“Crazy” Homies

P1070411Instead of going to fancy fashion events yesterday, I spent my day in the midst of the Intelligent and the Genius. Right now, I’m being graced by the presence of one of my very best besties- Gabriella. She is a medicine student with like, one year left, and she’s applying to some course or other at King’s College. So that’s where we headed! Miss G was a bit nervous before we went there and I felt it my immoral duty to simultaneously wind her up and calm her down. The calming down part consisted of me pep talking and forcing her to do some body language confidence boosters. The winding up part was me asking her serious questions like “Do you think I can ask for a breast exam at the Womens Health stand? Might as well, while we’re here, right?” She didn’t like that. She also didn’t like that I wanted to take a million pictures in a hall that looked like something from a medieval medicine fair, I was like, wow there are so many framed pictures of like, the Elephant Man. Celebritay! But fret not- I didn’t do either of those things. Instead, I sat on a table in the middle of a hall bustling with hundreds of med students, reading my book (never leave the house without a book!) and every once in a while someone would come up and disturb me in my literary solitude and ask me stuff like “Can I interest you in a course in respiratory physiology?” And I’d reply something like, thank you I already know how to breathe.

Last night, we went for dinner with a bunch of awesome gentlemen friends. We went to the aptly named Mexican restaurant “Crazy Homies” in Notting Hill. Crazy indeed! So this whole “we only serve tequila” totally didn’t translate well with all the Brits and orders such as “Can I Get a Gin and Tonic? No, ok a Bloody Mary? Ok, fine a Bloody Maria it is then” kept popping up. In the car on our way to Hertford Street after dinner, I get a call from a flustered Gabriella, claiming that we’ve left her behind…. Oh dear me, how the mighty have fallen. She may be smart, but she aint street smart. She asked me a million times how to get from Notting Hill to Loulou’s… hmm, taxi? I felt so bad about forgetting her (did I mention she’s one of my besties?). Well, it doesn’t end there- turns out James was equally abandoned. Two lost souls, completely abandoned and oblivious to the fact that someone else was going through the same emotional turmoil due to their “friends” betrayal. It seems odd that two people abandoned together in a place that is literally the size of my closet, couldn’t even find each other. I mean, it’s not Where is fucking Waldo.

After totally killing it at Loulou’s we did the unexpected and went to Cuckoo, just because you know, why not. I decided to host a little after party at my brothers crib after this, and I invited loads of people, including some Gallant German Gentlemen. The gentlemen turned out to be quite the rascals when they later stole my water. How bold! My anger over this theft subsided when the culprit came forward and admitted his criminal nature. My exasperation turned to joy when he described the loot as : Sparkling yet still, refreshing and pure, with a hint of being wet. Oh, you know me, forever the sucker for eloquence. Glad to be of service and quench your thirst, young man!

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One response

  1. Pingback: Southbankin’ with Miss Gadd « Alexia Bergstrom

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