I got all the shit genes.
Eczema, eye squint, allergies, colour blindness…you name it. But I don’t count bad teeth amongst that. Bad teeth are as culturally significant to the British population as Aunt Bessie and Simon Cowell’s chest hair.
Americans have the right to bear arms, Brits have the right to dodgy teeth. But every so often, we rediscover our moral compass and go to the dentist.
Today was one of those days. And here’s how it went down.
Continue reading Say ahhh.
I still remember my first slow dance.
It was at the Excel summer camp disco, circa 1992. During the day the boys had all decided who we’d go for, so when the evening rolled around, it was just a matter of plucking up the courage. She was a 7, and I was a 6 at best. I was punching above my weight and I knew it – but a bunch of her friends had already been asked to dance, and I figured she didn’t want to be the last one standing. So, I took a deep breath and asked her to dance. She half-shrugged/half-nodded, and then we quickly assumed the position: my hands on her hips, hers on my shoulders. As we moved woodenly from side to side, I spent the duration of the song trying not to stare at her chest. Which was tricky, given how bloody tall she was.
Continue reading Dancing with salesmen.
Everyone has a unique way of making their displeasure known. I call it the “Pissed Off Power Play”, or POPP for short.
Some shout out an assortment of four-letter words, others cry hysterically, some even resort to physical violence. A particular ex-girlfriend of mine did all three. I’m pretty sure she won’t be reading this. But if she is, I’ll know it soon enough through the sharp stabbing pains I’ll feel in my back, caused by the voodoo doll she keeps of me. Let’s just say our decision to part wasn’t exactly a joint one.
Continue reading Thank you, Mr President.
We’re more than 6 weeks in now.
As much as we’re loving our new life out here, we come across meaningful reminders of home every now and again.
The other week Alex found Weetabix in our local grocery store and almost wept with joy. Seriously. She displayed levels of happiness that I’ve not seen before. I’ve proposed to her, fathered her children, and moved her out to California. But give her a box of whole grain cereal, any day of the week. Continue reading House hunt.