Tuesday, October 7, 2014

Welcome to Miami - I mean, Bath. Welcome to Bath.

I think I'll just start referring to the UK as Miami from now on, because why not. Yes, it will cause some confusion in just about every social situation. However, there will be a day when I can tell Tom to get the plane and then I'll start rapping about Miami.


What really happened is that I am in the UK. In Bath. But Will Smith never rapped about Bath, nor did he ever welcome anyone to it. Bienvenido a Bath, I say! But Bath didn't exactly welcome me. You see, there are some differences between the grand old USA and the grander older UK. Wacky, right?! Who'd have thunk it? But more on that later.

For now, in case you are wondering (and who isn't wondering about what I'm doing?!) what I'm doing here it's going to school. To study. Writing. More writing. For young people. Like kids and crap.

And people seem really confused as to why I would go to Bath for school when I come from California. Like how people in the US are really confused when I say I hate San Francisco. It's somehow unbelievable even though it's just, like, facts and sciences.

So I'm all like, "Hey, nerds! I want to study writing for CHILDREN. This is the PLACE TO BE!" Then people are like, "But, Laura - you hate children, don't you?" And I act all indignant and am like, "Hate'em?! I hardly know'em! Are there specific children I can think of that I intensely dislike? Sure! But who doesn't hate certain children that way? Anyway, I want to write mainly for young adults. Especially adults like myself who love reading young adult books. No, but I kid! See, KID! I love kids." And then the people talking to me look at each other uncomfortably and slowly back away as I start singing.

Besides, for every idiot kid like this:

There's a cooler less idiotic kid like this:

And so will I write a picture book or two? PERHAPS. Do I have a brilliant idea for one involving robots and donuts? MAYBE I DO. Might I write books for young adults? DUH. Will I ever understand how many different British accents there are? NO. I barely understood the dude putting in my internet and spent most of the time laughing and nodding to what I assume was the nonsensical ravings of a lunatic. I think he mentioned rain and finished most sentences by calling me "love." Total psycho. No, no - he was cool. Let's all call everyone "love," shall we? People might like that better than my oft-chosen choice, "turd."

And when I called customer service when he left and never came back did I understand those people when all they were asking for was my last name? NO. Because they kept saying "surname" and a jumble of other crazy things that aren't things in a wacky way. But you know what? We all got along cause we're all just speakin' the same lanuage here. Pretty much. I feel like an alien who's come to Earth and knows the basics of language, but I have to stare really hard at peoples' mouths when they're making words to understand about half of what's been said.


And that's A-OK.

And I know I said this was just gonna be about school, but I say a lot of things. We're already off track here. Apparently some people get super offended when you try to tip them and then get all huffy and are like, "I get paid very well." And I'm like, "That's great, Dude-Who-Works-At-Ikea, but you're not Bill Gates here. You work in Ikea. Your house is probably made of Ikea. No need to get on the high horse you probably built yourself out of Ikea parts." 


Like I know minimum wage in the US is pretty crap, but the people in the UK (or Bath at least) have to pay for nutso things like a TV license. Sorry. Licence. That's 150 pounds. Which is like 200-something bucks. PLUS, we get way better value for a lot of crud. So, yeah, duh our minimum wage is an unlivable unrealistic garbage rate, but it's not the worst thing that ever happened in the world. Why you gotta be so smug, UK employees? It's like they all think they're sassy mini-RDJs or something. 


And they are so not. I sold his assistant a birthday card to give to him once, so I think I know what I'm talking about.

So it's like, "It's not gonna kill you, Dude-Who-Works-At-Ikea, to take my tip for helping me do a bunch of crap you're not even supposed to help me do. It's just gonna make me feel better about everything and even if you're paid so well you live in an Ikea castle on an Ikea mountain by an Ikea river that flows with your very well paid Ikea quid and you crap Ikea gold, it would just be nice for me - the idiot from abroad who thinks tipping is just a nice gesture if someone goes out of there way to help you - if you took my tip. IT'S NO BIG DEAL." 

Clearly. Since I've just ranted about it for a large paragraph. Whatever. I complain because I love. BUCKLE UP, UK - IT'S GONNA BE A BUMPY NIGHT! By the end of this year-long adventure, I'm gonna be the Han to UK's Leia.
Stay tuned for next time, when we talk about how amazing it is that there are cream tea specials on every other corner, they have eight thousand dfiferent sized coins, and how I feel my Californian accent becoming more Valley Girl-esque as every moment passes.


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