LONDON, SOHO PART 1- I AM A KARDASHIAN= UNSTOPPABLE

Everyone's slick covered in cologne and fancy clothes. They belong together, all dressed up and ready to mate but I don't fit in quite well. It's obvious. My gray hat and pants, and green checkered shirt make it obvious. That night I left my swag back at the hotel. They're about to enter a club called "Punk" standing in a cue ready to give the doorman the 5 pounds just to get in. I wanted to get in. But as soon as we stood outside I realized I'd be like a geek lost in a sea of hipness, coolness and machoness. But the night was amazing as I got complimented that I don't look like a goat, got to judge on a random girl's tits and high fived her for having an abortion because I thought she was joking around. But let's take things from the start.

Next place we decided to explore was Soho. After, taking a full ten hours sleep we woke up ready to face the day. Feeling less like Indiana Jones and more like 5 year olds on Christmas Eve. At least me. We got ready and we went to Camden for breakfast and some shopping. We failed miserably to look like any of the characters from Sex & The City as we'd discussed we'd look like, and I feel quite happy that we didn't. Even when we went to check out for some more shoes the clumsiness, goofiness and inappropriate jokes muted the femininity of that activity.

After a couple of coffees, couple cigars, a couple more cigarettes, window shopping and trying out instruments at different music stores, we decided that it was time for us to get back at our lovely hotel room, relax for a bit and get ready for the night.

We passed by the Electric Ballroom and there was a huge line full of glam rock guys and girls. Torn tight jeans, high nike shoes, guys with leopard tights and girls with short skirts and ripped stockings. It was a spectacle but we didn't stay to look at it for long. Just passed it by.

Drank the last 2 Bodingtons that were left in the hotel's fridge and headed out. This time we went at a small restaurant and had something delicate and also cheap to eat. I ate mine and the left overs from my friend. That's how I express my delicate feelings when it comes to food.

Then we decided that it was high time to decide where to go for some drinks. We went to a corner shop bought a can of Becks' beer each, they put it in a brown bag for us and we sat outside a bar to drink them. Outside one of the bars there was a "pack" of pretty girls. Nice dresses, high heels, they looked tipsy and boarder line classy. We kept taking sips from our beers checking out the people who entered that specific bar. Mostly suits, mid 30's and girls in nice dresses. Came to the conclusion that it was not for us. Hang there for some 30 or so minutes more.

Then the endless search for a bar to have a quiet nice drink began. We kept on walking and walking around for at least an hour. Stood outside that club "Punk" that I described at the beginning, walked in a hard rock bar to use the toilette and decide that it was crap and it doesn't fit our needs apart from the toilette part. Passed by a small hardcore/punk bar that we said we should avoid it and try something different since we're in London. Tried to get in a nice jazz bar that had a live band playing. I put out my cigarette, we ask how much is it to get in, the doorman with no shame says "30 pounds" I burst out laughing. We keep on walking.

After 3 full rounds around Soho we ended up at the hardcore/punk bar that I can't remember the name of. The doorman is a guy in his mid 30's, beer belly, bald spot and tattoo filled hands. We ask how much to get in. He says "4 pounds" and there's a live band playing. We enter. Unlike the other bars/clubs we stared and contemplated of getting in, we feel welcomed here. No funny looks. It feels friendly and it feels warm. Just like your home's toilette. Only bad thing, the band that was playing is packing up as soon as we make it in the main room.

Beer was 3,50 and spirits 3.70. My friend sticks with beer and I decide to get jack daniels and coke. First 3 rounds are on him cause I'd paid for food and the entrance. Then I decide to get some rum. Sailor Jerry and coke. My friend gets another beer.

As we're in the smoking area, having a cigarette, making plans for when I get back home and discussing many other different things a girl comes up and asks us where we're from. I say Athens Greece. She turns to her friend and they both smile. We start having a conversation. They're both from London. Well, one of them the most drunk is from Liverpool and claims to be John Lennon's grand-daughter. I claim to be Frank Sinatra's grandson just to balance things. She doesn't believe me. Her loss.

My friend asks them what they do, how old they are, trying to make a conversation. They say that they're both "sluts, working as hookers, on a street behind the bar" we were in. They also mention that they need no pimp cause they're self-employed and they're their own bosses.

The drunkest girl keeps asking me if I'm related to the Kardashian family because of my accent. "You're accent's weird...are you related to Kim Kardashian..." I tell her that Kim Kardashian is hot. She bursts out laughing at the way I say "hot". I decide to play along and say that I am indeed related to the Kardashians. My friend confirms that. From that point and on I AM A KARDASHIAN= UNSTOPPABLE.

The drunkest girl keeps on talking and talking about nothing and everything. I look at her friend and she says "I'd look at you the same way if I were you. I've no idea what she's on about." I smile. Then she turns and asks me "what do you think of my tits?" I say that they're alright keeping calm but howling on the inside. She presses them up and comes closer. "No take a closer look! Would you pimp me out? I don't need a boob-job right?" I laugh and confirm her that she doesn't need a boob-job and that her tits look fine.

Then she continues talking explaining us how she wants to have 5 kids but she already had an abortion. I think she's joking and I say "high five killer". She laughs and high fives me but then she gets the joke. "Hey that's not funny!" Her friend laughs though. I apologize and she accepts my apology.

After a while and while my friend is inside getting another beer for him, she gives me a hug and tells her friend how I remind her ex boyfriend. She asks me how tall I am. I say 5.6 or 5.5 but no more than that. She finds my shortness adorable and her friend tells her that I look nothing like her ex boyfriend cause I don't look like a goat. Then the drunk girl asks me to go like a goat for her. I pass.

Then they turn to eachother and start talking in Italian. Another guy comes over and they ignore me completely. Then after 5 minutes they start walking away. "We're leaving bye" and they wave at me. "See you later have fun..."


p.s: that's not me in the picture.


.

A BUBBLE OF DARK GREEN SNOT

We all had a geek once during our school years. I'm not talking about the goofy nerd. Don't get them two confused. I'm talking about the annoying geek who would suck up to the teacher, always was prepared and sneer at you when you didn't know the answer and was ready to cry when the teacher wouldn't pick him/her to come up to the chalk board.

Well, when I was 14, in junior high-school we had this girl and she could easily be crowned queen of the geeks. Her hair was always greasy and she used to dress like she had no mirrors in her house. Even during intermission she'd hang alone revising the chapters of the class we had next, plus some of the chapters forward, she'd read on her own, while the rest of the us (that including me and some of my friends) were busy playing spit wars, pinching and giving dead arms to each other. Plus, she had that superior look on her face. I'm not saying that I was someone that a girl with her maturity would look as equal but it was junior highschool godammit come on.

Anyway, every time a teacher picked her to read a chapter from a book she'd wear that look on her face, boast in a silent way, and started reading with an authoritative steady voice. No matter what happened she wouldn't stop reading if the teacher didn't tell her to.

One day a teacher tells her to read a chapter and from the way she was speaking you could tell she had runny/stuffed nose. She blows her nose discreetly and wipes it, saying “of course I will” and starts reading. The rest of the class pretended to pay attention to her dull voice reading over a more boring text when out of the blue we hear her sneezing and a “blup” noise. She doesn't stop reading. I turn around and I see a small green bubble of snot hanging from her nose. I nudge the guy next to me and we chuckle. Then the other guys notice it as well. I look at the teacher and she looks a bit disgusted but she doesn't say anything. She doesn't stop the robot to wipe her nose.

A few paragraphs later that green ball of snot has turned to a greenish/white stream running from her left nostril down to her lips. She was using the tip of her tongue to prevent it from getting on her lips and stop her from reading. Me and the guy next to me, sitting in the middle row 2 desks from the end, have buried our faces in our hands and try not to make our laughter audible to our teacher.

After a while the teacher stops her and we start discussing what she read. I didn't have a clue what the text she'd read was about as I was too busy paying attention to her licking her snot, so I decide instead of participating in the conversation, to tell my friend a joke I'd heard that morning. I tell him the joke and he bursts out laughing. The teacher looks at us and ask us what we find so funny in that religious text. I keep a straight face while my friend keeps laughing hard and the teacher says to my friend “Alright you...come and sit in the front row...”. So, she separates us.

But my friend made the tragic mistake leaving the sandwich he'd just bought during intermission beneath our desk. He turns around as the teacher starts writing on the black board. I take his sandwich out. He makes a signal that if I touch it one more time I'm dead. Needless to say I took a big bite out of it and then when tried to give me a dead arm during intermission I got away and back in the class and spat on his backpack and then we took the spit-war into a whole new level.

p.s: During the same intermission that we took the spit-war to a whole new level, we found out that the geek had shat herself. Now we were saying that “she shit herself” but I'm not pretty sure if she'd really shat herself, but all the marks were there: BROWN STAIN ON THE BACK OF HER PANTS, THE SMELL OF SHIT AND EVEN A FLY FOLLOWING HER AROUND. Come on, could you blame us?

Fellini, Orgies And Plenty Of Mustaches

I bought my ticket for London as soon as I cashed my paycheck. 45 pounds. That meant that I had only paid 30pounds for the ticket and 35 pounds for the hotel we were going to stay.

I arrived in London at 3:45 in the afternoon and sat outside Camden train station waiting for my friends to pick me up. A guy from a rally against child abuse was trying to start a conversation and hopefully persuade passers by to become members and donate some money. He had absolutely no luck. I decided to talk to him by calling him over saying that I was interested. He told me that they get 5000 calls a day at their call center from kids that are being abused or from neighbors who call to report a child abuse. Last case that was taken to court he says, was about a 5 year old girl who had to testify against her uncle who sexually abused her. My welcome to London.

My friends arrive and we go to KFC. I hate the way they treat animals but I love the way their food tastes. Maybe someday I'll manage to control myself and stop buying their goodies.

We walk through Camden in a market with stores that sell second hand everything. Books, coats, hats, shirts, tuxedos, shoes, musical instruments and aromatic candles. My friend expresses his fear that the guy at the shoe store won't let him change the shoes he bought yesterday and found out that they're small for him. I stand outside the shop as he explains the situation to the shop owner and he lets him choose another pair of shoes but his money are not returnable.

He starts trying all these different types of shoes as I walk up and down. Checking out second hand books, weird looking mirrors and mugs. A couple passes me by that looks like they just got out of a Motley Crue convention. Four girls stop next to me and start checking the second hand books. They all look pretty but when they start talking they become as ugly as Hunchback. I wouldn't mind going for a drink with them Hunchbacks though.

We get to our hostel room. The walls look old and worn out, the closet has 3 hangers in it and to unlock/lock the door you need to learn a trick. Lift- Pull- Turn- Press down- Lift again and push. My friend asks if we can smoke inside the room. The girl says “oh no you can't cause then the fire alarm will go off. “ I ask what about if we're beside the window? He gives a negative answer. After she leaves I look up searching for fire detectors. There's none. Guess she heard the expression from other hotels and she thought of using it to make the place look more official.

We leave our stuff, have a beer and make arrangements to go to a gig in Hackney, East London. But before we go to the gig we need to get something to eat. We get to a Turskish restaurant. The food there smells great so we give our order and take a seat. On the table next to ours, there's a girl in her mid 20's sitting by herself. She has her face painted similar to Kesha's make up and she wears her bra over her shirt sipping a cup of black coffee. A friend of hers arrive with a bottle of wine. She's a bit drunk, then 3 other girls walk in. They start taking swigs from the bottle and they talk really loud. The second girl that walked in turned to me and say “Oh sorry for being loud...” I say it's alright and wait for my food to come.

We start eating and then the girls in the same tone they start talking about trips to the United States, Fellini movies and lesbians and coprophagia in movies by Italian named directors. Once again, the same girl turns to us and say “Oh I'm sorry, I didn't realize you guys were eating...” Once again I say it's fine and continue eating my food. They don't lower their voices and keep talking about feces, orgies, lesbians, art and hopes for exhibiting their art in London galleries. I turn around and ask the girl, “so you're all artists?”. She looks at me and says, “uhm...no...” I ask what they do? Before the first girl has the chance to answer, a friend of hers jumps in the conversation saying “we're not artists but she is and she doesn't know it.”

I nod and I go to turn around when the first girl says “I handed in my last assignment today, I can finally say that I graduated... but we're all artists in our minds” I congratulate her and then tell her that what she said is pretty deep. She doesn't get the sarcasm. “Why what do you guys do? Why are you here?” she says looking at us. “We're trying to enjoy our dinner and just live I guess...” I say. “I can't enjoy food...I'm scared I'll get fat...” she says and my friend smiles and says “oh we don't have a problem with that, we can enjoy it just fine.” After a while they get up and leave. We finish our meal and go to the gig.

While having a cigarette outside the bar, it looks like everyone competes with each other for craziness and originality. Mustaches, tight fisherman's jeans, long coats, loud voices, weird theatrical acts for absolutely no reason. The show's inside but they're giving their own special show outside trying to amaze their peers or at least that's how it looked to me.

That was East London for me, next post will be about Soho, hopefully if I don't forget. L8erz