Saturday, March 20, 2004

My package from Japan, containing the soundtracks for Jet Grind Radio and Jet Set Radio Future, has yet to arrive. Grrr. I paid extra for fast shipping. CDJapan will soon face my wrath.

(continued from yesterday; of course, yesterday was today for me)

Things I have noticed about London:

1) Pretty. Everything is arranged in nice, polygonal corridors, albeit with advertisements spewed in every conceivable corner (Mike Meyers scares me enough without being 6 feet high). The airport, however, despite its clearly marked paths was incredibly labyrinthine, and together with all the stone pillars I had a feeling a gun was about to materialize in front of my viewpoint and hideous aliens were going to jump out at me. But in any case, everywhere where Americans design someplace to be confoundingly hard to navigate, the British just seem to put everything in a circle. This is HEAVEN for somebody like me with no sense of direction.

The London Underground turns me on. Without all those advertisements (seriously; they stretch down long hallways, and adspace is bought in bulk), it might be the coolest thing in the universe. However, given that they are constantly trying to beam thoughts of insecurity into your brain with every wall, it is not quite as cool as Jet Grind Radio and a muffin. (Beef... stew. I think my imagination's broke)

Naked women. Good GOD the naked women. I had a feeling that, when I first saw a newsstand and its legions of barely clothed nymphs, that they were all going to jump out at me and assimilate me into one of their kind, which wouldn't be so bad if we got to have pajama parties and cake-baking contests. But no, these girls were there to show you that YOU aren't good enough, you need to be sexier like me and so you should buy ten thousand billion things that nobody needs; but more importantly (and more honestly; this makes me more partial to men's magazines than women's), they more often said "Oooh, stare at me all you want, but you'll never have me. Ha!" I honestly saw--this is going to shock Americans and bore Britons--a naked woman orgy on the cover of a men's magazine with the caption "Blonde Sex Party." (Hell yeah! I'm there, but my hair may or may not require bleaching--my secret identity requires you not to know.) All these girls were assisting each other in covering up their naughty bits; how touching. I wanna join!

...But anyway, all in all, just from that one newsstand there were more naked women than a busload of, er, naked women. Dammit! I cannot think of a good simile for this. More naked women than a baseball team of... naked women. Hey! That's cool! I'm going to direct a drama anime about a baseball team of naked women. It'll be called "Dirty Nymph Diaries" and it is coming your way next season on the All Leticia's Female Nudity Empowerment Channel. (Call for rates. Just call the number on your screen and say "Naked, my whole pie plus!")

Oh, but my point was, anybody who says that America is awash in sex should get their head clubbed by a British newsstand. Britons are awash in sex, and I reckon they're happier for it; we're just awash in sexual anxiety and dishonesty. This is how we can play all sorts of radio songs about sexual coercion, but oh no, if it's performance involves showing part of a nipple, we can't take it! This is America, you know, not Britoninishitstan!

That said, every guy who signs my "Yes, All I Really Want is Sex With Hot Blondes" online petition (lesbians too) (I'll think of an alternative for gay guys and straight women) will get a kiss from me and a "I Tell It Like It Is!" button. We will be on our way to sexual honesty.

Where the hell was I? Oh yes! Double-decker buses are quite thrilling, especially because, from the viewpoint on the front of the bus, it looks like you are flying a great big hoverbike, narrowly threading your way through tunnels and coming very close to beheading random pedestrians and stop signs. Fun fun. I considered drawing crosshairs on the windshield just to authenticate my experience, but I'm sure I would be arrested and forced to give the twenty grovels. (Is that the misdemeanor punishment in Britain? It should be.)

Aaaaanyway, something about sex and blondes. No! Wait! Jet Set Radio: England would kick the llama's ass. Especially because I saw lots of graffiti on the train tunnels, and it was actually quite good. I think the best way to wipe out graffiti would be to commission wayward youths to do murals for the train tunnels, and the city could find a way to distribute territory evenly between the gangs. They could get professional branding companies to give each gang a sexy logo. See? Diplomacy at work! We would be getting kids off the streets with style.

Wasn't this supposed to be a numbered list? Oops. In any case, the next thing I noticed was that

2) British accents are sexier than I thought. And everybody has them. You know, I kind of thought they were a novelty. Gosh, Americans are so silly. We must have the silliest accent of them all. I cringe at the thought of what my accent sounds like to a foreigner. "Hi! I like to slouch and eat Cheese Doodles while watching Fox News! How about you?" But in any case, I think every accent is sexy (just British in particular; and everybody knows everything Japanese is hot), so my question is, are American accents particularly sexy? Or are they just weird? Answers on a postcard, please.

So, after taking my plane, three trains, a bus, a hamster, and a rocking horse back to Quaker Central Command, I collapsed into bed. Ohhh that felt good. I could've melted right there. In fact, I think I did, as I woke up (here it comes...) with all my clothes off, imagining myself traversing through the giant blank land of the Internet and falling into one of the many small, rectangular pits, reaching away for dear life as I was ground into pure information applesauce. Oh yes baby. Ohh... Ohh... I trudged all the way to the shower and came into it. This is the best room ever.

You may have noticed I have a habit of being self-conscious and of second-guessing myself, but during this little episode, not once. I was in a beautiful dream, but it was real, where I was butt-naked in a small, personal land where nobody would notice if I trudged off to the bathroom to please myself. I was high, I was dreaming, I was... pure. I was 100% pure Leticia energy. I was a nymph. I was glorious. I was who I was. For one moment, I was floating on pure eroticism.

...Then I had to clean everything up, find my clothes, and hope my dad never, ever finds out. Then I went back to bed and had I dream where I accepted myself as a lesbian. Beautiful.

(Actual self acceptance was delayed until May 2005. Eventual acceptance may face additional delays depending on outside forces, such as really hot guys. We'll see.)

(And the alternative petition is "All I Really Want Is to Have Sex With Leticia's Imaginary Asian Boyfriend Who Delicately Spreads Whipped Cream and Honey on Her Naked Body while She Relaxes and Plays Sonic Advance 2." Ha!)
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