Henry VIII is an ass.

6/26/09
I just finished an entire jar of Nutella in about a week. Self-loathing has reached new heights. On the other hand, I had Israeli salad for dinner along with potatoes, and celery… dipped in Nutella. Trust me, it tastes a lot better than it sounds.

In other news, my calves are about to fall off, as we went to the Tower of London today (it was 14.50 pounds for the student discount) and if I wasn’t such a nerd I would be pretty angry right now. Precious precious liquor money. We spent around four hours there, a combination of the guided tour and investigating all of the towers (there are twenty.) I had no idea that nobility would pay to stay at the Tower of London (apparently it was one of the nicer prisons) and they would take their families, and pets, and rent nice lodgings with Beefeaters acting as servants. They would also pay common folk to stand in for them in prison when they wanted to take a holiday. Has the term “prison hooker” been coined yet?

I was also surprised to find that there were two places for execution, and in order to be worthy of a private send-off, you had to be a friend of the King. Iiiirony. Anne Boleyn was one of those deemed worthy, and apparently on the way up the scaffold she noticed there was no coffin made ready for her. They had to fetch a box that the longbow’s were kept in. Just when you think your day couldn’t get any worse. They rudely buried her with her head tucked under her arm. Because of the film “The Other Boleyn Girl,” in my twisted mind I associate Anne with Natalie Portman, and I felt physically ill when they described the execution. They hadn’t just beheaded Anne Boleyn, but Queen Amidala from the shitty version of Star Wars, that annoying girl from Garden State, and that slut from The Darjeeling Limited. I also now associate King Henry the VIII with Jonathon Rhys Meyers because of my recent Tudors bender, and it was a rude awakening when I had to see all of the real portraits of the beefy king. He was just arrested for attacking an airport bartender who cut him off (Meyers, not Henry.) A man after my own heart. In other news, the king of pop and alleged child molestation is dead. I was on Gloucester road outside the hookah bar when some British guy kept screaming, “Michael Jackson is dead.” Everyone was in utter shock, and all of the Americans immediately phoned parental units for more information. I didn’t, knowing mine really don’t care. There was great sadness in the household when Doctor Leonard McCoy of Star Trek passed, but that’s a different story. What really bothers me is how Farrah Fawcett passed the day before him, and Ed McMan only days before her, and they always say things come in threes. Please lord; protect the entire cast of Gossip Girl, Chuck and Blair only just got back together.

Friday we went to the Victoria Albert Museum, and toured the Baroque collection. Between the crown jewels, and all of the gold they have stockpiled in these museums, I can’t see Britain ever going broke. Once again, in my twisted mind, the gist of the baroque period was “I’m going to be an asshole and make this look as obnoxious as possible in order to look cultured.” Most of the paintings and statues were blatant visual propaganda, making the royals look significantly better. However, I can’t really blame them. If I could order the painter to put holy light shining over me, and a slain dragon underfoot, shit, I would be all over that. The Victoria Albert museum was quite beautiful, and we’re going back next week for our other class’s field trip. Mmmmm learning.

Last night, S and I went to Hyde Park to tailgate The Killers concert. We only got to hear the last few songs, but they were most of their hits and we were slightly intoxicated so I wasn’t upset at all. The people watching was also excellent, but I sometimes had to look twice to determine the genders, as a lot of women are doing the whole androgynous haircut and outfit thing.

The night before a few of us took too long in getting ready and went to the boys flat instead of karaoke. It was also the night Michael Jackson died, so we had a whole musical tribute to him.
The night before that we went out to the Imperial bar, having been depressed by the movie This Is England that we watched in class. It was about a twelve year old boy who becomes involved with a group of skinheads and watches the downward spiral of most of its members, ending in their stoned leader nearly beating their black friend to death. Don’t get me wrong, it was a good movie, but as J said, it’s like showing a bunch of foreigners Requiem for a Dream when they were to be taught about America.