Tuesday, February 21, 2006
SIT DOWN YA FAT BASTARD
although the above outburst could have been directed at me, or more better yet, fat leo, it was not. just a line i heard belted out several times during the Chelsea match we attended on sunday. soccer, i will not call it football just because i inhabit this frozen rock (side note - the pirated signal is back up so i can post, yes, and i'm keeping warm by surrounding myself with two oscilating space heaters and the dell d600 laptop resting on my legs because the heat is out in casa de stern...washing machine works now though...one up, one down - jihad) - so back to the game. there is no recorded music, no sound effects, no don't you wish your girl friend was hot like me annihilating the testerone pumping through the stadium. soccer games are friggen fun here. they sing, chant, yell and talk a truckload of smack. you know you're on your way to a fun event when you get off the tube and some dude who's obviously trashed looks at you and asks "do you have the time mate?" and you say "3:30" and he replies "good, time for 2 more pints before kickoff." i saw it and it's great. chelsea was playing colchester and won 3-1 in front of a soldout crowd that sat through the pouring rain not giving a F.
as a result of enjoying this experience so much i now hate the nba.
heavyweight champion of the chipotle classic and my good friend fat leo was kind enough to swing by london for his president's day weekend and my use 2 of my 30 days of vacation weekend. thursday upon arrival we began what would be the start of 4 10,000 calorie days in a row. 4 eggs, sausage, bacon, toast and coffee at 11 am got things moving right on pace. you may think that won't cut it. try staying up to 4 am everyday eating your way through westminster, it's easy.
an evening at the tiroler hut thursday - beer steins and lederhosen baby
Me, Ari and Bryony
Leo and Stern
of all the great conversation and fun that was had, one concern was the main topic of conversation. there is no where to get quality mexican food in london. now the uk lacks many of the basic qualities of american life, like heat on this fine evening, but it dawned on both of us how much mexican we eat. today over lunch i did a little research and discovered there is actually some one else's blog thread out there where this very critical topic was covered. i took the liberty of posting the following to it:
http://www.gyford.com/phil/writing/2003/01/14/londons_lack_of.php
"Hello - recently moved to London and just had my first fat friend visit me from the States. This weekend it dawned on us that the Mex scene is poor to horrible and worse, I miss it like michael bolton misses hair. All we could talk about was opening up a simple burrito joint, offerring burritos, quesadillas and tacos. Coke and beer would also be served. Simple and good and clearly, not found in London. No tapas, no big prices and nothing complicated would be offered. I am game to open one. I work in commercial real estate, could secure a location and will be availble to secure initial financing. If you’re in, let me know. email wwstern@hotmail.com Also, my girl friend is Mexican which transitively makes me authentic. "
naturally this post was plagued with false pretense and even copied lines. thanks for the bolton lne k-sac. you're the venus flytrap to my daisy.
quote of the weekend: Are you going to drink that milkshake or not?
doesn't get any fatter than that.
learned a few things about the guy who came to dc from london from one his buddies:
1) he is the only guy in the office not wearing an undershirt
2) he's gotten no play thus far
3) he'll be liscensed before others who should be
I'm really not a superstitious person. However I have now lived in the UK twice in my life and twice I am witnessing an animal disease epidemic. In 2001, I came and was greeted by the smell of decomposing bovine carcasses as england was trying rid itself of mad cow.
and now bird flu is creeping up on me because germany can't tighten up the problem fast enough.
don't forget, the whale died too.
and finally, something for the hunnies...
Fossil, right click to download, use the "save picture as" feature. you're welcome.
Stern
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
THE TIME HAS COME
To move off of a Friendster. I am doing this for no one but myself, despite the complaints of using friendster from the now 7 people that read the blog, this was my call.
Here is why. I paid $70 to have that POS company host my site for the year. What did I get? Nothing worth mentioning but a boatload of rage. Could I get pictures to work? NO. Could I get my emails, phone calls and constant pleas for a response answered? Def not.
What do I get here? Free hosting, simplicity and a chance to blog with the big boys. Or the kids we all used to beat up in high school.
So take note if this blog helps you get up in the morning - this is the new site and this is where hand smacks the ass.
Welcome to my dance party.
Cheney Bags Chum in Hunting Bungle
Or if you prefer: Wrinkly Half-Dead Dick Sprays Old Lawyer in Woods
This incident is so rich I could spend days riffing on it. I might even take tomorrow off just to collect my thoughts. Here we have a guy who already pointed the guns of this country in the wrong direction to kill the lesser of two evils. Some one could make the parallel, not me since both my parents are attorneys, he again misdirected weapons and shot the lawyer and not the bird. Although I have very little against birds who don't have the flu, I'm sure this quail was living in a cave somewhere producing threatening videos. You have to respect the Veep's game. I think he purposely shot poor Mr. Whittington to demonstrate to all local wild life and lawyers who only donate $2,000 to the GOP that he means business. Then again, you'd think a classic "fuck off* snarl could have had the same effect. If this isn't a resume builder I don't know what is. So cheers to our think first act later leader. Good work cock. We're all proud. It just occurred to me that VP C and 50 Cent now have enough in common...that it's chart time:
(had to insert the chart as a pic, formatting was f'd)
Ok, I think I've hit that long enough but when you find a fat one you just can't stop. BA knows.
Funny how I’ll spend 30 mins going off on the VP and won’t even touch a certain cartoon that is causing uproars everywhere. It’s like when comedians will make fun of anyone except Suge Knight. Except worse.
So tonight I am blogging from my own house by pirating some one else’s signal and watching some one else’s dog. Pete’s bitch Marley will be sleeping my bed tonight. Things have gotten grim.
I could use the attention though. I got excellently banged up this week in lacrosse as my team collapsed quicker than a Cheney hunting trip. I could also use a good night’s sleep. Between late nights at work last week, drinking and lacrosse on the weekend and the constant bird chirping that begins at 4 AM outside my window, I’m running a deficit worse than…fuck I won’t even say it. Oh and the radiator unit, yeah, it speaks out just when you’re drifting off. Like some one whispering in your ear “wake up you prick.” Love my house.
Despite actually having some work to do last week, I had an enjoyable one. Out with my sister Thursday night for one too many beers. Had an excellent dinner with Rodericks (Leigh’s parents) on Saturday night – then headed up to
Camdenwith Ari to hang with the gothic chicks and people who stick metal through any skin that hangs. It looks, as Ari mentioned, like the east village 10 years ago. I think it looks like all the kids in Wellsville, the town that bears my middle name and where my family farm is located in central PA. I was right at home.
Londonis incredibly clean despite a few untouchables out and about. I actually saw a guy this week, as I was riding the bus to work, gently brush the 3 leaves off the sidewalk on
Hyde Parkinto the street. He reached over the railing and spent 3 mins of his life pushing them 6 inches to the left. This socialism stuff is so cool.
Speaking of which, I’m working on this massive consolidation project at work. Company X has 4 locations and wants to in one. They’ve budged about $40 million in their HR budget as a part of this move. Now I know they plan to fire a bunch of people so I say to my boss, “boss, why is the sky blue?” No. I say “why so much if you’re canning people?” He replies, “silly American, this is the
UK, firing people does not cut costs in the short run, you retarded yank.”
“Oh. Pathetic,” was I could muster.
Yorke, what do you call a vegetarian with diarrhea? A salad shooter.
Tell your friends.
Fat Leo arrives this Thursday morning. He may want to think twice about posting negative GW comments on my blog. If not now, then at least when he’s standing outside on my doorstep, jet lagged and smelling like the superdome. Word to the wise, GW is still number 8. KNOW THAT.
Have at it.
Will
Stern’s selected reading (thanks for the link dad):
http://www.nytimes.com/2006/02/08/health/08fat.html?pagewanted=1&ei=5070&en=4eb4d476df0744a2&ex=1140066000&emc=eta1
It speaks volumes. And even if it doesn’t, it’s all I hear.
How to Get Rich...
February 05, 2006
...being a secretary?
Yeah, it's about to happen at the Firm.
There's a secretary on my team who's probably set herself in better financial standing than most others. You see, I have learned, that this particular individual has taken full advantage of the UK version of the stock purchase plan. Apparently when she learned of this option 5 years ago, her father instructed her to put in as much as into this program as she could. So for the last 5 years, she has lived on rice and peanuts because she continually maxed out the amount she could contribute, leaving her with a minimal amount to live on. In the UK version, you have to put into the program for 5 years, and then your shares are purchased at the lowest price within the last 5 years. Well, she's stuck around, the stock is about to be 5 years old and well, let's just say that the $6 run-up that occurred last week didn't hurt her situation. $12 to $67 over 5 yrs. How do you like those apples? Bloody hell.
The best part is, it's totally open knowledge that she's got more cash than most the professionals she works for. That is how you do it in the pros. I've thanked her for the free lesson.
Weather Update.
It's my understanding we're actually experiencing a bit of a drought here. Ha. As my father would say, "still got it."
Bodily Function Update.
The house has old radiators which emit this incredibly dry heat, or at least dry out the air. When you awake the snot in your nose has hardened like petrified wood. Pulling these stalactites from your nostril is an awesome process. The nail like form of these mucus spikes could pick locks.
Who's up for a visit?
My lifestyle in London has become a complete contrast from the man who lived in DC. Things I do now that before I didn't do before because I didn't have to or thought I was too good to do:
*cooking*
*using public transportation*
*helping people*
That last one is a complete lie.
However the first two have dominated my way of life. I have had close friends laugh at the image of me, at a bus stop, waiting for the number 94 bus. But it's true, it happens daily.
Wed Morning I attended a broker breakfast for some marketed space in West Ken. Identical in every aspect to events in DC. You show up, you see some real estate you'll never take anyone to, grab whatever gift is coming your way (in this case £80 of vouchers to John Lewis...the Jewish fire burning inside me was roaring that morning), shake a few hands, down a crappy danish and roll back to the office.
Thursday I was the on the lucky end of taking a trip down to Staines to scope some redevelopment sites. If you think you'd be safe knowing that a place named Staines truly is shit-hole. You'd be right. Thus the redevelopment. I hope to throw up another Ford dealer and maybe 3 more mobile shops to spruce up the place. Like throwing a few more dirty diapers onto a compost heap. That's Staines. This is my profession.
Yeah so Friday evening I played a little poker. Well, 5 hours worth of losing. I'll tell you what, you can learn a lot from guy who pulls pocket aces at least 4 times. You learn to steal something from his house on the way out and never play him again. That's what this guy learned.
Sunday evening while walking back from a friend's apartment, well, actually a GW alum who ordered the game on-line (we layed some wood on Richmond), Ari and I had a true European Vacation moment. No we did not see Big Ben. Some elderly couple pulled their Benz over to the side of the road and asked us for directions to a place I actually knew how to get to, because it was close to my casa. Being instinctively lazy with no shame I say to the what appears to be the wife, "oh great, we're heading that way, want to give us a ride?"
Blank stare by husband and wife who are immediately regretting asking us for help.
The woman then proclaims: "we're Welsh."
Well la di freaken da. What the F does that mean or matter?
We walk off, they go on their way.
20 mins later (we had decided to walk all the way back) we literally run into them again in on another street in a completely different part of town. Again they ask directions to a place they have already at. I'm looking at their map and trying to explain, you're here. you are right here. park your car and get out. the questions continue. at that point I just said, "good night, and good luck."
they didn't get it. They're WELSH.
If you're going to work this week or if your name is Scatman please know that The George Washington University men's college basketball team is ranked 10th in the country despite playing shitty teams, beating only 1 ranked opponent and having some pretend NBA hopefuls. What does that mean? It means those who vote for rankings voted us up to 10th. I don't care what happens in the next week or two, but right now, we're number 10.
10.
Omar Williams.
GET SOME
KNOW THAT.
http://sports.espn.go.com/ncb/photos?photoId=1030866&gameId=260360045
blogdate 2006 tip:
if you're short, fat and jewish, i know a lovely irish american girl from the tacoma washington area who may find you acceptable. don't fight your fat boy fetish miriam. embrace it.
...being a secretary?
Yeah, it's about to happen at the Firm.
There's a secretary on my team who's probably set herself in better financial standing than most others. You see, I have learned, that this particular individual has taken full advantage of the UK version of the stock purchase plan. Apparently when she learned of this option 5 years ago, her father instructed her to put in as much as into this program as she could. So for the last 5 years, she has lived on rice and peanuts because she continually maxed out the amount she could contribute, leaving her with a minimal amount to live on. In the UK version, you have to put into the program for 5 years, and then your shares are purchased at the lowest price within the last 5 years. Well, she's stuck around, the stock is about to be 5 years old and well, let's just say that the $6 run-up that occurred last week didn't hurt her situation. $12 to $67 over 5 yrs. How do you like those apples? Bloody hell.
The best part is, it's totally open knowledge that she's got more cash than most the professionals she works for. That is how you do it in the pros. I've thanked her for the free lesson.
Weather Update.
It's my understanding we're actually experiencing a bit of a drought here. Ha. As my father would say, "still got it."
Bodily Function Update.
The house has old radiators which emit this incredibly dry heat, or at least dry out the air. When you awake the snot in your nose has hardened like petrified wood. Pulling these stalactites from your nostril is an awesome process. The nail like form of these mucus spikes could pick locks.
Who's up for a visit?
My lifestyle in London has become a complete contrast from the man who lived in DC. Things I do now that before I didn't do before because I didn't have to or thought I was too good to do:
*cooking*
*using public transportation*
*helping people*
That last one is a complete lie.
However the first two have dominated my way of life. I have had close friends laugh at the image of me, at a bus stop, waiting for the number 94 bus. But it's true, it happens daily.
Wed Morning I attended a broker breakfast for some marketed space in West Ken. Identical in every aspect to events in DC. You show up, you see some real estate you'll never take anyone to, grab whatever gift is coming your way (in this case £80 of vouchers to John Lewis...the Jewish fire burning inside me was roaring that morning), shake a few hands, down a crappy danish and roll back to the office.
Thursday I was the on the lucky end of taking a trip down to Staines to scope some redevelopment sites. If you think you'd be safe knowing that a place named Staines truly is shit-hole. You'd be right. Thus the redevelopment. I hope to throw up another Ford dealer and maybe 3 more mobile shops to spruce up the place. Like throwing a few more dirty diapers onto a compost heap. That's Staines. This is my profession.
Yeah so Friday evening I played a little poker. Well, 5 hours worth of losing. I'll tell you what, you can learn a lot from guy who pulls pocket aces at least 4 times. You learn to steal something from his house on the way out and never play him again. That's what this guy learned.
Sunday evening while walking back from a friend's apartment, well, actually a GW alum who ordered the game on-line (we layed some wood on Richmond), Ari and I had a true European Vacation moment. No we did not see Big Ben. Some elderly couple pulled their Benz over to the side of the road and asked us for directions to a place I actually knew how to get to, because it was close to my casa. Being instinctively lazy with no shame I say to the what appears to be the wife, "oh great, we're heading that way, want to give us a ride?"
Blank stare by husband and wife who are immediately regretting asking us for help.
The woman then proclaims: "we're Welsh."
Well la di freaken da. What the F does that mean or matter?
We walk off, they go on their way.
20 mins later (we had decided to walk all the way back) we literally run into them again in on another street in a completely different part of town. Again they ask directions to a place they have already at. I'm looking at their map and trying to explain, you're here. you are right here. park your car and get out. the questions continue. at that point I just said, "good night, and good luck."
they didn't get it. They're WELSH.
If you're going to work this week or if your name is Scatman please know that The George Washington University men's college basketball team is ranked 10th in the country despite playing shitty teams, beating only 1 ranked opponent and having some pretend NBA hopefuls. What does that mean? It means those who vote for rankings voted us up to 10th. I don't care what happens in the next week or two, but right now, we're number 10.
10.
Omar Williams.
GET SOME
KNOW THAT.
http://sports.espn.go.com/ncb/photos?photoId=1030866&gameId=260360045
blogdate 2006 tip:
if you're short, fat and jewish, i know a lovely irish american girl from the tacoma washington area who may find you acceptable. don't fight your fat boy fetish miriam. embrace it.
I speak a little french
January 29, 2006
you're an asspipe, pardon my french.
one of the best lines in SNL history. thanks Norm McDonald.
Good week this one was. Work was rolling, celebrated Australia day Thursday night and Saturday, I popped my goal cherry by scoring for the first time since coming out of lacrosse retirement. Go SPENCER. It was also the first win I was able to enjoy since joining the team and clearly bringing the talent level down a notch. Had a whale (living) of a defender covering me most of the game. By the third quarter he was cursing his teammates and telling me he was about to walk off the field to have a pint. He was impressively fat.
Friday I conducted my frist solo tour on British soil. Showing 5,000 sq ft here is really no different. Surprised? If so, go back to school. The main difference was that I had to take the tube to a train station, train 15 mins and get off in search of the cab stand. Then I cabbed 15 mins to the building. It's funny thinking about how I used to bitch about having to walk 2 blocks to give a tour, or, "viewing" as they morbidly refer to it here. On my return I bused to the train station, switched onto the tube and walked back to the office. Or, "btttssottawbtto." At some point I'm going to have to get behind the wheel. I suggest those who wanted to visit me to do so before that day comes.
Booked a grand worth of flights as well this week. Upcoming trips include Amsterdam for a lax tournament, Germany for World Cup (dot comm - help me out with tickets!) and Iceland for the ROBERTS bachelor party. Prague is on the horizon, like liver disease.
Hoping to get a ski trip in and some juncture. Mom did you ship my coat, long underwear and thermal superman pj's? You know I won't go without them.
So as mentioned, Thursday we went out with some Aussies from the office to celebrate Australia Day, the day to celebrate being fake British while being massively influenced by America. Or as some Brit on my team confidentially said to me "different breed those Aussies are." I didn't get much out of it except a straw Fosters hat and a wee tinge of a hangover Friday morning.
Still having a great time here in the UK. But to those who think it's nothing but the glamor life, remember, I did leave everything and everyone I loved. And that weighs on me. However I'm adjusting, slowly forgetting my past, blocking out old memories and finding social substitutes (mostly background characters like Fossil and BA).
So here's to bottled water and frozen pizza on this excellently cold Sunday night.
Fat Leo, Chipotle just went public but remember IPOs are overpriced in the short run regardless of stomach size you hippo.
you're an asspipe, pardon my french.
one of the best lines in SNL history. thanks Norm McDonald.
Good week this one was. Work was rolling, celebrated Australia day Thursday night and Saturday, I popped my goal cherry by scoring for the first time since coming out of lacrosse retirement. Go SPENCER. It was also the first win I was able to enjoy since joining the team and clearly bringing the talent level down a notch. Had a whale (living) of a defender covering me most of the game. By the third quarter he was cursing his teammates and telling me he was about to walk off the field to have a pint. He was impressively fat.
Friday I conducted my frist solo tour on British soil. Showing 5,000 sq ft here is really no different. Surprised? If so, go back to school. The main difference was that I had to take the tube to a train station, train 15 mins and get off in search of the cab stand. Then I cabbed 15 mins to the building. It's funny thinking about how I used to bitch about having to walk 2 blocks to give a tour, or, "viewing" as they morbidly refer to it here. On my return I bused to the train station, switched onto the tube and walked back to the office. Or, "btttssottawbtto." At some point I'm going to have to get behind the wheel. I suggest those who wanted to visit me to do so before that day comes.
Booked a grand worth of flights as well this week. Upcoming trips include Amsterdam for a lax tournament, Germany for World Cup (dot comm - help me out with tickets!) and Iceland for the ROBERTS bachelor party. Prague is on the horizon, like liver disease.
Hoping to get a ski trip in and some juncture. Mom did you ship my coat, long underwear and thermal superman pj's? You know I won't go without them.
So as mentioned, Thursday we went out with some Aussies from the office to celebrate Australia Day, the day to celebrate being fake British while being massively influenced by America. Or as some Brit on my team confidentially said to me "different breed those Aussies are." I didn't get much out of it except a straw Fosters hat and a wee tinge of a hangover Friday morning.
Still having a great time here in the UK. But to those who think it's nothing but the glamor life, remember, I did leave everything and everyone I loved. And that weighs on me. However I'm adjusting, slowly forgetting my past, blocking out old memories and finding social substitutes (mostly background characters like Fossil and BA).
So here's to bottled water and frozen pizza on this excellently cold Sunday night.
Fat Leo, Chipotle just went public but remember IPOs are overpriced in the short run regardless of stomach size you hippo.
Whale Down
January 22, 2006
Fat Leo, good to see you could take the chimey chonga out of your hands long enough to participate in the posting. Your diction is magical.
I haven't gotten a sense of what the whale frenzy is like in the US, or if it even exists, but the full court press was on here in the UK. I did read that all the US periodicals had catchy little headlines (catchy = gay) like "New Prince of Whales" or "A Whale of a Time." In the London Times here today it was quoted that upon witnessing the death of the whale, "large, hairy grown (british) men were reduced to tears."
FOR THE LOVE OF GOD
If this were 100 years ago, they would have harpooned the lost bastard and served that fat bitch up with a side of chips. And you could have caught a few public hangings as well. My timing is clearly off.
Had my first liquid dinner in the UK this week. Thursday night one of the guys I work with took me and another real estate dude out for a few pints. Or more than a few. After 4 or 5 I found it to be 8:30ish and my stomach was looking for dinner. Not gonna happen. Wouldn't be prudent. These guys do not give an F about food once the beer is flowing. I'm all for boozing but come one, a little food for the fat already! Please sir, please. Friday morning was about as fun as herpes.
Special treat for me tonight, I am blogging live from the Peter Sayia residence in Bayswater, 3 blocks west of the Stern/Untracht big girl brothel. I was greeted with two burgers, some hash browns and a hyperactive pitbull. Not a bad evening.
Also, I decided to join the rest of society and I have started to watch the ABC series Lost. Probably not something I should be publicizing, but it is f'ing addictive.
All is well across the pond minus a few hiccups. One being my Landlord, who is a seemingly nice guy but a total numnut. He replaced our broken washing machine/dryer with another broken washing machine/dryer. He's one failed boiler away from an all out jihad being called on him. I'll recruit my next door grocer, I think he'd be down. YA YA YA YA YA YA
And now to close with some final thoughts.
I have been told by more than one person back in the States that since my departure, they have lost weight, saved money and felt better about their overall character. With love I add, Lamb Roast 2006 has a firm date of July 8. Your health will deteriorate faster than a whale stuck in the Thames, your wallet will be stolen and your ego will be shreded at the hands of my 13 year old hell razing/motherfucker calling cousin, Clint.
Hope to see you all there.
Stern
Fat Leo, good to see you could take the chimey chonga out of your hands long enough to participate in the posting. Your diction is magical.
I haven't gotten a sense of what the whale frenzy is like in the US, or if it even exists, but the full court press was on here in the UK. I did read that all the US periodicals had catchy little headlines (catchy = gay) like "New Prince of Whales" or "A Whale of a Time." In the London Times here today it was quoted that upon witnessing the death of the whale, "large, hairy grown (british) men were reduced to tears."
FOR THE LOVE OF GOD
If this were 100 years ago, they would have harpooned the lost bastard and served that fat bitch up with a side of chips. And you could have caught a few public hangings as well. My timing is clearly off.
Had my first liquid dinner in the UK this week. Thursday night one of the guys I work with took me and another real estate dude out for a few pints. Or more than a few. After 4 or 5 I found it to be 8:30ish and my stomach was looking for dinner. Not gonna happen. Wouldn't be prudent. These guys do not give an F about food once the beer is flowing. I'm all for boozing but come one, a little food for the fat already! Please sir, please. Friday morning was about as fun as herpes.
Special treat for me tonight, I am blogging live from the Peter Sayia residence in Bayswater, 3 blocks west of the Stern/Untracht big girl brothel. I was greeted with two burgers, some hash browns and a hyperactive pitbull. Not a bad evening.
Also, I decided to join the rest of society and I have started to watch the ABC series Lost. Probably not something I should be publicizing, but it is f'ing addictive.
All is well across the pond minus a few hiccups. One being my Landlord, who is a seemingly nice guy but a total numnut. He replaced our broken washing machine/dryer with another broken washing machine/dryer. He's one failed boiler away from an all out jihad being called on him. I'll recruit my next door grocer, I think he'd be down. YA YA YA YA YA YA
And now to close with some final thoughts.
I have been told by more than one person back in the States that since my departure, they have lost weight, saved money and felt better about their overall character. With love I add, Lamb Roast 2006 has a firm date of July 8. Your health will deteriorate faster than a whale stuck in the Thames, your wallet will be stolen and your ego will be shreded at the hands of my 13 year old hell razing/motherfucker calling cousin, Clint.
Hope to see you all there.
Stern
You gotta kiss a lotta folks to get your polks - Jan 15, 2006
Or so they say here.
First off, amazingly, the blog seems to have some sort of momentum. Sort of like the momentum I had falling up the Charring Cross tube escalator in front of the rush hour crowd, scraping my knee, ankle and bruising my shoulder.
Or it could be that or my dad and mom are checking 30 times a day.
Stats for week 1:
Total number of hits:
135
Average per day:
33.75
Today:
18
In the last hour:
0
This week:
135
Significantly better numbers than the Redskins put up last night.
One observation I would like to make about the Firm (which now only be referred to as the Firm for not wanting to get fired purposes), is that everyday at 10 AM fruit is delivered to each floor throughout the building. Like flies to shit, employees jump from their desks, leaving their client work for the fresh dose of fiber or citrus. It is a silly sight but an event I participate in daily. I plan on throwing an elbow or two this week just to see how it goes over.
The second and remotely more meaningful lesson I learned this week is that you do not need a license to be a broker here. However almost 80% of people pass this real estate aptitude test to earn a designation, placing them with some sort of positive ranking in the community. The designation is actually difficult and you have to be an understudy at a firm like mine or others for at least 2 years, concentrating in a certain area. You are then tested by 3 or 4 expects in the field on a variety of questions. Not quite as challenging as the American real estate "not even close to a barrier to entry" multiple choice exam based on residential questions.
The London RE market doesn't hold a candle to DC. Rents are higher, but concessions packages consist of 12 months free with little in allowance from the Landlord. Let me break that down for those not in the industry. Let's take, oh I don't know, Bradley Allen. BA, that's like you get to live at mommy's house for 12 months at no cost, but then at the end of that, you pay a lot with no more allowance or free Lexus.
Nothing but love BA, nothing but love.
Saturday I played in my first lacrosse game in 6 years. I intend to feel the effects for the next 5. The team and I got our asses handed to us. My stats for the game include, 1 delivered hit, 1 assist and about 4 times I found myself face down in the mud. Mud on gine. I realized later why Pete and I play for the bad news bears of London. These guys don't play to play, they play to drink afterwards. Every recreational area I've seen in London has several multi-purpose playing fields, changing facilities and of course, a pub. You go from running, hitting and exhausting yourself to a pint of Carlsberg or Stella. And rarely one pint. Then of course there is the commute home, where you will drink on the train with the team and since you can walk on the streets here with an open container, the boozefest continues. Hydration is for pussies. Apparently.
Other important stats for the week include the purchase of a standard 6 inch black comb: £2 ($4)
Unreal.
Week 2 should be interesting. Now that I'm no longer jetlagged and running around as much, I'm sure to discover I've been working in the wrong office for 5 days. Oh, and the British version of The Office is f'ing tremendous. Buy it if you can. You will thank me the way most of you usually greet me, with middle finger and kick to the crotch.
I hope to build upon the excellent array of british sayings, like the one titling this post.
Also, my father, Dan Stern, will continue to post. He is even flirting with a spinoff entitled, Curb your British Enthusiasm.
And no Vicki, Ari has no kids, but he would be supportive of your Nigerian baby.
One love.
STERN
First off, amazingly, the blog seems to have some sort of momentum. Sort of like the momentum I had falling up the Charring Cross tube escalator in front of the rush hour crowd, scraping my knee, ankle and bruising my shoulder.
Or it could be that or my dad and mom are checking 30 times a day.
Stats for week 1:
Total number of hits:
135
Average per day:
33.75
Today:
18
In the last hour:
0
This week:
135
Significantly better numbers than the Redskins put up last night.
One observation I would like to make about the Firm (which now only be referred to as the Firm for not wanting to get fired purposes), is that everyday at 10 AM fruit is delivered to each floor throughout the building. Like flies to shit, employees jump from their desks, leaving their client work for the fresh dose of fiber or citrus. It is a silly sight but an event I participate in daily. I plan on throwing an elbow or two this week just to see how it goes over.
The second and remotely more meaningful lesson I learned this week is that you do not need a license to be a broker here. However almost 80% of people pass this real estate aptitude test to earn a designation, placing them with some sort of positive ranking in the community. The designation is actually difficult and you have to be an understudy at a firm like mine or others for at least 2 years, concentrating in a certain area. You are then tested by 3 or 4 expects in the field on a variety of questions. Not quite as challenging as the American real estate "not even close to a barrier to entry" multiple choice exam based on residential questions.
The London RE market doesn't hold a candle to DC. Rents are higher, but concessions packages consist of 12 months free with little in allowance from the Landlord. Let me break that down for those not in the industry. Let's take, oh I don't know, Bradley Allen. BA, that's like you get to live at mommy's house for 12 months at no cost, but then at the end of that, you pay a lot with no more allowance or free Lexus.
Nothing but love BA, nothing but love.
Saturday I played in my first lacrosse game in 6 years. I intend to feel the effects for the next 5. The team and I got our asses handed to us. My stats for the game include, 1 delivered hit, 1 assist and about 4 times I found myself face down in the mud. Mud on gine. I realized later why Pete and I play for the bad news bears of London. These guys don't play to play, they play to drink afterwards. Every recreational area I've seen in London has several multi-purpose playing fields, changing facilities and of course, a pub. You go from running, hitting and exhausting yourself to a pint of Carlsberg or Stella. And rarely one pint. Then of course there is the commute home, where you will drink on the train with the team and since you can walk on the streets here with an open container, the boozefest continues. Hydration is for pussies. Apparently.
Other important stats for the week include the purchase of a standard 6 inch black comb: £2 ($4)
Unreal.
Week 2 should be interesting. Now that I'm no longer jetlagged and running around as much, I'm sure to discover I've been working in the wrong office for 5 days. Oh, and the British version of The Office is f'ing tremendous. Buy it if you can. You will thank me the way most of you usually greet me, with middle finger and kick to the crotch.
I hope to build upon the excellent array of british sayings, like the one titling this post.
Also, my father, Dan Stern, will continue to post. He is even flirting with a spinoff entitled, Curb your British Enthusiasm.
And no Vicki, Ari has no kids, but he would be supportive of your Nigerian baby.
One love.
STERN
You're fucking right I'm in London
Incredibly, I just typed for 30 mins and I'm happy to report I somehow deleted all that I had written. I'M AWESOME.
Here we go,
Again.
(on our own...)
This is the blog of simple, short man, who traveled to London because he thought it was a "good" idea. It came about so that the three friends I have could hear from me. Who can really write to ALL those friends? So I post. I make no apologies about this blog, until I get fired. People will be called out and posting replies is encouraged. Send it to friends or even people who don't know who you are.
You begin to reorganize your life for 2 months. The car is sold, the apartment is gone, and you live on a single mattress in your mother's living room apartment in Woodley Park. You make Costazna look successful. However this is all building towards an eventual goal. A goal that will lead you to pack your bags and head to Dulles airport. Subsequently, you may be told, as I was, that pilot's window on your plane will not close. I'm glad they can open.
Jesus
Fucking
Christ
2 hours later on a new plane I begin my journey to the Isle of Grim Teeth. Landed as soft as a 767 can and made my way to the transportation hub into the city. Thanks to United, I missed the last express train into the city. I caught a city bus, a considerably longer albeit cheap alternative into London. No more than 2 miles away from Heathrow when BANG! Bus breaks down. One more event and it's back to single mattress on mother living room floor for me. I don't care what the people will say. Finally arrive to Hyde Park corner where I will catch a short taxi ride to my place. Not before some strong soul almost vomits on my bags but does manage to spray a bit of my shoes. It was almost reminiscent of my going away party. It was like they KNEW I was coming.
Hopped a quick cab and finally arrived to my new spot on Leinster Terrace at around 2 AM. Ari, a buddy of mine from GW and now London flatmate greeted me upon arrival. Incredibly, he had the foresight to order a pizza, which was literally arriving as I did. Like any good friend, I gave my bags to Ari, had him pay the bill and inhaled that pie like the apocolypse was in 5 mins.
Yes Fossil. Ari is single, he is not 40, but he can act it.
I was and continue to be pleased with the place he picked out. I will post pictures with a walkthrough at a later time. You will get to see the pump-action toilet, do not fear. To be brief, the place is on 2 levels with a living room, full bath and kitchen on the first level. The second level has 2 double bedrooms and a single bed with another full bath. Full bath meaning sink, shower and shitter, but trust me, these are not big. I barely fit. Although in the upstairs bath I can rest my head comfortably on the sink as I sit upon the throne. A point I made to Ari for future convenience.
Sat, I was woken by the sound of and mostly smell of Marley Sayia, the lovable pitbull who was brought over by my buddy Pete (another gw homey). Pete lives a 5 min walk away with his wife and dog. Pete had been given a key to my place and thus Marley was giving me drool and wiping london street runoff onto my pillow, sheets and face. It was a good reunion.
Although it was 7 AM on the east coast and an eye wrinkling 4 in the morning on the west coast where I had basically come from, we went to Gourmet Burger to get the day started right. Spent the afternoon at Pete and Leigh's (his wife) catching up, drinking and talking shit about others. That evening we hit up a local restaurant and were prompt to return in time to watch the Skins (you heard about'm) eek out a win in Tampa. Needless to say, booze was involved before, during and after the game.
Sunday was spent preparing for work. I actually ironed a couple shirts, a rare victory in the fight against feminism.
Sunday night, Leigh was a gem and made us both dinner. Not a bad welcome, and I don't care who you are. Following a pathetic Giants loss I walked the 5 mins back to my place and tried to sleep.
Another failure.
At this point the jetlag was kicking my short, stubby ass all over the continent. I might have snuck an hour in but it wasn't much. As many of you know, I am a "master in first day of work in a new country and continent for basically a new company" preparation. This was par for the course.
My commute to the office is fucking rediculous. And by the unneccessary profanity, I mean it's easy. I take a bus that is a block from my door for about 15 mins and 1.5 quid and I'm there on Oxford Street. The office is just south of Oxford, which resembles 5th Avenue in NY. Large retailers line the streets which are constantly packed with people. Ironically, the office sits on the corner of a small park like the DC one.
My first day went smoothly. 1/2 the day was spent during induction (orientation for you Peter Griffen's out there). I then joined my team on the 3rd floor, where everyone, like all floors, sit in a very open plan. No partition is higher than 3 feet, it really looks like a trading floor in an investment bank.
The new team and I hit up lunch at a local pub and crushed a few bottles of wine. Thanks for the heads up Terry, you were right, the liquid lunch is real. The team is comprised of about 10 or 12 people plus 4 secretaries. The secs is the best part (haa ha ha secs sounds like sex ha ah ah ha aids.) They are incredibly nice, helpful and female. One of them literally came over to me today and asked if I would like a drink, took my order like a waitress and served me at my desk. Not Slick Willey style. Yet.
The office is 7 stories of nothing but JLL employees. It's cool to be in the HQ - things run smoother overall and when you need something, it's usually there or you can physically yell at some one to get it. My team is the National Office and Development team. Basically the leasing group for the western half of the city that also sells building, development sites and finds financing. All the basic brokery (word?) activities that some one in RE could pull off with a few brain cells and some dedication to the Man.
Followed along on my first tour today, it's pretty similar to the way shit is done in the US, only the terminology is different. One nerdy fact but interesting to me (and probably Bradley Allen, known by whores as BA) was that space IS quoted in square feet just like home. However there has been a governmental push towards using metrics, the real estate community has not embraced it and thus, SF it is.
Ok, now I know why you read this long. YES, there is talent in the office. A lot could use a free gym membership for a month or two but coming from my humble history, it's an improvement in scenary. There are a ton of people I have not seen or met, so I will share more as I see more. One thing I learned my first day was that the mens room stalls are floor to ceiling. No outside sounds can be heard, no feet to be seen. The seat is incredibly uncomfortable. Who's managing this building? Also the urinals are really high up on the wall. I literally have to aim straigh ahead.
You gotta love England. Cell phone technology is incredible yet plumbing is still horrible.
Transport good.
Teeth bad.
Dinner with my sister (Audrey) tomorrow night at an Indian restuarant she picked out from her guidebook. My mother would cartwheel and fart to learn of this news. Audrey is also in London until June studying at LSE. A long lost name will also be joining us, Virginia Newcomb, sister of one of my oldest and worst choices in friends, Chuck Newcomb. Virginia is Audrey's age, and also studying here.
It's only my 4th full day in the country but a lot has happened. Please feel free to post questions or inquire about what it's like living like a T-rex. Yes my arms are vestigial. Next question.
SternisOut.
Know that.
Here we go,
Again.
(on our own...)
This is the blog of simple, short man, who traveled to London because he thought it was a "good" idea. It came about so that the three friends I have could hear from me. Who can really write to ALL those friends? So I post. I make no apologies about this blog, until I get fired. People will be called out and posting replies is encouraged. Send it to friends or even people who don't know who you are.
You begin to reorganize your life for 2 months. The car is sold, the apartment is gone, and you live on a single mattress in your mother's living room apartment in Woodley Park. You make Costazna look successful. However this is all building towards an eventual goal. A goal that will lead you to pack your bags and head to Dulles airport. Subsequently, you may be told, as I was, that pilot's window on your plane will not close. I'm glad they can open.
Jesus
Fucking
Christ
2 hours later on a new plane I begin my journey to the Isle of Grim Teeth. Landed as soft as a 767 can and made my way to the transportation hub into the city. Thanks to United, I missed the last express train into the city. I caught a city bus, a considerably longer albeit cheap alternative into London. No more than 2 miles away from Heathrow when BANG! Bus breaks down. One more event and it's back to single mattress on mother living room floor for me. I don't care what the people will say. Finally arrive to Hyde Park corner where I will catch a short taxi ride to my place. Not before some strong soul almost vomits on my bags but does manage to spray a bit of my shoes. It was almost reminiscent of my going away party. It was like they KNEW I was coming.
Hopped a quick cab and finally arrived to my new spot on Leinster Terrace at around 2 AM. Ari, a buddy of mine from GW and now London flatmate greeted me upon arrival. Incredibly, he had the foresight to order a pizza, which was literally arriving as I did. Like any good friend, I gave my bags to Ari, had him pay the bill and inhaled that pie like the apocolypse was in 5 mins.
Yes Fossil. Ari is single, he is not 40, but he can act it.
I was and continue to be pleased with the place he picked out. I will post pictures with a walkthrough at a later time. You will get to see the pump-action toilet, do not fear. To be brief, the place is on 2 levels with a living room, full bath and kitchen on the first level. The second level has 2 double bedrooms and a single bed with another full bath. Full bath meaning sink, shower and shitter, but trust me, these are not big. I barely fit. Although in the upstairs bath I can rest my head comfortably on the sink as I sit upon the throne. A point I made to Ari for future convenience.
Sat, I was woken by the sound of and mostly smell of Marley Sayia, the lovable pitbull who was brought over by my buddy Pete (another gw homey). Pete lives a 5 min walk away with his wife and dog. Pete had been given a key to my place and thus Marley was giving me drool and wiping london street runoff onto my pillow, sheets and face. It was a good reunion.
Although it was 7 AM on the east coast and an eye wrinkling 4 in the morning on the west coast where I had basically come from, we went to Gourmet Burger to get the day started right. Spent the afternoon at Pete and Leigh's (his wife) catching up, drinking and talking shit about others. That evening we hit up a local restaurant and were prompt to return in time to watch the Skins (you heard about'm) eek out a win in Tampa. Needless to say, booze was involved before, during and after the game.
Sunday was spent preparing for work. I actually ironed a couple shirts, a rare victory in the fight against feminism.
Sunday night, Leigh was a gem and made us both dinner. Not a bad welcome, and I don't care who you are. Following a pathetic Giants loss I walked the 5 mins back to my place and tried to sleep.
Another failure.
At this point the jetlag was kicking my short, stubby ass all over the continent. I might have snuck an hour in but it wasn't much. As many of you know, I am a "master in first day of work in a new country and continent for basically a new company" preparation. This was par for the course.
My commute to the office is fucking rediculous. And by the unneccessary profanity, I mean it's easy. I take a bus that is a block from my door for about 15 mins and 1.5 quid and I'm there on Oxford Street. The office is just south of Oxford, which resembles 5th Avenue in NY. Large retailers line the streets which are constantly packed with people. Ironically, the office sits on the corner of a small park like the DC one.
My first day went smoothly. 1/2 the day was spent during induction (orientation for you Peter Griffen's out there). I then joined my team on the 3rd floor, where everyone, like all floors, sit in a very open plan. No partition is higher than 3 feet, it really looks like a trading floor in an investment bank.
The new team and I hit up lunch at a local pub and crushed a few bottles of wine. Thanks for the heads up Terry, you were right, the liquid lunch is real. The team is comprised of about 10 or 12 people plus 4 secretaries. The secs is the best part (haa ha ha secs sounds like sex ha ah ah ha aids.) They are incredibly nice, helpful and female. One of them literally came over to me today and asked if I would like a drink, took my order like a waitress and served me at my desk. Not Slick Willey style. Yet.
The office is 7 stories of nothing but JLL employees. It's cool to be in the HQ - things run smoother overall and when you need something, it's usually there or you can physically yell at some one to get it. My team is the National Office and Development team. Basically the leasing group for the western half of the city that also sells building, development sites and finds financing. All the basic brokery (word?) activities that some one in RE could pull off with a few brain cells and some dedication to the Man.
Followed along on my first tour today, it's pretty similar to the way shit is done in the US, only the terminology is different. One nerdy fact but interesting to me (and probably Bradley Allen, known by whores as BA) was that space IS quoted in square feet just like home. However there has been a governmental push towards using metrics, the real estate community has not embraced it and thus, SF it is.
Ok, now I know why you read this long. YES, there is talent in the office. A lot could use a free gym membership for a month or two but coming from my humble history, it's an improvement in scenary. There are a ton of people I have not seen or met, so I will share more as I see more. One thing I learned my first day was that the mens room stalls are floor to ceiling. No outside sounds can be heard, no feet to be seen. The seat is incredibly uncomfortable. Who's managing this building? Also the urinals are really high up on the wall. I literally have to aim straigh ahead.
You gotta love England. Cell phone technology is incredible yet plumbing is still horrible.
Transport good.
Teeth bad.
Dinner with my sister (Audrey) tomorrow night at an Indian restuarant she picked out from her guidebook. My mother would cartwheel and fart to learn of this news. Audrey is also in London until June studying at LSE. A long lost name will also be joining us, Virginia Newcomb, sister of one of my oldest and worst choices in friends, Chuck Newcomb. Virginia is Audrey's age, and also studying here.
It's only my 4th full day in the country but a lot has happened. Please feel free to post questions or inquire about what it's like living like a T-rex. Yes my arms are vestigial. Next question.
SternisOut.
Know that.
