Halloween - its properly big in the States

We have Halloween in the UK too, its just not quite the materialistic pagan-fest it is here in the States. The shops are full of costumes, themed food and spooky cards, and, when my lovely teamies back in the UK remembered the phenomenon that is 'trick or treat' they put their Halloween candy order in - Tootsie rolls and Reese's pieces.

The big themes seem to be pumpkin-things (lattes, carvings, pie, cheesecake, muffins), candy corn, skelling-tons and dressing up. I've seen some pretty cool stuff - kinda wish we celebrated it more in the UK, although I don't know how American families cope financially, what with Halloween, Thanksgiving, Hannukah, Christmas and New Year all in the space of 3 months. Dayum - I'd be skint and fat by January.

Target had some cool foam wigs for grown ups - wish I'd thought of these. Super simple, but really impressive.

They also have the cutest selection of baby's and kids costumes.

There are some awesome bits and pieces on Etsy too, courtesy of Goddess of Jewellry, Couth Clothing, Nail dots. I guess Etsy pretty much guarantees that you retain your quirky-cool style whilst celebrating this particular holiday.

You can also yum it up with Picket Fence Confections.

And while you're all dressed up, why not head out trick or treating? Everyone seems pretty obsessed with:
a) having enough candy (thanks to Fox news for this incredible piece of topical journalism. *Le sigh)
b) how old is too old? The Today show had a poll and asked how old was too old. Apparently its ok as long as they make an effort to dress up. No teenagers in hoodies demanding the keys to your car instead of a funsize Mars bar.

And after all of that you've got a mind-blowing number of Halloween TV specials. For the kids there is the Toy Story, Sam & Cat and Haunted Hathaways specials, and for the grown-ups AMC are hosting, what appears to be, an entire month of 24/7 horror films. Seriously - in a country that edits out the naughty jokes for tv I was able to give myself the willies by watching Slither, Halloween and ALL of the Nightmare on Elm Street films at 11am?? AMCFearFest

Its not all cutesy - there's some proper scary shit.

Tenderloin - scarily cool

So, apparently the Tenderloin district of San Fran is either 'delightfully eclectic' or ruddy terrifying! Having read all the horror stories about people being attacked by meth heads I was able to see the lighter side of abject poverty and substance abuse when someone informed me that they had seen a homeless man poop in the street in Tenderloin. He added that he had also seen a couple having sex. In broad daylight. In the street.

I think we've made a decision - we will not be looking for apartments in Tenderloin.

All of that said we were treated to an awesome night out at a faux dive bar called Tradition. It was a bit like Porterhouse but with cocktails. And it introduced me to a thing called a sazerac.

No, not a sarlacc, or a sasanach, or a sasquatch, a sazerac. My drink of choice is a spiced rum and ginger beer. And, obviously, a well-placed jaegerbomb. So, needless to say I felt a little uncouth. That, however, was soon forgotten after one drink because these people know nothing of measures. In the UK I order a single shot and that is exacly what I get. Here I must have got a double in every drink, so after one (and no dinner) I was all about the 'couth'.


It certainly helped that the bar had a real London vibe to it. A bit hipster (grungy, but comfortingly trust-fund) and a bangin soundtrack.

The best thing about the place was the people though - turns out my disgusting sense of humour will serve me well here. FOR THE WIN.  

S'mores brownies - you are welcome

My plan isn't to actively make my husband fat, but I am enjoying the incredible new range of food available to me in the States, so it may be an unwanted side effect. Sorry, love.

After a bit of searching I have managed to find somewhere that sells local fresh fruit and veg, which isn't normally important to me, but when the only alternatives are Trader Joe's (hippies shipping organic stuff from the other side of the planet, and missing the irony of their endeavours), Target (its cool - poor people don't need fresh fruit & veg) and Whole Foods (yey - they have organic tampons. Srsly) and we are living in a place nicknamed 'the fruit bowl' it is very odd that I've had to actively seek local farming produce.

Glad I did though - the plums from the financial district farmers market were delish!

Anyhoo - I've been experimenting a bit, now I have a kitchen again and an incredible selection of food at my disposal, and lo, s'mores brownies were born.

S'mores is a thing that you hear about alot in the American culture that bleeds across the pond, but I am still suspicious of American chocolate (Hersheys? Really??) so I thought s'mores brownies were the best way to try them for the first time. I was right.

I'd love to post a picture, but I burnt the marshmallow's on the top, so they looked a bit pox-marked. Also, they all fell in my tummy before I had the chance to photograph them. But they existed, and the world is a better place for it.

I used the brownie mix from Trader Joe's, added a graham cracker base (like a traditional digestive biscuit cheesecake base), crumbled extra graham cracker bits into the mixture, along with some baby marshmallows. Cooked it all up, drizzled Trader Joe's caramel sauce over it and squished some extra marshmallows into it. The next bit went a bit wrong, but I was supposed to toast them gently. Instead I burnt them horrifically and had to scrape them all off. That little mistake aside these were the chewiest and most delish brownies I have ever eaten. I rock.

My ass thanks you

So, week 1 in my new home is nearly over. The heatwave was much appreciated, California. Ta muchly. This week I have mostly been exploring. Walking up hills. Walking down hills...

Did I say hills? HILLS?? Primrose Hill is a hill. Portsdown Hill is a hill. I have been scaling mountains. I have seen NO fat people here in San Fran, and I think I know why (aside from the meth addiction, I mean). People of the City* - you must have buns of steel.

And even when you're walking downhill, you're still, somehow walking uphill? My ass and shins are sore. And, even more so, my lungs are seriously piddled off with me.

And don't even get me started on the driving. Friscans (thats a thing, right?) must be thrill-seekers because driving up a cliff face and stopping at the top at a red light is a standard occurrence. I know most of the cars are automatic, so you're not fighting with biting point, but, honestly, I think I'd rather be in control. I trust my own leg more than an automatic car.

After a week I've started getting smart with the walking, though - there are a few doozies near our apartment, but if you go one block further the hill is much less terrifying. And if I spot a downward slope just before a bun-breaker I'll keep walking and find another route - downward slopes can be just as tiring and are a waste of muscle when you have to work twice as hard o the next block to make up for it.

I've also now discovered this Hill Mapper by a genius Sam Maurer. Sir, my ass thanks you.

In short - walking around San Fran is so much fun. Chinatown, the finance district, Union Square - all the northern parts of the city are so interesting and, for a Brit, the architecture is like nothing I've seen before. You also feel extra virtuous - all the hills mean that I am not missing the gym at all (I doubt Gym's missing me either. We kinda fell out after the wedding. I stopped visiting and calling. He got all possessive and kept begging me to come back. It was weird.) You'll need some good quality shoes - my crappy H&M pumps that were fine for scaling the escalators at Charing Cross are next to useless here.

I'll get back to you on the driving front though...


* Yeah, I know, someone needs to tell them that the only 'City' (capital C) is in London, but I've only been here a week, gimme a chance.

The Simpsons get unionised

So, it was after a few minutes of watching local TV station KRON 4 (named after Kang & Kodos' cousin from out of town) that I realised that the BART strike was actually not a result of the pay -demands from a precocious fictional 11 year old cartoon character. It turns out that transport workers the world over are downtrodden and underpaid/spoilt kids (depending on where you're standing on this argument). Having left the threat of TfL strikes in London I have flown straight into threatened strikes on the BART and the buses in San Fran. Good job I'm enjoying the hill-walking around town.

Before anyone starts getting on any political soap boxes, calm your tits. 

I am not here to comment on the specifics of the proposed strike, nor am I going to comment on the principle of Unions, blah blah blah. TBH I don't know the specifics, and I couldn't comment on the way transport workers are treated in the US anyway - I know nothing of pay and benefits.

Its just interesting that at a time when I'm seeing so many differences between my homeland and my new city its actually quite comforting to see this parallel. There are the same characters, the same complaints and the same anger. There is much more of a media pantomime here, though, which makes it easier to identify your own heroes and villains. It also makes it easier to suss out the political allegiances of the respective TV stations, which is very handy to know when you're trying to make sense of other stories. I'm looking at you, Fox news...

Interesting as this is I hope it all gets resolved soon though - unlike London there seem to be less public transport options here, so if the BART goes down people seem to have to get up at ridic-o'clock to get buses/coaches. If the tube goes down its a massive pain in the arse, but, even at the arse-end of the Northern line, there are still other options.

Steve the freakin hummingbird!!

So, in London we had a family of foxes who lived in the garden. They were called Steve. All of them.

I hadn't seen any actual wildlife here, until a freakin' hummingbird flew into my window!! Wha?...

Oh, hai, Steve. We can be friends now?...

The black hole in the kitchen

In the UK we don't have garbage disposal thingys in our kitchen sinks. I think its something to do with the British sense of doom and gloom. When the good people of Britain see a queue we think 'Le sigh - just my luck. That enormous queue is probably for the exact thing that I need. I'd better join it'. Similarly, when we Brits see a meat grinder instead of a plug hole we are inclined to think 'Le sigh - I guess I'll be losing my cutlery/wedding ring/hand/torso down that bad boy. Better tell the wife and kids that the trip to Chessington is off because we'll be at A&E all weekend'.

We're pretty pessimistic people, and I, for one, do not trust the washing up water sluicing everything near the sink down towards the terrifying motorised teeth and human-hand sized hole. Its bad enough that the hole is enormous, let alone the pulverising motion of the blades or the growling 'om nom nom' of the motor.

That said, it is quite addictive. And after about 10 minutes asking myself what can I put down there (as in 'what am I allowed to put down there?'), I started asking the more important question: what can't I put down there? And by can't I mean physically, not morally.

A bit of googling offered this useful advice for a garbage disposal noob. And these hilarious images:

And a bit of experimentation yielded mixed results:

Not sure how I'm gonna fix that. I've just put it back in the cutlery drawer and hope that the cutlery fairies come and fix it.

I also discovered a new thing - why waste valuable seconds explaining to other noobs that you can't put fats, oils and grease down the sink, simply shorten it to FOG. Its cool. Its a thing. People will deffo know what you're talking about.



I have to admit - its actually a real revelation - the thought of scraping the dregs of a meal down the drain rather than into the recycle bin is actually quite exciting (yeah, whatevs - I get my kicks wherever I can these days). It feels heaps cleaner (no gross drips of gravy) and quicker and easier. (Am I turning into one of Godfrey Bloom's domestic sluts? Meh - what do I care what a soon-to-be jobless old twat thinks).

But Brits - rest assured that while we miss out on the fun of a garbage disposal, we also, generally, get to wash our soiled undergarments in the privacy of our own home. Pity many of our American cousins who have to gather up their laundry and take it to a communal room in their apartment block, or, *shock*, an actual launderette. Seriously - they have built-in dishwashers and garbage disposal units, but no space for a washing machine? When exploring apartments we're getting alot of teeth-sucking when we mention that we want a washing machine in unit. And the two people I've asked who have washing machines in-unit still have to put quarters in to get it working?? WTF? 

I WILL be doing my laundry in my pants on a Saturday morning, and if that upsets my neighbours then so be it.

One at a time...

Having grown up with American culture references (thank you Family Guy/Simpsons et al) I am reveling in every new experience I have here.

Today I am exploring pop culture on the TV (for blog-related research, of course) by watching Today, The View and, my personal favourite, Rachael Ray.

I've seen Ms Ray before and today's mix of maple bacon burgers and chat is a cracking watch.

Sadly, The View and Today do not match up. Seriously - can you all just speak one at a time? Its like Christmas at home - everyone has an opinion to share and no real interest in anyone else's thoughts. Don't get me wrong - I'm exactly the same. Step to me with an opinion and you'd better be prepared to be shouted down with an ill-informed contrary view (whether I agree or not - its all about making you feel like I know more than you), but I wouldn't want to encourage anyone to watch the spectacle (except my poor husband).

Its apparently called 'morning zoo' and is a formal presenting style, though there are variations on this. Listeners to the Chris Moyles BBC Radio One Breakfast show will have heard it at its best. Only one person spoke at a time. To the extent that it actually looked awkward and slow when they put TV cameras in the studio. Professional.

Compare that to Shouty Mc-Talky and friends. Please, one at a time, chaps. I implore you!! I don't have enough ears to distinguish the three conversations going on. Or enough brain power to distinguish between the interesting facts, funny quips and dribbly noise that is trumpeting out of your cake-holes.

Now, to explore the on-demand offering - good job I stocked up on Kool-Aid and chips yesterday - I may be here some time...

Drier than a camel's chuff

Our last flat was damp. And I mean properly, mould-arousingly damp. It was sometimes a pain, but I'm British, so damp is more than a fact of life. Its something I fondly remember throughout my childhood. Like wagon wheels and wotsits.

Well, it turns out that the West Coast of America is not damp. It is very, very dry. To the extent that I am considering buying some nasal moisturising gel. That's not even a thing in England?? And I know that makes me sound like a bit of a sickly adult - 'my nasal mucous membranes are defective, *sniff*' - but bearing in mind there are a variety of nasal moisture products on the market I don't think I'm the only one.

Its just something that I've never experienced before, and no-one warned me. I'm from a coastal city, so I assumed dampness would be universal in coastal towns, but not this one. We're apparently in the middle of a bit of a heatwave thanks to a wind from inland (east), so, using my amazing meteorologocal powers, I'm going to guess that the dry air is blowing in off the desert (calling upon my geographical expertise there, too) and that as soon as the winds change and start blowing in off the sea the air will be cool and moist once more. So, basically, I don't think this is a permanent thing, but, like the garbage disposal unit, it was not something I was prepared for.

While I wait for the wind to change I'm off to Walgreen's to buy some nasal moisturiser. I have a coupon. Oh yeah, coupons, that's a big thing here too.

Travel winge 6

Today's irrational winge - toilet attendants

 Now, I'm not a prude, but there are some things a gal doesn't want to share with other people. That includes the gaseous build-up of a 10 hour flight. So when I'm trying to find a place to dispense with the problem with as few people knowing about it as possible I'm mortified to find a lady pointing to the stall she wants to to use (how did she know I was coming?) and then lingering outside wiping the basins while I pretend to use the facilities.

Its not the ladies themselves (I had a lovely conversation with a lady in Mumbai who explained how to get a shine on your marble wash basin using a small tealite and some hot water) its just the time and place are all wrong. A small room next door, or at least a seat outside to save my blushes and their nasal passages.