Friday, 2 April 2010

And then magically, I was purple...


And a GREAT morning to you from across the Pond on this Good Friday in the Mother Country. I am working from home today, and so rather than try and hammer out the blog (no pun intended) last night, I thought it best to knock it out this morning before I commenced with work. Two days to catch you up on, so let's get crackin'.

Wednesday was a GREAT day in the office. I logged 70 minutes on the bike in the AM but didn't jog because I had some residual foot pain from the day before, which I am now blaming squarely on the black, cap toe shoes I own. Price - really, I think I can now blame you for my stress fracture, as those shoes were my ONE attempt to fit in with your "high fashion" society.

I am happy to report that Muffin Puffin landed safely and has had great weather so far (knock on wood!). And don't worry, C-Web - I know that there is a growing audience that is discontented with the lack of information on Mrs. Assignee 47. Fret not - she's already committed to a blog upon her return.

That night Bruce, Shogun, Dunphey, me, and Marta rolled over to Chancery Lane, where we ate and drank at this GREAT French joint called "The Bleeding Heart." Bitburger on draft! Riegel, you Bavarian snob - you have no idea what you're missing- Sie Mussen liebe alle biere!!!

I got in around 11 and crashed, waking on Thursday for another 70 minutes on the bike, which felt REALLY good. I'm off today because my gym is closed and I don't feel like it's a good idea to push the foot, but I honestly think the rest is a good thing.

Last night was GREAT. For starters, the work day had been wicked productive, and I was feeling really good about things. Only 1 business day left until Go Live! BRING IT, BABY!!!

Secondly, we had some drinks at the Music Factory after work (shocking, I know). Since it was the day before a holiday in the UK, the place was HEAVING, meaning we had to stand outside in an ARCTIC day under some less than fully functional heat lamps. The result was me rockin' my under armor beanie, gloves, my "German killing" bomber jacket for about 90 minutes whilst shivering the entire time. I honestly thought Marta, Kat, and Carolina weren't going to make it. Those are warm climate girls, and all of them were turning blue or purple. Cath - the beer jacket just wasn't cutting it.

From there we rolled to the featured event of the evening - dinner at Guacho's. Okay, so a little back story here (that I'm sure I've mentioned before). Steak in the UK is GRAY - no other way to describe it. Your only option for preparation is "cook the hell out of it until chewing chips away at your teeth." Hence the reason I never order steaks. Last night, however, we found a diamond in the rough.

Gaucho's (Argentinian for cowboy) serves only Argentine beef, and the cook it HOWEVER YOU WANT IT. The steak peddlar comes by your table to explain the cut, and then pick the size you want. Who's got to thumbs and ordered a 400 gram fillet? THIS GUY. And the preparation? Rare, baby...oh yes.

This steak was GREAT, as was the wine (Puma - once again, no such thing as a bad Malbec). I did learn a valuable lesson, however. Wine is better ingested than worn. That's right, opening the menu for dessert I realized that you had to flip it over for the list of treats. Well, when I did that, I sent a FULL GLASS OF RED WINE hurdling through time and space. The result was two fold:



I will go on record and say that the staff was GREAT about it, and they cleaned it up in a flash. I will also say that I was sober - that was only my second glass after a POUND OF MEAT OVER TWO HOURS. The good news is that I think both my shirt and slacks (my NICEST SUIT SLACKS) will survive once I hit the dry cleaner. The bad news is that my Hang Loose Hawaii t-shirt looks like I poured grape juice ALL OVER MY ABDOMEN (same for my boxers). But don't worry, muffin - I'm not throwing them away! They'll get worn again (insert eyes rolling here).

Okay, that's all the news that's fit to print. Chat tomorrow!


Sam and (somewhere near Lake Bled) Jenny

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