So Friday morning I get up early so that I can take out the rubbish since it was my turn in the communal kitchen duties. I take it down to the basement and through the laundry room where the main mainenance man was painting the room a cheery bright yellow. Now, let me preface this with the fact that he has one of the STRONGEST scottish accents I have ever heard. But I could tell from what he was mumbling that he was asking how I liked the color of the room. This is how the convo went...
Maintenance Man: How dsfkm adgfoiuc like color?
Me: oh. Yes! It's lovely. Very clean and cheerful.
MM: Ah gud. Ahv bin doon herrrr awhile asdlkcvjergoin finish.
Me: Uh-huh.
MM: Yew like it hair in wee glazgo?
Me: Oh yes. Very much.
MM: adsfjmo agfvoihw sdo.
Me: (smile. nod.) ...ok. Well, I'm off to school now.
MM: Ok. See you later, Cow
Me: ----
WHAT?! I had made it halfway to the elevator (lift) when it hit me. Did he just call me a cow? Is that a term of endearment here? He said it in such a sweet and friendly old man way...hmm... must do reconaissance work.
So I asked my scottish cohort members and NO. It is not something people generally say. "Maybe he thought your name was Carol. and you heard Cow?" "Oh no, it sounds like he said Pal. Not Cow. Surely not." ...ok...I'ma gonna believe them and go with Pal. But if that piece of Haggis says cow again, he's going to be blowing his bagpipe from the other end.
Class itself that day was frustrating, but productive, but not, but confusing. Working in an environment that is building a piece from the ground up where everyone has a say and most are people (myself included) that like to explain things in depth, is incredibly taxing. And everyone wants so badly for the piece to be good that they worry about stepping on each other's toes. So we spend as much time apologizing as we do sharing our ideas. But what we came up with is a wonderful start. Though now I've been spending the weekend memorizing pages and pages of dialogue. Memorizing, I find, is something that is a muscle that needs exercised. And mine is highly out of shape.
Friday night, I took a step out of my character and went first to a cabaret, then a bar where two bottles of wine were consumed, and then clubbing. Yes. I went to a club. Friends in NYC, please stop laughing. I can hear you from here.
The cabaret was a brother sister duo from London called Bourgeois and Maurice. Which I truly enjoyed. Plenty of glitter, jokes, and silly made up songs. Then the bar was in some alley way and they opened up a section for the ten of us that were there. (never fear mother, I had plenty of people to keep me safe). This was the perfect unwind from a frustrating day and I got to know a few people a lot better. They really are lovely people.
Finally, about five of us continued to the Buff Club. Now I realize that sounds like a strip joint, but I assure you it wasnt. At least on that night. As far as I know. Anyway. They played awesome 50s, 60s and 70s music. And as two o'clock rolled around LY and VM and I left the club to walk home with a pitstop at a fish n chips place. That's right children, always remember, after a night of debauchery and drink, one must always coat thy stomach with grease. Then douse self in much water. Then take two large Aleve's. Which I did.
Saturday was dedicated to a hangover the size of Texas. But so worth it.
In other news, I finally had an appointment with the bank. I now have an account....with no money in it. Apparently there are certain pieces of information on their computers that can only be obtained during mon-fri and so transfers are impossible on weekends. ...whuh?
Whatever. Scotland, your ways no longer shock me.
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