crap the bid
London needs to cool its jets about the 2012 olympics. i swear, the second you step outside it's BACK THE BID BACK THE BID BACK THE BID BACK THE BID BACK THE BID TIMES A MILLION! they have these posters of althetes doing athletic things over monuments around london. like an equestrian jumping over buckingham palace, and using the flood gates as diving boards for a swim meet. and someone high jumping over the eye. actually those ones kind of amuse me, but still, give it up london! you aren't going to get it. one day i was going somewhere and when the tube came i noticed that it way completely new--back the bid themed with obnoxious yellow seats that said back the bid and a paint job that had back the bid written everywhere. it was BLINDING. just shut up london, shut UP. maybe i don't want to back the bid. maybe i think it's crazy that you think you can handle all the added congestion, all then crowds, all the strain on your already pathetic transportation system. maybe i think you're competely insane for even imagining that you have any space to PUT any of the things that you'd have to build if you got the bid. There is not an uninhabited piece of land for miles and miles outside london. they'd have to relocate residents to get the space to build the track and the pool and all that jazz. plus they'd have to tear down and completely redo they're entire underground system, add SO many more buses, not to mention the fact that they'd actually have to develop a SYSTEM of when the buses come--this 'maybe in the next five to ten minutes or fifteen or twenty or for the rest of the night--if you're lucky, if they'res not a single car on the road, if the driver isn't chatting on his celly the whole time, if he actually KNOWS how to drive so he can GET to the stop--it's just not gonna cut it for the tourists.
and it's not like londoners are pushing the bid so much either. they couldn't give too shits if a bunch of tourists and athletes invade their city. they're too busy shopping at topshop and selfridges, wearing their uggs over their jeans--but not just over--the jeans have to be pushed up and sticking out of the uggs just so, so it looks like they pulled the boots on in a hurry, instead of the 20 minutes it took them to place the jeans that way. i swear, if i have to see one more retard with boots over their jeans i think i might puke. i mean, if it were just BOOTS i could handle it, but some of the boots people wear--sweet MARY. i actually saw some girl wearing riding boots. as in, they had SPUR RESTS! what is that! and then these strappy suede numbers people wear--saggy and strappy and so played out it's unbelievable. i read an article today--some people-wanna-be tabloid they were giving away for free at the airport--a whole article on how SARAH JESSICA PARKER WAS SPOTTED IN NEW YORK WEARING HER UGGS. apparently this means that uggs are NOT last season, because if SJP still thinks they're cool, then girls, bust em out because as the article said "this fashion fad seems to be a fashion CLASSIC" i will still always relish the fact that when we were in australia my dad wanted to get a pair for himself and gail as slippers. he wanted to buy them for catherine and me and we said that they looked ridiculous. a few months later and every joe shmoe fashionista wannabe on the street was tromping around in those lumberjack clodhoppers. HA.
what was i doing at the airport, you might wonder (and subsequently, brought on this rant)...and not just any airport, but the mother of all airports from hell, heathrow...well, my dad was passing from from amsterdam to seattle and, jews that we are, we thought we could stick one to the man and have him take one of my suitcases so i wouldn't have to pay the extra baggage when i leave. i suppose i deserve what follows for trying to bunk the system, but maybe if the fuckers wouldn't charge exorbitant amounts for a measly third bag, we wouldn't go to such lengths to cheat the cheaters. well, to accomplish this, my dad had to go from terminal 2 to terminal 4 (in itself a 30 min schlep) and then go through customs to check in again, at which point he would check my bag...perhaps the most illegal thing you could do in an airport, esp since he already had too many bags checked from amsterdam, AND this new bag wasn't packed nor did it belong to him. well, whatever, i'm his daughter, i wasn't going to put a bomb in the bag (?) so i left at 10, got there by 1130 and waited until 145 for him to tell me he was in the customs line (which he thought he could sneak around--those damn brits are savvier than they look) so i would have to schlep this monster bag with no handle, just a strap to drag it by ALL the way back to crapcross gate. no way, so i went to the left baggage to see if they'd ship it...sure, for 200 pounds they'd send it by sea, which takes 12 weeks. the guys suggests i look at an excess bag company outside the airport bc sometimes they charge less. so i go to paddington. find the company...same price. 176 pounds later, and my bag is about to be shipped. but only after i fill out 6 pages of customs declaration in which i have to repeat my address, the address of the place i'm sending it to and the exact contents of my bag 6 times. half hour later and i realize they want my passport number. of course i don't have my passport, i don't carry it everywhere, why risk losing it. but the lady says she HAS to have it to photocopy it, blah blah blah. very angry, cursing to myself, cursing to her, cursing our crap government for being so strict about a stupid suitcase full of CLOTHES i return to new cross gate. takes an hour. get my passport. return to paddington, a new guy is there, but hte lady (who was actually nice, i feel bad that i was mean to her, well not really to her, just around her) is in the back. the guy goes to photocopy my passport and when he comes back he seems kind of scared of me...i think the lady must have warned him of my mouth. no matter, all is done and i go home. by the time i get home it's 6:00 fucking london
and it's not like londoners are pushing the bid so much either. they couldn't give too shits if a bunch of tourists and athletes invade their city. they're too busy shopping at topshop and selfridges, wearing their uggs over their jeans--but not just over--the jeans have to be pushed up and sticking out of the uggs just so, so it looks like they pulled the boots on in a hurry, instead of the 20 minutes it took them to place the jeans that way. i swear, if i have to see one more retard with boots over their jeans i think i might puke. i mean, if it were just BOOTS i could handle it, but some of the boots people wear--sweet MARY. i actually saw some girl wearing riding boots. as in, they had SPUR RESTS! what is that! and then these strappy suede numbers people wear--saggy and strappy and so played out it's unbelievable. i read an article today--some people-wanna-be tabloid they were giving away for free at the airport--a whole article on how SARAH JESSICA PARKER WAS SPOTTED IN NEW YORK WEARING HER UGGS. apparently this means that uggs are NOT last season, because if SJP still thinks they're cool, then girls, bust em out because as the article said "this fashion fad seems to be a fashion CLASSIC" i will still always relish the fact that when we were in australia my dad wanted to get a pair for himself and gail as slippers. he wanted to buy them for catherine and me and we said that they looked ridiculous. a few months later and every joe shmoe fashionista wannabe on the street was tromping around in those lumberjack clodhoppers. HA.
what was i doing at the airport, you might wonder (and subsequently, brought on this rant)...and not just any airport, but the mother of all airports from hell, heathrow...well, my dad was passing from from amsterdam to seattle and, jews that we are, we thought we could stick one to the man and have him take one of my suitcases so i wouldn't have to pay the extra baggage when i leave. i suppose i deserve what follows for trying to bunk the system, but maybe if the fuckers wouldn't charge exorbitant amounts for a measly third bag, we wouldn't go to such lengths to cheat the cheaters. well, to accomplish this, my dad had to go from terminal 2 to terminal 4 (in itself a 30 min schlep) and then go through customs to check in again, at which point he would check my bag...perhaps the most illegal thing you could do in an airport, esp since he already had too many bags checked from amsterdam, AND this new bag wasn't packed nor did it belong to him. well, whatever, i'm his daughter, i wasn't going to put a bomb in the bag (?) so i left at 10, got there by 1130 and waited until 145 for him to tell me he was in the customs line (which he thought he could sneak around--those damn brits are savvier than they look) so i would have to schlep this monster bag with no handle, just a strap to drag it by ALL the way back to crapcross gate. no way, so i went to the left baggage to see if they'd ship it...sure, for 200 pounds they'd send it by sea, which takes 12 weeks. the guys suggests i look at an excess bag company outside the airport bc sometimes they charge less. so i go to paddington. find the company...same price. 176 pounds later, and my bag is about to be shipped. but only after i fill out 6 pages of customs declaration in which i have to repeat my address, the address of the place i'm sending it to and the exact contents of my bag 6 times. half hour later and i realize they want my passport number. of course i don't have my passport, i don't carry it everywhere, why risk losing it. but the lady says she HAS to have it to photocopy it, blah blah blah. very angry, cursing to myself, cursing to her, cursing our crap government for being so strict about a stupid suitcase full of CLOTHES i return to new cross gate. takes an hour. get my passport. return to paddington, a new guy is there, but hte lady (who was actually nice, i feel bad that i was mean to her, well not really to her, just around her) is in the back. the guy goes to photocopy my passport and when he comes back he seems kind of scared of me...i think the lady must have warned him of my mouth. no matter, all is done and i go home. by the time i get home it's 6:00 fucking london