Gayest Weekend Ever

7/5/09

I may or may not have just eaten half of an entire sourdough loaf from Whole Foods. Good G-d that place is amazing, if I could have a relationship with a store, I would occasionally cheat on J Crew with it. But only when that preppy whore gets too annoying and starts putting out the same full price chino’s from last year. IT’S NOT LIKE WE DON’T KNOW.

I have just recently become acquainted with Whole Foods, I had been inside one before but you have not experienced its ardent splendor until the London chain. You have to do a full tour of the store, grabbing the bounty of samples (sausage with different dips, truffled walnuts, wasabi peanuts and fruit for starters?) before you grab your one item and peace out before you reflect upon how sad your life has become.

I actually woke up pretty early this morning, and had a lovely video chat with N while she ate her hot pocket, still hammered at 6 in the morning. Thank you forced living arrangements for bringing two train wrecks together. I then finally saw Underworld: Rise of the Lycans and was so disappointed and disgusted with the film I actually got up and cleaned my room to take my mind off it. Michael Sheen looked like he was in great shape, but the writing was just horrible and had none of the humanity and passion of the first two. I know it’s just the back story, but I felt like they should have spread it out more and done background on Kate Beckinsale’s family as well. I always thought the real life story was just as interesting as the original movie, Kate Beckinsale and Michael Sheen had been dating for nine years and conceived a daughter together, but she left him in 2003 for Len Wiseman, the director or Underworld. And now they’re married. Oops. In other nerd news, there’s a Lord Of The Rings play in London, but I stopped myself. Mostly for monetary reasons and I didn’t know if I could live with myself after.

Well, I was up so early this morning because R and I couldn’t get into Heaven (the biggest gay club in London) to see Lady Gaga and I’m kind of , actually really upset about it. You can’t put a price on p-p-p-pokerface. Keith also got in and had a great time. However, I’m going to see Kanye West later today for free (and by see I mean sit outside the barriers and be obnoxious) so I should really shut up. Yesterday was fun even without Lady Gaga, I went with R and K and some of his Penn friends to the Pride Parade, and it was great to see so many people coming together, while wearing fishnets. After a while we jumped into the parade as well and danced down the streets. I knew I brought my pink glitter bow belt to London for something.

When I came back to my flat, I didn’t realize I was coming back to the few people still left in the building wearing roller skates and having painted “America Fuck Yeah” with flags across their chests. Yes, let’s celebrate the day of our breaking off from the country we are currently staying in by becoming our stereotype and make South Kensington hate us even more than they already do. Live the dream guys, live the dream. In other news, someone in the building was kidnapped but safely returned. Some Asian perv was driving around and grabbing Asian boys, but he was apprehended by the Bobby’s. Finally, I can sleep soundly at night, as I clearly look like an Asian male. I still don’t know how anyone can take the police seriously without guns. If they carried around machetes or an ice-pick or something equally badass I could begin to understand, but now there is nothing stopping me from kidnapping Henry and William. And I thank them for that.

Friday, K and I explored high end shopping ie. I tried not to cry. London is in the middle of a huge sale, so most of Burberry was 40-60% off but still ridiculous with the exchange rate. I had to take mental notes of what I wanted to so I could rape the outlet near home next year. Looks like I have to start selling myself again. Harvey Nichols was mobbed, and it was sacrilegious how they piled the Juicy bags in racks like pieces of meat. I found my dream purse, a bright pink Marc Jacobs number that clasps with a huge frog (the Rana), and my dream Luella dress. Harrod’s looked like trash next to Harvey Nichol’s, but we got the requisite lunch in the food market. And by requisite lunch I mean the three bites of prawn salad which came out to around five bucks American. On the bright side, best food I’ve had since I’ve been here.

That night I went to Clue Club with K, and had my first gay London clubbing experience. It was fun, but I couldn’t understand why there were straight Eurotrash in there. Or why they felt like they could try to talk to me. Come on, I’m sixteen and I can’t wait for prom. All in all, it was a pretty good weekend even though everyone went to Rome.