I've been thinking a lot lately about this move I've made. In some ways, it's different and new and surprising. In other ways it's completely the same as life in Toronto.
I get up, I brush my teeth, I eat my bowl of Wheetabix, I make my bed, I order a latte at Starbucks (goddamn Starbucks), I take public transit, I get drunk, I eat terrible food (both when I'm drunk and when I'm hungover). I don't have a job - but being unemployed is practically like a full time job so I do that. I'm not sure if I was really expecting everything in my life to be completely different when I came here. I guess it's just once the novelty wears off of quitting your job and booking a one way ticket to another country, you realize things are more or less the same everywhere.
However, I've only been here just over a month so I probably haven't properly absorbed all the Britishness yet. I mean there are some things that are unique to the U.K. No one dries their clothes in a dryer, everyone is retarded for football, they say toilet and loo instead of bathroom (and I feel like a complete tool asking where either of these things are when I'm at a restaurant [mainly Starbucks]). My house is like the Zoolander School for Ants. Tea is like air to them and they say things like choccie biscuits and mobile and daft.
When I was out with Martin, he ordered a baked potato with tuna and mayo and I almost barfed. I was horrified to discover that this is actually a common food staple over here.
Everything here is smaller too: cars, fridges, roads. Also, I am not embarrassed to say that I am terrified of crossing the street here because everyone in this city drives like a maniac. London is like Grand Theft Auto: drivers are purposefully attempting to run you over in their little Pinto cars at any given time. Also pedestrians have no right of way so you better watch the hell out when you're taking that leisurely stroll down the cobblestone.
The other thing is that despite its tiny size, this city is SOO packed all the time. I had to wait for two tubes this morning before I could actually get in one. And that's a good commute. People literally flood out of tube stations for their daily pilgrimage to those high rise office complexes. It's a battle getting around the city and if you find yourself trying to go anywhere during rush hour, well you're shit out of luck.
There are things I do love about this city though. Due to it's population, the place is always buzzing. There are a million things to do here all the time: markets, heatre, live music, shopping. And this city is so old and there is so much history - just being here makes me feel like I'm part of something ancient and ethereal.
It's been hard for me to see the city for what is really is lately because I've been stuck in interview hell. I counted them out and I've had 13 interviews since I've been here. Having to tell potential employers over and over again why you're so awesome and qualified and why you just love foxybingo or ancestral research or merchandizing gardening equipment is so mentally and emotionally exhausting. Explaining your strengths and bs-ing your way through the weakness question just to have them turn you down is a big old bitch slap to the ego.
I had an interview today for a receptionist job that I really don't want. The interviewer said she was really impressed with my resume but thought this job would be a step back for me. I wanted to get up and kiss this little Asian women on the head and tell her I completely agree and just run, arms flailing, out of their office. Instead lies just started spewing out of my mouth: well I want to try new things, there's a lot of overlap between editorial and admin work, I'm young and can go back to writing later in my life, bullshit, bullshit, bullshit. I was surprised how convincing I sounded too. They seemed to like the fact that I was 'creative' while the rest of them were 'financial' (if that's the opposite of creative). The thing is, if they offer me this job, I might just have to take it.
And then kill myself.
I just can't picture myself ordering stationary and getting CEOs coffee. It's not my bag, baby. But maybe at this point in the game, what my bag is is actually quite irrelevant.
Alright I have my National Insurance Number interview today. It's like your SIN but you have to apply for it and then be interviewed. This country is so strange.
Will write soon with new updates.
Cheers,
Patsy xoxo
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Slow as f***
I should preface this entry with a warning about what a shitty/frustrated mood I'm in and that this is going to be an old person rant about how irritated I get by terrible customer service and corporate inefficiencies (I really am becoming my father).
So last week I called the cable/phone/internet company to get our home all wired up. I gave them all our details and my payment info, etc. I was told the guy would be there the following Tuesday for the set up. Afterward, I get like four text messages saying that they will only be installing my cable and I'll have to call after it's all set up for my phone and internet to get hooked up.
So after giving me a SEVEN hour window for the install today (I know I don't have a job, that's beside the point) the guy shows up with our fancy new cable box. So we spend our 188 quid on the set up and our cable is good to go (we also got a sweet 32'' flat screen off gumtree [their version of Craigslist]). Anyway so then I call Sky and they say it will take up to 15 days to activate our phone line and then they list THREE days they MIGHT come to install it. So I'm just supposed to sit around my house like a douchebag waiting for you to come over and what, show me how to plug in my phone? Then they tell me it will take up to an additional 15 days to hook up our broadband. Honestly, if I have go to Starbucks to use the internet for another month, I am going go to ballistic on some Baristas.
At first I thought this chick was pulling my leg, but then I forgot that no one in customer service has a sense of humour or any social skills whatsoever. I swear to god, if you want to get a job in customer support, the only question they ask you is whether you're a sociopath who enjoys being completely useless, wasting people's time and generally making everyone around you completely miserable. The only acceptable response is to punch the interviewee directly in the face, after which time you are given your ID badge and escorted to your phone to begin ruining innocent people's lives.
And I'm sorry, did this Kingdom not colonize most of the modern world? Did it not have a vast, expansive empire and control the majority of the planet's population? And it's going to take them more than two weeks to hook up my phone? What the fuck is wrong with this picture?
/rant
I spent the entire day waiting for the Sky dude and cleaning our home from top to bottom. We're going to IKEA on Thursday to get some shelving and kitchen stuff. Tomorrow I have an interview with a website called partygaming.com which owns partypoker.com and some other gaming websites. Not sure exactly what I'd be doing but at this point I don't even care. I'm just going to go in there and tell them how much I love games and parties and that will be that. I had my interview at the BBC yesterday but I tell you more about that when I hear back from them.
Other than that, not much else is new. Going to a birthday party this weekend and then hopefully to Borough Market on Saturday which is supposed to be amazing (every single person I know here has told us how we HAVE to go). I will make sure to take more pictures and write about exciting adventures (and stop ranting about bad customer service).
To end this blog post, I will tell you about the two funniest things that I saw today:
1) A three year old (probably on his way to Starbucks, little bastard) was walking down the street in the pouring rain holding his mom's hand. His corduroy pants were around his ankles, revealing his large, soiled diaper. I wanted to stop the woman and tell her her son was exposing himself to the world, but then I didn't because I thought it would be funny. And it was. Stupid kids.
2) In Starbucks, I watched a a grown man put snow pants on over his dress pants without even a hint of embarrassment.
Also someone asked me to sign for a delivery for my neighbour today. It was Rock Band which would be awesome on our new TV. I want to steal it but I had to sign my name. I should have made a stupid name that I could easily deny. 'Um no, my name is not Sapphire. Yes, that is MY brand new, unopened Rock Band. Yes it is a coincidence we both ordered it at the same time. Now get off my lawn.'
Maybe I'll force my neighbour to let me come over and play it with them. That's what people like right? Neighbours who constantly come over unannounced?
Alrighty I should go. I'll write back soon!
Cheers,
Patsy
So last week I called the cable/phone/internet company to get our home all wired up. I gave them all our details and my payment info, etc. I was told the guy would be there the following Tuesday for the set up. Afterward, I get like four text messages saying that they will only be installing my cable and I'll have to call after it's all set up for my phone and internet to get hooked up.
So after giving me a SEVEN hour window for the install today (I know I don't have a job, that's beside the point) the guy shows up with our fancy new cable box. So we spend our 188 quid on the set up and our cable is good to go (we also got a sweet 32'' flat screen off gumtree [their version of Craigslist]). Anyway so then I call Sky and they say it will take up to 15 days to activate our phone line and then they list THREE days they MIGHT come to install it. So I'm just supposed to sit around my house like a douchebag waiting for you to come over and what, show me how to plug in my phone? Then they tell me it will take up to an additional 15 days to hook up our broadband. Honestly, if I have go to Starbucks to use the internet for another month, I am going go to ballistic on some Baristas.
At first I thought this chick was pulling my leg, but then I forgot that no one in customer service has a sense of humour or any social skills whatsoever. I swear to god, if you want to get a job in customer support, the only question they ask you is whether you're a sociopath who enjoys being completely useless, wasting people's time and generally making everyone around you completely miserable. The only acceptable response is to punch the interviewee directly in the face, after which time you are given your ID badge and escorted to your phone to begin ruining innocent people's lives.
And I'm sorry, did this Kingdom not colonize most of the modern world? Did it not have a vast, expansive empire and control the majority of the planet's population? And it's going to take them more than two weeks to hook up my phone? What the fuck is wrong with this picture?
/rant
I spent the entire day waiting for the Sky dude and cleaning our home from top to bottom. We're going to IKEA on Thursday to get some shelving and kitchen stuff. Tomorrow I have an interview with a website called partygaming.com which owns partypoker.com and some other gaming websites. Not sure exactly what I'd be doing but at this point I don't even care. I'm just going to go in there and tell them how much I love games and parties and that will be that. I had my interview at the BBC yesterday but I tell you more about that when I hear back from them.
Other than that, not much else is new. Going to a birthday party this weekend and then hopefully to Borough Market on Saturday which is supposed to be amazing (every single person I know here has told us how we HAVE to go). I will make sure to take more pictures and write about exciting adventures (and stop ranting about bad customer service).
To end this blog post, I will tell you about the two funniest things that I saw today:
1) A three year old (probably on his way to Starbucks, little bastard) was walking down the street in the pouring rain holding his mom's hand. His corduroy pants were around his ankles, revealing his large, soiled diaper. I wanted to stop the woman and tell her her son was exposing himself to the world, but then I didn't because I thought it would be funny. And it was. Stupid kids.
2) In Starbucks, I watched a a grown man put snow pants on over his dress pants without even a hint of embarrassment.
Also someone asked me to sign for a delivery for my neighbour today. It was Rock Band which would be awesome on our new TV. I want to steal it but I had to sign my name. I should have made a stupid name that I could easily deny. 'Um no, my name is not Sapphire. Yes, that is MY brand new, unopened Rock Band. Yes it is a coincidence we both ordered it at the same time. Now get off my lawn.'
Maybe I'll force my neighbour to let me come over and play it with them. That's what people like right? Neighbours who constantly come over unannounced?
Alrighty I should go. I'll write back soon!
Cheers,
Patsy
Sunday, February 21, 2010
And the debauchery begins
Well, I told you I'd have an interesting blog post, and I do!
So Friday I had my interview with UNICEF and I think it went alright. It was VERY regulated process and I had a panel of four people interview me. I find it really hard to evenly distribute eye contact when there are so many people asking you question. I start darting my eyes back and forth so as not to ignore any one person and I invariably end up looking like a complete crackhead. I usually try and give the most eye love to the person I think will be making the executive decision but this time I had no idea who the boss was. I had to write a test which involved a copy editing section, which was fine, but then I had to write a whole article about some child workers in Bangladesh and I was given like three pages of information and had to write a concise web article in like 30 minutes. It was intense. I did it but I'm not sure it made any sense. I didn't really get the impression that I 'wowed' them but I'll know on Monday how things went.
Friday night was pretty ridiculous. Franca and I headed to her cousin's place and started drinking at around 9pm. I think I was pretty excited about a big night and ended up slamming back vodka 7s like it was nobody's business. Needless to say by the time we left for the bar I was black out drunk. Fabric was pretty cool, great music but like definitely a scene - crazy long lineups and it was super expensive - 15 pounds to get in and the drinks were pretty pricey too. We were only there for about half an hour when Franca pulled me outside because I was so wasted and said we should probably go home. So I effectively fucked up our first night out by being a huge waste case. In my defense, I don't remember being that drunk. I think the lesson here is, never put too much emphasis on a night out because you're bound to be disappointed. Actually the lesson might also be not to pound drinks like they're going out of style. Either way, the night was sort of a bust.
Saturday I paid the price though as I woke up with the worst headache I've ever had in my life. And of course they one day I have a raging hangover it's a beautiful, glorious, sunny day outside - an absolute rarity in Britain. I ended up getting out of bed by 3pm and Francs and I grabbed breakfast at this cheap greasy diner across the street. We then went out and checked out some awesome antique markets in Angel. So many vendors selling vintage clothing and furniture and jewelry along small cobblestone streets. We then wondered into this furniture store and saw a beautiful trunk we wanted for our living room. We carried it home today and it was actually a pretty funny sight: two hungover girls carrying this giant chest down the road. Anyway it's in and the place is finally beginning to feel a lot like home.
After we paid for our chest yesterday, we decided to head to the pub for a pint (naturally). We walk into Slug and Lettuce right after an Arsenal game so the place was pretty packed with footie fans. Franca and I went to find a table and she was greeted by a guy named Dylan who asked if he could drink with us. Dylan was both an absolute clown and a total babe. He was actually wearing sweatpants and a sweater with a giant Mickey Mouse face on it and all night he kept saying 'My friends keep taking the mickey out of me' and thought it was absolutely hilarious. Unfortunately, he was the only one.
Anyway he was at the pub with a bunch of his friends and we ended up getting pretty wasted with them. Then we ended up going to their local pub, The King's Head, and drinking some more. The King's Head is definitely full of some characters. The first guy we see when we walk in is wearing a shirt that says "I heart 10 pints and a curry" and he was about 5 foot tall and like 70 years old. Then they had some Ronnie Wood-looking guy starts rocking the mic (and he sang some sweet British tunes like The Stones, The Kooks, The Fratellis) and we just had a great time. Needless to say, we'd been drinking since about 5pm, so by 10pm Francs and I were beat and called it a night. Hopefully we'll run into those crazy kids again - but we're not holding our breath.
Today Franca and I got up, went shopping for some home stuff and now we're sitting in an internet cafe checking up our emails. I have my BBC interview tomorrow which I need to prepare for and another interview Tuesday for some website called Partygaming.com. Anyway I need a job soon because this drinking habit is not going to pay for itself (that would be pretty sweet though).
I write back soon with some more news about the job hunt. Hope you all had a sweet, sweet weekend.
Cheers,
Patsy
So Friday I had my interview with UNICEF and I think it went alright. It was VERY regulated process and I had a panel of four people interview me. I find it really hard to evenly distribute eye contact when there are so many people asking you question. I start darting my eyes back and forth so as not to ignore any one person and I invariably end up looking like a complete crackhead. I usually try and give the most eye love to the person I think will be making the executive decision but this time I had no idea who the boss was. I had to write a test which involved a copy editing section, which was fine, but then I had to write a whole article about some child workers in Bangladesh and I was given like three pages of information and had to write a concise web article in like 30 minutes. It was intense. I did it but I'm not sure it made any sense. I didn't really get the impression that I 'wowed' them but I'll know on Monday how things went.
Friday night was pretty ridiculous. Franca and I headed to her cousin's place and started drinking at around 9pm. I think I was pretty excited about a big night and ended up slamming back vodka 7s like it was nobody's business. Needless to say by the time we left for the bar I was black out drunk. Fabric was pretty cool, great music but like definitely a scene - crazy long lineups and it was super expensive - 15 pounds to get in and the drinks were pretty pricey too. We were only there for about half an hour when Franca pulled me outside because I was so wasted and said we should probably go home. So I effectively fucked up our first night out by being a huge waste case. In my defense, I don't remember being that drunk. I think the lesson here is, never put too much emphasis on a night out because you're bound to be disappointed. Actually the lesson might also be not to pound drinks like they're going out of style. Either way, the night was sort of a bust.
Saturday I paid the price though as I woke up with the worst headache I've ever had in my life. And of course they one day I have a raging hangover it's a beautiful, glorious, sunny day outside - an absolute rarity in Britain. I ended up getting out of bed by 3pm and Francs and I grabbed breakfast at this cheap greasy diner across the street. We then went out and checked out some awesome antique markets in Angel. So many vendors selling vintage clothing and furniture and jewelry along small cobblestone streets. We then wondered into this furniture store and saw a beautiful trunk we wanted for our living room. We carried it home today and it was actually a pretty funny sight: two hungover girls carrying this giant chest down the road. Anyway it's in and the place is finally beginning to feel a lot like home.
After we paid for our chest yesterday, we decided to head to the pub for a pint (naturally). We walk into Slug and Lettuce right after an Arsenal game so the place was pretty packed with footie fans. Franca and I went to find a table and she was greeted by a guy named Dylan who asked if he could drink with us. Dylan was both an absolute clown and a total babe. He was actually wearing sweatpants and a sweater with a giant Mickey Mouse face on it and all night he kept saying 'My friends keep taking the mickey out of me' and thought it was absolutely hilarious. Unfortunately, he was the only one.
Anyway he was at the pub with a bunch of his friends and we ended up getting pretty wasted with them. Then we ended up going to their local pub, The King's Head, and drinking some more. The King's Head is definitely full of some characters. The first guy we see when we walk in is wearing a shirt that says "I heart 10 pints and a curry" and he was about 5 foot tall and like 70 years old. Then they had some Ronnie Wood-looking guy starts rocking the mic (and he sang some sweet British tunes like The Stones, The Kooks, The Fratellis) and we just had a great time. Needless to say, we'd been drinking since about 5pm, so by 10pm Francs and I were beat and called it a night. Hopefully we'll run into those crazy kids again - but we're not holding our breath.
Today Franca and I got up, went shopping for some home stuff and now we're sitting in an internet cafe checking up our emails. I have my BBC interview tomorrow which I need to prepare for and another interview Tuesday for some website called Partygaming.com. Anyway I need a job soon because this drinking habit is not going to pay for itself (that would be pretty sweet though).
I write back soon with some more news about the job hunt. Hope you all had a sweet, sweet weekend.
Cheers,
Patsy
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Brush yourself off
'There is no education like adversity. ' - Benjamin Disraeli
So friends, I have some good news to report. Two days ago, I got a call and two emails for more interviews! One was for a company called goodtoknow.co.uk, a women's lifestyle website similar to the one at Yahoo. The other is for a web editor with UNICEF and the last is an editorial assistant with BBC.
I had my interview with goodtoknow today and I think it went alright. Before I began this interview marathon, I used to think I actually sort of enjoyed the whole process. But after the sixth rejection, and the constant chipping away at my self-confidence, I'm beginning to loathe them and I've come to believe I'm doing something catastrophically stupid during these meetings.
'So what to you do in your spare time?'
'Umm well, I enjoy hanging around playgrounds and selling drugs and guns to young children, killing small woodland creatures with my bare hands, writing erotic novellas. And crying. I cry a lot.'
Maybe I have terrible BO or like a piece of spinach perpetually stuck in my teeth. Do I have halitosis? Goddamn if it's halitosis, I'm gonna be SO pissed.
Anyway I think the interview today went alright. It was with a woman from HR and it was short and sweet. It was in this crazy ass building, the kind that requires you to have a security badge just to get in the elevators (of which there were about 50). So IF I get called back, there will be two more interviews. I don't get why this process needs to be SO long. Like I get two, but anything more than that seems excessive - especially for these kinds of jobs. I once had four interviews for a job I was applying to internally at Yahoo. FOUR INTERVIEWS? Like, I wasn't applying to be CEO (I'm highly overqualified anyway) so I don't see the need for such intense professional scrutiny. If I ran a company, it would be one interview and it would be like an hour long (none of this 15 minute nonsense). And there'd be wine. And snacks. And 'business casual' meant you could wear sweatpants.
The point is, you can tell a lot about someone in an hour but not much more in four (non-consecutive) hours. At least, that's my humble opinion.
Tomorrow I have an interview with UNICEF and I swear to god the only reason I got the interview is because I brought up Halloween UNICEF boxes in my application. Apparently it cost them more money to produce the boxes than children were collecting in change. Probably won't mention that thought.
BBC should be sweet but I'm scared shitless and I can tell if any of these interviews are going to be bureaucratic nightmares, it's gonna be this one. Anyway it'd be sweet to work there so fingers crossed and all that stuff.
Otherwise, I'm settling into Angel and loving it more and more every day. Franca and I went to this Afghan restaurant last night with Madeliene which was delicious and a new experience as I've never had Afghan cuisine before. Other than that, I've been kind of lame. I've been at probably 70% of the Starbucks in this city and I won't lie, they're driving me insane.
Here's a cute story to brighten your day:
I get into Starbucks at around 9 am, sit down and wait for the yummy mummy parade to commence. At about 9:30, 400 strollers, screaming babies, hyperactive toddlers and stay-at-home moms barrel in to the bucks and just take over. Crayons are flying, baby barf is spewing, discussions relating to breast milk are rampant. I'm sitting in the middle of this trying to restrain myself from hulk-smashing my chair over the heads of these little demon children. Right before a vein in my forehead nearly explodes, a mom comes over and drops this (delicious-looking) chocolate muffin in front of this spastic 3-year-old named Spencer. He literally licks his lips and rubs his hands together right before his mom yells, "Spencer, I want you to eat that slowly. We are in NO rush. Now take proper bites. Do you understand?' Spencer nods frantically waiting for his mom to get the hell out of the way of that muffin. I thought she was being slightly controlling until I saw what happened next. This kid picks up the muffin and shoves the entire thing right into his face. He makes some nom nom nom sound while smushing the whole thing all over his mouth. He then removes the remaining muffin to reveal residual chocolate gooey crumby-ness caked onto his face. I just burst out laughing.
I felt bad but like, that shit is hilarious. Also, it makes me never want children.
Alright I hope that put a smile on your face. I don't have much else to report so that'll be all for today. Tune in tomorrow for tales of UNICEF boxes and more Starbucks hilarity.
Cheers,
Patsy
So friends, I have some good news to report. Two days ago, I got a call and two emails for more interviews! One was for a company called goodtoknow.co.uk, a women's lifestyle website similar to the one at Yahoo. The other is for a web editor with UNICEF and the last is an editorial assistant with BBC.
I had my interview with goodtoknow today and I think it went alright. Before I began this interview marathon, I used to think I actually sort of enjoyed the whole process. But after the sixth rejection, and the constant chipping away at my self-confidence, I'm beginning to loathe them and I've come to believe I'm doing something catastrophically stupid during these meetings.
'So what to you do in your spare time?'
'Umm well, I enjoy hanging around playgrounds and selling drugs and guns to young children, killing small woodland creatures with my bare hands, writing erotic novellas. And crying. I cry a lot.'
Maybe I have terrible BO or like a piece of spinach perpetually stuck in my teeth. Do I have halitosis? Goddamn if it's halitosis, I'm gonna be SO pissed.
Anyway I think the interview today went alright. It was with a woman from HR and it was short and sweet. It was in this crazy ass building, the kind that requires you to have a security badge just to get in the elevators (of which there were about 50). So IF I get called back, there will be two more interviews. I don't get why this process needs to be SO long. Like I get two, but anything more than that seems excessive - especially for these kinds of jobs. I once had four interviews for a job I was applying to internally at Yahoo. FOUR INTERVIEWS? Like, I wasn't applying to be CEO (I'm highly overqualified anyway) so I don't see the need for such intense professional scrutiny. If I ran a company, it would be one interview and it would be like an hour long (none of this 15 minute nonsense). And there'd be wine. And snacks. And 'business casual' meant you could wear sweatpants.
The point is, you can tell a lot about someone in an hour but not much more in four (non-consecutive) hours. At least, that's my humble opinion.
Tomorrow I have an interview with UNICEF and I swear to god the only reason I got the interview is because I brought up Halloween UNICEF boxes in my application. Apparently it cost them more money to produce the boxes than children were collecting in change. Probably won't mention that thought.
BBC should be sweet but I'm scared shitless and I can tell if any of these interviews are going to be bureaucratic nightmares, it's gonna be this one. Anyway it'd be sweet to work there so fingers crossed and all that stuff.
Otherwise, I'm settling into Angel and loving it more and more every day. Franca and I went to this Afghan restaurant last night with Madeliene which was delicious and a new experience as I've never had Afghan cuisine before. Other than that, I've been kind of lame. I've been at probably 70% of the Starbucks in this city and I won't lie, they're driving me insane.
Here's a cute story to brighten your day:
I get into Starbucks at around 9 am, sit down and wait for the yummy mummy parade to commence. At about 9:30, 400 strollers, screaming babies, hyperactive toddlers and stay-at-home moms barrel in to the bucks and just take over. Crayons are flying, baby barf is spewing, discussions relating to breast milk are rampant. I'm sitting in the middle of this trying to restrain myself from hulk-smashing my chair over the heads of these little demon children. Right before a vein in my forehead nearly explodes, a mom comes over and drops this (delicious-looking) chocolate muffin in front of this spastic 3-year-old named Spencer. He literally licks his lips and rubs his hands together right before his mom yells, "Spencer, I want you to eat that slowly. We are in NO rush. Now take proper bites. Do you understand?' Spencer nods frantically waiting for his mom to get the hell out of the way of that muffin. I thought she was being slightly controlling until I saw what happened next. This kid picks up the muffin and shoves the entire thing right into his face. He makes some nom nom nom sound while smushing the whole thing all over his mouth. He then removes the remaining muffin to reveal residual chocolate gooey crumby-ness caked onto his face. I just burst out laughing.
I felt bad but like, that shit is hilarious. Also, it makes me never want children.
Alright I hope that put a smile on your face. I don't have much else to report so that'll be all for today. Tune in tomorrow for tales of UNICEF boxes and more Starbucks hilarity.
Cheers,
Patsy
Monday, February 15, 2010
Back to the Quad
Alright it seems like I start off every blog post on the same note, but again, I'm sorry I haven't written and I have a lot of news to report. Some good, some bad. And some hilariously bad.
Let's start with the bad. I didn't get the Justigiving job, which was a big kick in the pants (not to mention a big F-U to my self-confidence). Anyway, compounded with that utter blow was the fact that I found out about half an hour before another interview I had with Haymarket. I felt pretty defeated when I went in there but I gave it my best and guess what?
I didn't get that job either!
Haha you thought I got it, didn't you? Well jokes on you because I'm STILL unemployed. In fact, they were so kind, they let me know just three short hours after my interview that they had selected someone else. I thought that was kind of nice, you know? It's like going on a date and having the guy call you right away to say: 'You're fat and have a terrible sense of humour. It will never work out. Good luck with all your future romantic endeavors."
So it's back to square one. It's alright though, I will persevere. I've been through worse in my life. Last time I was unemployed it lasted five months and I nearly drove everyone I love and care about to the brink of insanity, so thank god I don't live on the same continent as them anymore! I got up at 7 am this morning and was back at Starbucks like a champ trying to sell myself to whomever would have me. I've already had two calls for freelance gigs so I might be doing piecemeal work for a while. I gotta do it though cause those bills aren't gonna pay themselves (they should learn to though, lazy ass bills).
OK so the good and hilariously bad news is sort of a package deal, so here goes: we moved into our flat! But don't go thinking it was a walk in the park, because I have learned that in London, nothing is ever easy (I think that should be their city motto). On Friday, Franca's payment came through in the nick of time at 4:45pm, thus allowing us to move in officially on Saturday. Franca talked to the Elfin (Saylan) and he said: 'Come in tomorrow at 11 am with the rest of your money and you can sign the contract and I'll give you your keys.' Apparently, when you decode that message it means: 'The night before we're scheduled to meet, I'm going to go out with all my British elfin brethren, get annihilated (and probably climb trees, chant and eat toadstools) and forget to show up to the office.' We arrive at 11 am after withdrawing literally all the money we had and were beyond excited to move into our new home. We walk in and say we're here to see Saylan and the blond at reception tells us he isn't in yet.
I can feel my blood beginning to boil.
She says his associate, Steve, will help us.
Steve looks like he just left prison and was most definitely someone's bitch. We explain that we have money, need to sign some papers and get our keys. He says he can help us. He goes to look for the keys.
He can't find them.
So he calls Saylan. No answer. Calls again. No answer. Finally after the fifth ring, Saylan answers and mutters, 'uhhhhh...ello?' Steve informs him his 'girls' are here and they want to move into their flat. Where are the keys?
They're on the hook in the back.
No, they aren't.
Shit.
So not only has Saylan failed to show up, he's also failed to prepare a set of keys for us. So now this Steve guy is calling landlords and contractors and care takers and maintenance guys and it's all a big mess. Meanwhile Franca's godfather, who thought this would be an in and out procedure, is waiting outside for about an hour and a half on his Saturday off. Franca and I then have to go to the block where our flat is and buzz all these random people to try and find the key. Everyone who would have the key is away for the weekend. It is now 2:30pm. Steve calls Franca. Saylan is on his way. Oh yay! The hungover dirtbag filled with lies and empty promises is going to come save the day! He eventually shows up and starts trying to call and buzz the same people we were trying to get in contact with. We informed him we've already tried all his brilliant ideas, to no avail. Then Franca's Godfather gets real with him - I mean REAL. Literally starred him down and said: 'What are you going to do about this?' Saylan sheepishly mumbled something about a hotel room for two nights and the godfather replies: 'No, you are going to fix this. Get a locksmith and get the locks changed.' 'But I don't have any money?' 'Use the company credit card.' 'We don't have one.' 'Use your credit card.' 'I don't have one.' Silence. 'I don't really care how you do it, just figure it out.' Silence.
Then I piped up and said you do actually have money: we dropped about 1200 quid in cash at the office two hours ago. So Saylan calls the office, then the locksmith and a 3 o'clock we have a new lock and access to our apartment FINALLY. And guess what? It hadn't been cleaned! Literally the ONLY two things this douchebag had to do were: 1) Get keys 2) Get the place cleaned. So he had to call cleaners in at 4 pm on a Saturday and we had to leave our flat while it was being cleaned. WHAT a toolbox.
He is the most incompetent, full-of-shit asshole I've ever had the displeasure of meeting. So today, I called his boss and gave him hell. I told him Saylan is an embarrassment and that it makes his whole agency look like it's run by a punch of amateur clowns. I told him I will never ever go through his agency again and I will advise anyone I know who is looking for property not to go through Hot Black Desiato (that's actually what it's called). I'm trying to get a TV or a microwave out of this ordeal.
The best part is that when I called the office to speak to his boss today, guess who answered? That's right, Saylan. So he got to his boss before I had a chance to and by the time I told him my version of events, he said 'Well, that's not what Saylan said.' I feel like he's more inclined to believe me though, so we'll see what happens. He's supposed to call me back within the hour.
Despite the nightmare of moving in, the flat is really great. I'm happy not to be living out of a suitcase and residing in a home with a shower. (Just a bath. For the last two weeks. I don't want to talk about it.) The place is comically small and has zero storage so we're going to have to be TRES creative with space-saving measures, shelving, etc. Franca's godfather stocked us up with some sweet stuff from Primark (like H&M with a home section) so we got our bedding and towels and stuff which was nice. And like I promised, Franca and I celebrated Valentine's Day with Thai food (from a vegetarian place and I won't lie, it was gross), wine, sweatpants and movies! It was actually really nice, we walked around Angel, Essex and Islington and bought some kitchen stuff for our home and I love the area. Lots of great markets, antique shops, cute little restaurants and archaic pubs. I'm so excited to soak up this area as much as I can!
The actual area our house is in is really cool too. It's an ex-council house, which means it used to be government housing but developers have purchased and renovated it and now rent it out as legit properties. The place we're in is a collection of four buildings called Bingham Court (What up, Pammy?) We're in Chadston House, there's also Barton House and Winston House and some other house, and we're on the bottom floor. In the middle is a big quad and the place is fully gated - so it's like it's own little community, which is fun. There are so many young people and so many ex-pats, I can tell we're going to make lots of friends. We met a strange girl named Olivia last night who'd definitely seen a crack rock or two in her day. Anyway she was visiting our neighbour Eric who was very nice, in his early 30s and owns a bunch of Mexican restaurants around London. We had some ciggies and a Valentine's drink with them and they seemed cool. I'm looking forward to some good times in the quad at Bingham Court!
So tonight I am going out with a friend of Alistair's to a great little pub called The Angelic that Franca and I both love so that should be fun! On Friday, I'm going to a club called Fabric which is supposed to be a crazy good time so I'm sure I'll have an interesting blog post next weekend.
Alright well I should get back to the job hunt. I love and miss you all and hope you're enjoying your family day. Even you little cheaters that don't have families!
Cheers,
Patsy
Let's start with the bad. I didn't get the Justigiving job, which was a big kick in the pants (not to mention a big F-U to my self-confidence). Anyway, compounded with that utter blow was the fact that I found out about half an hour before another interview I had with Haymarket. I felt pretty defeated when I went in there but I gave it my best and guess what?
I didn't get that job either!
Haha you thought I got it, didn't you? Well jokes on you because I'm STILL unemployed. In fact, they were so kind, they let me know just three short hours after my interview that they had selected someone else. I thought that was kind of nice, you know? It's like going on a date and having the guy call you right away to say: 'You're fat and have a terrible sense of humour. It will never work out. Good luck with all your future romantic endeavors."
So it's back to square one. It's alright though, I will persevere. I've been through worse in my life. Last time I was unemployed it lasted five months and I nearly drove everyone I love and care about to the brink of insanity, so thank god I don't live on the same continent as them anymore! I got up at 7 am this morning and was back at Starbucks like a champ trying to sell myself to whomever would have me. I've already had two calls for freelance gigs so I might be doing piecemeal work for a while. I gotta do it though cause those bills aren't gonna pay themselves (they should learn to though, lazy ass bills).
OK so the good and hilariously bad news is sort of a package deal, so here goes: we moved into our flat! But don't go thinking it was a walk in the park, because I have learned that in London, nothing is ever easy (I think that should be their city motto). On Friday, Franca's payment came through in the nick of time at 4:45pm, thus allowing us to move in officially on Saturday. Franca talked to the Elfin (Saylan) and he said: 'Come in tomorrow at 11 am with the rest of your money and you can sign the contract and I'll give you your keys.' Apparently, when you decode that message it means: 'The night before we're scheduled to meet, I'm going to go out with all my British elfin brethren, get annihilated (and probably climb trees, chant and eat toadstools) and forget to show up to the office.' We arrive at 11 am after withdrawing literally all the money we had and were beyond excited to move into our new home. We walk in and say we're here to see Saylan and the blond at reception tells us he isn't in yet.
I can feel my blood beginning to boil.
She says his associate, Steve, will help us.
Steve looks like he just left prison and was most definitely someone's bitch. We explain that we have money, need to sign some papers and get our keys. He says he can help us. He goes to look for the keys.
He can't find them.
So he calls Saylan. No answer. Calls again. No answer. Finally after the fifth ring, Saylan answers and mutters, 'uhhhhh...ello?' Steve informs him his 'girls' are here and they want to move into their flat. Where are the keys?
They're on the hook in the back.
No, they aren't.
Shit.
So not only has Saylan failed to show up, he's also failed to prepare a set of keys for us. So now this Steve guy is calling landlords and contractors and care takers and maintenance guys and it's all a big mess. Meanwhile Franca's godfather, who thought this would be an in and out procedure, is waiting outside for about an hour and a half on his Saturday off. Franca and I then have to go to the block where our flat is and buzz all these random people to try and find the key. Everyone who would have the key is away for the weekend. It is now 2:30pm. Steve calls Franca. Saylan is on his way. Oh yay! The hungover dirtbag filled with lies and empty promises is going to come save the day! He eventually shows up and starts trying to call and buzz the same people we were trying to get in contact with. We informed him we've already tried all his brilliant ideas, to no avail. Then Franca's Godfather gets real with him - I mean REAL. Literally starred him down and said: 'What are you going to do about this?' Saylan sheepishly mumbled something about a hotel room for two nights and the godfather replies: 'No, you are going to fix this. Get a locksmith and get the locks changed.' 'But I don't have any money?' 'Use the company credit card.' 'We don't have one.' 'Use your credit card.' 'I don't have one.' Silence. 'I don't really care how you do it, just figure it out.' Silence.
Then I piped up and said you do actually have money: we dropped about 1200 quid in cash at the office two hours ago. So Saylan calls the office, then the locksmith and a 3 o'clock we have a new lock and access to our apartment FINALLY. And guess what? It hadn't been cleaned! Literally the ONLY two things this douchebag had to do were: 1) Get keys 2) Get the place cleaned. So he had to call cleaners in at 4 pm on a Saturday and we had to leave our flat while it was being cleaned. WHAT a toolbox.
He is the most incompetent, full-of-shit asshole I've ever had the displeasure of meeting. So today, I called his boss and gave him hell. I told him Saylan is an embarrassment and that it makes his whole agency look like it's run by a punch of amateur clowns. I told him I will never ever go through his agency again and I will advise anyone I know who is looking for property not to go through Hot Black Desiato (that's actually what it's called). I'm trying to get a TV or a microwave out of this ordeal.
The best part is that when I called the office to speak to his boss today, guess who answered? That's right, Saylan. So he got to his boss before I had a chance to and by the time I told him my version of events, he said 'Well, that's not what Saylan said.' I feel like he's more inclined to believe me though, so we'll see what happens. He's supposed to call me back within the hour.
Despite the nightmare of moving in, the flat is really great. I'm happy not to be living out of a suitcase and residing in a home with a shower. (Just a bath. For the last two weeks. I don't want to talk about it.) The place is comically small and has zero storage so we're going to have to be TRES creative with space-saving measures, shelving, etc. Franca's godfather stocked us up with some sweet stuff from Primark (like H&M with a home section) so we got our bedding and towels and stuff which was nice. And like I promised, Franca and I celebrated Valentine's Day with Thai food (from a vegetarian place and I won't lie, it was gross), wine, sweatpants and movies! It was actually really nice, we walked around Angel, Essex and Islington and bought some kitchen stuff for our home and I love the area. Lots of great markets, antique shops, cute little restaurants and archaic pubs. I'm so excited to soak up this area as much as I can!
The actual area our house is in is really cool too. It's an ex-council house, which means it used to be government housing but developers have purchased and renovated it and now rent it out as legit properties. The place we're in is a collection of four buildings called Bingham Court (What up, Pammy?) We're in Chadston House, there's also Barton House and Winston House and some other house, and we're on the bottom floor. In the middle is a big quad and the place is fully gated - so it's like it's own little community, which is fun. There are so many young people and so many ex-pats, I can tell we're going to make lots of friends. We met a strange girl named Olivia last night who'd definitely seen a crack rock or two in her day. Anyway she was visiting our neighbour Eric who was very nice, in his early 30s and owns a bunch of Mexican restaurants around London. We had some ciggies and a Valentine's drink with them and they seemed cool. I'm looking forward to some good times in the quad at Bingham Court!
So tonight I am going out with a friend of Alistair's to a great little pub called The Angelic that Franca and I both love so that should be fun! On Friday, I'm going to a club called Fabric which is supposed to be a crazy good time so I'm sure I'll have an interesting blog post next weekend.
Alright well I should get back to the job hunt. I love and miss you all and hope you're enjoying your family day. Even you little cheaters that don't have families!
Cheers,
Patsy
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Hurry up and wait
Alright so it's Thursday. Apparently when a potential employer says they'll get back to you early next week it could mean:
a) they'll get back to you Monday or Tuesday
b) they'll get back to you sometime in 2012
c) they'll get back to you before you cross over into the afterlife
I called them on Wednesday and they told me I would know by the end of the week and my brain nearly combusted inside my skull. WHAT DOES THE END OF THE WEEK MEAN? Friday? Sunday? After the second coming of Christ? A girl can only wait SO long.
So anyway I have another interview on Friday with Haymarket for an online editor position. The pay is peanuts but it's a pretty big brand so it would be good to have on the ol' CV. You know what will be nice? When I'm hired based on my ability and skill and not on the names of the companies I worked for. One can only dream.
So enough whining about jobs. Let's whine about flats! Actually I can't really whine. We're 99.9% certain we're getting our place which is great. I got in quite a little scuffle on the phone with our real estate agent, Saylan (what the hell kind of name is that? Sounds like some elfin video game character or something). He got rather fresh me with yesterday when I asked him to follow up on our applications. Oh I'm sorry, was I asking you to do your job? How thoughtless of me. A thousand apologizes.
Douchebag.
Anyway after I wrote him a rather sternly worded email, he apologized and now were back on track. The plan was to move in Saturday but both Franca and I are having to wire funds from the big white north so it could take a while and the move in date might now be Monday. But fingers crossed that I can be drunk and depressed eating Thai food in my sweatpants in my OWN home on Valentine's Day this year. I'd hate to have to pass out drunk in a someone else's home on the most romantic day of the year (sorry, most commercialized day of the year).
Speaking of drunk, I've been trying to take it easy on the drinking. For the first three weeks that I was in London, I consumed alcohol every single day and coincidentally, all my pants shrunk in the wash. Weird how that happens. Also the staple foods in the UK are fries (called chips. Crisps are potato chips. These Brits are so goddamn wacky) and pies filled with gravy and pieces of what I'm assuming is meant to be meat. Needless to say, my stomach is in a constant battle with me to feed it something green and to wash it down with something that hasn't fermented.
Well, I'll show him who's boss!
I haven't really been out and about in London a lot lately, though I went to grab a drink with D Milano yesterday in Oxford Circus. Other than that I've been trying not to spend too much money. Guess that doesn't make for a very exciting blog post. Well I can't be doing awesome things EVERY day OK? If you want me to update frequently, be prepared for some boring posts about the different ways I fold my socks (sometimes into balls, sometimes just the top parts, but I NEVER put mismatched socks together. It's sacrilege). Anyway as soon as we move into our place and I hopefully get a job I'll have lots of exciting things to write about. Until then, Patsy's going to be kind of lame.
Alright I'll write back soon when I have any updates (and interesting things to talk about). Love and miss you all!
Cheers,
Patsy
a) they'll get back to you Monday or Tuesday
b) they'll get back to you sometime in 2012
c) they'll get back to you before you cross over into the afterlife
I called them on Wednesday and they told me I would know by the end of the week and my brain nearly combusted inside my skull. WHAT DOES THE END OF THE WEEK MEAN? Friday? Sunday? After the second coming of Christ? A girl can only wait SO long.
So anyway I have another interview on Friday with Haymarket for an online editor position. The pay is peanuts but it's a pretty big brand so it would be good to have on the ol' CV. You know what will be nice? When I'm hired based on my ability and skill and not on the names of the companies I worked for. One can only dream.
So enough whining about jobs. Let's whine about flats! Actually I can't really whine. We're 99.9% certain we're getting our place which is great. I got in quite a little scuffle on the phone with our real estate agent, Saylan (what the hell kind of name is that? Sounds like some elfin video game character or something). He got rather fresh me with yesterday when I asked him to follow up on our applications. Oh I'm sorry, was I asking you to do your job? How thoughtless of me. A thousand apologizes.
Douchebag.
Anyway after I wrote him a rather sternly worded email, he apologized and now were back on track. The plan was to move in Saturday but both Franca and I are having to wire funds from the big white north so it could take a while and the move in date might now be Monday. But fingers crossed that I can be drunk and depressed eating Thai food in my sweatpants in my OWN home on Valentine's Day this year. I'd hate to have to pass out drunk in a someone else's home on the most romantic day of the year (sorry, most commercialized day of the year).
Speaking of drunk, I've been trying to take it easy on the drinking. For the first three weeks that I was in London, I consumed alcohol every single day and coincidentally, all my pants shrunk in the wash. Weird how that happens. Also the staple foods in the UK are fries (called chips. Crisps are potato chips. These Brits are so goddamn wacky) and pies filled with gravy and pieces of what I'm assuming is meant to be meat. Needless to say, my stomach is in a constant battle with me to feed it something green and to wash it down with something that hasn't fermented.
Well, I'll show him who's boss!
I haven't really been out and about in London a lot lately, though I went to grab a drink with D Milano yesterday in Oxford Circus. Other than that I've been trying not to spend too much money. Guess that doesn't make for a very exciting blog post. Well I can't be doing awesome things EVERY day OK? If you want me to update frequently, be prepared for some boring posts about the different ways I fold my socks (sometimes into balls, sometimes just the top parts, but I NEVER put mismatched socks together. It's sacrilege). Anyway as soon as we move into our place and I hopefully get a job I'll have lots of exciting things to write about. Until then, Patsy's going to be kind of lame.
Alright I'll write back soon when I have any updates (and interesting things to talk about). Love and miss you all!
Cheers,
Patsy
Sunday, February 7, 2010
An Ode to Londontown
Brick Lane Pizza - where hipsters go to die.“By seeing London, I have seen as much of life as the world can show” - Samuel Johnson
Sing it, Sammy! I feel like a lot of my posts lately have been about mundane stuff like rental agreements and recruiter interviews. This post I will dedicate to why this city is so f-ing fantastic.
Saturday night I went out to dinner with a friend of Jess's to an area called Brick Lane which I am now obsessed with. It's full of great street food, amazing fruit and veg and antique markets on during the week - including a fresh cut flower market! It's a reconstructed manufacturing area that has now become a hot spot for night clubs and the like. It has a great mix of ethnic cultures and as a result GREAT ethnic food (lots of Bangladeshi people here so great curry!). Brick Lane is also a hot spot for fashion and design students so it's full of trendy looking folk. It's also home to some of the best graffiti in London, featuring the works of Banksy. Oh, and The Killers filmed a music video there.
Anyway the place we went for dinner, Brick Lane Pizza was awesome. The place is very rustic and new age in design. The decor is kind of what makes the place - the tables come in all shapes and sizes of re-purposed wood planks, the seats are renovated cardboard boxes, they have candles and antique leather chairs everywhere. In the back they just have a collection of real cool old school nic-nacs, mirrors, wooden beams strewn about. It felt like a bigger, more impressive version of Oddfellows in Toronto.
Anyway. it only serves pizza and wine (what more could you want) and your super-thin crust pizza (I had chorizo and pumpkin and it was amazing) is served on these wooden planks. The place was packed and dimly lit and would make a great date locale. Dinner and conversation was great - despite the fact that I got lost on the way there and was an hour late. Oops. Stupid London Transit. One minute I think I have you all figured out and the next minute you go and break my heart (and force me to take a bus. You know I feel about buses).
Friday night was also a ton of fun but much more drunken. Met up with another one of Jess' friends (who lives five minute away from our [hopefully] new flat) and a group of her friends at a bar called B@1 near Picadilly Circus. They had two-for-one drinks AGAIN (sorry Dad, when I said I wanted to move to London for cultural development and personal exploration I actually just meant 'two-for-one drinks'.) Anyway I had way too many long island ice teas before we moved to Ping Pong for dinner which served the most AMAZING dim sum. We hit up another bar and and then another (I can't remember the name of either of them) and then things get a little hazy but I do remember having amazing conversations and loving how thriving and lively this city is (read: loud and crowded). But whatever, I knew what I was getting into when I signed up so I can't really complain.
Yesterday my cousin Iain and I went on a long ass walk down the Thames and pub hopped. We stopped in the Bull's Head which is the gorgeous old pub with tons of old bottles and tiny little rooms to sit in and drink a pint. It was beautiful out and then all of a sudden it started to pour! I ended up going to Franca's Godfather's place for dinner earlier then expected to escape the torrential rain. We had dinner and wine and it was a most enjoyable way to spend a Sunday night.
Today I helped Franca go shopping for appropriate work attire (those patent leather booty shorts just won't do! Haha. She's going to be mad I wrote that.) This afternoon I had an interview with a recruiter which went well so we'll see if anything comes of that. And you'll NEVER guess where I am sitting right now. Not a Starbucks in fact, but some place south of the river in Parsons Green called Le Pain Quotidien. They're playing Beethoven and I am wearing a scarf and drinking a latte and I feel like a total poser douchebag.
Ah London, it really does change a person.
Alright friends I will keep you abreast (hehe) of any updates. I love and miss you all and glad that you're still reading.
Cheers,
Patsy xoxo
Friday, February 5, 2010
Don't jinx it!
Alright, fuck, sorry I have been so abysmal at keeping up the blog this week. I feel like I've neglected my baby and now all my friends are messaging me, being like,' why did you leave your baby behind that dumpster?' We want to see your baby!' So here she is, fresh outta the back alley!
Shit has been crazy this week and I haven't had a moment to breathe (or good wireless connection) so this will have to be a mega catch up blog.
So holy shit, I hate Spencer's Property Estate Agency and all the douchebag cocksuckers that are employed there (excuse my French - but they really are shit heads). Yesterday after Jamie the dill hole had been avoiding my calls and emails, we got real on his ass (actually, we had Franca's godfather give him a stern talking to). Turns out Jamie has no spine (and even fewer brain cells. I know it doesn't make sense. That's how stupid he is) and wouldn't tell us that our stupid landlord didn't like the fact that Franca and I aren't employed (even though Franca has a job at Goldman fucking Sachs, so put that in your pipe and smoke it). Anyway even though we had provided him with UK guarantors (which is totally acceptable and the way most ex-pats get leases here) the landlord wasn't having it. So yesterday, after five hours of waiting to figure out what was going on, jerkface Jamie calls Franca's godfather to say that the landlord was pulling out of the deal. He didn't even call Franca or email her to tell her!
COCKSUCKER!
Anyway we were both sad but determined not to lose steam. Today after my interview (more on that later) I met up with Francs in Islington (great area right near Angel) to see another place. I fell in love with it right away - it's a lot smaller but everything is brand new - kitchen, bathroom, wood floors. One bedroom is smaller but I actually really dig little spaces (it's literally a room with a double bed and about a foot of space on one side - but the windowsills are really big so you can stack a bunch of stuff up there) so I'm happy as a clam and going to take it! It's also the same price as the last place so it's a steal of a deal in this area. We put our deposit down and we are going to finish the paperwork this weekend so HOPEFULLY this agency guy doesn't screw us over. But he was cute, and cute boys never break your heart. Wait a minute, that can't be right...
So the flat situation (pending any unforeseen disasters) is taken care of which is a huge weight off our shoulders. I am sick of living out of a suitcase and feeling like a perpetual guest. Living at Ian's (my second cousin, who knew I even had one) has been nice. I have a key and can come and go as I please. I usually spend all day at Starbucks on my computer (I literally cannot believe I am one of those people. I am actually writing this right now at a Starbucks in Angel. Who have I become?) hacking away and applying for jobs or going to interviews or meeting up with Franca to plot ways to kill Jamie. No, just kidding. I do that in my own time.
Can I write that? I hope I don't get sued.
Anyway so the job interview. I had a fantastic interview today (DON'T JINK IT!). I'm really scared of getting too excited for anything and jinxing it since I've been let down so frequently about jobs and flats this past week but I'll tell you about it anyway because I haven't been this excited about a job for a long time.
So the company is called Justgiving.com and it's one of the biggest charity communities in the world. I would describe it as a LinkedIn for charities but it's more than that - they provide data, networking platforms, researching tools, etc. to charities big and small, fundraisers and individuals. They have a really fun culture and a really great brand and I would essentially be taking over communications for their charities section (if I got the job). I had a 45 minute phone interview with the managing director on Tuesday, she liked me so she called me in to their office today and it just felt right. I've only felt that way about a job twice in my life - once at Pigsback and once at Yahoo! I haven't felt that way about any of the jobs I've interviewed for since I've been here - they felt like things I had to do to pay rent but this feels like something I want to do.
Anyway my first assignment when I got in was to write down four of my most important values in a crest with pencil crayons and then write out my life motto. Fun, right? For values I wrote Friendship, Family, Learning and Exploring (sexually, WHAT! No, I didn't write that.) My motto was an Emile Zola quote that goes: 'The artist is nothing without the gift, but the gift is nothing without work.'
Deep, huh?
I also had to do an assessment of their website and write a paragraph describing why charities should join their site and they seemed to like that stuff too. So I think they liked me (DON'T JINX IT!). I really want this job and I f-ing hope I get it. Both the people that interviewed me (one was the managing director) seemed warm and responded well to me so I have to wait until early next week to see what they say. So wish me luck!
Other than that, not too much to report. I am going out with a bunch of Jess' friends this weekend - Jenny Creed tonight and Kate Cherry tomorrow. I'm excited to be expanding my social circle and meeting new people all alone - it's something I would have been terrified to do in Toronto (WHO ARE YOU? YOUR UNFAMILIAR FACE FRIGHTENS ME! AHHH).
But I will update more frequently and I will never put my baby in the dumpster again. I promise I will give you all a debrief on Sunday about how the weekend went. I miss you all terribly.
Cheers,
Patsy
xoxo
Shit has been crazy this week and I haven't had a moment to breathe (or good wireless connection) so this will have to be a mega catch up blog.
So holy shit, I hate Spencer's Property Estate Agency and all the douchebag cocksuckers that are employed there (excuse my French - but they really are shit heads). Yesterday after Jamie the dill hole had been avoiding my calls and emails, we got real on his ass (actually, we had Franca's godfather give him a stern talking to). Turns out Jamie has no spine (and even fewer brain cells. I know it doesn't make sense. That's how stupid he is) and wouldn't tell us that our stupid landlord didn't like the fact that Franca and I aren't employed (even though Franca has a job at Goldman fucking Sachs, so put that in your pipe and smoke it). Anyway even though we had provided him with UK guarantors (which is totally acceptable and the way most ex-pats get leases here) the landlord wasn't having it. So yesterday, after five hours of waiting to figure out what was going on, jerkface Jamie calls Franca's godfather to say that the landlord was pulling out of the deal. He didn't even call Franca or email her to tell her!
COCKSUCKER!
Anyway we were both sad but determined not to lose steam. Today after my interview (more on that later) I met up with Francs in Islington (great area right near Angel) to see another place. I fell in love with it right away - it's a lot smaller but everything is brand new - kitchen, bathroom, wood floors. One bedroom is smaller but I actually really dig little spaces (it's literally a room with a double bed and about a foot of space on one side - but the windowsills are really big so you can stack a bunch of stuff up there) so I'm happy as a clam and going to take it! It's also the same price as the last place so it's a steal of a deal in this area. We put our deposit down and we are going to finish the paperwork this weekend so HOPEFULLY this agency guy doesn't screw us over. But he was cute, and cute boys never break your heart. Wait a minute, that can't be right...
So the flat situation (pending any unforeseen disasters) is taken care of which is a huge weight off our shoulders. I am sick of living out of a suitcase and feeling like a perpetual guest. Living at Ian's (my second cousin, who knew I even had one) has been nice. I have a key and can come and go as I please. I usually spend all day at Starbucks on my computer (I literally cannot believe I am one of those people. I am actually writing this right now at a Starbucks in Angel. Who have I become?) hacking away and applying for jobs or going to interviews or meeting up with Franca to plot ways to kill Jamie. No, just kidding. I do that in my own time.
Can I write that? I hope I don't get sued.
Anyway so the job interview. I had a fantastic interview today (DON'T JINK IT!). I'm really scared of getting too excited for anything and jinxing it since I've been let down so frequently about jobs and flats this past week but I'll tell you about it anyway because I haven't been this excited about a job for a long time.
So the company is called Justgiving.com and it's one of the biggest charity communities in the world. I would describe it as a LinkedIn for charities but it's more than that - they provide data, networking platforms, researching tools, etc. to charities big and small, fundraisers and individuals. They have a really fun culture and a really great brand and I would essentially be taking over communications for their charities section (if I got the job). I had a 45 minute phone interview with the managing director on Tuesday, she liked me so she called me in to their office today and it just felt right. I've only felt that way about a job twice in my life - once at Pigsback and once at Yahoo! I haven't felt that way about any of the jobs I've interviewed for since I've been here - they felt like things I had to do to pay rent but this feels like something I want to do.
Anyway my first assignment when I got in was to write down four of my most important values in a crest with pencil crayons and then write out my life motto. Fun, right? For values I wrote Friendship, Family, Learning and Exploring (sexually, WHAT! No, I didn't write that.) My motto was an Emile Zola quote that goes: 'The artist is nothing without the gift, but the gift is nothing without work.'
Deep, huh?
I also had to do an assessment of their website and write a paragraph describing why charities should join their site and they seemed to like that stuff too. So I think they liked me (DON'T JINX IT!). I really want this job and I f-ing hope I get it. Both the people that interviewed me (one was the managing director) seemed warm and responded well to me so I have to wait until early next week to see what they say. So wish me luck!
Other than that, not too much to report. I am going out with a bunch of Jess' friends this weekend - Jenny Creed tonight and Kate Cherry tomorrow. I'm excited to be expanding my social circle and meeting new people all alone - it's something I would have been terrified to do in Toronto (WHO ARE YOU? YOUR UNFAMILIAR FACE FRIGHTENS ME! AHHH).
But I will update more frequently and I will never put my baby in the dumpster again. I promise I will give you all a debrief on Sunday about how the weekend went. I miss you all terribly.
Cheers,
Patsy
xoxo
Monday, February 1, 2010
Just call me angel in the morning
Lots to tell you about. Had a great weekend. Still no job but I've come to discover making a living is highly overrated.
So friends - I have a home! I went to check out the flat with Franca on Saturday morning and it is PERFECT! It's a renovated Victorian house that's been divided into apartments. We're on the third floor of a three story building and our place is great: lots of space, new carpet, modern bathroom, brand new beds and wardrobe. The kitchen is a little old but the floors are being redone and that's about the only thing that's wrong with it. One bedroom is slightly bigger than the other, but both are a decent size. The area is a perfect - a 10 minute walk from the tube, a 5 minute walk to great shops, bars and restaurants. We also got the place at a steal (which is still crazy expensive, but hey, it's London so it's to be expected). Anyway we move in on February 12th and I could not be more excited! The one thing that has sucked since I've been here is feeling homeless/moochy/like a bag lady and I'm glad I'll finally have a bed, kitchen, bathroom to call my own!
Saturday we also had our first real night out on the Londontown and boy, was it a doozy. I can tell I'm going to get into a lot of trouble in this city, but let's be honest, that's why I moved here in the first place. Franca and I went to All Bar One for dinner Saturday night and man, was it a show. The food was good (and cheap) but some of the skankiest, grossest girls patronized this place and it was unpleasant. They had on short disco-ball glittery dresses, tits up to their chin, several thick layers of stage makeup and Snooki-style hair. They flocked to this place like locusts and it's clear this is a place to see and be seen in the city.
Anyway on our way to a friend's birthday party, Franca saw a beautiful photo op against some hanging lights (my camera died, she has all the pics which I will post when I get a chance) and asked some boys outside a bar to take a picture. We ended up chatting up these four boys from Switzerland, who worked at Deloitte (E, your brethren are all over the world) and they were cute and quite chatty. They invited us into the bar for a drink so we obliged and asked for a glass of white wine.
They returned saying they were out of wine and instead dropped an icy, sweating bottle of Veuve Clicquot on the table.
I think my response was, 'Are you fucking kidding me?'
We ended up drinking with the boys for a while before dragging them to our friend's birthday party.
Unfortunately for us, we didn't realize the party was at a gay bar and the boys seemed extremely uncomfortable. The greatest moment was when one of them returned from the bathroom with a look of horror on his face. He said he'd just had his nipples tweeked by a gay man in the loo. He literally would not stop talking about it the whole night and Franca quite aptly deduced that he was probably a closet case. It's a shame though because he looked like a young Ralph Fiennes. The rest of his friends (minus one, poor guy) were also quite attractive.
The other great thing was that they all spoke French - not horrible grating Canadian French but beautiful, lilting buttery Parisian French and I never though I would find it attractive but I did (might have been the champagne). Anyway we left the party and headed to a club called Pasha in Victoria. We got there at about 1 am to stand in line and we were informed it would be £20 ($40) to get in. Franca and I both decided now would be a perfect time to graciously exit as neither of us had jobs and we had recently acquired a flat that would rob of us any money we did end up making in the future.
One of the things that sucks about London is that pubs close at about 12 pm and the only thing opened later are clubs that cost an arm and leg to get into. Now that we have a flat, we'll have to carry on the party at our place after the pubs close.
After some crazy plan switching, I will now be staying at my second cousin's house, which is a 15 minute walk from Franca's place, until we move into our flat. I should sign off so I can get some more job hunting done, but I will keep you abreast of new developments.
Hope you all had a great weekend.
Cheers,
Patsy xo
So friends - I have a home! I went to check out the flat with Franca on Saturday morning and it is PERFECT! It's a renovated Victorian house that's been divided into apartments. We're on the third floor of a three story building and our place is great: lots of space, new carpet, modern bathroom, brand new beds and wardrobe. The kitchen is a little old but the floors are being redone and that's about the only thing that's wrong with it. One bedroom is slightly bigger than the other, but both are a decent size. The area is a perfect - a 10 minute walk from the tube, a 5 minute walk to great shops, bars and restaurants. We also got the place at a steal (which is still crazy expensive, but hey, it's London so it's to be expected). Anyway we move in on February 12th and I could not be more excited! The one thing that has sucked since I've been here is feeling homeless/moochy/like a bag lady and I'm glad I'll finally have a bed, kitchen, bathroom to call my own!
Saturday we also had our first real night out on the Londontown and boy, was it a doozy. I can tell I'm going to get into a lot of trouble in this city, but let's be honest, that's why I moved here in the first place. Franca and I went to All Bar One for dinner Saturday night and man, was it a show. The food was good (and cheap) but some of the skankiest, grossest girls patronized this place and it was unpleasant. They had on short disco-ball glittery dresses, tits up to their chin, several thick layers of stage makeup and Snooki-style hair. They flocked to this place like locusts and it's clear this is a place to see and be seen in the city.
Anyway on our way to a friend's birthday party, Franca saw a beautiful photo op against some hanging lights (my camera died, she has all the pics which I will post when I get a chance) and asked some boys outside a bar to take a picture. We ended up chatting up these four boys from Switzerland, who worked at Deloitte (E, your brethren are all over the world) and they were cute and quite chatty. They invited us into the bar for a drink so we obliged and asked for a glass of white wine.
They returned saying they were out of wine and instead dropped an icy, sweating bottle of Veuve Clicquot on the table.
I think my response was, 'Are you fucking kidding me?'
We ended up drinking with the boys for a while before dragging them to our friend's birthday party.
Unfortunately for us, we didn't realize the party was at a gay bar and the boys seemed extremely uncomfortable. The greatest moment was when one of them returned from the bathroom with a look of horror on his face. He said he'd just had his nipples tweeked by a gay man in the loo. He literally would not stop talking about it the whole night and Franca quite aptly deduced that he was probably a closet case. It's a shame though because he looked like a young Ralph Fiennes. The rest of his friends (minus one, poor guy) were also quite attractive.
The other great thing was that they all spoke French - not horrible grating Canadian French but beautiful, lilting buttery Parisian French and I never though I would find it attractive but I did (might have been the champagne). Anyway we left the party and headed to a club called Pasha in Victoria. We got there at about 1 am to stand in line and we were informed it would be £20 ($40) to get in. Franca and I both decided now would be a perfect time to graciously exit as neither of us had jobs and we had recently acquired a flat that would rob of us any money we did end up making in the future.
One of the things that sucks about London is that pubs close at about 12 pm and the only thing opened later are clubs that cost an arm and leg to get into. Now that we have a flat, we'll have to carry on the party at our place after the pubs close.
After some crazy plan switching, I will now be staying at my second cousin's house, which is a 15 minute walk from Franca's place, until we move into our flat. I should sign off so I can get some more job hunting done, but I will keep you abreast of new developments.
Hope you all had a great weekend.
Cheers,
Patsy xo
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