I find myself not liking the UK version of things. Whether the UK version is original or not, I just don't love it. Maybe accents scare me. Maybe my red-blooded, American, 'my country will kick your country's ass' mentality makes it difficult for me to accept joke styles that are unfamiliar.
Maybe I can't get over other countries love of soccer (football): I don't care how many bar's in a British controlled territory you make me watch soccer- I will never understand why its important that Chelsea win nor how its possible, sober or otherwise, to find the 'sport' of running back and forth unsuccessfully chasing a ball is chant worthy. Sorority girls taking a shot? Chant worthy. A 0-0 tie game after 2+ hours? NF (or not chant worthy).
Oh here's one not related to the English: Technology. It sucks. No matter how much time I spend learning something on my Mac, Something, whether its the laptop its self or say, my external hard drive, eventually develops a mysterious glitch and 3 days worth of downloaded movies disappear. Suddenly any hopes of making my boyfriend catch up on True Blood is out the window and I'm too apathetic and angry to re- download anything.
Anyone that suggests I wear an adult diaper to wait in an iPad line, especially when that person has know me for at least a decade, better be fully aware that I might wear one. And I might wear it to her house after a long 36 hours of line waiting.
There are several days in a week that I wish I was single. Those are days in between pay days where I wish it was acceptable to accept meals and drinks. In the event a guy in line at Publix wants to buy my Cosmo, baby carrots, string cheese and 4 lean cuisine's I want to be ok saying 'Sure!'.
I totally lied. I don't read Cosmo. I stopped at 19 when I couldn't handle ANOTHER article about the '98 exciting ways to please my man!'. I read Real Simple and Time when I feel like it isn't too left-y. I make a terrible 23 year old.
Oh, funny story. Once at the beach I was approached by a man who eventually said he came up to me because he was curious if I was an escort. side note: I didn't look like an escort, I was hanging in an area where escorts had once been brought to by a guy who liked blondes. I said to him "well I don't know if it'd be any good but I'd love to take your money. So long as you don't mind the rash." Asshole. If that was a pick up line then men as whole have devolved back to single cell organisms in under 60 seconds.