If you play any more Tycho, I'm going to hurt you.

That said, play this on a lazy ass Saturday morning.

Violet the dachshuahua (dachshund + chihuahua) may periodically take dumps in my room, but she's the best cuddle buddy for working at home.

I tried my best to quarantine myself while I had the autumn plague, making endless pots of veggie stew with bushels of that hey-good-looking parsley.

We teetered into November and I can still sit with a blanket on the terrace, writing about my Internet provider spying on us for killer robots, watching clouds roll over London.

Our dining utensils for Extreme Garnishing (or was it Meth-Making 101)?

Caviar makin'

My personal piñata continues spewing free candy, and I won three more classes in addition to paddle-boarding the Thames: parkour, Korean fermentation, and Extreme Garnishing.

I don't even know what that last one really was, but we gnawed on oh-so-sweet lemons after taking a big ol' hit of Miracle Berry and I've discovered I'm awful at making faux caviar.

And then there was flaming gasoline in a giant glass urn after we made chocolate banana pixie stix.

We wrote our apologies on slips of paper and the woman cocooned in the corner ate them before waving us forward to the jungle. The guy who was planted in our group as a redshirt was more obvious than I would have liked, but watching him get assaulted by three jungle vixens wasn't so bad.

The woman hidden behind the tree told me I had a nice smile and that I would always have friends when I needed them. You sure know how to sweet talk a boy.

The best thing about my eight months in London so far is that there are always ten cool things to do at all hours of the day.

As long as you keep your FOMO reined in, there's going to be downtempo electronica to wobble to while in church, a French bistro from 1896 to speedeat canapés, cocktail wonderlands behind mirrors, and nine levels of the Aztec underworld with bloody-eyed fortune tellers to meet.

This was right before Ade and I tasted ten types of bitters and liqueurs and you had to guess the ingredients. My cold meant I was great at this, especially handicapped by the Italian bartender's slaughter of English. 

We tasted and tasted for the "silly mango" for a while until it was unveiled that it was chilli mango.

Blood n' Sand and then a pint of Dogfish Head's DNA (omg, this is related to the 90-minute IPA) before I put on my YELP LIFE mittens for the chilly walk home.

Guy Fawkes Day brings some actual cold to London, but even before that, we're gathering in Camberwell around big platters of Xinjiang chicken and slamming bottles of Tsingtao.

It's fun to duck into different parts of the city and guess at where I might be able to find a place to live in early January. Still don't quite have a total grasp of geography here, but I have some solid wanderings under my belt.

It rains chicken liver and salmon sometimes.

大盤雞

I've been to my first Decompression now, and it was hosted in the theatre where I saw drunk American girls throwing up for St. Patrick's Day. 

I spent most of the night in a flowing green wizard gown, and I know I should have returned it to Costume Camp, but I just love it too much. 

Zorah looking Burner-glam.

No one here has been adequately shamed for catwalking London streets with a large Native American headress yet. Feathers billowing MOOPily in the wind even. I was impressed with the attempt to recreate the Playa indoors, and there were enough little nooks for me to scurry into and explore. 

I scarfed down a leaky sack of Indian food at 6 am and ploughed into bed until it was time for the murder mystery dinner.

Such a perfect pub to host this in.

I got to be the shady right-hand man of the mob boss, and I spent the night failing at extortion, though I did succeed at dutifully hitting on my assigned flapper.

Until she tried to demand all my money.

Suspenders/Bracers are so much more fun than belts. I'm going to need to work them into my daily wardrobe somehow without seeming like I'm Amish or a chimney-sweep.

I had to bow out of a BBQ ribs-eating competition because I had already stuffed myself with salmon and burgers. Not that I would have stood a chance at winning anyway, since the two Asian girls who rocked 1st and 2nd place ended up demolishing two full racks in five minutes. I would have busted an intestine.

Meaty carnage

Befriend me, and I'll apparently take you to the land of mediocre meats and beerios.