3 English months and a trip to Scotland later...

I finally made the perfect cuppa.For my non-British non-readers, a cuppa happens to be...drum roll please...a cup of tea.

Indeed, 3 months of living in England and a trip to Scotland later, I came across the magic that is a perfect cup of tea. It seems that the British have their 6th sense dedicated to tea making. Every cup of tea I've been offered by a British national, be it Tetley's or Twinnings, has been a cup of magnificence.

But today, I took a sip of a blend from Whittards just as Isabelle Aubret's 'Ma plus belle histoire d'amour' begins to play on Spotify, and by God, je suis tombée amoreuse. The colour, strength, sweetness, temperature, everything was in working order.

This tea was so good I took a bath with it. Jealous?

I have a theory.

I have just gotten back from a 4-day stint in Edinburgh where I was interviewed, slipped on ice and hit a pole, was felt up by a poltergeist, froze in my sleep, froze in my sleep and took an ice cold shower in the men's shower room, did not get drunk, and missed the party of the year.

Case in point, Edinburgh is the most beautiful city I have ever visited. Suck it NYC.

My theory is that Edinburgh is so beautiful, it granted me the bit of Britishness that I really wanted.

Or I got so fucking cold the ghosts underneath the Auld Reekie granted me the bit of Britishness that I really needed.

Creepy poltergeist of Old Niddry, yes I'm looking at you.

Gaaaah!

Ra ra ra ah ah ro ma ro ma ro ma ma ga ga--i kissed a girl and i like it...

Massive alcohol consumption = god knows how many shots of sambuca/gin+tonic/schnapps resulted in a complete shutdown of moral centers. I just outslutted myself last night, at a gay club, in the corner of a gay club, then on the kitchen floor.

But of course, mother nature had to butt in, again. Severe awkwardness avoided.

I fucking love Manchester.

Oh great, culture

My brother is posting rehearsal videos of his band while it is 10 to 2 in England and I am going through a list of wines none of which I have ever tasted and am contemplating spending £50 on 8 bottles of wine that may or may not take the approval of 12 guests coming over for Thanksgiving dinner which Beth and I are going to prepare with the zeal of 40-year-old mothers.

And I just ate 3 pieces of toast.

Despite the warrant of arrest, I had a conversation with you

I was lucky to have found you, sitting in a newly renovated hallway for your lunch duty, annoyed by the

continuous stream of students with a complete disregard for authority. In the corner of my eye, your dark hair

was unmistakeable. You haven't had a haircut since we last met, have you ?

So I turned right, and by the grace of something, you turned towards me, which made me realize that my

infinitesimal myopia, is indeed, a handicap, for I couldn't see how your facial muscles stretched for the smile,

for the call of my name. But I quickened my pace. You stood up for a hug, which I gladly gave, and you gladly

returned, while squeezing my right hand.