Monday, September 5, 2011


Our hotel was a "Bed and Breakfast." The "bed" part refered to two super hard matresses that felt like sleeping on a dog bed pad, and the "breakfast" translates to toast and jam with a little yogurt cup. I've never eaten so much toast in my life. This is the street our hotel was on. It looks a lot nicer from the outside. This store looked lovely from the outside. Yay! British stuff! We found Dr. Who figures and the second best collection of Harry Potter wands we would find this trip. We did lots of shopping too. The stores out here are just kind of more specific to my interests. Like they have entire stores devoted to obscure nerd shoes and running really far. You can even buy secret society people's appendages. We found my people's hood (the lanterns and funny symbols, not the trattoria). I took lots of people pictures in London too. And stuffed animal pictures. Nicole and I wandered into the total tourist trap of the Rainforest Cafe, but how could we resist going somewhere with an animatronic snake? More touristy, I remember my mom had to explain to me as a kid that Piccadilly Circus wasn't really a circus when I told her I wanted to go there. Even as an adult, I kind of wish that it was a circus, but it did have this store with a funny name where I bought all together too much Lonsdale stuff. I was pretty excited to randomly walk by a random gallery hanging a pretty important photographer's show on the way to Carnaby street. I've been interested in Mod stuff for years so this was fun for me. I'm also interested in ginger beer, but back to Mod stuff, I shopped my Face off. This wasn't entirely selfish though, because for a good reason next month (hi, Jen!) I need a suit. It's incredibly difficult to find a good suit in the U.S. for me since I'm the size of a malnourished American twelve year old, and most suits are cut to fit people who eat McDonald's every day. Amazingly, the first suit that I tried on here fit everywhere except the sleeves. I guess being the size of a short-armed British person is better than being the size of an American skeleton. In any case, I was sent to Franco Italian Tailor. That's his real name I swear. His sign wouldn't lie. Yay! More mod stuff! The socially awkward junior high schooler still living inside my brain told me to stick those all over my clothes, but I managed to leave with my dignity. Besides, I think this subculture is now more applicable to my current interests. I think stuff like subcultures and fashion are part of why I like taking people pictures so much. It's interesting to document how people dress and present themselves in public. I tend to present myself like a perpetual juvenile when it comes to immature bathroom graffiti.

This post is atypical. I typed for too long without posting a picture of food. This is all the moneys I have left after shopping today.

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