celery, celery

The key to attending any football match in the UK is knowing the songs and chants. This would have been great to know prior to our journey into SOBar where fans were waving high Chelsea flags, throwing celery as far as they could chuck it witout concern or care for individuals who may be hit in the eyeball with it and yelling songs and chants while spilling their beer left and right. After retreiving our beer from the bar, we headed outside where our evident shock and incessant giggling attracted the attention of some of the natives, who proceeded to mock our accents and show us their gluttony of Chelsea/ England themed tattoos. One guy had a 'Made in England' tramp stamp. I saw more of the British that day then I would ever care to. Then, rapidly and without any kind of warning, 200+ people crammed into the tiny bar to watch the game on a giant screen. There was chanting and singing and even a song where you had to kneel down and then pop back up and we just played along like we knew what was happening even though we clearly didn't.

I would just like to say, I've never been so glad to see a team win a match. I really think things would have been on fire if they would have lost. Chelsea fans would slaughter OSU fans. Slaugh-ter them.

That evening, Claire and I found one of the most adorable pubs I've ever seen. The Pembroke is just down the street from us, and is really just perfect in every way. Their menu is on giant chalkboards hanging on the walls, which are filled with mis-matched old photographs in yellowing frames. Giants chandelliers hang from the ceiling and the lamps have funky pink and green and yellow shades that look as if they were pulled out of some old proper British lady's trash. They also played an amazing mix of The Rolling Stones, Justin Timberlake and The Beatles. It was perfect.

Also, I have started work this week. This is the primary reason for my blogger-slacking. But, now that I've realized that I can do whatever I like at work, I am writing this at my desk. I've only been here 3 days and already, I am doing profiles on the 44 candidates in the Afghan elections and watching the War Crimes Tribunal at the Hague.

Yesterday, a girl got fired. It was my second day. Yikes.

I am too afraid to get up from my desk to go to lunch. I'm really not sure when lunch is, or what other people do, or who I actually report to. I also have no idea where the bathroom is. So, everyday I come home from work starving and having to pee really, really badly. I'm just going to go along with it until it gets too awkward to handle.