EPCOT Escapades

My family went to Orlando, Florida a lot when I was growing up. We also went a lot after I had grown up. My favorite part of the Disney experience was always EPCOT. It was a world showcase right in my own country, what more could I ask for? There was food from around the world, makeup and clothes from different countries, and of course, foreign hotties.

One of my first experiences with an EPCOT employee was when I was maybe 15. I wasn’t exactly a catch at this point in my life. I remember entering the Canadian pavilion and wanting to get some popcorn. In EPCOT they will assure you that popcorn was created in Canada. This bit of info seems wrong. Even my Canadian husband has pointed out that Canadians couldn’t have been the first people to heat up kernels. There’s no way.

At the popcorn stand was a super cute guy named Sean. He was blonde and tall and just my 15-year old type. He looked like Barbie’s Ken. After that, I looked at him from afar and pretty much stalked him for the rest of the trip. Exhilarating.

A couple years down the line I was wandering through the Morocco pavilion when a Moroccan guy, not much older than myself ran up to me. He told me that I was beautiful and wanted to see me again. His name was Amine (pronounced ah-meen) and we became instant lovers. And by lovers I mean that we held hands and walked around a theme park together.

One night we decided to watch the fireworks. I could feel my phone vibrating in my purse but I didn’t want to interrupt this romantic moment we were having. I was basically Jasmine and he was my Aladdin. When I was leaving the park, I called my mom only to find out that she thought I was kidnapped. My brother had been out looking for me and even asked Amine’s manager where he was and when he had last seen him. My mom is basically Liam Neeson.

When is she gonna learn that no one will ever want to take me?

You would’ve thought I’d learned my lesson to answer my phone but I didn’t. Years later a similar scenario happened. I wonder what my life would’ve been like if I grew up in a decade without cell phones. I guess people would’ve just assumed I was dead after every date.

My last and most exciting EPCOT lover was from the UK. On this trip I was with my friend Janna and we had been walking around for a while when we ran into my mom. She told us there was a really cute guy in one of the shops in the English pavilion for Janna. My first thought was, “What about me?!” So we met this guy and talked to him and he invited us to go to a club with him—yes, Disney has clubs. There, we met up with him and his friend Christopher.

Of course Christopher wasn’t as cute as Janna’s guy (I forget his name) but he was funny and I wasn’t picky. We ended up dancing and making out until midnight. I knew I had to be back at midnight because I was basically Cinderella. After that trip I realized that it’s less work to just admire guys from afar at EPCOT.

Especially the guys in the Norwegian pavilion.

The Tweed Ride

I don’t even know where to begin with this one. About two weeks ago Paul and I were walking downtown. We were about to cross the street when a string of bicyclers soared in front of us. Typically I would have thrown my purse in the road hoping to trip all of them using a domino effect. But this time I was too transfixed to even attempt to cross, never mind cause them to crash.

All of the riders were casually biking, not racing. And they were dressed in what seemed to be 1920’s and 30’s British attire. All of the outfits looked so authentic. Not a bad one in sight, really. And everyone had a bit of tweed incorporated into their outfit as well.

I was really intrigued, watching them go by. I felt like I was on the set of a movie. Some people had their children on the back of their bikes and they were dressed up too! So much detail. One of the best bikers actually had a penny-farthing. I don’t know how he found it, but he looked awesome.

Yeeeah. I decided to find a picture because I know none of you knuckle-heads knew what I was talking about.

I guess the Tweed Ride started in London in 2009 and has been picked up throughout the world. It’s described as “a cosmopolitan ride with a bit of style.” Righto.

Usually I wouldn’t be interested in an activity that included exercise and public appearances. But for some reason I want to participate in it next year. I’ll have to start looking for an outfit. And a bike.

Congratulations Canada. This is the first cool thing I’ve seen in a while. Massive props.

Everyone in this video is super annoying and British, but you get the picture.

Lily in England Part Deux

This will be the obvious second installment of Lily in England. Too many observations, too much judging. One post simply cannot handle it all!

Entertainment:

The thing that really bothered me the most about living in England was that I felt like I was cut off from the rest of the world. Movies would come out months later than in the states. I would find myself having to wait for films that I was desperate to see, meanwhile they were old news back home. Canterbury one had one theater and it only had 2 screens! What kind of 3rd world BS is that? Just not acceptable!

Futbol, “footy”, soccer, whatever you want to call it–it’s taking over England. I don’t get it. It’s just people kicking a ball around. But every night the pubs would be full of men watching, cheering, and passing out. Am I missing something? Speaking of drinking, it’s disturbing how much people drink there. At first I thought it was all fun and games, but seriously England, take a look at yourself. I don’t think anyone knows what alcoholism is there. It just doesn’t exist. People actually looked at me funny when I told them that someone I knew was an alcoholic. Every morning I would see puke and broken bottles on the cobblestone.

Pub culture is an important part of life. Once a week there would be a “pub quiz” which is just a string of trivia questions for groups of people that come to the pub. It’s costs money to play, and whichever team wins, wins all the money. It’s pretty fun, but I never won 😦

Dancing at the clubs was always an adventure. A lot of people didn’t make it as far as the clubs though–most ended up collapsed on the sidewalk. Baa Bars (one of Canterbury’s finest) was 3 levels. The bottom level would play alt-rock, the middle floor was rap and the third floor was what they would call “cheese”. I’ve come to understand that cheese is pop music, but I guess, only the cheesy songs? I mean, they played S Club 7 sooo my assumption is probably not far off.

I took this picture myself, actually. Just a normal night.

Style (Or lack thereof):

England had possibly some of the worst dressed people I have ever seen. I’m not a fashion goddess by any means, but come on people! Whoever said that London is 10 years ahead of the US in terms of fashion must have been taking crazy pills. I mostly hung around the cool, savvy chicks that went to my college, but there were a lot of people in Canters and London that seemed to not have the slightest clue how to dress. One scary trend that I noticed for guys was gelled up hair, and combed down bangs (or fringe). In what way is that cute?

I can't even.

Stores would close at 5pm every night. Except Thursday, when stores would stay open EXTRA LATE until 7pm. Like, is this some kind of sick joke? Night shopping is one of my favorite activities. Stores should always be open until at least 9pm!

Chavs:

Chavs chavs omg chavs. Chavs are the U.K.’s equivalent to what we would call wanksters. They’re usually wearing Adidas tracksuits, missing some teeth, smoking and drinking simultaneously, and pushing a stroller, or walking a Rottweiler.  They wear a lot of knockoffs, which unfortunately stopped me from sporting Burberry. It’s tragic, really. These people scare me a lot and would always come up and talk to me for some reason. They are definitely a colorful type of people.

Lady Sovereign is a perfect chav. Sporty Spice also is a good one. She should have been Chavvy Spice.

Sledge Hockey

He's doing a good job of pretending he likes being attached to a sled.

If you live in Canada, you have no excuse not to play hockey. Even if you don’t have legs, this country will find a way for you to play hockey. I present to you, sledge hockey.

I saw a commercial ( Have you noticed that the only way I find out info is from TV? I’M SO EMBARRASSED! Not.) with people playing sledge hockey. At first I laughed, because that’s what I do when I see something weird or different. I immediately make fun of it. But then I realized that these people are handicapped and just trying to have some fun. They’re probably having more fun than I am sitting in front of the TV.

I think sledge hockey has different rules than regular hockey. I would look them up and tell you the differences, but that means I would have to look up the generic rules to hockey just to understand the sledge hockey rules. And I refuse to do that.  So just trust me when I say they’re different.

Interesting fact: in the United States, we refer to it as sled hockey. This makes more sense because the players are on little sleds. It snowed while I was in Canterbury, England (England shuts down when it snows. People literally do not know how to function. It’s bordering on retarded behavior.) and I remember that everyone wanted to go “sledging.” My response was always, “Whaaa?” “Come again?” or the ever-popular “Ew.”

So now I’m totally buggin. If cappers (handicapped people) can play hockey, then I seriously need to get into some sort of sport. I feel like I don’t have many options besides running in circles. Team sports terrify me. I hate the idea that others are depending on me. Any ideas would be appreciated. Any bad ideas earn you a virtual kick to the groin.

Target

See how much cooler Target is?

In Illinois, Target was a big part of my life. It was the perfect place to go when I was bored, or felt the urge to spend a quick $50 on who knows what. It’s almost impossible to go to Target and come out empty handed. Even if you go in looking for one specific item, chances are you will have found 10 other items that you all of a sudden desperately need. Or does that only happen to me?

Canada has a Target-like store called Zeller’s. I don’t go there a lot because it’s called Zeller’s. I also don’t go there a lot because it’s attached to a mall. That’s just downright dangerous. If my home Target was attached to a mall, I would literally be gone all day every day. I would have no money and live in a box. So I have to avoid Zeller’s as to not spend my life savings on random items.

In the next year or so, it’s going to be insanely easy to avoid Zeller’s because it won’t be Zeller’s for much longer. Canada finally has wised up and decided to change all of their Zeller’s into Targets. I cannot even express how excited I am! A brand new Target to call my own!

I can see why Target attracted Canadians–the colors are red and white. Zeller’s colors are also red and white. Easy transformation. I think it might have something to do with the guy who owns Target also owns Zeller’s as well.

If you don’t have a Target (I’m looking at you, England) then you are a lost nation. And basically dead to me.

Emily Carr

Semi-hottie?

Everyone is crazy about this chick. She is what you would call, Victoria’s celebrity or a Canadian icon. She was born in 1871 in Victoria and became an artist and writer. She has a university named after her, a library in her name, and a number of elementary schools as her namesake. Personally, she bugs me. Only because everyone is spending too much time focusing on her, when they could be focusing on me.

Here’s a little background on the Carr klan:

The Carr children were raised on English tradition. Richard Carr, born in England, believed it was sensible to live in Vancouver Island, a colony of Great Britain, where he could practice English customs and continue his British citizenship.

Okay, Dick, can I call you Dick? Why did you move when you could have practiced English customs and continue your British citizenship in oh, I don’t know, England? Seems like a weird decision. He was most likely running away from something. Possibly going to jail. How selfish. Emily was probably pissed. So she had to get her anger out by painting pictures of trees and totem poles. I’m assuming that’s how it was.

I guess she was inspired by the “indigenous peoples of the pacific northwest coast” which already annoys me because I hate Native art, as you well know. Her artwork is decent, but nothing that would be considered life-changing. Let’s compare these paintings shall we?

Emily Carr, I’m sure your dad was a psycho, but that’s not an excuse to paint really terribly. Your fame will forever baffle me.

Anna Kostenko's painting of a tree.

Emily Carr's picture of trees.