Procrastination

So the nerves have kicked in again. They seem to come in waves.. I'm sat at my Dad's computer stupidly punching numbers into the calculator again; 143 hours until I'm sitting on that damn aeroplane.. and knowing my luck, probably trapped between a screaming baby and someone that fills not only their own seat, but mine as well. But I suppose that would be a lot more desirable than someone who's peering over at what I'm reading, trying to engage in conversation. I hate that. When you can see in the corner of your eye that they've leant slightly more towards you.. attempting either to catch some eye contact or to annoyingly point out something not funny in the magazine you're reading. Unfortunately for them, all I'm thinking is 'please don't talk to me because all you're going to find out about me is that I work at blockbuster'.. But there's no point worrying about this now. I may have a very lucky day and be crossing the pond in an entirely empty Boeing 747.. 500(ish) seats allll to myself. Love how hostile I'm sounding right now.. But hey, the whole point of this trip is to turn that negativity into positivity..it'll happen. Think how many tonnes of pancakes and fruit loops I can eat over there... simples.

Right, and how is it that I know I have a gazillion things to do in preparation for the trip, but yet I only seem to be able to write one thing.. 'Get suitcase down'.. fantastic. It's all psychological.. my theory is, is that I know exactly what I need, I know exactly where to go to get them, I know exactly who I need to see before I leave.. I'm just in denial. I'm not going. As soon as I do all these things.. it's real. It is happening. Wish I wasn't such a woose. It's only 3 weeks. That's nothing. Not even 0.1% of my life (assuming I live the average life expectancy)! Need to pull it together. I'm going to America for three weeks, travelling on my own, staying with a lovely family, going to have the time of my life. Slash obviously get abducted, sold to a trailor park and eventually gnawed by a racoon.. but anyway.

One thing I have been hmmming about is what 'British' thing to bring over for the family that I'm staying with. You know.. guest friendship and all that. Spoke to my fam about it.. and all of our first instincts was marmite.. marmite? Majority of people hate it. So what's the point in bringing over what would be an awkward and embarrassing gift that they would hate. Here, have some sour brown gloop to spread on your toast when you already have cool stuff like marshmallow fluff. Yum. So, no to that. Another thing I thought was maybe a teapot and mugs to you know.. emphasise the whole posh English breakfast thing.. But I'd definitely get a few weird looks in customs if I were to have a suitcase full of teapots. British freak. Would be too heavy to bring anyway.. so no to that. Then I thought of a real good idea (well, in my head it was). British ale! Tastes jank to me.. but there's a Dad there. Dad's drink beer. Perfect. Sorted. But hold up.. got to stop loving life for a sec. I'm not 21. Not even 20 in fact.. no way in hell would customs in Washington DC allow me to bring a suitcase full of alcohol. They'd just be confiscated and I'd end up looking like a right loser with no gift. (And yes, I did check with the state custom laws regarding this.) So, that's a no as well. (God knows why I'm rambling about this. I felt like blogging, so just humour me and read about crap.) Mother suggested that I should go all out and go to Waitrose for a gander. So I went with my friend Britta, had a wander down the aisles and came to the chocolate aisle.. chocolate will do. They don't have galaxy. They can have a galaxy bar. Then came to the biscuit aisle.. Biscuits are pretty english.. and all American's seem to eat are twinkies or tootsie rolls or whatever, so they can have some shortbread. Matching box full of tea bags- done.

Off to wrap them now.

Holla'