London and The Black Keys

Hello readers. I have something very important to tell you.

Now that that’s done, allow me to impart to you the details of how I arrived at the majestic wonderland that was the Black Keys concert.

It all started on a little thing called the overnight bus. Now if you are of the American persuasion I know what you’re thinking: “But Ashley, is not the bus station a place for crack dealings? Why doth would you choose to traverse in this manner?” WELL FEAR NOT DEAR FRIENDS — the Scottish public transportation system is a lot less um … rapey.

So Katie, Gina, and I climbed on board the sleeper bus and into our cots — I on the top, Katie in the middle, and Gina on the bottom. Soon after, I felt the sweet combination of claustrophobia/carsickness reaching new heights as I tried for a few hours to fall asleep. Six hours into our journey I did, and then two hours later it was time to get up.

After arriving in merry ol’ London at the not-so-merry hour of 7 am, we took a taxi to our shithole hostel, checked in to our four-bed room (YES), and passed out. When we woke up we had a new roommate from Australia — a nice man named Blake. Blake didn’t come back that night. So we’re not sure what happened to Blake. But here are some pictures Gina took of Katie and I in the hostel:

 And yes, I am wearing 15 layers of clothes. What’s the story behind that? Well, the heater went out in our room and seeing as a few days prior Russia had seen fit to straight up blow a winter storm at continental Europe and the UK, it was cold as f**k. Like seriously, it was getting so bad that to keep our minds off of how cold we were we started coming up with movie ideas. One that I’m particularly proud of was, “Hostel 3: Three Americans Chicks Kill Everyone in Hostel After Suffering Hallucinations Brought on by Stage Five Hypothermia.” If anyone steals that idea I swear to God. Anyways, here are more pictures from our hostel:

Vogue

The little heater that couldn't

After that, seeing as we had a few hours till the concert, we decided to walk around town. We walked through Hyde Park and um … past Hyde Park and saw this stuff:

You don't want to see her when she's angry ... or giving a snowman a hand-job.

The SAY WHATTTT horse

Where we went for lunch times. 

Planning our next moves

And then it was time for the most amazing concert of all time. I mean, they had a crepe stand for crap’s sake (I was going to say “for crepes sake” but I figured we’d lose like half our followers so I didn’t). It was at Alexandra Palace, which according to our cabbie was where they housed German prisoners of war in WWII … so that’s nice. Long story short it was just … it was just. Also, I took over 300 pictures that night. Oops. Here are some of them:

The opening band (amazing)

They'reeee herrreee

THE BLACK KEYS

Patrick Carney, the love of my life

Shadows

Everlasting Light

Worship

After that we waited in the taxi line for an hour. It’s also important to note that it was blizzarding. After we made it back to the hostel, we climbed into our frozen, disease-laden sheets and passed the eff out.

The next two days were spent wandering around London. We went to Buckingham Palace, Big Ben, Parliament (where I almost go stiff-armed by a guard who thought I was trying to sneak into the not-public entrance … which I totally wasn’t), Westminster Abbey, the Tower of London, and The Globe Theatre (except the real Globe burned down in 1613 and they have since built a bridge over where it used to be. So they built a replica not too long ago in a different place. So we just toured a building of lies … for £10). Here are the pictures from those two days:

He was asking for it.

Gina at the Palace

Buckingham Palace

Winston Churchill and Parliament

Ben

Westminster Abbey

Someone we did not expect to see

Gina ruining mah landscapes part 1

Gina ruining mah landscapes part 2

Author's photo

Author's photo part 2

View from the Tower of London

Someone else who was asking for it — this time in the Globe

The Globe of lies

I'm going to be honest, I still ate it. 

And then it was time to bid London a-dude and go back to home, sweet Glasgow. Except our bus ended up getting diverted off the freeway due to construction and we ended up taking a completely unnecessary three-hour tour (yes haha Gilligan jokes) of the English countryside. So our 8-hour car ride turned into 11. But whatever, we’re back. And I’ve missed you. Kind of. No I have.

Now it's back to reading Gertrude Stein. Until next time dear friends,

Ash

I totally didn't forget about that blog I share my sister.

I totally forgot about this blog that I share with my sister.

So yeah.  To be fair, I have been impossibly busy with Adult Stuff (also see: Stuff That Makes Me Want To Shove My Head Through The Wall) and finding the time to sit down and type out stories in a vaguely humorous manner wasn't exactly high on my to-do list.  But you've heard this all before and I know you guys are probably anti-excuse so let's just say I was mauled by a bear hungry for hipster flesh and I have been recovering in Urban Outfitters, neatly arranging the display case of plastic cameras. 

So over the past few weeks I have written a handful of annoyed emails, I have read The Fault in Our Stars in a nearby library while I leaned against a cold window, I've had a couple religious experiences listening to Circle of Life at full volume, I've had a restaurant bill paid for because one of the waiters is in love with Allie, I've tackled a friend on the sidewalk at 3 am, I've drunkenly hid in a stranger's front yard in an impromptu game of hide and seek with Kayla, and I've swung inappropriately high on a swing set at night with Kayla whilst blasting Wake Me Up When September Ends.  The 7th grader in me was very happy that night. 


Other than that, this semester is going by painfully slowly.  Not that I haven't had any going-to-remember-this-moment-for-the-rest-of-my-life experiences, but it's been rough.  I am counting down the days until spring break when I fly back to California and disappear from the world entirely.  At least there I don't have to answer the dreaded "why did you move from California to Pennsylvania ARE YOU INSANE" question that seems to be so popular.  I'm this close to saying I'm from North Dakota just so people can stop piercing my Californian soul with their judgments.  I have quite literally been lectured on why California is a happiness cornucopia.  Like these are things that are happening to me.  So at any given point in time you should assume that I am fighting the urge to punch the person asking me why I moved from "like, the best place on Earth man". 

This blog is going to end now in a very abrupt and apathetic manner. 
It's not you, it's me. 
(I promise I'll write something interesting next time.  This was an "I'm not dead.  Just barely existing" post)

The ever lovely and multi-colored Kayla.

My building during a snow storm.  My phone didn't pick up the SNOW FUCKING EVERYWHERE part.  But it was snowing ridiculously hard, trust me.

More snow.

Snow and Allie.

I mean, it was really pretty snow.

Like so pretty.

"I'm pretty sure things have happened in this alley"

Siena and Allie spying on people.

Someone gave Kayla a Justin Bieber valentine.  I thought it was only fair to make myself a valentine.

Superpowers and The Family Welling

Well hello everyone. How doth thou? I doth great. Have you lost weight? (<-- that totally rhymed) But enough small talk.

As I was sitting here in my little swivel chair, gazing out upon the majestic majesty that is Glasgow’s weather, I said to myself, “self, what adventure should I regale them with this week? What tale of intrigue, lust, and nuclear explosions should I let them be privy to?" But alas, these last few weeks have been relatively slow on the Scottish nuclear meltdown front. And if it were action packed in that regard, I would have by now gained the ability to see through walls and shoot lightening bolts out of my eyes with the help of my new sunglasses that top scientists had handcrafted for me. They would be the kind of sunglasses that say, “Yeah I look awesome, but you’re about to get a lightening bolt in your ass.” See Figure 1.1 if confused.

Figure 1.1

Basically that is my way of telling you that nothing major happened this last week. OR DID IT? No nothing did. But I am about to embark on a few journeys. One of them is to London, which is happening February 8 – 12. But Ashley Marie Antoinette Welling, why are you embarking on such a trip you ask? ooOOooO just to see THE GREATEST BAND OF ALL TIME (refer to very hipsta-esque photo below).

And I am excited beyond words. For instance, if I run out of undergarments to throw on stage, I have this suspicion I’m just going to start picking up and tossing things that are closest to me. And while they are going to be really confused when they notice large amounts of grass clumps lying about their feet, I’m sure they’ll understand it was done out of obsession love. This little trip will also mark the first time I have ever stayed in a hostel. I’ll be sure to keep you posted as to how many personal effects get “lost.”

My second adventure is more personal, more spiritual, more … Pulitzer Prize-y if I may. Allow me to break it down one time. It’s a project for my editing and publication class and what I’ve decided to do is to play around with the idea of autobiography with an emphasis on ancestry. Yes you heard right, I’m going to venture back into the bowels of the Welling family archives and find out where these sons-a-bitches came from. I mean, they’re all from over here so it shouldn’t be too difficult. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll find out from which branch of the tree Stephanie got her stupidness — and in that respect, where I inherited my brilliant, sparkling personality. I might even explore my mom’s side — the _______’s. Why the omission you ask? I mean, it’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s just that I have this sneaking suspicion if I told the world my mom’s maiden name I’d suddenly be the proud owner of 15 new credit cards.

On that note, I made another video. But this time, it’s with Katie and Gina — two fellow Americans that I met in the airport when I first arrived in this land I now call home. They live with me here in the international dorms and they’re pretty great and I talk about them a lot in the blog so I figured you should all meet them. ENJOY.





Oh and I got a new piercing. It's just on my ear so calm down. Get out your microscope:

Just to clarify, I was not terrified when I took this picture. #awkwardselfportraits 

Love,

Ash

Acid, raves, snow, and Portlandia.

To clarify, I have not been tripping on acid since I've been back in Pittsburgh.  Okay, moving on.

So I finally decided to write a post.  Ashley has been dropping not-so-subtle hints over Facebook chat about writing one, so here I am.  I probably should have written this when my stories were fresher in my mind, but this is the Internet and no one will be able to tell if I'm exaggerating the truth.  I won't anyway, but it could happen.

So we'll tackle this story potluck (Buffet? Smorgasbord? Menagerie? Nah, potluck.) in accordance to the title.  Get excited guys, you're about to hear a story about people on acid being afraid of my face.

I don't really recall how or why we ended up at our friend's house this one night, but we did and it was pretty okay for a while.  It was the night before my good friend's birthday and we decided to take advantage of this totally superfluous night, as any true college student should do.  So when we showed up we found ourselves in the midst of unfamiliar company, but they seemed nice enough.  After a while I challenged everyone to a Mario Party 2 showdown and then proceeded to murder everyone with my 15 years of hard work and focus. We were meandering back upstairs while I reveled in my Superstar glory when we came across the calm before the acid-induced storm.  There were two girls and three guys that had all dropped acid about an hour before and it was starting to kick in.  One girl was holding an ice cube while pondering its very existence. Another was just laughing and taking pictures of fruit.  And then they all decided to form a human couch in the bedroom adjacent to the kitchen.  At that point, I was pretty tired and just wanted to go back to my dorm.  So, while sitting on hold for a taxi and devouring an avocado ("What kind of sick people don't have SALT? They have have nutmeg and no fucking salt."), I heard the girls crack open the bedroom door and frantically ask my roommate, "IS SHE STILL HERE?".  I didn't really pay much attention to it until my roommate asked if they were talking about me. I poked my head around the corner and heard a collective scream followed by a slamming of the bedroom door. 

So, I did what any person would do in this situation and proceeded to scratch at the door and tell them they would all be made into salted pork by night's end.  And then our taxi arrived and we all left.  (Not before one of the guys emphatically stated that he needed to open the living room window to "let the outside in.")

Onto the rave. 
There was a rave happening in Southside (basically bar central in Pittsburgh) the night of my friend's actual birthday.  Raves are not my thing, but she's young and starry-eyed and really wanted to see what it was like.  So, we showed up fashionably early.  Like, really early.  There were a couple characters dancing to the Dubstep-kind-of-music that was playing, but that was about it.  Deciding it was best to stick together, my roommate and I decided to find the bathroom.  As we reached the door, a couple of guys stepped out, sniffed, shook their heads, and walked away. 
Needless to say, we found a different bathroom.  It turned into that kind of bathroom later, but at the time it was pretty cocaine-less.  Or whatever-less.

As for the rest of the night...I mean, what else would you expect from a rave.  Lots of sniffing, too many people asking for dollar bills, lots of people with lit up gloves, the same kind of song being played over and over, all of that.  A group of us ended up leaving early, leaving a couple people behind.  I was, yes, a little high so I was pretty much constantly hugging someone.  I like to hug people, what can I say. 

The rest of that night was uneventful.  There was pizza involved.  And later sleep.

Snow.  There is snow.  A lot of it.  My friend Allie and I just walked several miles in it.  But it's okay because we got free pad thai out of it.  But I temporarily lost all feeling in my extremities and left my student ID in the restaurant, so I'm not sure if free pad thai really made up for that.


Portlandia.  If you don't know what it is then we can't really be friends. Kayla (my roommate) and I have Portlandia dates.  It's a beautiful thing.  I just...I can't.  It is something that must be experienced.  Not unlike acid I suppose, but you probably shouldn't drop acid.  You'll be obsessed with ice cubes and you'll think perfectly agreeable girls are terrifying demons. 


ONTO THE PICTURES (which are, let's face it, mostly Instagram pictures)

The view from my window.  

This is a little out of order, but this is myself on New Year's. I believe Ashley already posted this picture, but it's okay because how often do you get to see me in a Ghostface mask?  Exactly.

Waiting in the always exciting Sacramento airport for my departing flight back to Pittsburgh.

In Georgia, on my way to Pittsburgh.  

Keeping it classy with our bag of wine.

That girl, that one right there.  This is from the acid night and she was the primary instigator in making me out to be the creature from the Black Lagoon.

Rave.  People.  Hipsters, rather.

 Lights on walls.

The night of the rave.  I dyed my hair black.

 More pretty lights.

Oh yeah.  This night was a story but I forgot to write it.  Maybe next time.  

My friend with a decorative egg perched above her head.

A couple nights ago I temporarily lost control of my life because I discovered Party Down.

The rest of these are from tonight.  It just....it was a very cold night.  

Fin.

A Tale of Incompetence

So I’ve been back in Glasgow for a few days dear followers and even though I was only gone for three weeks, I’ve forgotten a few vital things. Example 1: When I went to the little coffee shop by my flat yesterday morning, I ordered coffee with cream and the man looked up at me as if I had just told him I would be paying with strands of my own hair. He then said, “you just like, want it in a wee cup on the side?” And I was like, “Um yeah that’s cool.”

Now, for my American followers you are probs saying to yourself, “Ashley, I just don’t see what the problem is here.” However, for our readers from the UK, Australia, Canada, Russia, Brazil, Argentina, Belgium, India, and the one person from Kazakhstan (I bet you thought I wasn’t going to mention you BUT I DID), you are probably thinking, “BITCH YOU CRAZY BITCH.” Confused? Well when I got a cup of black coffee with a paper cup on the side filled to the top with whipped cream, I was too. And then I realized, OH WAIT this isn’t America where cream means milk — it means whipped cream. Why did I just talk about whipped cream for 200 words? That’s none of your god damned business. And since that's really the only example I have of forgetting things, we'll move on. 

Speaking of being not so intelligent, today is the first day of the new semester and of course I had homework and reading that I could have had done over Christmas break. But did I you ask? Nay. I obviously chose to do more important things like beat Stephanie’s ass at Rainbow Road/Mario Kart and eat more sugar than any human being should consume in one lifetime. So I had to do it all over the last three days. And it actually wasn’t so bad except for the part where I had to read over 100 pages of poetry that made absolutely no sense. I was going to quote it, but I’m afraid of doing that so I’m just going to say that I’m sorry, but repeating the same word for twenty lines does not a poem make. Especially when it’s a word you made up. That’s all I’m going to say. And just you watch, everyone in my class is going to LOVE it. That’s usually how these things work out. 

But for now, I must bid you farewell as I prepare to head out on my adventures of the scholastic nature. But just know that when Stephanie posts in a few days, she has some great stories. Like, they involve people on acid thinking she's Hannibal Lecter. I'm just saying it's probably going to be better than a story about cream. But that's just me. 

And now, for some random pictures from over break I found on my phone:

I took this right before I went home. 

It's the view from the coffee shop where I got bitch slapped emotionally by the barista. 

An excellent angle of Stephanie Welling taken immediately after picking her up from the airport.

Stephanie at my friend's house on New Years Eve. She's shy. 

Dropping bitch duck (Steph) off at the desolate airport. 

Right before my flight to Glasgow, I found this massive rabbit sculpture that Stephanie and I dubbed, "The Great Cow of Sacramento International." My father later informed me that this work of art cost the city upwards of a million dollars to install. That'a boy Sacramento, that'a boy. 

Not even half of my reading (for one class) this semester. NOT EVEN AFRAID

......

Until next time,

Ashley

At the Glasgow Christmas market. No seriously

Almost Famous?

So in case you have been living under a rock (or you’ve just been carrying on with other, more important responsibilities), you will know that Stephanie and I have won something. Now, we’re not saying it’s of equal or greater importance than that of the Nobel Peace Prize … but we’re not saying it’s not. That’s right, we won a blog contest and victory has been sweet.

How is our 12-hour-old fame treating us you ask? Not well folks, not well. I went to Starbucks today and I was practically mobbed. And by that I mean I think someone looked at me. And by someone I mean the cashier who said I “forgot my change” but I knew what she meant, I knew.

To further explain the new circumstances in which we find ourselves, we made a short video that you may watch below. And once again, a big thank you to Bryan and Brandon for giving us a shout out when we don’t deserve it in the slightest — and a big welcome to our new followers. Welcome to the motherfucking family. 

How Stephanie and I celebrated our win. Also, a nuclear explosion. 

Love,

Ashley & Stephanie