I’m far too lazy to write an actual, official Gathering report, so these random notes will have to do:
The Room
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As we entered the hotel, I couldn’t help thanking my lucky stars for Veronica’s presence (as I so often do). Her father, it happens, was able to use his “points” to “procure” this fab “five star” hotel room for us -- free of charge -- thus causing me to fantasize (as I so often do) about pretending to be a wealthy American business mogul with not one but
two trophy girlfriends, feasting on Boschetto al Tartufo Bianchetto and Chateau Cap de Mourlin 1945, charging all to some mythical, limitless tab. Of course Veronica, seemingly reading my mind, crushed this daydream immediately: “Now don’t you dare charge
anything at this place!” (*sound of imaginary whip cracking*) Still, no more Alhambra for us, thank you very much. No, Sir.
The Museums
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At the risk of sounding like a philistine, I’m going to have to come right out and admit that I was never more exhausted, bored and annoyed than during our trip of the British Museum. Endless rows of ancient, identical looking items of pottery just don’t do it for me, sorry. “Oh look… more pots! And more pots! Look, pots! Also, pots!” I think the most fun thing I did during the entire excursion was addressing a small statue of Pan the Goat God, informing him: “You are the Pan.” I giggled for at least thirty minutes afterward.
Now, the National Gallery, which we visited the Monday after Jon and Ami’s departure, was a different matter entirely. In the hours and hours we spent there, we covered maybe three and a half out of the seven centuries of great art on display there. It was quite amazing to finally stand in front of all those pieces we once learned about in Art History class (the portraits of Hans Hohlbein the Younger, the Arnolfini Portrait, etc.). After a while, though, I’m afraid the sheer sensory overload somewhat desensitized us. “Ok, next room… masterpiece, masterpiece, masterpiece, pretty good, masterpiece, masterpiece, masterpiece…”
Wooster
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I continue to be amused by Veronica’s frustration with the Brits’ refusal to properly pronounce the majority of syllables in names like “Leicester”, “Gloucestershester” and “Worsterglochsterchesterfooshfestershire”, making it necessary for me to explain – repeatedly -- that every British name is in actuality pronounced “Wooster”, as in “Right, so we’ll take the Wooster Line past Wooster Station and Wooster Circle down to Wooster Square.” This, I’m afraid annoyed Jon to no end.
This Train Is For Cockfosters
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One thing that's incredibly amusing to me whenever I ride the tube is how filthy most of the station names sound. Many of the announcements either evoke images of rather elaborate sexual positions or simply sound like imaginative insults. The Picadilly train especially kept informing me “This train is for Cockfosters”, leaving me unsure of how to react. Was I allowed on this train at all? Am I a cockfoster? “Just how do you foster a cock”, Ami later asked. None of us could come up with a satisfactory answer.
Pop Culture References
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Jon: Bla bla bla some obscure reference to
Bat Out Of Hell bla bla.
Jens (Homer voice): Hmmmmm… Meat Loaf.
Jon (Homer voice): Hmmmmmmmm… Jim Steinman!
*At the passing mention of
Ghostbusters 2*
Jon: I am Vigo, the scourge of Carpathia, the sorrow of Moldavia...
Jens: Erm, yes...
Jon: On a mountain of skulls, in the castle of pain, I sat on a throne of blood! What was will be! What is will be no more! Now is the season of evil!
*At an Indian Restaurant, as Jon is ordering*
Jens: *Giggles*
Jon: What?
Jens: I am Tarka Dall, an ambassador of the great Vindaloovian Empire. The Vindaloovian People despise all humans. They are the vermin of the Universe. Is that not right Bindi Baji?
Jens: Why the hell can’t they bring back
Yes Minister, give us some new episodes?
Jon: Er.. because Nigel Hawthorne is dead?
Jens: Bah, would it really be so hard to create a CG Hawthorne? Why can’t Lucas put all his fancy technology to
good use instead of wasting it on those idiotic movies?
*Discussing Jon’s move to the States*
Jon: I think for me the biggest adjustment will be enduring all the censorship on TV, having all the cursing bleeped out.
Jens: Know what’s even funnier than the bleeping? Them dubbing in new words.
Jon: Uh-hu.
Jens: We call it “inanity profanity”. You haven’t lived till you’ve seen Pacino in Scarface, yelling “You cabbage-faced son of a fish!”
Jon: *laughs* Cabbage-faced? Why
cabbage-faced?
Jens: Who knows? Why does Peter Finch say “Bullsoup” in
Network?
Bullsoup
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One of the most striking things about this Mini-Gathering, I must say, was the language. Perhaps it was the mixed company, but I don’t recall a single f-word escaping our lips. When you read the first Gathering report, we’re swearing like sailors (“That is fudging bullsoup!”), but here? Nothin’
Abbey Road
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I don’t know which part of me was more excited to enter Abbey Road studios: the film score fan or the Beatles fan. “Oh my God”, I thought when taking a dump in the studio bathroom, “I’m taking a dump on the same toilet Jerry Goldsmith must have used countless times! Yippeeeeeee!” Shortly after, I was standing on the podium, manhandling Danny Elfman’s
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory sheet music and glancing over his notes. I felt like Captain Picard touching the warp ship in
First Contact, trying to explain its significance to Data, i.e. Inge and Veronica, who were not particulary impressed. “Don’t you see”, I yelled at them in excitement, “this is where the original
Star Wars scores were recorded! I'm standing in the same spot where John Williams used to stand... and think all his mad thoughts... like 'I am brilliant'..."
Debbie
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I have nothing to say about Debbie except that I love her. I really do, everything about her. I love her music, her smile, her little hats, her charming down-to-earth manner, those seductive poses on the
Something Here CD in a tight, black outfit (“You wouldn’t see James Newton Howard posing this way for a CD cover”, commented Jon)… I love her. If she wasn’t married, I’d have asked her out for dinner right then and there. Sweet, sweet girl, Debbie.
In fact, after our meeting I was still so shook up, I kept referring to her as both "Debbie Reynolds" and "Debbie Gibson".
The Lovely Ladies
Somehow, I feel a little bit guilty for not yet having mentioned much about our lovely female companions, but frankly, I wouldn’t even know where to begin. Naturally, Ami was her usual charming self, Emily turned out to be an incredibly lovely, sweet girl (bit quiet, though -- I sure hope we didn't intimidate her), and, of course, mere words can’t express my love for Inge and Veronica, who have filled the last two years of my life with much laughter, joy, and excellent excuses to go out and get pissed.
Hence, I am glad to say that a general sense of loveliness prevailed during these four days in London.
Just The Facts
Film & TV Quoted/Referenced: Black Adder,
Family Guy,
Fawlty Towers,
Four Weddings and a Funeral,
Futurama,
Frasier,
Ghostbusters,
Ghostbusters 2,
Gladiator,
Goodfellas,
The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy,
Hook,
The League of Gentlemen,
Little Britain,
The Lord of the Rings,
Notting Hill,
Red Dwarf,
Scarface,
Sideways,
The Simpsons,
Yes, Minister.
Bottles of Wine Consumed: 3
Devo References: 5
One Pound of Harrods Caviar: 2000 pounds.
Apple Martini at Conrad Hilton: 10 pounds.
Pottery Seen in British Museum: Too much.
Anthems/Hymns Sung: “Das Lied der Deutschen”, “La Marseillaise”, “The Star-Spangled Banner”, “Jerusalem”, “Leaving Green Sleeves”, “God Save the Queen”.
Arnolfini Portrait: Very nice.
Suggestively Positioned Sailors on Sherlock Holmes’ Bed: 1
Miles Walked: 60+
More about the Emily Gathering to follow soon. Also, pictures!