Foggy Bottom, Sad But True

Dear England, Yes I live in a place called Foggy Bottom. Below is the diamond of the District of Columbia, aka Washington, DC. Foggy Bottom is the site of the old Historic District http://www.cr.nps.gov/nr/travel/Wash/dc20.htm

and the George Washington University, now offically the most expensive university in the USA for undergrads to attend, paying a whoppy $200,000 over 4 years. If you think that's worth it, you must be a Texan oil billionaire. True to its name Foggy Bottom is near the river, so if the money don't get you, the famous GW mascot hippo - the fabled river horse of George Washington's days on the Potomac - might! Put it this way, there ain't no river horse and due to GW's expansion there ain't much of the Historic District. But there's a lot of money in them there Board o' Directors hills! Check out www.gwu.edu for the glory of America's finest!

Foggy Bottom is named after an old DC gasworks. German and Irish immigrants were housed in nineteenth century laborers' houses no bigger than your London dorm room and now worth millions...As they say stateside, go figure!

Foggy Bottom, Sad But True

Dear England, Yes I live in a place called Foggy Bottom. Below is the diamond of the District of Columbia, aka Washington, DC. Foggy Bottom is the site of the old Historic District http://www.cr.nps.gov/nr/travel/Wash/dc20.htm

and the George Washington University, now offically the most expensive university in the USA for undergrads to attend, paying a whoppy $200,000 over 4 years. If you think that's worth it, you must be a Texan oil billionaire. True to its name Foggy Bottom is near the river, so if the money don't get you, the famous GW mascot hippo - the fabled river horse of George Washington's days on the Potomac - might! Put it this way, there ain't no river horse and due to GW's expansion there ain't much of the Historic District. But there's a lot of money in them there Board o' Directors hills! Check out www.gwu.edu for the glory of America's finest!

Foggy Bottom is named after an old DC gasworks. German and Irish immigrants were housed in nineteenth century laborers' houses no bigger than your London dorm room and now worth millions...As they say stateside, go figure!

Dutch Mark Flies to North Dakota

England, What happens when a Dutchman flies to North Dakota (no joke)? A whole lot of lovin'! Take the scene from Love Actually where the naive young British lad lands in the Mid-West, only to be seduced by 4 (count them) Coyote Ugly-Pretty small town (nice) strippers, in that classic American Anna Nicole Smith (without the body pump) way.

Well imagine a horny little Scottish-Dutch lad from the lovely flat plateau of the Cheshire plain and my home town of Warrington, North England, making the same plug for American red-blooded joy in...LA?...New York?...no why go there when you can go to North Dakota?

Or why go to North Dakota when you can go anywhere else. Well the Dutch Missile and Muscles from Brussels, my friend Mark "Cuba-Cubaaa-Have a Cigar-Zigga-Zig-arr" Zeegers knows in his bones but (G-d) only knows the real answer. Okay, I just remembered. He's flying 3000 miles to see an American girl. Are they worth it? Well, yes, because us Europeans (scratch that, us British, scratch that, Englishmen, scratch that, Northern English lads - you can take the boy out of Wilderspool Causeway, but not the Wilderspool Causeway out of the boy) can vouch for it, treated as we are like castrato-on-tour for our dulcet tones that sound like glass on sandpaper back home.

American Girls, So Incredible, as the poet says: Holding a candle right up to my hands /Making me feel so incredible...I could have been anyone you see / She's nothing but porcelain underneath her skin...Holding a candle right up to my hand / Making me feel so incredible.

No I don't have copyright from Counting Crows and never will.

Dutch Mark Flies to North Dakota

England, What happens when a Dutchman flies to North Dakota (no joke)? A whole lot of lovin'! Take the scene from Love Actually where the naive young British lad lands in the Mid-West, only to be seduced by 4 (count them) Coyote Ugly-Pretty small town (nice) strippers, in that classic American Anna Nicole Smith (without the body pump) way.

Well imagine a horny little Scottish-Dutch lad from the lovely flat plateau of the Cheshire plain and my home town of Warrington, North England, making the same plug for American red-blooded joy in...LA?...New York?...no why go there when you can go to North Dakota?

Or why go to North Dakota when you can go anywhere else. Well the Dutch Missile and Muscles from Brussels, my friend Mark "Cuba-Cubaaa-Have a Cigar-Zigga-Zig-arr" Zeegers knows in his bones but (G-d) only knows the real answer. Okay, I just remembered. He's flying 3000 miles to see an American girl. Are they worth it? Well, yes, because us Europeans (scratch that, us British, scratch that, Englishmen, scratch that, Northern English lads - you can take the boy out of Wilderspool Causeway, but not the Wilderspool Causeway out of the boy) can vouch for it, treated as we are like castrato-on-tour for our dulcet tones that sound like glass on sandpaper back home.

American Girls, So Incredible, as the poet says: Holding a candle right up to my hands /Making me feel so incredible...I could have been anyone you see / She's nothing but porcelain underneath her skin...Holding a candle right up to my hand / Making me feel so incredible.

No I don't have copyright from Counting Crows and never will.

Road Trip 2: European Vacation

Dear England, Road Trip is back! This posting is a shameless act of declaring my joy at the holiday/vacation heading my way this summer. I tenuously defend this communcation on the basis that Road Trip 1, a frightening skirmish in a large 5-door 4X4 Toyoka construction containing 5 clueless English lads occasionally driving into oncoming traffic (with momentary horror before realizing a basic rule of driving in another country - other countries drive on the wrong side!) was a grand success. Back then in 2005 we nutted it down to New Orleans from DC via Virginia (encompassing an amusing lost American town called Bristol (isn't that a city?), a dump, half the town bizarrely located in Virginia and half in Tennessee - and I thought American states were big enough), through Nashville (rockbilly happy-do-lucky town of joyful wasters, and big hats) and Memphis (beautifully-wasted Graceland grave) over the stilts of Lake Pontchartrain, into the wonder of the Big Easy, cajun country, hot spices and hotter (drunker) people, and a lot of frickkin' hot-hell weather!

But to get back to the point. This time it's closer to "home", more "personal", potentially "safer" supposing Europe remains the seat of civilization (and that's a lie). But I can't wait anyway! Rotterdam-Amsterdam-Munich-Berlin-Prage: bring it on baby! The English Boys are brinign' it all...back..er...home, American-style. This time it's the motherlands, the homelands, the heartlands, the little countires, and the clock is ticking...I just want a holiday!

Okay, I guess it's not til' May. But it is snowing in DC. Small mercies: be thankful, thou shameless blog-artist and reader. We're all goin' on a...summer holiday!