changes afoot

Things have been fairly quiet around here for the past month or so, and it isn't for lack of things to say -- it's mostly for lack of people who were allowed to read them at the time. You see, I was in the midst of planning some surprises that all involved people not knowing what you are about to know, finally: I'm moving to New York to work for a magazine.

The surprises involved showing up at Homecoming in Murray to the shock of my sisters and arriving at my friend Harry's 30th birthday extravaganza in NYC to the joy, shrieking and tears of a few HOBY friends. But now, that excitement is over and the real world is tapping me on the shoulder, giving me sex eyes and wanting to plop right down on my lap.

I've responded to dozens of apartment listings on craigslist, applied for about six or seven jobs -- it's slow going so far, and it's hard to keep reminding myself that it's only the second day. I do have dinner and lunch dates with tons of my old intern friends and I'm looking forward to reconnecting with everyone. And, of course, there's the unpaid gig that I'm starting in less than an hour.

It's with an indie music mag called The Tripwire (thetripwire.com) and I'm starting out this week doing some of their coverage of an annual music festival here put on by the College Music Journal. I'm catching the train into the city in a few minutes, and I'll be up til 2 a.m. sending in stories. I'll let you know how it goes.

cheers,
(just plain ol' e. cawein)

P.S.: As I'm sure you can imagine, there will be some changes at Just A Girl happening soon in lieu of this recent move. More news on that in the days to come.

soccer aid 2008

A few weeks ago, my campaign manager at Pell and Bales announced that because the folks at UNICEF love us so much, they'd given us a few free tickets to the upcoming charity football event benefiting the organization, Soccer Aid 2008. She told us that over the two days to follow she would monitor our stats, and whoever was the best all-around fundraiser during the shifts would win the tickets.

And I don't know what got into me, but I actually tried to do well at my job for the first time since I first started calling on Cancer Research UK campaigns. And sure enough, it paid off. Saturday evening I was handed two sparkly tickets to Soccer Aid, worth 20 quid a piece, for free. So on Sunday Ed and I headed off for Wembley to enjoy the festivities.


It was overcast and cool, but not raining -- the perfect weather for fall sports. I pulled out the England scarf I'd bought during my summer here back in 2005 and was feeling very (ex?) patriotic. Actually going to Wembley Stadium itself was a large part of the excitement -- it's probably the biggest stadium I've ever been in, and for ages I lived a stone's throw away from it and never had the chance to go until now.






The interior is gorgeous, and huge, and we were so close to the pitch I could've spit on it. But I think the people in front of us would've frowned on that.

Soccer Aid was initially the brainchild of Robbie Williams (perhaps his only one, ever) to raise money for UNICEF by bringing out big names in football, celebrity athletes, actors, singers, etc., to play a game of football that puts 'England' up against 'The Rest of the World.' Arguably the event's biggest star this year (since Robbie's knee injuries kept him from hitting the field himself) was celebrity chef Gordon Ramsay, or as Ed and I more appropriately call him, Gordon Mother Fucking Ramsay. (Watch one of his reality cooking shows and you will fully appreciate this re-naming.)



The England players were wearing the navy shorts, and the rest of the world players were in the royal blue tops and white shorts.

Please note the jumbo-screen. Please note Draco Malfoy. Okay, so his real name is Tom Felton, but that didn't stop me from shouting "Draco! Draco Malfoy!" the entire five seconds he was on the field. And below? Please note Craig David.

The night was plagued with really ridiculous injuries. Examples seen above -- five minutes into the game Gordy MF Ramsay sprains his private bits, we think, and doesn't play another second -- and below -- one of the referees gets taken out so badly he has to be removed from the field on a stretcher.
But then...Draco! DRACO MALFOY!

We left a few minutes before the game was over to avoid being trampled on the way to Wembley Park station, but The Rest of The World ended up winning. I wasn't sure if I should be happy about that or not, the entire game was a bit of an identity crisis for me. Nonetheless, it was a fabulous time, great weather, great game, good beer and even better company. Not a bad Sunday night, and all I had to do was actually put forth minimal effort at the job I am actually paid to do.

Huh.

cheers,

HRH e. cawein