Rites of Patches

This July, I spent two weeks abroad in the United Kingdom. Two friends and I spent five days in London, followed by seven days in Scotland. The stories that follow are totally true and not in any way exaggerated or embellished.

Day 5

Our last day in London was spent at St. Paul’s Cathedral and the Tate Modern. Aside from My Friend Baxter (whom you may remember from a tennis-related monologue) totally dismissing a painting so he could get to the bathroom, both places were pretty cool, but devoid of comic relief.

Hence, some miscellany below as we journeyed north to Edinburgh.

Baxter and I somehow managed to discover to every completely innocent word that means something very different in Britain. I discovered that in England, the term “gash” is used less to describe cuts or scratches in something and much more to describe vaginas. Who knew?

At least that connotation exists here. Poor Baxter’s terminology was completely innocuous. He tried to describe his exhaustion as “dogging it,” which apparently means gay sex in a creepy, sleazy environment.

During Wimbledon, he described Serena Williams as very “fit.” To us, this means she is in excellent physical condition. To the English, that means Jesse finds Serena Williams eminently fuckable. I don’t know that Baxter would say that about Serena, although to be fair, I sure as hell would.

There’s something supremely attractive about a person who is damn good at what they do

One of the things that struck me most about London was how much smaller space is than in the United States. Streets are narrower, allies are tighter, and bathroom stalls make it difficult to close the stall door without climbing atop the toilet.

I was blessed with the opportunity to use and evaluate all sorts of foreign toilets and I had no idea how far behind the United States is lagging in toilet technology.

How the hell do we not have dual flush toilets throughout the United States? When you take a leak, you press the small button and you press the big button after you take a dump. Standard flush for number twos, smaller flush for number one.

I can’t think of a single negative. It makes so much sense that I blows my mind that we haven’t converted yet. When my toilet craps out (Haha. See what I did there?), I am installing on of these. I would pay extra for it, even if the economy is in the shitter (Yes!). I would go for the trifecta, but it’s time for bed. I’m pooped.

No?

I know where the door is. I’ll show myself out.