Sunday, January 23, 2011

Smokin'.

Last night, we went to Cafe de Paris again, and it was a complete letdown. It wasn't nearly as cool as it was last week. The crowd was much different. Half the guys were gay and going at it on the dance floor, the other half were straight and going at it with girls on the dance floor, and everyone else was either creepy or just straight up rude. Bummer.

Today though, I went out to this adorable pub I went to last week called "The William Blake" with one of my best friends Ali! It's so weird that I've seen more friends from Montclair here in London than I did before I left. We had one of our usual heart-to-hearts, and we're definitely going to see each other often. I'm so excited!

Then, just now, the inevitable happened. Yes, while I have been cooking just fine for myself, I knew it couldn't be long until disaster would strike. I was making stovetop popcorn, and it all looked fine and seemed like it would be a successful late night snack. However, I was blissfully unaware that all the popcorn on the bottom of the pot had burned, so when I dumped it into the bowl, the smoke was uncontrollable. I opened all the windows, and put the pot by the window to let the smoke leave straight out the room. However, the pot was still hot underneath, and we just had our windowsills painted last week, so some paint came up on the bottom of the pot. I knocked on my flatmate Adams door, and said, "Hey, remember when I told you I couldn't cook but you didn't believe me? Yeah, well, how sensitive are our smoke detectors?"

Adam is a Slovakian knight in shining armor. He came into the smoke filled kitchen, helped me unlatch the windows to open them even more, and helped me get the smoke out of the room. Then, he proceeded to tell me a story of two guys who set off the smoke detector last semester because they were smoking in the room and they were fined 500 euro each. LOVELY. He offered me some microwavable popcorn of his, which I politely declined, and we went to our separate rooms. He then knocks on my door and hands me a bag of chips. My flatmates are darling.

My clothes reek of smoke, though.

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