) and Coffee (skinny latte) at Bagel Mania.

If the US wins my colleague Mark buys me a bagel (plain, toasted, with butter and jam) at Bagel Mania.

If the US wins 1-0 I buy Brad Miller the new Coldplay album on iTunes.

If the US wins 2-0 Brad Miller buys me an album on iTunes that isn't Coldplay because they're not that cool anymore.

If the US wins 30-0 I buy Brad Miller a first class ticket from Denver to London.

If the US wins 31-0 Brad Miller pays for me to move to Reykyavik and join a hoon truck gang.

If England wins off a 70-yard empty net David Beckham goal in the 90th minute, I have to post a picture of myself on er/uk being punched in the face by a large Turkish man named Kimmie.

If the same scenario unfolds but the winning goal is from only 50 yards out, Brad Miller has to unfriend his mother on Facebook and offer no explanation.

If it's a tie, all bets are off.

America ... coming to save the ... day, yeah!

I usually cheer for the underdog, which is why I'm not upset to see 'roided American track and field athletes lose to Africans, the Dream Team lose to Argentina, or Ford lose to Tata.

One sport where USA!USA!USA! is not the world power, is "soccer". At least not on the men's side.

So tomorrow will find me a patriot, cheering on the Red, White and Blue© when the US take on England at Wembley Stadium here in London.

And I'll be there in the flesh thanks to friendly 'merican "soccer" fan Andrew of California. Who is so kind as to part with his tickets for just $100 each (face value if you are the Queen and your face is on the currently overvalued British Pound Sterling).

www.sams-army.com has invited me to wear red to the match, and to learn the songs of the American firm/fan club in advance. Here are some that I immediately spotted as future classics:

Unbelievable
We're so good it's un-be-liev-a-ble!
(clap, clap, clap, clap, clap, clap-clap, clap-clap)
(Repeat)

US (Long)
(Clap - Clap - ClapClapClap - ClapClapClapClap)
US!

US (Short)
(Clap Clap Clap)
US!

I also like that they sing "Always Look on the Bright Side of Life", verbatim.

Go AMERICA!

Worst. Holiday. Ever.

Today it's raining sideways. It's 40 degrees. It's dark.

Happy Bank Holiday.

x xx xxx

So there's apparently this unwritten continental modus operatus here associated with text messages and the number of x's included in the sign off. In brief:

x = You are my good friend or acquaintance.
xx = Today we might just be friends but I see you as a prospect in the long term and one of these days I'm going to make that obvious to you. If you can interpret this message and would like to make an advance at me I will not reject you.
xxx = I'm really into you now and you already know it.

As always, guys interpret things a little differently. To wit:

x = We're friends.
xx = Yeah I figured. The chase is on.
xxx = I'm really busy for the next few weeks, and then I'm going on some trips. I'll let you know when things slow down and I'm back in town.

xx
er/uk

Jejej-hog

Today I have a friend from Ma[j/ll]orca coming to town for the holiday weekend.

I call her Jejej (phonetically: heh-hedge) because this is how Spaniards laugh (in print). She calls me Guiri, which is Catalan slang for tourist.

Should be fun. We're going to the Tate Modern and to some markets.

I broke my social scene.

Tonight (if today were Friday). Broken Social Scene. Shepherd's Bush Empire. 8.30pm.

Please please please play It's All Gonna Break.

Update: yessssss.

KC Accidental
7/4 (Shoreline)
Farewell to the Pressure Kids
Churches under the Stairs
Frightening Lives
Backed Out On The...
Superconnected
F***ed Up Kid
Anthems For A 17 Year Old girl
Meet Me In The Basement
Stars & Sons
Love Is New
Broke Me Up
Ibi Dreams Of Pavements
Lover's Spit (Kevin Drew solo)
*2 song interlude (Charles Spearin)*
Pacific Theme
It's All Gonna Break

Karma police

I've never liked John Terry. To me he's the definitive hypocrite in sport -- always talking about the good of the game but acting for the worst.

That, along with his truly awful haircut, was always going to come back to him.

Last night, on the biggest of stages, he had the chance to become a legend. But penalty kicks are cruel and so can fate be when you've been walking the line for so long.

And now to balance out that display of spite I'm going to go save someone from stepping in front of a bus.

[Child-]birthday wishes

Another birthday has arrived for the fam. It's my sis again, bless her heart. What's she done in the last year, apart from surviving, to earn our well wishes?

I can think of at least one thing she's done that I, personally, would never do: childbirth. I just don't have it in me. And by it I mean ovaries.

That's right, she's officially graduated to gravida 2 para 2. And the new guy is pretty great. Met him when I was home over the holidays. He does this thing where you put him on a blanket and he sits there for hours without blinking, while keeping watch on the proceedings and making sure everyone is ok. If someone appears to be in trouble, he will lean slightly forward and look concerned until the threat has subsided.

I figure every new grandchild gifts me an extra year or two to globetrot and avoid any real scrutiny on my lack of contribution to the family tree (that they know of). So keep it up Monica! and Shawn!

Mission accomplished!

I claim victory over this cold.

It was inevitable, really. I gradually built up a big enough delegation of phagocytes (my story really resonates with white cells).

It was nothing against her (the cold). I thought she was acute coryza, if you know what I mean. But at the end of the day it's about inspiring people and that's what a healthy me can do.

Now the fight turns to the allergies; that heartless, unrelenting machine.

Why you laugh?

I've suggested Deadspin before as a daily read, and now I must also mention it's brethren Gawker (or I guess technically, parent). This group is a media empire in the making.

Gawker is NY/culture instead of sports but the writers are equally brilliant and the comments section is equivalently priceless. I love irreverence.

Here is a taste of the sweet honey that flows from Gawker...

1. Pointing out a brilliant new clip from SNL: The Office, Japanimated
2. Silly right-wing radio ridiculousness
3. Slow news day


Credits:
Oliver - Deadspin
Conor - Gawker

Good winter

Tonight I saw an in-store performance by the band Bon Iver. They're (he's) from the Midwest, and have (has) Midwestern sensibilities, so we got on well.

I don't talk too much music on here for fear of overlapping with Kyle's blogtivity, but this is worth a mention as their album "For Emma, Forever Ago" will definitely make my top 5 for 2008.

You'll like it too if you're into...

1. Copying my tastes and hobbies.
2. Being in the know about new bands that are about to break through.
3. Crying/sobbing/dealing poorly with heartbreak.
4. Singing falsetto harmonies.
5. All things nostalgic.

It really is compelling stuff. A unique sound; beautiful; mellow without being lame. Sometimes I miss the Midwest, or at least my idea of it.

Saturday night hayfever

Didn't do anything today. At all. Stupid hayfever.

Big city, small world

London's a big city. But not so big that you can't throw a frisbee and hit someone in the face, then have a meeting with that same person the next day. I like that.

What do you call a Spaniard with no car?

Hi, I'm Carlos. Here are some lighthearted opinions of mine that I will happily argue about relentlessly if you disagree with me.

Cars are only good if you want to be distracted, take some steam off, or listen to music. Apart from that they are an awful investment, dangerous, a waste of time and a drain on the environment.

Bikes are cool, but only when the bikers are cool. The thing that isn't cool about bikes is that when it benefits them to act like cars they do; when it benefits them to act like pedestrians they do.

Pedestrians are the coolest.

So to recap:

Cars < Bikes < Pedestrians

Stuff English people like

You've probably heard of the blog Stuff White People Like. I've mentioned it here before and now it's also available in handy CoffeeTableBook format. It serves as an outline of the unique things that I like along with millions of other privileged white Americans (most recently scarves and grammar).

But whites have contrasting likes and dislikes from country to country and that blog really is American-centric.

1. Saying Fiver instead of Five, especially as it relates to currency.
2. Pink shirts. Blue shirts. Pink ties. Blue ties. Yesterday I counted 21 people wearing at least one of those four items within one city block. Something like 21 of 26. Staggering.
3. Umbrellas (brollies).
4. Vacation colonization. I just made that phrase up but basically it describes how English people like going somewhere on holiday but don't like living without Sky Sports and a full English breakfast. By leaning on the strength of their currency over the course of the years they encourage holiday destinations to become as English as possible. It's a kind of capitalist version of colonization, and it's obvious and sad in places like Mallorca, Albufeira and Bodrum.
5. Talking about the weather.
6. Queueing.
7. Passive aggressive behavior of all sorts.
8. Not talking on public transport.
9. Visiting the US but only going to New York, Orlando and Las Vegas.
10. Forgetting about their common people when discussing Britain; remembering the common people of every other country.

Those aren't nearly as concise or amusing as SWPL, but they're all very real phenomenons and are worth documenting. I'm sure I could boil them down to CoffeeTableBook format and wit if someone were willing to pay me.

Rein gigs

Went to a show last eve and saw some bands -- Hot Chip, Feeder and The Zutons. It put me in that mood where I want to go to a lot of gigs in a short amount of time. So I am.

Thursday: Stag & Dagger festival (new Shoreditch area music festival with 100 bands and DJs)
Saturday: Fanfare Ciocarlia (Balkan band playing at the Brighton festival)
Sunday: Bon Iver
Monday: The Most Serene Republic
Tuesday: Jens Lekman & Bon Iver
Friday: Broken Social Scene (!!!!!!)

I'm excited about all of these, but especially excited to see Bon Iver for the first time and BSS again. I'm also getting more into DJ-ish kinds of stuff having been surrounded by electronic and techno music for the last year. Starting to dig some of it.

Speaking of music, my friend David Homyk is good at writing/making/producing it and a few of his songs are now available on iTunes. Go get'em.

Dear Diary,

It's been so sunny and warm here lately it's almost as if I'm in a different country. Or on vacation. Or both.

Yesterday I walked to an area of town I've never been to -- Columbia Road. Every Sunday Columbia Road turns into Columbia Flower Market. It takes a lot for me to leave my hood these days, which is why I didn't and went to Columbia Road, which is only a few blocks north of Bacon Street. I really do have the best postcode in London.

After a stroll around the market I went to a farm and looked at some pigs and chickens, which reminded me of good times back on my uncle's farm in Indiana, butchering chickens and then eating chicken for lunch immediately afterwards.

From there I walked to the park and threw frisbee. Today I am sore from 20 minutes of throwing frisbee, which means I am old.

When I got back to my street there was some kind of Bangla festival going on. All the normal Sunday Brick Lane eccentricities were multiplied. It didn't slow down in the afternoon and nothing seemed to be closing even when I returned to my flat at 8. I could've sat outside and passed judgement on people for hours.

What a great weekend.

Sun day

Follow-up on yesterday's post: I may have to start introducing limits.

Still -- great weekend. The weather was unbelievable. Brick Lane really is the best place in the world on a sunny afternoon. If you don't believe me come visit. Seriously who's visiting this summer? 

At the top of my list would be my mom. I love you mom and hope you had a great [Mother's] day. 

Living la vida loca

Tonight I'm going to see Viva la Diva at the 02 Arena.

There really is no limit to what I'll do if it's free and the words "luxury" and "box" are involved.

The London sun

Clear. High: 73° F. / 20° C. Wind NE 15 mph. / 25 km/h.

It's enough to make you forget about the last 213 days.

You say genocide, I say potato

Here's an interesting approach to having done nothing wrong: tell people! Even people who wouldn't have suspected anything otherwise.



One dodgy Turkish law is that it is illegal to "insult Turkishness". Seems like that would be open to some pretty broad interpretation.

Turkey wrap

So the highlights of the trip for me were:

1. Blue Mosque.
2. Hagia Sophia.
3. Grand Bazaar.
4. Omnipresence and universal acceptance of the unibrow.
5. The part where I was in Asia for the first time without even realizing it.
6. The beach in Bodrum.
7. When the guy who could not speak English had a shirt on that said "Vodka: Connecting People".
8. Overhearing an Englishman explain to two naive English girls that Americans -- especially middle-aged men -- are obsessed with milkshakes and put sugar on everything, even steak.
9. Remembering that earlier in the day I enjoyed a delicious milkshake.
10. Sivas 3 - Galatasaray 5
11. Hot foam straight razor shave.
12. Pide.

Close shave

I've always wanted a hot foam straight razor shave. I guess that explains me paying 20 lira for one in the Istanbul airport at 4am this morning.

The real bonus was the generous application of Turkish aftershave and cologne afterwards. Even though I hadn't showered or slept in over a day, and much of that day was spent either sweating at the beach or sitting in an airplane or bus, I smelled terrific. Still do.

Here's a picture taken several seconds afterwards where I dozed off while examining the closeness of the shave. 

Istanbul (Not Constantinople)

I'm going to Istanbul this afternoon. The weather here is projected to be nice and warm and sunny, and Istanbul is projected to be cold and rainy. So just in keeping status quo I decided to go there.

I'll prob go to a kebab museum, swim in some hummus, get absolutely demolished by a Turkish masseur, and have engaging discussions about the Armenian genocide.

I'm back on Tuesday so we'll catch up then. Stay the same.

Mehican

With Cinco de Mayo coming up, I went to eat some Mexican food. Except there is none here. It's one of the few things London does not offer, in addition to good hamburgers, apple sauce, single slice pizza and sunshine.

There are fake Mexican restaurants around that call themselves Mexican but these places inevitably have the word tapas on their menu and all the servers are Spanish. Also you never get free chips and salsa.

Que lastima.