Clever Crisps, Boozey Treasure, and Feather Beds

Ever seen a treasure chest FULL of booze?
no?

How about crisps/chips that call themselves "medium", and then qualify that statement with "not the kind that talks to the spiritual realm"?
no again?

And feather beds? how does ANYONE live without them? I feel like I only just began my life this Wednesday.

Those, friends, are the highlights of my week (minus learning iMovie and creating the twitteo montage of the postal strike, posted below...oh, and, having the pleasure of stumbling upon an interactive 20-ft-tall sculptural triptych of a nude Naomi Campbell--one of the more bizarre moments of my life).

Yes, I am loving life. But lest you think it's all fun and games over here in London, here's one for the parents: Mum, Dad, Deb--I am working very very hard and have taken up the schmoozing torch and holding it high. I attend a grueling two-ish networking events a week and am meeting/greeting all sorts of industry types. Usually I Twitter the event too (sorry to all whose fbook pages get blown up by those status updates) It's all exceedingly hard work, chatting and cocktailing, but I'm managing despite it all. Thank goodness these events tend to foot the bill for drinking and dining, otherwise I simply do not know how I'd manage. You all know how much I HATE chatting, snacking, drinking, and generally socializing.

But enough droning, back to the fun.

Last night the girls and I went to this great little club in Green Park called Mahiki. Apparently the princes hang there. Anyway, one thing led to another and soon we were drinking champagne and schnapps out of a treasure chest with fruit and straws. In fact, one thing led to another again, and I was soon cramming as many Nando's Medium Peri Peri Chicken crisps--the ones that claim not to be spiritual media--as possible into my face. I think even the non-ESP-gifted bag of crisps knew how I was going to feel in the morning.

Good thing I could cozy down into my downy, be-featherbedded bed. Just a word on featherbeds: the featherbed has transformed my mattress from an asphalt, bricks, and cement sandwich into something that can only be likened to a baby chick panini--minus the general smells and sounds of a horde of baby chicks. I guess they'd have to be dead. But still quite fluffy and warm, no rigor mortis. A recently-dead baby chick panini, then. Similes aside, the bed is cheepin'--er, bleepin'--grand. (and THAT is the worst pun of the week.)

Oh, and I'm teaching myself computer coding in the interests of becoming more marketable in a web-based world. Unlike other career-developers like networking opportunities, however, HTML and CSS have yet to foot my drink & dine bill. Pity, maybe one day.

Ok, this is getting long.
Gotta cut it off somewhere!

Happy Sunday!
xo
H