I graduamated!

I notice it's been a long time since my last post. I blame it on all the visitors I've had over the past month. Ryan came out for 10 days (16-25 Oct), overlapping with my flatmate's work friend Kathleen's visit for 6 days, and then my parents trounced over 3-9 Nov. Needless to say, I'm pretty much 'visitored-out'.

Aside from all the visitors, I have great news. I graduated on the 6th Nov from the University of Westminster with a Masters degree in International Journalism- Print. Yay! It was oddly anti-climactic. Still, it felt really amazing to walk across the stage with a rolled up scroll (albeit it wasn't my actual diploma). There was no rehearsal to this graduation, but there were no real screw ups (aside from some wrong names being pronounced).

The parents were in town to see it all go down. I'm not sure I would have gone otherwise (who schedules a graduation on a Tuesday, anyways?!). But since they were in town I took a few days off work to do that and hang out with them. They had a great time, especially my father who finally made it out of the country (I don't count Canada as 'leaving the country', since no passport was required up until 2007).

Well, they're gone now, and I'm trying to get back into the swing of things. I'm kicking a rubbish cold I developed last week while they were still here, I'm back at the gym, and I'm back to my early to sleep, early to rise, schedule.

Of course there's a lot more I could talk about. I enjoy discussing the differences I discover between the English and us Americans. It's also weird how the longer I'm here, the more I develop these English differences and completely confuse my American family and friends. It's not so much calling American 'soccer', 'football' - and then having my dad go off on a spiel about the New England Patriots. No, Dad, I wasn't talking about them. I'm pretty sure I would not willing bring them up in conversation.

Yesterday one of my work colleagues got a cake pan for Christmas delivered to the office. Then her and a few others began talking about marzipan and cake. I queried (see, what American says queried?!) what the H was marzipan and what was it doing in a cake. Anyways, everyone proceeded to tell me it was the layer between the cake and the icing in most wedding cakes. Well... no American wedding cakes I've ever come across have a layer of marzipan before the frosting (and it's certainly FROSTING not ICING). Just a little diff that seems to baffle my colleagues and myself. My, we are so different, just in all the little ways we tend to take for granted.

Pet peeve no. 58

I cannot stand it when people speak in double negatives. It neither is intelligent nor comprehensible. Take for instance, this quote I was reading from MSNBC on the school shooting in Cleveland yesterday:

He’s crazy. He threatened to blow up our school. He threatened to stab everybody. We didn’t think nothing of it.

-Doneisha LeVert

What the hell is that supposed to mean? We thought of it? We didn't think nothing of it? I can't comprehend... my brain... is going to ... EXPLODE!

So please, when speaking, or writing for that matter, just say what you mean. Because if you don't got no speaking skills - we'll, you'd just be plain lying.

L.O.L.

Ride The S.L.U.T.
Originally uploaded by HeyRocker

Abbreviations are fun. Especially when something you're trying to promote becomes something you don't want your kids to understand... I love it.

A year later....

Looking back, I didn't really expect to be here at this point in my life. It's odd to discover that what had made you 'you' was just something that had been comfortably familiar. The people who surrounded you, the clothes you wore, the room you slept in, the car you drove - these I truly believed made me Jocelyn. But when you shed all of these and moved across the ocean with two suitcases and a few ideas - who, then, were you? You had to make new friends from all over the world, with different accents, hair styles, and visions, politics, and ideas. You had to find comfort in a bed that didn't seem like yours and use an umbrella, rather than a car, when it rained.

It's been a year since I moved to London. I imagined I'd be back in Boston now, perhaps getting a job there, or moving on to New York or San Francisco. I flew over on the fifth anniversary of 9/11. Not a date many would want to fly out of Logan airport. Yet, I did it not expecting to return until Christmas. And I'm still here, not expecting to return until Christmas. And then be back in time for New Years.

Home is a place as familiar as anything can be. You know where you lay your bag down at the end of the day. Where you keep the wine opener. How to work the washing machine and that the Brita filter needs to be changed at the end of the month. That your flatmate will either be in a great mood, or maybe tired and cranky. This is home now. It went from two suitcases, to a collection of crap. It went from knowing no one, to knowing many new faces, people, and friends. To having a 'local', to learning to spell in British English, not just American English. It went to getting a first salary paying job - in the pound, not the dollar. Learning how to pay rent on time can be easier than understanding why English men are more difficult than American men.

And being in my mid-twenties in a fabulous city outside of my old comfort zone could have been the greatest decision I ever made. It's funny to look at my old life, and think of how frustrated I would be. Wondering where I was going, and when my big break would be, as my friends grew up around me, got jobs, bought houses, got engaged and settled down. I'm proud of them. But I'm also proud that I didn't just sit back and watch them grow up. I decided to grow up on my own. I'm learning how to take care of myself, what makes me happy, what pisses me off, how to get around, and how much (little) money I can survive on without having to ask for help.

Where will I be next year? Some things haven't changed. I still love surprises. I'll be content waiting until then. Who knows where I'll be, what I'll be doing, and who I'll be surrounded by. But, I'm pretty sure if I know myself yet, I'll be happy. Or, at the very least, comfortable.

Happy Anniversary, Jocelyn. London is more than you were banking on. And that's a good thing.

We are so small

Cape Enrage, originally uploaded by IrenaS.

This picture is so amazing. I am currently waiting for a client to get back to me and really don't have much else going on, so I'm exploring 6 Sept's 'Interestingness' photos on Flickr.

This picture was taken in New Brunswick, and I think it's just so gorgeous. It makes me feel really amazed at how beautiful nature can be. It also makes me want to get out of the city for the day. But alas, I'm stuck in the office.

Hope you appreciate this picture as much as I do. Happy Friday!

If it's this bad already, I'm not prepared for my quarter-life crisis

When did getting older become a depressing hassle? Last year was a load of fun, from what I remember of it. And I figured having my first birthday abroad would be just as exciting, but in reality, it's looking pretty sad.

I'm expecting six people show up. No, I'm not kidding. You'd think that I have no friends. Well, at least I thought I had friends. But apparently the convenience of having your birthday fall on a Sat AND a bank holiday weekend only makes it inconvenient to everyone else.

So here comes my pity party. No presents to open. No mom around to buy me gifts and dad around to take me to my favorite steak house. No best friend to celebrate both of our birthdays with (Stef's birthday falls four days after mine). No ice cream cake. No beach (and come to think of it, no summer weather, either).

All said and done, 24 is the new 21, as my 21st birthday was pretty much the worst ever. So bring it on, bad birthday. I've learned to steer clear of beer and gin on bad birthdays, as they only seem to make it worse. I'm going to stick to champagne, wine, and I'm not bringing my wallet with me (other than ID for proof that I don't need to purchase anything myself).

And hopefully someone remembers to get me a cake. Because I can't imagine a sadder life than buying your own birthday cake.

So if you're bored Sat night, feel free to stop in at The Borderline near Tottenham Court Road, and look for a hot blonde wearing her birthday best. I'll probably be the drunkest girl at the party.

We partied like it was 1999

This post is dedicated to the Prince show I saw two days ago at the O2 Centre in London (North Greenwich to be exact). I've been reading reviews of the shows he's been putting on (if you're unaware, he's playing 21 shows in LDN)since starting 1 Aug. This being his ninth show in, you would think he'd be bored of us.

I'm not entirely sure bored would be the word. But he is Prince, and he knows he's a legend. So, he can act like a King. And that he did. He took the stage at 9:25 to a very antsy and excited crowd. Sold-out, of course. Wait, before I go on, the stage was amazing. I'll have to post pictures (which we illegally took) on my .mac website. It was shaped in his Prince symbol, which light up in different colors and prints throughout the performance - so much fun.

To see his complete set-list, I've found Housequake to be the best. I can't say that I was the most fanatical Prince fan upon entering the concert, however after the show I must get copies of as many CDs he's got (what, like 1,000?) ASAP.

Still, I was so excited when the third song in was 1999. Other favorites included: Cream, Purple Rain (I was SO happy to hear it), Raspberry Beret, and a rendition of Louis Armstrong's What a Wonderful World. Half way through the show he included a synth set of around eight of his songs, which was both a tease and a lot of fun. Of course, he kept telling us we weren't ready for them... Which made the crowd erupt in the loudest screaming I've ever experienced at any concert in my life - and I've been to hundreds. Do I need to remind you, I'm only 23?

His encore was immense - Kiss followed by Let's Go Crazy. He kept joking that he was out of hits and didn't know what else to play. Even though this would have been quite brazen and boasting coming from anyone else, it made him seem more human. Turns out, Prince can be funny. And I really like him. I thought beforehand (especially after Dave Chapelle's hilarious skit as him playing basketball in a purple velvet suit) he was a serious weirdo with a short-man complex. Well, I'm going to revamp my mindset of him. I really, really like him now.

So even though he only played for one hour and 20 minutes, I was sold. One of the best performances I've ever seen. And I don't think I've seen a more involved crowd in my life. They ate it up. With cream on top.

Maybe one of the best £31 I've ever spent. And now I can say, "Yeah, I saw Prince in London, baby."

Amazingly bored

I've officially found the bottom of boredom. It hit me today. August the first. I could potentially scratch my eyeballs out, just for fun. Classes ended 5 April, and since then, I've had nothing to do, outside of finding stuff to do, on a daily basis. And in a week, all of that is going to change drastically.

I start work 1 week from today. Am I nervous? A bit. Am i sad my four month long vacation is going to end? Not at all. Not in the least. There is only so much you can do without making an income in this city. I've seen it all (not really). I'm so ready to join the daily office 'grind' and made new friends, and do things that don't involve eating breakfast at noon and commencing on the couch for a few hours staring at my computer screen. So excited.

As for today, I went to the park. It was a 'heat wave'. The quotes are for the fact there's a real heat wave in my hometown of Boston, where it's a gorgeous 90F/32C. Here, it was 75F/24C. That's not even real summer weather to me. It needs to at least be 80F/27C for it be summer. Anyways, I reveled in the fact it was a 'heat wave' and laid out at my local park. I may have even helped my fading tan a bit. No need to worry about my skin, though, I was protected with 30SPF. I fear skin cancer like the plague.

Bonus points for me, I finished No God But God by Reza Aslan. It took me a while to get through (started it in June, then left for Boston for 3 weeks, came back and wrote my final, so there's been a month gap). For someone who knew nothing about Islam beforehand, I have a much broader knowledge of it now. It makes me sad, after reading about it, how terrible of a view Christians and Jews have of Islam post-9/11. And a little tid-bit from the book, the Regan administration funded Osama bin Laden and the Taliban to help topple Communism. Not that I'm surprised, or anything.

Next up, I'm reading Watching the British by Kate Fox. And after that I'm going to buy The Glass Castle. I enjoy being literate and reading something other than the free tabloids on the tube.

Wino

Class, originally uploaded by onlygood2.

I find it funny that when I used this picture in Your Heritage - the which celebrity do you look like website - the top three people of the eight celebrities were of Asian descent. This probably because my eyes nearly close when I smile.

Ahh well. This picture was taken at Imbibe, and I cut out some people in the photo to use it as my Facebook profile picture. I think I look tan.. for me, anyways.

I'm not lazy, I'm just connecting

This blog is actually an opinion article I wrote for my final. I was happy with it (you may make your own opinion) but I felt like posting it.

Being a student in the year 2007 is exciting with Web 2.0. There is so much information at my fingertips. I really wanted to watch the YouTube Democratic debate, however without a television and not being in the US, this would have been close to impossible. But with the invention of video-sharing websites, I was able to go onto YouTube the next day and watch the entire debate – with no commercials!

With Wikipedia, Google, and Factiva, the library seems like a foreign concept. Many of my peers would be hard-pressed to visit one of those anytime soon. Are we getting lazy? Do we have too much information being thrown at us from unlimited sources all on one screen?

If the 90s were the age of excess, then the 00s must be the age of the Internet. Web 2.0 has given us knowledge and connected users from around the globe. It’s evolutionised the way we conduct our day-to-day dealings and with each other. From instant messaging, social networking sites, blogs, Flickr, and YouTube, I can stay connected with my friends and family thousands of miles away – without having to worry about a large phone bill.

Does this make us lazy? It certainly doesn’t make me lazy. With the more information I stumble across, the more I want. It’s like a drug. Once I read a blog that recommends a book, a movie, or a place to go, I want to do it all. I want to form my own opinion. Sure, there are people who are content with sitting in front of the computer screen, but they’re no different to those who were content sitting in front of the television.

Andrew Keen has recently put out a book, The Cult of the Amateur. In it, he discusses the end of our society and the end of old media. Blogs are “collectively corrupting and confusing popular opinion about everything from politics, to commerce, to arts and culture”. He should only be so happy, as I learnt about his book on a blog. And I probably will go out and buy his book, just to see his point of view, and then I’ll blog about it.

Everyone has the ability to have his or her voices and songs heard, words read, and videos seen. Does this make us lazy? People need to look at the big picture. The dot-com bubble burst around the same time terrorists attacked the Twin Towers in the ‘impenetrable’ US. Shit hit the fan. Things haven’t been the same since. Maybe we want to connect with each other, since no one seems to be gelling in the real world?

Perhaps Second Life isn’t such a bad idea, if I can avoid a war I never believed in. A blog I can rant and rave in because no one else is listening. Upload videos of people that matter to me. This doesn’t make me lazy. I’m just connecting, in a world where no one else is.

A tart, I am not

Somehow, without Adderall, I've been able to stay course with my final project. I wasn't lying to people when I told them I'd do much better with it if I had two weeks to complete it. Now, it may seem to others that I'm in-fact a slacker, but I'm in fact a furious writer when under pressure. People should stop judging.

Do you think that I worked any differently throughout high school and UMass Amherst? Come on now. Of course I didn't. And I still managed to graduate with honors at both schools. I'm not a moron. I'm a procrastinator. There's a huge difference.

I'm actually really glad I picked the topic I did. Web 2.0 came to me in a dream (not really) and I'm so glad it came out of my mouth in the group meeting back in May while declaring what I'd be writing 12,000 words on. I've learned so much, and I'm not trying to sound like a tart.

To be honest, I think everyone should learn about Web 2.0 (which more or less means the new platform of the web and how the public are the new producers). In the process, I've even stumbled across some really great blogs, like dooce.com.

In another post I'll link to all of them, but I'm too exhausted (from writing 2,000 words today). I've also found some really creepy websites, like LiveLeak.com (previously ogrish.com) and military.com. Video-sharing just got a whole lot more uncut and uncensored. (Viewer discretion IS advised. I had to write about, so had to go to them, but I watched some videos with my eyes closed. I'm a wuss.)

Finally, since I've been writing so much, my carpal tunnel has come back in full fledge. It hasn't been this bad since nearly two years ago when my friends and I bowled every Friday night (don't judge, the bar served beers for $2). I'm currently loving my new bandage that looks like a sock, yet it's a certified Boots bandage. Not quite sure how the public will take it, but I am in London, and as I say fashion-wise, anything goes here.

Today was a good day!

Well, my parents, my flat mate, and I can breathe easy today. I got a job offer! I will not be moving onto the street anytime soon. I envisioned myself finding scraps of food to eat in trash bins whilst clanging around a tin can begging for change and fighting over prime spots near cash points. OK, so I made that last bit up, but the money situation was getting a little tense. Tomorrow I'm going to be calling to accept the offer, and I will officially enjoy my first salary paid position of my life - in London! Hooray.

Other notes worth mentioning. I got Kaiser Chief tickets for Decemeber. Sure, it's ages away, but I'm so excited. General admission, which means I'm getting right up there. It's been a while since I've had the opportunity to sing along to every song, while having other people jabbing their elbows and entire bodies into me. When the crowd sways one way, we all sway. It's like a giant blob that I used to really enjoy. I'm sure I'll hate it now, and forget why I ever enjoyed it. But damnit, it's the Kaiser Chiefs!!

I went for a drink with Drew at the Elgin. I haven't been since the smoking ban. It's amazing to be able to breath in their, I found it to be one of the smokiest bars in the city. And I don't smell like an ashtray, either. Brilliant if you ask me. I'm not sure why people were so worried about the ban, it's amazing. Second-hand smoke, even if you're a smoker, is never pleasant. You can't argue that with me. Unless you hate oxygen. Then, well, sorry you were born on this planet, it's too bad.

I'm exhausted. Today was an exhilarating day. And tomorrow is going to suck. 2,000 more words to write. But then I get to go out for Samira's birthday and celebrate with friends whom I haven't partied with in a while. Should be a good time.

Ciao for now.

I think I should go to bed

So yes, it's officially 2.11am. I should certainly be sleeping, if not tossing and turning. I took melatonin about 20 minutes ago and am beginning to feel it's effects.

Case-in-point: I applied Burt's Bees to my lips -nightly ritual. Then I idiotically rubbed my eye. Have you ever gotten Burt's Bees in your eye? Well I'm pretty sure that icy comforting burn that takes place on your lips is never supposed to be intended for your eyes. I literally had tears running down my cheeks for a good five minutes. It still feels funny, but I'm not running out of bed to dose my eye in cold water (I'm pretty sure that's what the warning label would say to do, anyways).

Today I amazed myself and wrote two more articles for my final. I have completed a total of 4,000 words. In the bigger view, I've completed 1/3 of it. I'm pretty impressed with myself as well. I cannot wait until 27 July (and yet, I can?).

Ok, time to do a sudoku puzzle and fall asleep. I only hope this cool, icy feeling in my eye goes away. Oyyy.

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Procrastination should be my middle name

You know when people say, 'I work well under pressure'?? Yeah, I'm not kidding when I say that either. T-minus 11 days and counting until my final project is due and I have barely gotten anywhere with it. Am I nervous? Heck yes. Will I get it done in time? Hell yes. This is how I work - when the heat is on! Well, I suppose it's boiling at this point, but I'm not too concerned.

My battle plan is to write around 2,000 words a day. At that pace, I should have written the 12,000 words necessary by Saturday. If that's the case, I should have time to go through it all and make sure it's accurate and correct. Fingers crossed. Do pray for me in the meantime.

Changing topics, I have a question. So I flew back to London from my American holiday back in Boston (to be exact Reading, Medford, Malden, Marblehead, Maynard, Ipswich, Nahant, Saugus, Southie, Newton and finally, Boston)last Mon night/Tues morning, and here's my predicament: I had a cold/flu bug thing going on when I flew, and my ears clogged terribly from my stuffy nose. It killed - a pain I wouldn't wish upon any one of my worst enemies. I've since gotten over the cold, but my right ear still feels like it's got water in it. Have I lost hearing from the plane ride? Is that possible? Will it ever be normal again? I'm having heart palpatations just thinking about it. If anyone can answer me that, please, PLEASE do so soon.

Onto some better news. I officially am no longer single. That's right, folks, I have a boyfriend. I know, I know, You maybe as shocked as I am. Trouble is, I keep forgetting I do - three years single is a long time. I figure I'll slowly get into the ways of coupledom. Thankfully, he's fully employed (a London 'bobby'!) and with me trying to write 2,000 words a day, I don't have to feel like I'm ignoring him. And he's not clingy so I also don't have to feel like a bitch that we don't talk, text, or see each other everyday.

Well, I'm officially going to get started on this project. Cheers!

Am I sick of being single?

I've been cynical about love and relationships since, well, my four year relationship ended in 2003. How could I spend so much time with someone and then just completely fall out of love - and not have any reservations, fears, or heartbreak over breaking up with him?

And then six months later I fell for a guy who become one of the most confusing parts of my senior year in UMass.

And thats it. I haven't had a serious relationship since then. I've dated around, but nothing has ever developed. It might be because I'm always changing, always moving on. I'm not exactly sure. But if you want to categorize me, then I'd be a single girl in her early 20s exploring her options, not about to settle for anything. Happy to not have to check in with anyone, happy to mingle and flirt and anything else that may progress from there. Happy to say I moved to another continent without anyone holding me back.

So why am I suddenly re-thinking my ideas of love and relationships? I've technically been boyfriendless since Sept 2004. Nearly three years now.

I've been a content quirkyalone, while many of my closest friends have moved in with their boyfriends, got married, and even bought houses and dogs together. I've always been the friend they can count on to go out and have a good time. I'm the party girl, the group rallier, the one who always wants to have fun, be spontaneous, because we might be hit by a bus tomorrow.

Now, it has nothing to do with the fact that I've been alone for three years that I've suddenly started feeling resentment and jealousy over these girls who have a significant other to lean on and keep them company. I'm not lonely, so I know this isn't it. I think it's something else.

Suddenly, I have options. I don't know yet how real the options are, it's too early to tell, but it's the first time in a while that I have those butterflies when I'm around him. The 'ohmigod he just texted me', 'I have nothing to wear', 'speechless' type of feelings. This is not something I am used to at all.

I talk a lot. My friends could attest to that. But when I'm out on a date and he asks: 'Is something wrong? You've been so quiet' that I need to reaccess what is going on in my head. Am I being shy because I like him? Because I honestly can't think of anything normal to say. And then when I start overthinking, my brain starts to shut down. Please may I have another glass of wine?

Suddenly I feel like I'm in high school and every flaw, blemish and insecurity is evident to him. What has happened to the flirt, who will go up to a guy in a club and start dancing with him without even asking his name? Now it's like that girl is being suppressed because, well, there's a chance this guy may actually like me.

And I may actually like him back. And here I thought I'd have nothing to worry about.

Horrendous Neighbors

Everyone has/had horrible neighbors, past, present, future. It's just the way society goes. There are bound to be people who live in your vacinity that either make your blood boil and make you want to scream "Sod off!"; and there's also those select few who do things that seem aimed to just make you irritated and annoyed (at least, that's what it seems).

When I was a kid we had these neighbors that were horrible. The parents were very rarely around and their kids were in their teens when I was just in elementary school. They would torment me and all the other young neighborhood kids. This included name calling, bullying, and even exposing their "private" parts to us.

As they got older, parties ensued. My parents nicknamed them the "Loud Family", or for short, the "Louds". They were your regular suburban kids who had no motivation to take initiative of their life and use the resources around them to make something of themselves.

Drug busts, domestic disputes, teen pregnancies, dropping out of high school - were what become of the 'Loud' kids. And when they finally moved out as they reached 18 and 19, our horrendous neighbors were all but a family joke to bring up randomly when reminicising about the 90s and the (dare I say it?) good 'ol days.

I went to college at UMass, had some annoying neighbors who enjoyed partying 7 days a week with their music and bass at full levels. This was normal though. We were all the same age - supposedly taking part of the best days of our lives. I then moved out with a few friends off campus Junior year in the Townhouses and partaked in our own partying - thankfully on our own terms. Still, it was a college community and we were living up our new found freedoms to the Nth degree.

And now I'm a graduate living in London. I live a much more toned down life. Parties are more infrequent - but then again I'm not 19 anymore. I live in a council block with probably about 50 other flats around creating our own little -semi-project-like- community. (Funny when my mom and her friend visited they said how much it looks like South Boston. Not the nice parts. Ha.)

So now it's strange to find my horrendous neighbor has become not another punk or college student just living it up. No. Things couldn't be any farther from the truth. To be honest, I almost miss them. Louds and drunks.

No, my horrendous neighbor has taken shape into a fat, middle-aged, house wife who never changes out of her pajamas.

So what makes her so awful? It's difficult to tell if it's the way she screams her son's name every 30 mins or the way how obnoxiously she chooses to do so from her third floor balcony. It's ridiculous actually. At the top of her lungs, as her son is out playing with all the other neighbor kids (who, BTW, are never screamed at just for the sake of it) 'JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMES' can be heard in this shrill, fingers down a chalk board, manner.

My room mate and I have actually considered buying her a walkie talkie to give to her son to keep tabs on him. I'm actually afraid one of us might snap and yell back at her to walk the three flights down and peer down the courtyard to see that he is, indeed, still alive and kicking. I'm sure the stairs would be good for her, in any case.

I may seem a bit mad, but she's a GROWN woman. Shouldn't she have any decency to realize that screaming for her son every 30 mins is childish and lazy?

OK, I had to get that all off my chest. And if anyone has any walkie talkies they want to get rid of, please let me know!

A few days late

So I sometimes buy a newspaper, and it takes me a few days to read the whole thing. I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one out there who's a bit slow, but I figure I might as well make my money's worth out of the whole thing.

Favorties in the city of London include The Guardian and The Independent. And of course in the states I was an avid Boston Globe reader and when I had the opportunity, The New York Times (why does it have to be so expensive?).

Anyways, I think it's more because now I don't buy the student discount of The Guardian and the Independent (25p!!) at uni and have to splurge 70p! Awful.

So my point being I just finished in the G2 Charlie Brooker's column. I seriously laughed out loud (I refuse to use the term 'LOL'). In the article, he more or less discards all the horrific signage in London by the poor, graphic-design-lacking shop owners, from kebab shops to off-licenses, and how they're making him go blind.

My thoughts? I agree totally. It's like a clash fest as I walk towards the tube, Starbucks, or Borders (books are totally in my wheelhouse). The uPVC's are all over the place, in flashy colors, wacky fonts, and horrific spelling. Comic Sans must be a sin, and why people are using it to advertise their house of business is beyond me. And somehow the colors orange and yellow have been created that make me feel even more nauseous. My favorite quote is at the very end, "It is your fault, shopkeepers. It is your ugly font-abusing font." Yes, I may throw up because of you!!

Read his full article here http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/story/0,,2063359,00.html