Next time, we're talking about dental hygiene...

"A dapper young man with oversized sunglasses, waistcoat and trilby"

Here's the deal. I've been stockpiling my experiences and putting off my blog updates. Well, now is the time to jump back in and just do the thing. (As promised, no "numbered" lists included...)

I think that London knows that I'm here. Last week, I attended London Fashion Week on a whim and I realized that people want to take your picture. Well I wasn't about to turn down those kinds of opportunities, so I rallied the troops (aka my two adored flatmates), wore a cumber-bun, put my best foot forward and trekked down to fashion week for another go. I think I was probably photographed over twenty times that day, as well as interviewed for the GQ holiday issue and another international men's magazine. Score one for the home team!

The next day I travelled to school to take care of business and, wouldn't you know, a tall , gorgeous blonde girl with a camera chased me down. She asked if I had a minute, to which I replied, "Abso-freakin-lutely!" She was from a store called River Island and she was scouting new styles for their spring line for next year. Of course this was the day that the American ironically was dressed like Gene Kelly complete with fedora, wing tips and high-waist trousers. Score two for old U.S. of A.!

THEN, just two days ago, my flatmate jokingly gave me an article on 'man'tyhose to fill my morning commute. After my first class — which included going over the answers to 212 ridiculously hard fashion questions (Can Google revoke your searching privileges after nine straight hours?), confirming that my course director was the bomb and meeting the most attractive Danish girl I have ever laid eyes on — I began the short jaunt back to the tube station. I noticed a camera crew and a man wearing mantyhose outside of Selfridges (a really upscale London department store). The rest is well-documented, Internet history. Make sure you check out the article quote, article picture and video commentary. Cha-Ching, score three!

BTW, they left out the part when I said that I PERSONALLY would never wear them, but that I was open to new emerging styles.

OH! The Squeezy Brown Sauce report:

My British flatmate gave me the low down. It is more commonly referred to as "HP sauce" and it is the exact equivalent of American A-1 Sauce. Same great taste, stupid English name.

Speaking of food... Mom, get that care package ready because I have some very curious foreign friends and a void in my life where Velveeta once resided. Things that they don't have here include: Cheese Whiz, Ranch dressing, Snickers, Pringles that come in regular flavors (unlike onion and leek), soft bread, yellow mustard, marshmallow fluff and the aforementioned orange ambrosia. To them, American junk food sounds more revolting than another year of Bush in office, but they have a secret weapon that redeems their culture... Marmite!

Marmite: a thick, dark-brown, savory spread made from a concentrated yeast sludge, a byproduct of beer brewing.

MmmmMMMMmmmmmMMMmmmMmm... Although it appears to be the bastard child of molasses and beef boullion, it is actually pretty tasty when spread VERY thinly on buttered toast — which, if you know me at all, is my favorite food group. :)

Ok "spreadable" butter, I've got a bone to pick with you. To the Brits, butter is magically changed to spreadable status by putting stick butter in a small tub. I think people are starting to look at me funny when I microwave my margarine before acquiring carpal tunnel whilst buttering my bread.

One last topic and I will release you from this seemingly endless novel of British wanderings.

Dear London Tube,

You are the love of my life and you make my feel oh so sustainable when I ride you every morning. Getting up is easy when I know that you are near. I would however like it if you removed the stench of sweaty Asians from the Central Line station at Oxford Circus. It's crowded enough with idiots trying to shove an entire bicycle into an already packed car. Thank you and looking forward our next rendezvous.

Yours Truly,

Anthony C. Hagan

Flightmares and Squeezy Brown Sauce

I'm here.

As I sit drinking H2O out of a small sauce pan (due to my lack of proper china), I'm beginning to realize that essentials are truly meant to be accumulated over a life time — not two days. I figure I can't possibly begin to explain all that has happened since I've come to London, so my choice of weapon against this daunting task is a pseudo-chronological list.

1. Around 300 pounds of luggage will cost about $400 and a severe lower back ache.

2. Though international airplanes are large, the luxurious seats that fully recline will just be a visual tease as you are pushed to the back of the plane. I dare say that the Megabus seats were far roomier and more comfortable than the middle seat of the back row on American Airlines.

3. I boarded my international flight at 8 p.m. in the Chicago O'Hare Airport.

4. I stepped off my international flight at 10 p.m. in the Chicago O'Hare Airport.

5. I reboarded my international flight at 11 p.m. in the Chicago O'Hare Airport and was promptly told that the coffee maker leak was finally fixed. Phew!

6. The touch screens on the plane worked fine. It only took the English man behind me about 8 hours, or the total length of my flight, to realize that you don't have to forcefully tap the screen to get it to work.

7. Customs with a full colon is not a pleasant experience. Although, the free luggage carts were a huge help in moving my overweight, American baggage into my first black cab (London's famed taxi service).

8. The cabbie was very nice. He even told a lady to "@#$! off" when she about rammed or little vehicle off the road. By the way, you know that they drive on the other side of the road here, but you don't understand how odd it really is until you are riding in the left lane.

9. Britain smells different than America. I don't know. It just does.

10. Housing = A-. Service = A. Location = B+. Mattress = C. Shower = EPIC FAIL! Think of a square that is four dollar bills by four dollar bills — sorry, no ruler — and then cut that diagonally. That is my cleansing station. When I'm being groped by the shower curtain, I'm hitting my noggin on the shower head.

11. Utilizing my MacGyver minor, I fashioned bed linens and pillows out of a few sweaters, a dress shirt or two and my peacoat. After a fairly sleepless night I made getting real bed things a top priority.

12. I also became quickly aware that the closet provided might only hold my shoes, ties and scarfs...

13. Hence my first trip to Argos! It's a completely weird store where you go in and look through huge catalogues, check the availability of items, order and pay for the ones you want, wait five minutes and pick them all up at a service desk. My treasures: hairdryer (WITH European plug-in), two pillows, a set of three sauce pans, two skillets, a rolling rack :) and a partridge in a pear tree.

14. Refrigerators in England are TINY. Our gallons of milk would not fit on any of their shelves. When visiting a small grocery near my housing, I quickly learned that American's are the true kings of bulk purchasing. The largest jug of milk I could find was half a gallon and it was in the skinniest container you've ever seen.

15. Notes to self: Get hangers for all of the clothes laying around your room. Register at the FREE doctor's office nearby. Carry a bucket next time you go out so that you can hold all of the ridiculous amounts of heavy coins that you get back. Buy plates and glasses ANYWHERE! You really are tired of eating and drinking out of skillets.

16. They have dollar stores or, rather, 99 pence markets here. They sell things like tomato plant food, Prawn Cocktail flavored Pringles, Halloween AND Christmas decorations, Hannah Montana deodorant (thank the Lord), a toothpaste called "Smoker's" and a mystery jugs of "Squeezy Brown Sauce". (The girl from Holland who lives next door bought some out of curiosity... to be continued.)

Ok. My next post will not include any lists, I swear.

My room is actually a lot bigger than I expected and I love everything about my flat of six rooms except my shower, if you can even call it that. The accents are lovely and I think I'm going to continue being infatuated with them for a while. We really are the movie and musical capital of the world. Everyone here has seen the movies that I love and the musicals that I have been in. English people love that you are allowed to study things other than your chosen course in college — or "uni", pronounced you-knee — in America. I'm super excited to start classes next week and I have already ventured down to Oxford Circus to see my building.

London is everything I ever hoped it would be and more. I just wish that I had all of my favorite people here to share it with. Ta-Ta, Nadia, and I will try to keep blogging whenever I get a spare moment. I feel the breath of the oncoming storm known as school and I don't know how busy I'm going to be, so keep checking back.

Pass Go, Collect $200

And so my adventure begins. On a muggy Wednesday morning in Chicago, IL, I have finally completed the last leg of my paperwork to study abroad at the University of the Arts-London College of Fashion. Procuring a PBS Tier 4 Student Visa has been more than a simple trial of standard, form completion and I suggest that anyone interested should get a reliable adviser to see them through this dismal process. Dreamers, consider yourselves warned.

As I left my humble home in Northeast Missouri and drove three hours to catch the nearest Megabus, I couldn't help but wonder what changes life would bring if my journey was successful. Would I successfully obtain my visa and continue on to the fabled fame and fortune I lusted for as a child? Would I finally get to meet my soulmate Ashley Olsen and pursue my dreams of becoming a renowned men's fashion journalist? Or, would I be serving up hot eats and cool treats at my local Dairy Queen if I failed?

It didn't matter what the outcome would be. I was boarding that bus like my life depended on it and from 1:15 a.m. to 6:50 a.m. I learned some valuable life lessons:

1. Bring a pillow despite your wavering judgement.

2. Benadryl cures a runny nose, but does nothing for a bus driver with Parkinson's.

3. Butts get more sleep than you do when traveling by bus.

4. That seat is really not going to recline any further.

5. And Megabus, though semi-affordable, should be used as a last resort.

Chicago. The traffic belongs in New York and the weather belongs in always-keeps-you-guessing Missouri. Generally, I would be game for a trip to a fairly-undiscovered metropolis, but today I mean business. A three-mile walk to the British Consulate, a two hour wait at Mcy D'z and profusely sweaty 45 minutes in the waiting room has brought me that sought after prize. Despite my poor attitude about having to complete two months of straight paperwork, I am breathing a sigh of relief and treating myself to an afternoon at Border's while I await the visa that about broke my spirit.

So, remember to dress like there's no tomorrow and enjoy life, because good things come to those who wait... even if you take a Megabus to get there.