It's a mystery. A chicken mystery.

As I was travelling around London this weekend I came to a conclusion: Londoners love them some fried chicken.

I must have passed dozens of outlets for fried chicken, with names ranging from the more mundane: KFC, Chicken Express, Best Fried Chicken, to the more succinct Chicken and (my personal favourite) Tasty Chicken Land.

Herein lies the mystery: I never actually see anyone eating fried chicken. So what's the deal?

Holocaust Denial and Double Standards

I never use this blog to comment on political issues, but this Holocaust denial conference (and those why 'deny' it's anything otherwise are wrong) is so loathsome I can't help it. Perhaps Jews should rise up around the world and violently protest...oh wait, there aren't enough to do so. Why? Because of the Holocaust.
Idiots.

Ah, after living in the Southern U.S., the East Coast and California, it's so nice to not have to worry about earthquakes, hurricanes and tornadoes

Uh, nevermind.

I have discovered

that not everyone in my office feels the same way about Tina Turner that I do.

The problem with going to hear Handel's Messiah at St. Paul's Cathedral when you've had too many late nights in a row prior to that

is that some parts of "Messiah" are just so soothing...almost to the point of causing drowsiness, or in my case, complete slumber. Don't worry I wasn't the only one and I did wake myself up way in advance of the Hallelujah chorus.

Tenacious D

The D stands for Donut of course, my Napoleon-esque boston terrier who is staying w/ my parents. Note the size discrepancy between the two dogs as they play tug o' war. This photo was snapped shortly before Donut succeeded in dragging Schwartz (my parents' dog) across the floor by pulling on the rope. Isn't she scrappy...not to mention downright sexy?

How TiVo saved Thanksgiving

It's a classic Texas dilemma: you want to enjoy the togetherness and deliciousness of a Thanksgiving meal with your family, but dangit the Cowboys always play in the afternoon on Thanksgiving Day. So what's a family like mine to do, especially with a father, brothers and a recent ex-pat who refuse to miss the game? Eat way later? Eat turkey for breakfast?
Thank goodness this Thanksgiving was held at my brother's house. Why? Because Micah has TiVo. With a flick of a pause button we gathered for the gluttonous exercise that is Thanksgiving, prayed, laughed and shared what we were thankful for, and then whoosh, back to the living room, resume game, fast forward through commercials and bam, all is well.
And that's how TiVo saved Thanksgiving.

Great things about trip back to the U.S. so far (surprisingly only a few are food related)...

1. Getting to celebrate my brother Jonathan's birthday with him for the first time in over a decade. With Chinese food, cake and Shiner Bock.
2. Watching the Cowboys beat the previously undefeated Colts with the whole family.
3. Pumpkin spiced lattes from Sbux. That don't cost three pouns (close to $6).
4. Getting a Michael Kors sweater for $6.99 at Ross. (Yeah that's about three pounds.)
5. Black and white cookies from Cindi's Deli. Yes, we stopped on the way home from the airport.
6. Going shopping with my dad for his first (yes, first) cell phone. Welcome to the 20th (yes, 20th) century, Pops.
7. Seeing Donut, Professor and my parents' dog Schwartz all playing together in the backyard.
8. Jonathan giving me his last Resigned to Fate shirt (that's one of his bands). RTF 'til Deaf!
9. Services at my parents' congregation. Well, not the cleaning up part.

I'll stop at 9.

Soundtrack to Landing at DFW last PM

Good ol' Jimmie Dale Gilmore...

Dallas

Did you ever see Dallas from a DC9 at night
Well Dallas is a jewel oh yeah Dallas is a beautiful sight
And Dallas is a jungle but Dallas gives a beautiful light
Did you ever see Dallas from a DC9 at night

Well Dallas is a woman who will walk on you when you're down
When you are up she's the kind you want to take around
But Dallas ain't a woman to help you get your feet on the ground
And Dallas is a woman who will walk on you when you're down

Well I came in to Dallas with the bright lights on my mind
Well I came in to Dallas with a dollar and a dime

Well Dallas is a rich man with a death wish in his eyes
A steel and concrete soul and a warm hearted love disguise
A rich man who tends to believe in his own lies
Yeah Dallas is a rich man with a death wish in his eyes

Well I came in to Dallas with the bright lights on my mind
Well I came in to Dallas with a dollar and a dime

Did you ever see Dallas from a DC9 at night
Well Dallas is a jewel oh yeah Dallas is a beautiful sight
And Dallas is a jungle but Dallas gives a beautiful light
Did you ever see Dallas from a DC9 at night

Borat

The thing about Borat is that it is hilarious and deliciously clever at several points. It is also completely a movie for its time.

In ten years or so, people of my generation will try to get their kids to watch it and the kids totally won't get it and the parents will have to explain all sorts of references ("See, there was this U.S. President, George Bush...and that scary looking old lady named Pamela Anderson that you see hosting infomercials used to be hot..."

and the children will nod blankly...

My theme song for today that I just made up for myself.

Goes like this: "Might as well face it, you're addicted to Fark."

Tacky Headline o' the Day

I know that having resided in Britain, where one of the major papers recently ran the headline, "How do you solve a problem like Korea", I should be used to journalistic tackitude. But today's salute to tack comes from the NY Daily News, which decided to go with: 'Reese's marriage in pieces'.

Things that make you go, "Ew."

Wow. I'm sure that the state of Texas tourism office has considered many, many taglines for travel brochures, but now they can officially add, "Texas: the state that brought you fried Coke."

Curiously enough.

I googled the phrase "American Londoner" and it only came back with 82 pages.


P.S. Then I googled the word "googled" and it came up with 3,880,000 pages.

Read it and weep.

So after my eye doctor appointment today, I did a little reading about what benefits are available from my local council for people with severe visual impairments. It turns out that one of them is a discount at the cinema for the partially sighted person and a companion of their choice.
Cuz yeah, blind people just love to go to the movies.

Perhaps they should add the following benefits: driving lessons, bowling passes and a stargazing adventure.

I'll tell ya what's sad...

4:45 this afternoon: go to get coffee, forget to get loyalty card stamped.
5:45 (now): still bugging me.

Can this be right?

A friend of mine who recently moved to London told me Saturday night that she already unknowingly committed two London dating faux pas:

1. She expected the guy to pay for dinner, even though it was the second date and not the first.
2. She accepted a man's invitation for a drink, but had made post-drink plans, so when the man asked her to go to dinner after the drink, she told him she had these plans...and hasn't heard from him since.

My friend was subsequently told that a| she shouldn't expect the man to pay for dinner after the first date, that that's just not done here, and b) she definitely should have left the whole evening free when the second man asked her out for a drink.

I told my friend that I would put this tale of woe up on my blog to see if any of the four people who read it could offer some insight regarding this Secret London Dating Code.

Thoughts?

Ha! I knew it wasn't just me!

from good ol' Wikipedia:

Coulrophobia is a mental condition concerning the fear of clowns and mime artists. It has attracted a large amount of interest in the entertainment media and on the Internet, where websites have been created to specifically address the condition.

I haven't felt this big a sense of validation since reading recently that Scarlett Johansson's first crush was on David Bowie in Labyrinth. Yeah, that's right. Just like me.

Ah the comfort of consensus.

time to pimp the friend.

www.danielameyer.com

her unabashed joy never ceases to...well, it just never ceases.

I kid you not; I've actually heard people say this today.

Why on earth would anybody wish someone a "Happy Yom Kippur"?