Come Dine With Me 3rd edition

Let us Dine, Drink and be Merry!!
19 October 2009: 3rd edition

I never truly believed that, other than fine wines, some things get better with age. That is, until I tasted some authentic Cougar Cooking!

As I entered Cathy’s luxurious pad, Lauren magically appeared, and with a seemingly innocent grin, thrust a welcome glass of peach champagne into my hand before I could even put my handbag down.

Taking a sip, I enjoyed the mixture of fruit and alcohol slide down my parched throat. But just as that warm and nostalgic feeling washed over me, my feeling of bliss was interrupted by a plate of mini pizzas being shoved in front of me. Looking up, I found myself face to face with that innocent grin again. ‘Eat one!’ the voice commanded. Out of fear and fear alone, I popped one into my mouth. The grin turned into a smirk of satisfaction and then disappeared off to force feed the next victim,

Then we waited…and waited. The starter was ready but there was something missing. We could not figure out what, until we realised that, aside from my story of [XXXX], nobody was talking about work…DAVE! We were missing Dave – well, Mark as well, but we had since come to realise that we were at the bottom of Mark’s friend food chain.

Dave finally arrived a couple of hours late and the starter was brought out. A very interesting and spicy concoction of eggplant, bread, somethingerather and dates wrapped in blackened bacon (although Dave is to blame for that one) was plopped in front of us. Hmmm…our eyes dart about- what is this odd brown concoction? But pretty soon, many were crying out for more and Cathy was only happy to oblige.

Then the main course came and the race began. Kiran wolfed it down the fastest. I came in a close second. Shots of lemoncello followed, which in my opinion were slightly chavvy (English white trash). Cultured people sip lemoncello, but hey, I would not expect such refinement from Lauren and Cathy. We slugged it down.

And then the desert!!! Ice cream cake!!! I saw a flash of that innocent grin again.”You love ice cream cake don’t you?” wink..wink. The grin is talking to me. I am stunned. Are they trying to manipulate the CDM critic? Surely Cathy and Lauren are not that manipulative, right?? [Pause here for effect]

But at this point, I didn’t care and inhaled my piece before turning to my left, savagely attacking Al’s delectable piece and then demanding sloppy seconds.

Sitting back I felt completely satisfied, well not completely satisfied – I mean Cathy and Lauren’s food could not satisfy all of my needs, and I am not sure [XXXXX].

But then, I saw it. The infamous football; the very same one that had provided us with so much entertainment on the greatest ‘Sunday Funday’of all time. I couldn’t resist and jumped out of my seat to join Cathy and show off our fantastic American football skills. Then Faith joined, and after my training, she was able to perform the perfect ‘hike’. But even with all the game playing I could feel the “Fun” level wavering. In an unselfish move, I began to dance.

And dance I did, dancing like I had never danced before. I kicked, shook my booty, elegantly swung about the room, flailing my arms with football in hand for dramatic effect. My majestic moves seized the attention of the party, saving it from an imminent disaster of boredom.

Finally worn out, I crashed onto the couch and exhausted from the night’s activities, mentioned I was going to go home. Surprisingly, everyone else jumped at my suggestion as if they had been eagerly waiting for an excuse to leave. We piled into the cabs and away we went.

Alas, the next day, it became quite clear that Cathy and Lauren had not read my previous newsletter. Either that or they did not pay heed to my Security Warning as their guests were not thoroughly searched prior to their departure and another theft took place. This time- the culprit was the unsuspecting Ms. Faith Karp in the living room, with the candlestick, who absconded with Cathy’s camera.

But aside from the thievery, the night was a big success. The food was delicious, the company superb and everyone was happy and full of wine. Now, I would like to end this newsletter’s 3rd edition with at least one memorable and exquisite image of the night that captures the essence of true perfection….My firm arse!

Don’t forget the Grand Finale is coming up..and I can say with complete honesty that I am really feeling the pressure but I am most certainly up to the challenge. I just hope my partner shows up before desert.

Sunday 1 November
Start time: 6:00ish
Where: [XXX]

But before I sign off, I do have one burning question: Just who did order that Chinese food?

Sincerely,

Your faithful ‘Come Dine With Me’ Correspondent / Hot Librarian / Exotic dancer / Aerobics instructor

Please see 'Culture Club is reborn' posting prior to reading this post

Culture Club Newsletter
2nd edition 07 October 2009

Living our vision:

‘To gather a group of intellectuals, originating from all over the world, united by one common desire: to seek and understand new cultures through the arts, historical exhibits, music, and interactions with one another … and have a good time doing it!’

Recent event:

The rebirth of the Culture Club was a smashing success! Thank you to all who could attend what turned into probably the funniest show I have ever seen.

For those unable, here is a quick recap of the evening. But before I do so, I would like to congratulate Ms. Lauren Darby once again for her new role as Head of TV Marketing for Talk Talk!! All her hard work and superior intelligence has clearly paid off! Right, so now back to the show…

The true alcoholics of the group, Lauren and Dave, were the first to arrive at our pre-theatre meeting spot Bar Soho (a huge improvement from the old man gay pub I had originally picked out). I of course arrived at the same time to limit the alcohol consumption as I knew they would otherwise become too rowdy, as they always do, for the very tasteful and sophisticated Avenue Q show.

After about an hour of civilized chat and further members arrived, we made our way to the theatre. Upon picking up the tickets, the Box Office suddenly realized who I was and immediately upgraded our seats to a section more in line with my social status.

Walking into the theatre, Lauren proved her superior intelligence extends beyond just her workplace and into her private life as, out of concern for the group of possible dehydration during the show, (a very serious matter I might add) she quickly bought a bottle of wine to bring in and ensure our excessive drinking of liquids continued.

Avenue Q turned out to be hilarious, far exceeding my expectations as well as many others. The love-making scored big hits – I could see the men taking notes. I also think I recognized the “Bad Puppets!” I don’t want to say who, but I am pretty sure their characters were based off some close friends of mine; a brother and sister whose last name begins with “D” and ends with “y” but I won’t name names;-)

I made have had a few too many drinks as I stumbled out of the theatre, but I did manage to deliver a very inspiring speech about the resurrection of the Culture Club at the White Horse pub before we finally made it home, arriving just before the stroke of midnight.

Thanks again to everyone who made this night possible.

The Culture Club is reborn!

In case any of you readers are concerned about my social life, or for that matter wonder what it is I do all the time, I will be posting some newsletters of 2 recent clubs, Culture Club and Come Dine With Me.

The Culture Club to be reborn!!!

"What is the Culture Club???" - you may ask?

Well, for those of you not fortunate enough to have previously participated, I shall provide a brief introduction - and no, this club has nothing to do with Boy George.

Our mission statement:
To gather a group of intellectuals, originating from all over the world, united by one common desire: to seek and understand new cultures through the arts, historical exhibits, music, and interactions with one another … and have a good time doing it!”

Of course in reality, we are merely a bunch of transient nomads feeling mildly guilty for spending the vast majority of our weekend time in either a) a posh restaurant b) the latest bar and/or club c) the local pub or d) hungover on the couch - buy hey, I believe the above sounds a bit more eloquent. And in all honesty, my main reason of doing this is because I feel we too often say let's do this / let's do that, but rarely plan (I am very guilty of this)

Sounds nice, but what do you actually do?

We will plan on an ad hoc basis any event that you desire…anything! [Must have some cultural / art impact - porn film watching only acceptable if in a foreign language]. This could range from museums / theatre / symphony, etc. We will then try to grab drinks / coffee / lunch afterwards to discuss our thoughts and feelings on the experience.

Do I need to be a member?

Yes. All applications must be submitted to Shannon Riley with a photo attached, nudes by men welcome (good-looking people only). Totally kidding of course - please invite whomever. I like to feel more popular than I really am. If you want someone else included, let me know and I will add them to my Culture Club Distribution list.

Can I make recommendations?

Please DO make recommendations - I will just start booking dates in and sending out emails with ideas when I do. If you can make it, great. If you cannot, no worries.
I don't want to participate. Just let me know and I will remove you from my distribution list.
You are such a dork! Yes, I know. And I am proud of that. Anybody read the latest edition to The Economist yet?

Plant or Flower

Plant or flower?

“Plant or flower? Plant or flower?” Unbeknownst to me, my good friend and flatmate is standing in front of a selection of plants and flowers stressing over which to buy me. The longer she contemplates, the more stressed she becomes. Green, yellow, orange, red, purple..so many colours to choose from, but which, she can’t decide, would brighten my mood the most???

I am in my room, throwing clothes this way and that, stuffing items into drawers and desperately trying to find space in my tiny little room in London to put the ridiculous amount of clothes I purchased on my most recent visit to the States. I am trying my best to occupy my mind, anything to keep me from thinking about the devastating news that was delivered to me the night before.

After an excruciatingly long wait, and even more painful process, the decision is in: London Business School Admissions Committee has decided not to offer me an advance (prior to their review of this year’s applicants) position in the MBA2012 class. Game over.

I applied for MBA2011, frantically put in an application into Round 3, already a very competitive round. However, the UK government had other plans for my future and after changing their visa rules last minute, I was forced to hand over my passport in order to have the security to remain in the country before their rules changed. No passport meant I could not sit for the GMAT. No GMAT score meant my application was pushed to Round 4 – where few spots, if any are left. After enduring what was the most challenging interview I have had (and I have had a few), it was therefore of no surprise that I was Waitlisted in case a place opened up. And so the wait began.

For several months, I survived several “decision dates” where more and more candidates were ‘dinged’ from the Waitlist pool. As the school’s start date came up, I was finally informed I could no longer be considered for MBA2011 but that they would consider me for a spot in MBA2012 – a glimmer of hope.

Then yesterday, after waiting almost 7 months, with so much uncertainty in my life and career (I will get to that in another posting), the result – due to the limited number of spaces they are allowed to offer in advance, they could not extend one to me.

My dream, to attend one of the most prestigious business schools in the world, and one which shares my view of the importance of a global outlook in business and provides the opportunity for its students to interact closely with others from 60 nationalities, was crushed. Seven months of waiting, a tremendous amount of hard work and sacrifice, and a near lifetime of dreaming– over in that one second.

I should have waited to apply in Round 1 [much easier] this year, I should have applied to other schools, I should have changed my LT vision, I should have this, I should have that…But these thoughts are worthless. We cannot change the past, only plan for the future.

Stepping out of my room to carry my laundry down the stairs, I see a small plant with 2 pinkish red flowers in full bloom and a small card sitting outside my bedroom door. My friend, after agonising over the decision of whether to purchase the plant or flower, had decided on both. Seeing me come out of my room, she smiles. “I was seriously stressing over that for ages! I just could not decide..there were so many choices and I wanted to be sure to pick out the one that would lift your spirits the most.”

We are so often faced with many opportunities and decisions – and each one we struggle over, whether big or small. Should I take that job? Would those dining room chairs look right for the table? Should I go back to school? Where should we go out to dinner tonight? We agonise over these things, but who is to know what would have happened had we made the other choice – or in my case, the choice was made for me by LBS’ Admissions Committee.

So this goes back to my original question. Plant or flower? Plant or flower? They are both quite nice. I would have been happy either way.

You know you live in London when...

- 50% of your salary goes to food and alcohol
- 40% goes to rent
- 10% on clothes
- 0% to savings

You go to 30th birthday parties what seems like every weekend but you have yet to go to a single wedding

Only spending $80 on a meal is a bargain

The sun comes out occasionally, but only followed directly after or right before a torrential rain-pour

Nobody speaks English

You are a successful professional still living in a flat share

Estate agents (rental property managers) were former criminals

Having a child at the age of 30 seems WAY too young

You fear the suburbs – it is a whole new world!

You spend at least 3 hours a day travelling on the tube – and another 1 hour a day stuck in one

You live in a $5 million dollar home that if located in the States, would be condemned

A small backyard comprised of rocks and cigarette butts (not mine) is a luxury- and a key selling point to our flat

You cannot order food without it being covered in oil and/or cream

Your social life is overwhelming and you have a list of ready to go excuses as to why you cannot attend this party/dinner/lunch/coffee/work drinks/festival….the list goes on – you need sleep!

A Dangerous Commute

I can’t breathe.

I try to fill my lungs with the stuffy, putrid air. It is hot. I can feel my shirt starting to stick to my body as I begin to faintly perspire.

I am surrounded by people dressed in black, most of whom are larger than me so that all I can see are shoulders, backs and a few grim faces of the unfortunate shorter few. The floor below me lurches violently; I lose my balance but do not fall. The bodies in black are pressed up against me so tightly they are propping me up.

Over the next ten minutes the floor continues to jolt to and fro. The bodies in black begin to slowly disperse and I widen my stance so as to prevent tipping over onto the person next to me.

I have one hand clasped tightly on the bar above me, the other holding my copy of The Economist – books are too heavy for this one hand-hold, and The Financial Times too big. Headphones in, music softly playing, I keep my head down in the text, trying to pretend I am elsewhere, anywhere but on the Tube on my way home from work.

Five stops to go and I see movement out of the corner of my eye. A woman sitting down is folding up a popular British tabloid newspaper – this indicates an approximate 80% chance she is getting off at the next stop; the other 20% of course being she is simply done with the paper.

Her movement was subtle, but I see another standing passenger looking in her direction – she must have also noticed! My shoulder is aching from my heavy laptop bag and I am dying for a seat. I quickly angle my body in front of the other standing passenger so as to block her attempt to go for the seat should it become available.

The train stops. I wait…success! The sitting woman with the folded newspaper is getting up from her seat! I lean out of her way “accidently” blocking the pathway to the seat from the other standing passengers. As soon as she is out I make a dash, plunk down and swing my laptop case with a thud to the floor. I sigh…another day..another commute.