treefroggirl

posted by Thomas on May 31

Nicole: It’s 5:30. Damn I wanted to finish my (something I don’t want to talk about here because I don’t want to jinx myself) but I kept getting interrupted with work.

Al: Well, that’s just bang out of order.

Nicole (laughs) Yes, it is bang out of order.

PAUSE

Al: American’s really can’t pull that phrase off can they?

Nicole: No, not really. . .

posted by Thomas on May 31

“I feel sick”, Nicole said as she polished off a chocolate brownie mousse.

Al shook his head. “You will never learn.”

“I’m thinking of becoming an anorexic.”

“I think you would enjoy bulimia much more.”

“That’s true. Sure there is the whole vomiting thing, but at least you get to eat.”

posted by Thomas on May 30

What I really like about our new office is my commute.

I am willing to ignore the darkish corner we are in and that I am right in front of the door so I look like a receptionist and that I don’t have a file cabinet to collect the useless things that I always manage to collect. I am willing to ignore the unisex toilet that is not hip no matter what happened on Allie McBeal. (I barely let myself fart when there are women in there let alone men).

I can skip through the frenetic ant farm of people and cabs and buses around Victoria.

All this I can deal with happily, cheerfully, insert adverb here.

I don’t need to take the tube to work anymore. No longer will I squeeze in with my nose under some city boys armpit while some slag wearing patterned tights, a 1986 inspired ruffled skirt and flat-ironed hair insists on resting her paper on my head. No more!

I can now take the train. Not only do I get to take the train, but also my commute is cut in half. I will have to take the tube if the train breaks down or if leaves blow over the tracks. . . but until then, no morning commute from hell for me!

posted by Thomas on May 28

A million and one years ago, (okay a little less than a month. I lean toward hyperbole) Vol Abroad tagged me with a food meme.

Five places that I like to go eat. . .

1. The Lowlander. I haven’t been here for a little while, so I think I will need to pay it a visit soon. . . I’ve only been to the one on Drury Lane. It is a Dutch and Belgian Café with as you can imagine a killer beer selection and a nice menu to go with it. I always seem to get the moules mariniers and frites every time I go, but when I have ventured to try something else, I have always liked it. The main meals are £10- £15 but you can get a Croque Monsieur for £4.50. What is going to hurt your wallet is the beer, cause let’s face it. . .you know you’re not going to have just one even if it is a trappist beer lovingly made by monks with a 11.3% alcohol.
2. Bodean’s BBQ. Okay, I know Jen mentioned this place too, but I have to 2nd it. My work starting tomorrow has moved from Soho to Victoria and at the top of our location mourning is we can’t have lunch at Bodean’s anymore. Zesty barbeque, mmmm burnt ends, ribs, pulled pork Sam Adams beer, tasty grilled veggies, a gooey chocolate brownie. I had their 4th of July and the Thanksgiving prix fix meals here and it was good, good stuff. I will be visiting the Clapham location a lot rather soon methinks. You’re going to drop 15-20 quid. Less if you order one of their special promotions.

3. Banana Leaf Canteen. I’ve only been here twice but it is yummy fusion Asian (more Malaysian than anything). Ex flatmate Jen and Richard took me here a year ago and when my Mom came to visit I knew she would like it and I was right. Think Wagamama but starters arrive when they should and everyone gets their food at the same time and the food is five million times better. 15-20 quid.

4. Hummus Bros. Stuart found this place and for a long stretch I was going at least once if not more a week since it was around the corner from my work. The make the best hummus in the whole wide world (except for Paymon’s Mediterranean Café in Las Vegas). You order a small or regular, they fill a bowl with hummus, and top it with your topping choice. My favourites were the mushrooms, guacamole or the chicken. You have the choice of white or brown pita or carrot sticks to scoop it up. If you get a large you’re out 5 quid. If you add a salad it costs you a total of 7.50. If you’re a piglet and decide to get the out of this world brownie and ice cream, add £2.50 to the total. If it’s a cold day you can’t beat their jasmine tea. One of those rare places that carnivores and vegetarians can happily co-exist.

5. Al Kebabish. One night, maybe nine months ago, Stuart came home off his tits (as he usually is) after a long drinking session with Matt. “Thomas! I have seen amazing things! Matt took me down this long secret passageway until he found the secret door. It was like Harry Potter. He knocked the secret knock and the door opened and there was a oven and fire and Matt said something to the man and he gave us the most amazing kebabs. I must take you to the Harry Potter Kebab Shop!”

He did take me, but Al Kebabish isn’t tucked away, there is no need to knock the secret knock. It’s right on the Balham high street in a clean little shop. Our nickname for it isn’t the Harry Potter Kebab Shop anymore; we now call it The Good Ship Kebab Shop. I don’t know why. Probably because we are white and lame and Al Kebabish isn’t as much fun to say as The Good Ship Kebab Shop.

The only thing I can recommend as it is the only thing that I have had is the Chicken Tikka roll. Not the one that is pre-made. You want to watch them make this. He takes a skewer of chicken and places it over a fire, he slaps dough into shape and sticks it in a round oven. When the chicken and the nan are done, he slides the chicken off the skewer, drizzles it with your choice of sauce (pick the garlic) adds some salad, rolls it up and you walk away with one of the yummy, spicy goodness all for three quid.

Honourable Mention

The Bistro. Another place that we will be mourning at work. Lunch £6.50 two courses, £7.50 for three. Dinner is 8.90/9.90. Good place to go before the theatre. Is it the best food on the planet? No, but it is tasty and filling and the service is fantastic.

Fujisan. Cheapish Japanese right near the Tooting Bec station. Is it the best sushi ever? Well, it always tastes fresh but the selection is small. Sashimi is limited to tuna and salmon but it is always very fresh. The thing that makes me come back time and time again is tofu. Yes, tofu. They have two tofu dishes that are out of this world.

First is the chilli tofu: Deep fried crispy tofu tossed in garlic, chilli and salt and pepper. Ahhhhhh. The tofu is crispy out the outside and creamy on the inside. It’s just a touch spicy. If someone claims to not like tofu, this could be the dish that would turn them around.

Dish the second. Hiyayakko: Cold beancurd marinated with garlic and spicy soy sauce.

Okay- Now I am supposed to list everyone and add myself to the end.

Nicole Tan (Sydney, Australia)
velverse (Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia)
LB (San Giovanni in Marignano, Italy)
Selba (Jakarta, Indonesia)
Olivia (London, England)
ML (Utah, USA)
Lotus (Toronto, Canada)
Yianna (Athens, Greece)
Melusina (Thessaloniki, Greece)
Vol Abroad (London, England)
Nicole In London (London, England)

I’m not going to tag anyone as most of my usual suspects have done it or have already been tagged, so Neil, Jolie and Scott if you would like to do this, feel free. If not, that’s cool.

posted by Thomas on May 28

Rainy Bank Holiday Mondays when I have a sore throat and dry hacking cough really get me down.

posted by Thomas on May 23

I flew from one side of the tube car to another today. Actually two days ago, but I forgot to mention it. I also fell down my stairs. Yesterday. Not today. Today I was walking a bit stiff from my misadventures- flying and falling. I wish my funny walk was due to a physical activity that didn’t involve my hurting myself, but what can you do.

The driver on the Northern Line thought he was driving a train on the Victoria Line, whipping us around the corners. I picked a bad moment to flip the page of my free evening paper for stupid people, since he decided to hit the brake—

Hard.

I reached out for the pole to catch myself but I was gone.

Fast.

Average Speed =

Distance Traveled
——————–
Time of Travel

I flew from one end of the wide doors to the other, crashing into a guy leaning against the plexi glass. I was just glad that he was there and the baby stroller nearby wasn’t. That would have been bad.

I would have been in the Metro the next day:

Baby killed by stupid American who didn’t hold on to the rail for her entire train journey.

Of course after I crushed the guy like a bug, he being English said “I’m sorry”.

No he didn’t. I’m making that up.

The stairs story or why I am walking like The Bride of Frankenstein:

I managed to think I was on the landing when I had three more steps to go and I ended up in a big whimpering heap.

I’ve said this before when I mentioned my talent for falling down, but this is how I am going to die. . .

I am once again going to fall down my stairs in the middle of winter.

My phone is dead because I forgot to plug it in.

I’m alone in the flat so no one hears me mewing. I will manage to open the latch on our door and crawl into the shared hall of the other flat but they aren’t home.

I’ll open the front door of the house and shimmy outside.

It’s snowing.

I will then freeze to death because every Londoner that walks by will ignore my cries of help.

Then foxes will chew my arms off.

It’s either that or I will manage to set myself on fire.

posted by Thomas on May 22

I just saw a commercial for chocolate that I can’t decide is amusing or not. I’m leaning toward not.

It’s for a parody of the famous Russian roulette scenes from The Deer Hunter.

I don’t remember the name of the chocolate because I am rather certain that unless it caused spontaneous orgasm, I don’t want anything to do with it.

posted by Thomas on May 21

Stuart got me a new phone to repace my nokia. Some thin flip phone with a camera. Then again, they all have a camera now don’t they.

Looking through my choices for ring tones, they all were the sort to incite violence in others. I pointed at my nokia. “Why can’t I have a ring like that one.” The nokia has a ring that sounds like an old fashioned telephone. You know one of those heavy black numbers that if you swung at someone you could do serious damage.

“You can’t have a ring like that cause it doesn’t have it.”

“Well, then I don’t know if I want the phone.”

“Thomas. You can’t not use a phone just because you don’t like the ring.”

“Sure I can.”

“No, you can’t.”

“Sure I can.”

Stuart smirked, flipped the mobile shut and shook his head.

posted by Thomas on May 18

Stuart wanted me to cook. When he wants me to cook, I always do it because then I know that he has eaten that day and there are some calories in his body that don’t come from beer and there is a limit to his intake of sodium nitrate or sugar. I had lamb chops that I had taken out of the freezer but he wanted Cajun chicken, so I decided to make Cajun chicken.

It looked like there was a recent sale on chicken breast because the only stuff they had was organic, (which I would love to buy but it was 11 quid for two) or a big bag of breasts for six quid (each breast wrapped in plastic, which isn’t the environmentally sound choice). I went for the bag.

I got home by 7:30. Stuart had left work early and had been home since 5:30 and already had 4, 5 beers under his belt, which he tried to hide. I can usually tell because he develops grandiose plans or becomes generally lairy.

He also gets silly.

“Thomas! What can we celebrate?”

I was slicing each plastic packet holding a chicken breast open with a dull paring knife and plopping them into a marinade of lemon juice, garlic olive oil and a Cajun spice blend.

“I dunno. Maybe the end of an era with Jen leaving?” (Jen is moving in with her boyfriend and starting this June the flat will be our own little war zone  love nest.

 “I want to celebrate something so I can open up the bottle of champagne I have in the fridge.”

“You mean, you’ve run out of beer, you’re too lazy to run to the shop and you are trying to justify opening the champers.”

“Let’s drink to the koalas!”

“The koalas.” 

“The koala twins that were born today.”*

“The koalas.”

“Preston you useless bint! We’re going to drink to the koalas!”

Jen was in the front room. She had assisted Stuart in his drinking of the beer. She doesn’t get lairy when she gets drunk, but she does fall down stairs. Her voice travelled into the kitchen, “Okay!”

You know how they tell you to never work with a dull knife? It’s a really good bit of advice. I picked this moment to somehow to stab/slice my middle finger. Not a needing stitches slice, but enough that there was a happy amount of gushing blood. After getting it under control, (I don’t recommend Stuart as a helper in a case of medical emergency by the way) Stuart opened the champagne and we drank to the koalas.

“To the koalas! The drug addicts of the animal world!”

We drank.

*The koalas were actually born in October but Stuart saw a picture of them yesterday. They are very cute.

posted by Thomas on May 16

At Yahoo! my boss was a dreamy Englishman with a sharp wit and sparkly baby blues who had a quick rise up the ranks from peon to management to VP of somethingorotherthatdoesstuffsomethimesbutusuallydoesn’t. This was certainly due to his being a talented businessman but his English accent didn’t hurt. My joke was that he was probably really from Pomona and that he put the whole thing on because American’s are such suckers for the Queen’s English.

Today I was taking a message for a colleague and the gentleman on the line said, “I’m sorry, where are you from?”

“I grew up in Las Vegas but I lived all over the west coast. Mostly Los Angeles.”

“I love your accent.”

I’ve gotten the, I love your accent a number of times and I know it is really dorky. . . Beyond sad really, but it never fails to make me happy. I know it’s superficial. I know it’s lame. I know it’s just because it is different. I also? Work really hard? To not fall? Into the uptalk? Trap? A lot of American accents slip into now.

Let’s just see if I can get a promotion out of how I stretch my vowels.

The American Accent I love is the 1930’s-40’s rat-a-tat-tat. Rosalind Russell in His Girl Friday: “Now, get this, you double-crossing chimpanzee: There ain’t going to be any interview and there ain’t going to be any story. And that certified check of yours is leaving with me in twenty minutes. I wouldn’t cover the burning of Rome for you if they were just lighting it up. If I ever lay my two eyes on you again, I’m gonna walk right up to you and hammer on that monkeyed skull of yours ’til it rings like a Chinese gong!”

Ah, if I could only talk like that.