Happy Birthday, Emma and Tristan!

31 October 2008

I should probably be working on my paper for Humanities 309--I presently have 3.5 pages, and I need at least seven--but I'd understandably prefer to relate some of my recent adventures on the eastern edge of the pond. I'll try hard to be brief, but I can't promise anything.

Friday night was Halloween--or "Hallowe'en" as it is rendered under British conventions of orthography--so Cat, Tom, and Beth went to Poundland and bought a bunch of cheap decorations to help to commemorate the day. They look really nice, and I think that later that night they really added to mood. And of course, we all dressed up (in many case, for the first time since 5th grade): Tom was dressed in black shirt, trousers, and jacket with a silver tie and green zombie mask; Beth was supposed to be the devil; Cat claimed to be a witch, even though she wore her hat and witch's hair for all of twenty minutes during the evening; Zack wore a creepy plastic nose and set of ears which made him look like a leperchaun or some kind of malicious gnome; and I was Steve McGarrett from "Hawaii Five-O."

Besides Halloween, Friday night was also Emma and Tristan's birthday, so everyone in Flat 11 put together a wonderful dinner of chili con carne, cooked rice, and garden salad in their honor. I suppose that I've become the "salad-master" of our flat since each time we've had salad with dinner, I have assumed responsibility for its preparation. Mostly because I know a short-cut for removing the core of the lettuce. You simply take the head and pound the stem side of it on the table, and then dig it out with your fingers. It's a spectacular way for relieving stress or releasing pent-up frustration. Just imagine the head of lettuce is some one else's head, and the rest is really academic. Or so I suspect anyway.

The meal wasn't over long before we moved from eating to drinking. For the first time in a while, I didn't drink that much. I had a pint of Newcastle which I nursed over the course of an hour or two, a pint of Kronenberg which I nursed over the course of a minute or two, and another pint of Newcastle that I didn't bother to finish because Zack clandestinely poured the contents of his fruit juice-and-vodka into it, ruining it. Sacrilege. Zack and Emma, however, were both hilarious. I suppose the highlight of the evening was when Emma led everyone in an inebriated rendition of "The Star Spangled Banner," which wasn't as blasphemous as it sounds since the tune to which Francis Scott Key's poem was originally an Irish drinking-song. Once we were finished, Emma asked Tom, Beth, and Cat if they knew the British national anthem "God Save the Queen"; Beth tried to sing it. She didn't get far. An illustration of the differences between American and British patriotism, I suppose.

Shortly after the meal was concluded, several people from Dickinson popped in to wish Emma and Tristan a happy birthday. Chris Castillo, Katie, Meghan Blickman, Lauren Deitz, Leah, Annie, Sara, and Julieta all made it appearances. A few were dressed up in honor of the Halloween holiday. Meghan was dressed as a daisy in brown boots, green tights, and a yellow shirt over a white dress. I wasn't entirely certain what Julieta was supposed to be; I'm going to guess some composite of Raggedy Ann and Pippy Longstockings. However, it was interesting at one point when Meghan asked me if I wanted to compete against her in a chugging contest--remember that Kronenberg that I nursed over the course of a minute or two? Well. I did. And I'm embarrassed to say it, but I got my hindquarters handed to me, which provoked a chorus of laughter from everyone there. Zack got a really good photo of my reaction after I lost; hacking, doubled-over, and red-faced like a sugar beet, I look like I'm about to die of consumption, while Meghan is still chugging steadily along.

Anyway, there isn't much more that I need to mention. I'm not aware of the circumstances leading up to it, but Zack let Emma slap him. Twice. He then followed that up a short while later by banging his head on the top of our kitchen table. Again, twice. There were also multiple photographs taken of sundry hilarious things Zack and I did with his plastic nose. I won't lengthen this post with the details, but when my mother saw the photographs the next day, she grabbed me on Skype Chat and proceeded to ask me, "Did you have a naughty thought or something working its way to the surface?" Oh, heady days in Flat 11.