The first and biggest is COMMENTS! Registration is no longer required to post a comment on any post. Of course if you already have an account you can still login to ensure your comments are attributed to you, but those who don’t can now post a comment without any long term commitment. Also, on the right you can see some of the recent comments so you’ll always know what the active discussions are. This was the most requested thing we’ve heard from people since our last redesign and we’re excited to see where it leads.

The next change is also something that was heavily requested, and that is a change to the ADS on the sites. You’ll immediately notice fewer of them, but what might not be as obvious is those smaller square ones to the right are specific to this city only and are being sold for a flat rate for a period of time rather than a confusing CPM/traffic/network model. Depending on the city, these range from $7-$175 for a full week. If you purchase one, during that time your ad will be the only one in that spot and will show on every page. We set these up both to make it easier for smaller local businesses to get their ads on our site, and also to help us bring in ads that relate better to our local audiences. Also, keeping these sites online is expensive and every little bit helps.

There are a bunch of other things we changed (including this broadcast function so we can more easily update everyone) but we’ll leave those to you to investigate and take advantage of. Hope you like it, and we look forward to seeing you in the comments!!

Love,
The folks at MBHQ

Fussball? Nein Danke!

Originally uploaded by Roger B..

only joking

Hard morning at work? Chilled crayfish on granary just not going to fill that hole?

There’s only one place to go:

http://www.fuzzysgrub.com/

In memoriam Jared – you’ll be missed, fellow carnivore…

There’s so much good music in London, and so many great gigs and venues every night – why is it that people only ever go to the Brixton Academy or the Hammersmith Apollo?

Yesterday, after a long and unsatisfying day in London, I took my honey out for tea at The Berkeley. As previously mentioned, the plan was part of my continuing drive to experience the fabulous life of London as described by American television. While The Berkeley offers a traditional afternoon tea service (scones, finger sandwiches, etc), we booked specifically to enjoy their Pret-a-Portea.

A few weeks ago, we’d enjoyed a more tradtional afternoon tea at The Savoy. Service was king there – I think every employee checked on us at one time or another. The Berkeley was a bit more, shall we say, hands-off. But never mind that: the treats were divine. Little cakes and cookies decorated to match runway designs from fasion’s cutting edge.

Okay, technically, the tea was SO last season (Fall/Winter, not Spring/Summer), but since I don’t get Vogue anyway, it was all pretty and fresh to me. The bottom level of our 3-tier treat tower was comprised of savory canapes that were also very nice. After our day spent dealing with the American Embassy, we opted for the Champagne service at a premium over the regular tea. We also tried to get cocktails, but par for my time in the UK, the bartender didn’t know (and had no net access to look up) how to make Brandy Manhattan, so it was more Champagne and eventually a nice pot of Darjeeling for us.

Click here to check out more pictures of the tea service and tasty fashionable bits. My favorite: the Yves Saint Laurant pink bow vanilla fancy bag. Rob like the Missoni striped eclair.

The last time I saw Parliament was in ‘V for Vendetta.’ Great flick, but needless to say, I much prefer this, whole Parliament. But on to the story . . . .

The year was 2004. I was in Philadelphia working on the ill-fated John Kerry campaign when I met a man from Scotland in American to witness our election fun. He was an elected official himself – on his local council back home. Flash-forward to 2006 and here I am in the UK on my way to London to take a tour of the Houses of Parliament – courtesy of my friend’s MP, who arranged the day for me.

There was a notation on my pass that said my group (that’d be me) was being accommodated with another MP’s group. And so it was that I joined up with a tour organized by Andrew Turner, the Member of Parliament representing the Isle of Wight. The craziest part: the rest of the party was from the Isle of Wight in Virginia – one of the original American colonies. It was my American in London with Americans day.

Sadly, photography is not allowed inside the Houses of Parliament – which sucks because the place is Gorgeous, of course. And for a complete government nerd like me, it’s the nerdy bits that I most wanted to capture in pixels. One highlight: there is a chamber decorated with paintings of the members of the Houses of Tudor and Stuart. Our tour guide ran through them all – who married which kid to what country, who beheaded and divorced whom, who reigned when and why – in such a rapid fire manner I managed to retain roughly .2%

I get chills walking the halls of the U.S. Capitol in Washington, DC. Walking through the ornate halls of the Houses of Commons and Lords gave me a similar thrill. If you’ve never done it, call your MP today and check it out. For his part, Mr. Turner was a wonderful host, greeting our group and sitting down with us (okay, them, I was just a fortunate, hanger-on) after the tour over tea and biscuits discussion British government and politics, comparing and contrasting the UK and US’s institutions. I won’t pretend to be literate, let-alone an expert on British politics, but he was such an open, knowledgeable man – and he voted against the war – that were I ever to move to the Isle of Wight, I do believe he’d have my vote.

Today I braved the rush-hour train and tube to head to London for a tour of Parliament (more on that later). After several hours on my feet – in the wrong shoes – I decided lunch was in order. When hunger hit, I was on Oxford Street. Not knowing the neighborhood and not being down with MickeyD’s, I hoped a train to Knightsbridge and treated myself to lunch at Harvey Nichols (as part of my quest to be a lame tourist, VH1’s-The-Fabulous-Life-of-London-style).

I knew I’d be spending a bit more than necessary for just a meal, but it’s about the experience, right?

Well, the menu was interesting if not overly-varied. I was headed for a ceasar salad with chicken when I looked over and saw a rainbow trout for 3 pounds less – that seemed like a good deal. I’m not an expert with fish preparation, but the Harvey Nichols people seemed bent on overpowering the trout with the bed of stir-fried veggies (heavily marinated and practically carmelized). It wasn’t that the flavors were bad – there just wasn’t much fresh fish to be tasted. I sprung for the roll (extra one-pound fifty) and a glass of wine because it seemed like a wine sort of afternoon.

So, in sum: at least I can say I went, but next time, I’d probably splurge at Harrods. (Which I did do later in the day at the Harrods Chocolate Bar. Yum.)

The quake, an estimated 7.9 on the Richter scale, lasted almost a minute and led to a fire that lasted for over 4 days. Thousands died and tens of thousands were homeless, living in tents and shelters in Golden Gate Park and in makeshift tent-cities around the Bay Area.

A Siren Ceremony is ongoing right now . . . (and I’m sure the footage will be available later today as well).

It’s odd to watch such a thing in my home city from so far away on a sunny afternoon in an earthquake-free country. But as I stare at the tiny, slightly-grainy window on my computer screen, listening to old air-raid sirens, church bells, and fire-engine sirens wail for the length of the earthquake’s time, I feel humbled. For many Americans – and people around the world who watched live – the persistent sounds of sirens are linked to the events of 9/11. Even if not, sirens are seldom a good sound: meaning death, injury, fire, and loss.

All the firehouse doors in San Francisco were opened moments ago – something they literally could not do 100 years ago, as the earthquake bent buildings and the earth, sealing in those who wanted to save the city.

Those sirens wailing now remind San Franciscans and those who live in areas prone to sudden fits of an angry Mother Nature how tenuous our hold on our homes is. Here in London, I don’t have to worry about earthquakes, but knowing what struck San Francisco 100 years ago and what could strike again at any moment still makes me appreciate the beauty of cities – of people coming together to build a community, in spite of all the things that could destroy it.