I am obsessed with the UK show “Come Dine With Me”. For one night, 4 or 5 people, who have never met, go to one another’s house and cook for each other, they then rate the meal and hosting, and finally give a score, from 1 to 10, for the over all night. I watch new episodes every night at 5:30 and catch the re-run marathons in the day, judging each meal and moronic contestant as they try to win the 1,000 pound prize at the end of the week.
Now that I have become a stay at home fiancé, I imagine what culinary creation I would make on the addicting evening show. Every meal I cook I rate myself, and of course, have Andy rate me as well, to see if my fab cooking could have won the grand prize. Andy, as the perfect fiancé that he is, always gives me a 10 out of 10, while I think, “No. No. This is NOT ‘Come Dine With Me’ material and defiantly not worth the 1,000 pound jackpot”.
Then tonight I made an Asian inspiration, chicken, sweet orange, and walnut salad, with sweet ginger teriyaki dressing and 2, well maybe 3, glasses of crisp white wine…. YUMM! And after I tossed the salad, served it, and took my first bite, I shouted, “This is IT!! This is my ‘Come Dine With Me’ winning dish!” Which I followed up with, “Andy what do you think? What score do you give me? And don’t just say ten… tell me your score as if you are on the show!” And he said, “9”! I knew it!!! I then, of course, went on and formed my entire first place menu, deciding to serve, against the advice of the amateur chef Andy, the salad as the main and sesame seared ahi-tuna as the appetizer. And that is that! I shall apply tomorrow to be the next winning contestant on “Come Dine With Me”!
Monday 22 February 2010
Saturday 20 February 2010
The Art of the Pole
Last week I finally made it to a pole dancing class. My beginner’s class was canceled so I was forced to go to the advanced class. I had no idea what to expect and lets just say it was a culture shock!
When I first went into the class I had the feeling I was amongst applicants for the local WACKOS! We were told to wear shorts, so I naturally put on my Nike workout running shorts, not my hot-pants underwear, which was the choice of most. One girl had on a purple and black lace bra with a see-through skimpy white top and matching purple and lace “shorts”. It left nothing to the imagination, especially when she was whipping upside down around the pole with her legs thrown apart into a split! I couldn’t help but think I should run up and put a 5-pound note in her underwear.
Then it was my turn! The instructor asked me how far along I was in learning different “tricks”. To which I replied “HUH??” So then she asked if I was “introverted”. To which I said “WHAT??” Then annoyed at how little I knew about pole dancing said, “Do you go upside down?” “HAHAHA NO!” She didn’t find this funny at all (it is a very serious business, this pole dancing).
She started me with the basic foundation Fireman’s step. It was simply swinging your legs and arms around the pole and sliding down as if you are on the playground. I, unfortunately, am so uncoordinated and lacking quite a bit of grace, found this move to be a major struggle! After trying a few more moves and “tricks”, to which I looked like a piece of limp spaghetti sliding down a pole, I decided to stand back and watch the others. And after watching the other girls seduce the metal pole, I was pretty certain I was at the warm up for a local strip clubs show that night.
When I first went into the class I had the feeling I was amongst applicants for the local WACKOS! We were told to wear shorts, so I naturally put on my Nike workout running shorts, not my hot-pants underwear, which was the choice of most. One girl had on a purple and black lace bra with a see-through skimpy white top and matching purple and lace “shorts”. It left nothing to the imagination, especially when she was whipping upside down around the pole with her legs thrown apart into a split! I couldn’t help but think I should run up and put a 5-pound note in her underwear.
Then it was my turn! The instructor asked me how far along I was in learning different “tricks”. To which I replied “HUH??” So then she asked if I was “introverted”. To which I said “WHAT??” Then annoyed at how little I knew about pole dancing said, “Do you go upside down?” “HAHAHA NO!” She didn’t find this funny at all (it is a very serious business, this pole dancing).
She started me with the basic foundation Fireman’s step. It was simply swinging your legs and arms around the pole and sliding down as if you are on the playground. I, unfortunately, am so uncoordinated and lacking quite a bit of grace, found this move to be a major struggle! After trying a few more moves and “tricks”, to which I looked like a piece of limp spaghetti sliding down a pole, I decided to stand back and watch the others. And after watching the other girls seduce the metal pole, I was pretty certain I was at the warm up for a local strip clubs show that night.
Tuesday 9 February 2010
Me and my Purple Biking Machine
On my quest to meet friends and keep myself busy, I decided to sign up for workout classes at Bournemouth University. I decided to take three classes, pole dancing, kickboxing, and Pilates, in hopes of meeting my future English best friend. I was not only going to be able to practice for my London to Paris bike ride in April on my ice purple, town and trail, snazzy bike, but I am also going to get my hot bod and sexy moves for my wedding! This is going to be FAB!
The first Monday of my first class came and my ever so logical Andy thought it would be best to drive me to class so I knew exactly how to get to the University by bike. There I was, about as excited and nervous as a 5 year old girl going to her first ballet class, with the Tom Tom navigating us to Bournemouth University, only to find it took us to the center of Bournemouth. There it was, the all knowledgeable Tom Tom, navigating us to turn down a pedestrian only street. I couldn’t believe there was an entire University smack dab in the middle of Top Shop, Subway, and Indian restaurants. How fantastic is this, when you are waiting for class to start you can shop for an outfit while eating Subway! Andy wasn’t nearly as naive. When we parked the car and started walking, he was sure we were not in the right place, or even the right part of town. He knew there was just no way BU is amongst all this. And he was right.... Bournemouth University was 5 miles away and in a completely different area of town! When I realized I had officially missed my first day of class all my excitement left me like a popped balloon.
Now for attempt two to make it to my next class, kickboxing, on Tuesday. I was again all excited and ready to get working out. I had been to the campus and seen the route home and was ready to buckle up my helmet, throw on my backpack, and head down the street on my purple speed machine! I woke up and saw it was a typical English winter’s day, very cold and very wet, but I was not going to let this get me down. So I got on my bike and headed toward BU. I only made it 500 yards before I fell off my mean machine and slammed into the wet pavement (how am I ever going to make it to Paris when I can’t even bicycle on a sidewalk without falling off!!!?). But I again was not going to let this get to my excitement of meeting my new best friend. Up I got, back onto my bike, and started off again for BU. But I got lost trying to find the center of town, which did I mention is where I go every day!?! I had no idea how to cross the railroad tracks (which when crossed is the center of town). I just kept cycling around trying to find the street where my hand written directions started. I just needed to find the road at the end of the shopping street where I walked endlessly day after day. After about 40 min of aimlessly riding back and forth on the same pavement clueless as to where to go, I noticed another cyclist coming up from an underground ramp with a sign above it labelled "subway". A subway to me is an underground train, but I soon discovered a "subway" in the UK was an underground tunnel to get under a busy street or railroad!
Then it got much worse. The rain came pouring down, the streets were so busy I felt like I was trying to ride my bike down I-95, and when I came to a three stemmed fork in the road I had no idea where to go. This was not on the self drawn map of directions, and I did not remember this from the drive with Andy. After a careful game of eeny meeny miney moe, I took the road in the middle. I rode down this for about 10 minutes until it ended and I was faced with two signs and one was pointing to Bournemouth. I took the Bournemouth route, kept riding, and after another 15 minutes was back at the three street fork! I couldn’t believe I had just made one huge circle! So this time I took the road to the right. After about another 15 minutes I came to another unfamiliar fork in the road. Not sure which way to go, I picked the right. Only to once again come to the same three stemmed fork in the road! That was it! I was cold, soaking wet, and on the verge of tears! This was horrendous! I circled the same block twice, fell off, and had been yelled at by little kids to get off the sidewalk! Screw kickboxing I was going home!
Attempt three. On Wednesday my perfect Andy managed to get off work early to ride with me to class. It was another cold and wet day. We left 2 hours before my class to make sure I got there on time. From the minute we started I was nervous. Andy, with his Lance Armstrong racing bike, zipped off down the road leaving me and my purple machine in its dust. I was left desperately trying to stay on the double yellow lines, as close to the curb as possible, with cars zipping past me at 50 miles an hour, while Andy raced along with the flow of traffic! This was a nightmare! Then we got to the mountainous bit of our journey! I had never in my life, which is understandable since I did grow up in Florida where I am pretty sure the entire state is downhill, climbed such a huge hill! By the third “hill” I demounted my bike and walked, at a much faster pace, up the hill. Then when I think it couldn’t get worse my bike brakes clamp down and are stuck to be permanently breaking. As if it wasn’t hard enough to pedal! After this, for a non-stop 2 hours, we finally made it to my Pilates class only to be yelled at by the instructor for being 5 minutes late and disturbing the class! Next week I am taking the bus!!!
The first Monday of my first class came and my ever so logical Andy thought it would be best to drive me to class so I knew exactly how to get to the University by bike. There I was, about as excited and nervous as a 5 year old girl going to her first ballet class, with the Tom Tom navigating us to Bournemouth University, only to find it took us to the center of Bournemouth. There it was, the all knowledgeable Tom Tom, navigating us to turn down a pedestrian only street. I couldn’t believe there was an entire University smack dab in the middle of Top Shop, Subway, and Indian restaurants. How fantastic is this, when you are waiting for class to start you can shop for an outfit while eating Subway! Andy wasn’t nearly as naive. When we parked the car and started walking, he was sure we were not in the right place, or even the right part of town. He knew there was just no way BU is amongst all this. And he was right.... Bournemouth University was 5 miles away and in a completely different area of town! When I realized I had officially missed my first day of class all my excitement left me like a popped balloon.
Now for attempt two to make it to my next class, kickboxing, on Tuesday. I was again all excited and ready to get working out. I had been to the campus and seen the route home and was ready to buckle up my helmet, throw on my backpack, and head down the street on my purple speed machine! I woke up and saw it was a typical English winter’s day, very cold and very wet, but I was not going to let this get me down. So I got on my bike and headed toward BU. I only made it 500 yards before I fell off my mean machine and slammed into the wet pavement (how am I ever going to make it to Paris when I can’t even bicycle on a sidewalk without falling off!!!?). But I again was not going to let this get to my excitement of meeting my new best friend. Up I got, back onto my bike, and started off again for BU. But I got lost trying to find the center of town, which did I mention is where I go every day!?! I had no idea how to cross the railroad tracks (which when crossed is the center of town). I just kept cycling around trying to find the street where my hand written directions started. I just needed to find the road at the end of the shopping street where I walked endlessly day after day. After about 40 min of aimlessly riding back and forth on the same pavement clueless as to where to go, I noticed another cyclist coming up from an underground ramp with a sign above it labelled "subway". A subway to me is an underground train, but I soon discovered a "subway" in the UK was an underground tunnel to get under a busy street or railroad!
Then it got much worse. The rain came pouring down, the streets were so busy I felt like I was trying to ride my bike down I-95, and when I came to a three stemmed fork in the road I had no idea where to go. This was not on the self drawn map of directions, and I did not remember this from the drive with Andy. After a careful game of eeny meeny miney moe, I took the road in the middle. I rode down this for about 10 minutes until it ended and I was faced with two signs and one was pointing to Bournemouth. I took the Bournemouth route, kept riding, and after another 15 minutes was back at the three street fork! I couldn’t believe I had just made one huge circle! So this time I took the road to the right. After about another 15 minutes I came to another unfamiliar fork in the road. Not sure which way to go, I picked the right. Only to once again come to the same three stemmed fork in the road! That was it! I was cold, soaking wet, and on the verge of tears! This was horrendous! I circled the same block twice, fell off, and had been yelled at by little kids to get off the sidewalk! Screw kickboxing I was going home!
Attempt three. On Wednesday my perfect Andy managed to get off work early to ride with me to class. It was another cold and wet day. We left 2 hours before my class to make sure I got there on time. From the minute we started I was nervous. Andy, with his Lance Armstrong racing bike, zipped off down the road leaving me and my purple machine in its dust. I was left desperately trying to stay on the double yellow lines, as close to the curb as possible, with cars zipping past me at 50 miles an hour, while Andy raced along with the flow of traffic! This was a nightmare! Then we got to the mountainous bit of our journey! I had never in my life, which is understandable since I did grow up in Florida where I am pretty sure the entire state is downhill, climbed such a huge hill! By the third “hill” I demounted my bike and walked, at a much faster pace, up the hill. Then when I think it couldn’t get worse my bike brakes clamp down and are stuck to be permanently breaking. As if it wasn’t hard enough to pedal! After this, for a non-stop 2 hours, we finally made it to my Pilates class only to be yelled at by the instructor for being 5 minutes late and disturbing the class! Next week I am taking the bus!!!
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