"If you're in England man you gotta 'henge it up!"

Here's my interpretation of what went down at Stonehenge (the Asian tourist was NOT scripted)

I'm obsessed with the mess that's America

I never have class and you have nothing better to do so lets talk about music va bene? As most of you know I am a talented DJ for a very prestigious and respected college radio station known as WGTB Georgetown Radio. My show Bad Music w/ Brett Davis, also known on special occasions as Black Market Radio w/ Sean Anderson, has been dominating internet radio ratings for almost three years now. One night I even had twelve listeners!!!!! Omg. But enough joking around. I came to King's this semester hoping to take Bad Music to the next level. I hoped not only to introduce our Anglo-brethren to new music, but also to discover new music myself. However, King's does not have a radio station and my plan was foiled in its developing stages. Now I'm left to wander the streets of London lost and alone; crying inside for I cannot share my music with the world. Tear :,(. This post is my way of dealing with this predicament. Let us begin.

People ask me all the time, "Brett what do British people listen to?" I've thought about this a long, long time and I think the best answer is, "It depends." After all, in America (aka Richie's fav country) people listen to all sorts of music. You have the Indie kids who wear tight jeans and worship Wilco. There are people like my mom who love American Idol and Josh Groban. There's that younger generation of people who refuse to listen to new music in favor of Classic Rock. I'll never understand why. There are also the frat stars who only listen to fratmusic.com. However there are those hits that everyone can enjoy: Since U Been Gone by Kelly Clarkson comes to mind, along with Hot n' Cold by Katy Perry and Poker Face by Lady Gaga. I think you're starting to get the point. I don't know the individual tastes of many Brits yet, but here's a list of some songs I've heard a lot since I've been here:

Cheryl Cole- Fight For This Love- I had never heard of Cheryl Cole before coming to London. I thought people were talking about Sheryl Crow. This song has everything a pop song should have: awesome dance moves, sex appeal and an annoyingly catchy chorus that will make you wish Cheryl would just give up on This Love.

Iyaz- Replay- I heard this song a million times on the drive to Columbus over Winter Break. I must admit that I do enjoy it...for now. It's catchy and so innocent compared with the other pop songs out at this moment.

Justin Bieber- One Time- This music video made my life. Not only is Usher in it, there's a silly string fight! But come on Justin, where's the Goose??? The video reminds me of those awkward junior high days when the girls were taller than the guys. Love it. Hopefully Justin can survive puberty.

Rihanna- Hard ft. Jeezy- I could have picked any of Rihanna's new songs. The music video's are played non stop at the student union's bar. It's worth watching just to see Rihanna wear a Mickey Mouse helmet.







And now here are some songs that I've been listening to:

Example- Won't Go Quietly- Just added it to my famous Party Mix. Hoyas, expect to hear this song next semester.

The xx- Islands- The xx are an Indie band from London. All of their shows are sold out here, but none of my new King's friends know them??? Oh well. A little back story on the name: Europeans end texts or instant messages with "x" or "xx" or "xxx" etc. The "x" means kiss, so "xx" means kisses. It's similar to hugs and kisses "xoxo" in America. And I must say there is nothing that can quite make your day like receiving "xx" from a cute European girl.

Marina and the Diamonds- Hollywood- I can't stop listening to this song!!! I love it so, so much and the music video is awesome as well. Marina is a very talented singer and songwriter. "I'm obsessed with the mess that's America," pretty much sums up how Europeans feel about America these days.

Bad Rabbits- Stick Up Kids- Bad Rabbits are a fledgling band out of Boston who I came across on purevolume.com at the end of last semester. I'm usually not the go to guy for R&B music, but I encourage everyone to check out this band. The whole cd is amazing and totally worth buying. Lastly, when Bad Rabbits explodes in a year or two just remember where you heard them first ;).

We Were Promised Jetpacks- Roll Up Your Sleeves- Cool band name eh? We Were Promised Jetpacks were the band that I listened to over and over and over again everyday last semester while doing homework, walking to class or shelving books in Lau. This song is amazing and the cd on the whole is phenomenal. The band is from Scotland so of course they're doing a U.S. tour while I'm in the UK. Balls. Also, I spent forever trying to figure out what, "forming an orderly queue outside your house," meant, but in the UK "queue" is what they say instead of "line". Mystery solved.

Thus concludes another chapter of Bretzel Abroad. Take care my faithful readers.

bretzel
xxx

The Shirt

There are times in a young man’s life that one might deem “epic”. For example, Fitz would say that Gloucester Senior Prom was epic. Danny would say that driving a tractor on his grandparent’s farm was epic. And Bobby would say the music from five o’clock Mass was epic. Now I throw the word epic around just as much as I tell girls at parties that I have my own radio show. However, using a word so powerful, so often and in various contexts can cause it to lose its grandeur. So what do you call events that are so epic that you’ll remember them forever? I think HIMYM answered this for us: legendary. Last night was not merely epic, it was epic times infinity. Thus it was legendary. This is not a story about one American kid in London. This is a story that transcends borders, oceans, time and even space. Some people believe in fate. I like the song Fate by Lydia, but I think we all know Signs was a ridiculous movie. After last night, Mel Gibson is my favorite actor, M. Night Shyamalan is my favorite director and Joaquin Phoenix is my favorite baseball player and rapper.

I knew something was up when I heard my flat mates talking about “The Shirt” two days ago. Our conversations in the kitchen are always about various enthralling topics ranging from blankets and luggage to Wales and The Sandlot. Normally I only understand half of what they say, so I zone out a lot. And if they ever look at me I usually nod my head and say, “Yeah,” like Usher. But The Shirt was something new, something exciting. As I often do, I rudely stopped the conversation and said, “Wait…what?” They explained to me that The Shirt was a Christmas gift Matt 1 received from his father. Unfortunately Matt 1 didn’t like The Shirt, so his dad bought him a replacement shirt which turned out to be equally unfortunate for Matt 1. My interest was piqued and I had to see both shirts. Matt 1 went to his room and when he returned I had a very weird feeling in my gut. “What is this feeling?” I thought. It wasn’t butterflies in my tummy, it was something far more grand. Then I knew. The veil was removed and for the first time in my life I had clarity. This was destiny at its finest. I was Arthur seeing Excalibur for the very first time. The pattern, the color, the stitching and the way it popped were all too much to handle. I shed a single tear of joy, but turned away so my flat mates wouldn’t judge me. “The Shirt. The Shirt. The Shirt,” I said in my head over and over. I was mesmerized, captivated. The Devil Wears Prada suddenly made sense to me. Clothes really do matter! In several months The Shirt will filter its way down from the chic boutiques of high fashion to the department stores of the plebs. Walk into the Gap (or Hollister if you’re Richie) and you’ll see The Shirt in various colors and sizes. Go to a frat party (or Pharmacy Club if you’re Sean) and you’ll see The Shirt on all the broskis. Broslikethissite.com will write a blog about The Shirt and how it’s the regal garb of bro kings. I guarantee it. This was the beginning of a beautiful friendship…

Now fast forward exactly one day. It’s Wicked Wednesday at the Walkabout. I have been told over and over that the Walkabout is not a club, but for the purposes of my mostly American audience, the Walkabout is a club. Back in Flat 38, Matt 1 has just graciously bequeathed me The Shirt for the night. Ahhhhfsalkdfjas;lkdfjaeoifjafasdkljf. I can’t control my excitement even now. The Shirt! It takes a special kind of bravado and confidence to pull off The Shirt and I didn’t know if I was ready. Ultimately I felt it was more important to take a risk, for these sorts of life changing moments don’t present themselves everyday. Carefully I unbuttoned La Camicia (Italian for The Shirt) and slid my arm into the Slim Fit, 100% cotton sleeve. It was size M. Hey I’m size M. Destiny is calling me. Open up my eager eyes. It was light and breezy. “So this is what it feels like to not wear an undershirt,” I said aloud. Sean Anderson has been rocking no undershirt since the days of his baggy Sean John apparel at Ridge, but I lost touch with loose clothing after years of wearing tight t-shirts and undershirts. Sean I understand now. Thank you, you are a trailblazer. I looked in the mirror and watched in amazement as I witnessed my sexiness grow exponentially before my very own eyes. Mirror mirror on the wall what shirt is fairest of them all? The Shirt, duh bro. Exactly. Unfortunately I mailed in all of my gold to Cash4Gold because otherwise I would’ve worn a gold chain as well. And this last touch up was not necessary, as I was already going to make the ladies weak at the knees, but I wanted to look like the lead singer of Muse so I styled my hair.

The night was young and I was all gussied up for my first ever British club experience. After a pregame with Sainsbury’s Triple Distilled Vodka: Pure Grain Spirit and a couple Carlsberg at The Waterfront, Wissam and I reached the line outside of the Walkabout. Some Brit was peeing on a wall and then handed me his beer. It was suspiciously warm to the touch and I deduced that it was probably filled with his urine. Looks like I got Punk’d. Dang it (read using Kip’s voice in your head). I might’ve been fooled, but pee is sterile so nbd. I promptly went to the lavatory and washed my hands. Whilst there, the paper towel man assisted me with the soap dispenser and said, “You take care of me eh?” Wtf. First off why is there a guy that hands you paper towels in British bars/clubs??? And second off why are there five thousand bottles of Lynx (same as Axe) and cologne lining all of the sink counters??? Neither is necessary. I dried my hands with the paper towel, which I’m pretty sure was actually toilet paper and when I started to leave, the towel man nudged me and stuck out his hand. Geez man. I reached into my pocket for some change and produced what I thought to be some sort of menial pence coin. Turns out it was a pound coin. Punk’d again. That guy fooled me into giving him a pound for a paper towel. Not fair, I was drunk! But again, I refused to have a bad night. I was wearing The Shirt!

Out on the dance floor everyone was dancing like it was the 80’s. Richie told me about this phenomenon, but I didn’t want to believe him. Girls were dancing with girls and wait what??? Guys were dancing with other guys??? The occasional couple could be spotted, but fie! No grinding! I only know two ways to dance: grinding and slow dancing, both of which take no effort on the guy’s part. I realize that grinding is a very vulgar form of dance; however I am the product of the environment in which I grew up. Go to any high school dance in America and it’s sure to be a grindfest. This was like Junior Prom all over again when my date told me at the door, “Oh btw I don’t grind.” I spent that night dancing like it was the 80’s and felt like an idiot. Alas, I was no longer the same little boy. I was three years wiser and under the influence so Wissam and I hit up the dance floor. We settled in nicely just as Mr. Brightside began to play. Rock on! There was a large contingent of sloshed British dudes dancing and jumping up and down to our right. To the left were three ragazze (floozies for Matt). They had potential and I knew for certain that with the power of The Shirt I could dance with two while Wissam danced with the other. I didn’t want to make Wissam feel bad though so I held off. The Killers came and left and then some Queen song came on. Ugh, how was I supposed to dance to Queen? I thought about asking the DJ to play the greatest slow grind song of all time (can you guess it?) but I didn’t want to be a show off. I had an unfair advantage wearing the shirt and as the most modest person I know, I didn’t want to point out to the DJ that his music sucked and that mine was awesome.

After what felt like seven hours, Queen finally stopped playing and Journey came on. I looked around and saw every single British person sing, “…born and raised in South Detroit.” Yeah doubtful. Singing along and dancing with Wissam was great. I had a lot of fun. However The Shirt demanded more. It became heavier and heavier on my shoulders just as the Ring became heavier and heavier around Frodo’s neck the closer he got to Mordor. “Something is going to happen. Something is going to happen to me,” I thought (if anyone knows what I’m talking about I’ll paint them a nude portrait of Sean or better yet I’ll go to Mass with Bobby). The Shirt. The Shirt. It was too powerful and I was drunk. Should I cast it into the fires of Mount Doom and call it night? Or, or should I keep it like Isildur and get my mack on? I chose the latter and asked Wissam if he wanted me to find some girls to dance with us. Wissam replied, “No, this is not America.” I didn’t believe him. They played American music and the people spoke English so I was convinced that with a little Ohio charm and The Shirt I would be unstoppable. In my periphs I targeted two girls dancing with each other. This was my chance. I briefly flashed back to Metropo 2007 when Matt asked two girls to dance with us and they said no. Fear and panic coursed through my veins. I couldn’t handle another rejection. It took me two years to get over the Metropo incident. It wasn’t until I used this line at a Nevil’s party that I knew I was ok again, “Hey you’re standing awkwardly alone, so I thought I’d come talk to you.” Boom. The Shirt said go for it so I did. I turned, opened my mouth and started to say, “Hey! Would you…” She promptly averted her eyes and shook her head unnaturally fast. Dang it (Kip voice again). I was humiliated. Everything I believed in shattered. The Shirt. The Shirt! I turned to Wissam and he too shook his head at me, “I told you man.” This indeed was not America.

xxx

bretzel

Walking Tour of Central London

This is my apartment complex: Stamford Street Apartments. I don't know why there's a van in the courtyard so don't ask.

The City of London

Millenium Bridge and Tate Modern. No Death Eaters today ;)

St. Paul's Cathedral

On the Millenium Bridge walking from St. Paul's to Tate Modern.

Ice skating at the Somerset House.

The National Gallery at Trafalgar Square

Trafalgar Square

View of Big Ben from Trafalgar Square

Buckingham Palace always reminds me of Cool Runnings.

Fountain outside Buckingham Palace.

Westminster Abbey

What chemistry.

BIH Does London

This is a heartfelt message home from a young soul discovering himself in a foreign land.

These Pics Are For Bobby Gregory aka Snooki

King's College Chapel....don't get too excited.

Day 1

I arrived in London late last night after eight hours of rocking the middle seat between two Asian women. The little girl to my front left coughed non-stop for about and hour and then threw up in the aisle. Awesome. The lady to my front right got a nose bleed and I witnessed the flight attendants bitch her out for not holding her nose right the right way. Again awesome. To top it all off ,the featured movies for my flight were Shorts and Monsters vs. Aliens. Monsters vs. Aliens was not bad, but if you've never had the privilege of seeing Shorts it features a segment where a mutated booger chases the main characters throughout a house. Let's just say it was no BIH (Buried in History).

After landing I took a cab from Heathrow to my apartment and watched in horror as the meter went up 20 pence every four seconds on the highway, but alas I was in London so I got over it. My apartment is located on Stamford Street in Waterloo, which is on the south bank of the Thames. Looking left from the Waterloo Bridge this is what you see:

Looking right off of Waterloo Bridge you can see St. Paul’s Cathedral and The Gherkin, but I did not take a picture of the right side today. Don’t fret though; I walk over the bridge everyday so I’ll get you a picture soon. Once I had arrived at my apartment building, I breezed through security and then lugged my three bags and backpack across the courtyard and up to my flat (38) on the fifth floor. One of my flat mates was up so I chatted with him and then went to bed in my freezing cold room because I could not figure out how to work the heat. It turns out there’s a small switch under the heater that turns it on. I found that out this morning after I nearly froze to death last night. Today I woke up and took a shower in my awesome bathroom….

The rest of my room is just as impressive as the bathroom. It’s like an Econolodge room cut in half….

Yes that is my Ohio flag and I'm getting sick of writing so I'm just going to to recount the most interesting parts of my day:

1. The man at the electronic store freaking out because I called a mobile a cell phone.

2. I rode the Tube today with my flat mate and had to buy an Oyster Card (same thing as a Smart Trip). The woman that sold me the Oyster Card asked me where I was from. I said, “Ohio,” and she replied, “Oh I hear Ohio’s peaceful. I love your accent. I think American accents are sexy. Don’t blush.” I blushed and secretly celebrated.

3. My first meal in the U.K. was Pizza Express. Apparently they do have pizza here.

4. I decided that at some point in the semester I am going to make it rain with pound coins.

That’s it for now. Tomorrow I have enrollment and hopefully I can make enough friends to go out.