For those of you who have met Elvis before (Elvis who resides at Tamborine and not Gracelands) you will know he has a weak stomach. After a massive night up at St B's on the mountain and his need for the 'biggest breakfast' he could find, only to be found on his hands and knees 10 minutes later contributing a meal to the local scrub turkeys (the real bird ones, not the mothers who leave their young to go to Vegas), like this wasnt bad enough, but once on the road to get home he discovers that a tomato skin is part hanging into his nose and the other part the back of his mouth, you know like that condom trick some freaks used to do in the 80's. Well its at this point he evacuates the car, before it stops and proceeds to yell at the bitches in the car (myself and triple threat #1) to call him an ambulance, as he could very well die any second now. My god we were laughing so hard. Once he had dislodged the tomato skin, and returned to the car TT #1 offered him a mint, which happened to be the super hot ones, which bought on another round of vomitting, straight into her handbag. I am telling you this story as a prequel to the nut incident which happened in the bar in Vegas on the first night. My apologies for the lack of order with my tales, i should have kept a journal.
When you drink at the bar you get a bowl full of nuts and wasabi peas. Elvis thinks if it is green it must be advocado. Wasabi is not advocado. Jalapenos are not advocado. Jalapenos are not gherkin. Elvis discovered this on more than one occasion, very Homer Simpson of him i thought. Doh. So he starts to cough, and choke a little. No one at this stage has jumped up to perform the Heimlich, there are drinks to be drunk.
Elvis has left the building (or the bar at least) and comes back looking like he has just gone a round with Mike Tyson, red face, sweat on his brow.
Now Elvis must have a oronasal cavity the size of a horse, perhaps it had changed shape after so many hits to the face playing footy, perhaps it is his questionable indigenous background, we dont know. But the nut was stuck, probably in the same place the tomato skin had been. He had gone to the toilet to try to blow it out and blow he did, apparently after many failed attempts it came out like a missile. A full size Brazil nut shot out of his nose at a blistering rate, he says it almost knocked a man out who was standing nearby.
We cried with laughter. It could only happen to Elvis. Thank you very much.
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Vegas Baby: part two
So i forgot to mention about my journal. I think i looked for at least 3 days for the perfect journal, it couldnt be too big, needed a tie to keep it closed and i wanted it to feel nice in my hands. Do you know how hard it is to find the perfect journal. Very. So i settled for the not so perfect, it had some dice on the cover, so i thought that was a sign of good luck in the gambling department. No it wasnt.
Anyway i had grand plans of completing a journal so i would not forget a thing, seeing as we had planned a hangover type tour, this might be something to consider. Problem is i didnt write in it...until the flight home. I was able to record day 2, mainly because i didnt have a drink until later in the day and my new camera has a GPS setting on it so it tells me exactly where i was at what time, it also has a holiday planner so you can put how many days you will be away and it logs it for you. Nice options.
Day 2 (Thursday) is walkabout day. I use the term walkabout because one of our tour guides (Day 6) tells us it is common for Aussies to go walkabout, maybe not come back for months. He seemed to know alot about Aussies but confused us with the traditional indigenous folk. So with intention to have a look around the strip, we end up catching a monorail from Ballys. Prior to this we stopped at Paris Hotel and fell into a novelty photo booth where they put your face onto someone elses. Needless to say Elvis posed as Elvis, myself and Pop Princess were the Vegas showgirls. Something you can probably do in Sufferers Paradise or even on my own computer, but we are on holidays so spend a shitload of money all having our pics done. My plan was to fool the kids and say we were dressed up and just had instantly fabulous bodies and naval peircings. Didnt work. Fooled mum though, she is technologically disadvantaged and could only think that we dressed up, she even commented how great our figures were. Thanks Mum, but unless the boob/butt lift fairy paid me a visit in my sleep, it is not my body, but thanks anyway. So a combined total of about $500 later and many large size prints for manland we get on the monorail to the Northern most end (there was some debate whether we were heading north or south) we made the end of the line, it was North.
It is now we decide rather than tempt the rides at the Stratosphere: for only $400 you can jump off the top, we would hit the outlet store. It seems at this stage we dont have much of clue where we are, some back street behind the strip and we might have to catch a bus as we have been told the outlet centre is much further north than we had planned to walk.
The ticket machines for all public transport are automated, you can buy tickets for the bus in hour, day or 3 day passes. A three day unlimited bus ride ticket is $20. Of course i buy one of these, after feeding a thousand $1 notes (ok only up to 20), as the machine does not give change, we know this because we read it way after it kept telling us our money was invalid. Anyway after a dispute on cost with Elvis i take the $20 3 dayer, because i am going to bus it everywhere. No i never got on one after this day. More money well spent and i know Elvis was saying "i told you so" in his head. Now our next challenge was to figure out which side of the road we stand on. The cars of course are on the wrong side so we need to also find the wrong side to load onto a bus which will take us to a place we have no clue where it is. After crossing the road 3 times due to poor directions from the locals, we are back to where we bought the tickets waiting for a bus.
The outlet centre is pretty big, a bit like harbourtown, but less confusing. One way in, one way out. Armed with the boys wish list and feet cut out of paper i needed to find Vans x 6, Converse x 2 and a pair of Nikes. The Vans shop was so stressful, there were 3 of us in there all with the same amount of shoes to purchase. I needed a drink. Lucky the shoes were cheap as was most of the shops there. I say that like i was looking for stuff for me. I wasn't. I was so completely over it by the end of the Vans shop . Where is the bar?
Before we started shopping we set a meet point for 2 hours. If you werent finished dont meet, if you were, we would head home, dump the bags and start drinking.
2 hours has passed, we meet back at the meeting point, all except for Stefan (sorry spelt it incorrectly in part one, lead to some confusion over the nick name, problem solved) and Pop Princess. While we broke the rule of 2 hours or we leave, we miss the bus waiting, they have seen about 4 shops to our whole shopping experience. Bye Bye Stefan and Pop Princess, see you back at the bar.
Snack in the cafe. Snack in the states is a double sized meal in Australia....with a Pickle. Couple drinks and get ready to meet again in one hour to see the Viva Elvis, a Cirque De Soleil production. Of course Elvis (my Elvis not the one from the show) and myself were running late and i had all 11 tickets. The rest of the group were told if we were any later we would have been locked out. As it turns out we missed the curtain going up and had to climb over the laps of some not so happy customers. All 11 of us over these poor peoples laps. Show was fabulous, Elvis tribute, i had a tear in my eye while i sang and clapped along, ribbons fell from the ceiling. Miss Scotch and Coke caught one and donated it to Manland.
Next stop Jimmy Buffett's Margaritaville. We had heard stories about different flavour Margarita spewing out of volcano every hour. Not true. We did however see a poor girl fall victim to Margarita overdose and like this was a regular occurance in this establishment, the paramedics rolled in, loaded her up and shipped her out, nothing stopped, she spewed all the way out the back door. Cheers.
After the paramedic incident every time we heard a siren, someone would comment "must be going to Margaritaville". We will probably say this for the rest of our lives, while it is a "you had to be there" joke, we will all know what we are talking about. Just go along with it people.
Nachos, boneless chicken wings ( i dont know how those chickens get around) and buckets of Corona. Yes buckets. 5 in a bucket $25, for an extra $10 you can have lime flavoured tequila poured into each one. Mr Scotch and Coke and Chawain (she's not a hooker) thought these loaded coronas would be a good idea. After 2 buckets, it was probably not such a good idea. I had a strawberry margarita, as you do in Margaritaville, ate too many nachos and had to go home early. I held a vomit it for at least 2 kilometres. Made it back to the hotel room without throwing up on the strip. Excellent achievement. Everyone else partied on, with the last survivors seeing the sun come up, needless to say they would not be making the breaky call seeing as they were still up.
Sore heads next day. I was squeaky clean and ready to party. Always when we go somewhere in a group, people peak at different times. I dont know if i will have anyone to play with on day 3. Lets see how this day pans out.
Anyway i had grand plans of completing a journal so i would not forget a thing, seeing as we had planned a hangover type tour, this might be something to consider. Problem is i didnt write in it...until the flight home. I was able to record day 2, mainly because i didnt have a drink until later in the day and my new camera has a GPS setting on it so it tells me exactly where i was at what time, it also has a holiday planner so you can put how many days you will be away and it logs it for you. Nice options.
Day 2 (Thursday) is walkabout day. I use the term walkabout because one of our tour guides (Day 6) tells us it is common for Aussies to go walkabout, maybe not come back for months. He seemed to know alot about Aussies but confused us with the traditional indigenous folk. So with intention to have a look around the strip, we end up catching a monorail from Ballys. Prior to this we stopped at Paris Hotel and fell into a novelty photo booth where they put your face onto someone elses. Needless to say Elvis posed as Elvis, myself and Pop Princess were the Vegas showgirls. Something you can probably do in Sufferers Paradise or even on my own computer, but we are on holidays so spend a shitload of money all having our pics done. My plan was to fool the kids and say we were dressed up and just had instantly fabulous bodies and naval peircings. Didnt work. Fooled mum though, she is technologically disadvantaged and could only think that we dressed up, she even commented how great our figures were. Thanks Mum, but unless the boob/butt lift fairy paid me a visit in my sleep, it is not my body, but thanks anyway. So a combined total of about $500 later and many large size prints for manland we get on the monorail to the Northern most end (there was some debate whether we were heading north or south) we made the end of the line, it was North.
It is now we decide rather than tempt the rides at the Stratosphere: for only $400 you can jump off the top, we would hit the outlet store. It seems at this stage we dont have much of clue where we are, some back street behind the strip and we might have to catch a bus as we have been told the outlet centre is much further north than we had planned to walk.
The ticket machines for all public transport are automated, you can buy tickets for the bus in hour, day or 3 day passes. A three day unlimited bus ride ticket is $20. Of course i buy one of these, after feeding a thousand $1 notes (ok only up to 20), as the machine does not give change, we know this because we read it way after it kept telling us our money was invalid. Anyway after a dispute on cost with Elvis i take the $20 3 dayer, because i am going to bus it everywhere. No i never got on one after this day. More money well spent and i know Elvis was saying "i told you so" in his head. Now our next challenge was to figure out which side of the road we stand on. The cars of course are on the wrong side so we need to also find the wrong side to load onto a bus which will take us to a place we have no clue where it is. After crossing the road 3 times due to poor directions from the locals, we are back to where we bought the tickets waiting for a bus.
The outlet centre is pretty big, a bit like harbourtown, but less confusing. One way in, one way out. Armed with the boys wish list and feet cut out of paper i needed to find Vans x 6, Converse x 2 and a pair of Nikes. The Vans shop was so stressful, there were 3 of us in there all with the same amount of shoes to purchase. I needed a drink. Lucky the shoes were cheap as was most of the shops there. I say that like i was looking for stuff for me. I wasn't. I was so completely over it by the end of the Vans shop . Where is the bar?
Before we started shopping we set a meet point for 2 hours. If you werent finished dont meet, if you were, we would head home, dump the bags and start drinking.
2 hours has passed, we meet back at the meeting point, all except for Stefan (sorry spelt it incorrectly in part one, lead to some confusion over the nick name, problem solved) and Pop Princess. While we broke the rule of 2 hours or we leave, we miss the bus waiting, they have seen about 4 shops to our whole shopping experience. Bye Bye Stefan and Pop Princess, see you back at the bar.
Snack in the cafe. Snack in the states is a double sized meal in Australia....with a Pickle. Couple drinks and get ready to meet again in one hour to see the Viva Elvis, a Cirque De Soleil production. Of course Elvis (my Elvis not the one from the show) and myself were running late and i had all 11 tickets. The rest of the group were told if we were any later we would have been locked out. As it turns out we missed the curtain going up and had to climb over the laps of some not so happy customers. All 11 of us over these poor peoples laps. Show was fabulous, Elvis tribute, i had a tear in my eye while i sang and clapped along, ribbons fell from the ceiling. Miss Scotch and Coke caught one and donated it to Manland.
Next stop Jimmy Buffett's Margaritaville. We had heard stories about different flavour Margarita spewing out of volcano every hour. Not true. We did however see a poor girl fall victim to Margarita overdose and like this was a regular occurance in this establishment, the paramedics rolled in, loaded her up and shipped her out, nothing stopped, she spewed all the way out the back door. Cheers.
After the paramedic incident every time we heard a siren, someone would comment "must be going to Margaritaville". We will probably say this for the rest of our lives, while it is a "you had to be there" joke, we will all know what we are talking about. Just go along with it people.
Nachos, boneless chicken wings ( i dont know how those chickens get around) and buckets of Corona. Yes buckets. 5 in a bucket $25, for an extra $10 you can have lime flavoured tequila poured into each one. Mr Scotch and Coke and Chawain (she's not a hooker) thought these loaded coronas would be a good idea. After 2 buckets, it was probably not such a good idea. I had a strawberry margarita, as you do in Margaritaville, ate too many nachos and had to go home early. I held a vomit it for at least 2 kilometres. Made it back to the hotel room without throwing up on the strip. Excellent achievement. Everyone else partied on, with the last survivors seeing the sun come up, needless to say they would not be making the breaky call seeing as they were still up.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
I forgot to mention
I bought i video camera from the duty free store in Brisbane Airport. I am going to record our everyday and create a 'hangover' style movie for all to see.
I also spent three days prior to travel to find the perfect journal.
Watch this space.
I also spent three days prior to travel to find the perfect journal.
Watch this space.
Vegas Baby: part one - "I'm on my way"
Its been a week plus some hours since we left for Vegas, i am now experiencing an all time post holiday low and thought it might cheer me up to start some tour blogs.
4am i set the alarm for, by 4.30 am i had checked that i had my passport at least 4 times on my way to Pop Princess house to catch the shuttle bus. We arrived too early and Pop princess and Stephan were still in the shower, i needed coffee/bourban asap. The shuttle gets lost, Pokie Free Drink Party Queen #1 may or may not have given the wrong house number,i had time for 2 coffees (no bourban). Finally arrives we are packed and on our way to Freemont Dancer and Pokie Free Drink Party Queen #2 to pick up the rest of the team and we are super excited " im on my way from misery to hapiness today, ah ha ah ha ah ha..." I wasnt exactly miserable, i just have this as my in my head theme song when i am about to do something cool or when someone i am sick off goes away (some of you will understand the latter).
For some reason there is no traffic, perhaps this is because i am not heading to work, there is always traffic on these days. We end up at Brisbane International with 3 or so hours to spare. This is probably a good thing, our Chawian (shes not a hooker, she is just being friendly) team member had mismatched numbers on his visa/passport, i took three attempts at filling out the departure form and panicked the whole time i would miss check in (with 3 hours spare, i doubt it).
We separate through customs and Elvis is in charge of my carry on, here is where my Miffy travel kit lives, he has no clue what to do and i see from a distance he is asked to take it out and show it to an unsmiling man in a uniform. PFDPQ #2 goes through her bag to discover not 1 but 4 lighters and tries to give me half to see if we can get through. Confiscated. con·fis·cat·ed 1. To seize (private property) for the public treasury (i hope they smoke). Once through customs, breaky is on. Elvis tells me that my travel kit has also been donated to public treasury as he could not explain the amount of drugs inside (or the fem fresh) and i neally burst into tears....instead i flip him the bird (i had one in my pocket) and go somewhere else for breaky.
He was joking. Not funny.
Board the plane after 50 million cigarettes (may or may not have been that many), lucky we could keep 1 lighter. 13 hours of shear hell, sleeping tabs didnt work, bourban didnt work and 6 movies didnt work. While Pop Princess was laughing out loud to Bridesmaids, i was balling my eyes out to Water for Elephants (why did he have to shoot the horse?), i must have been tired.
Arrive at LAX. Entering LA is like visiting a prison. I dont really know this because i havent visited anyone in prison, but i can imagine it would be pretty close. Fingerprinted, both hands, photo taken and questioned like i was in the hotseat of millionairre by a very big, very dark, non smiling man in a very official uniform. Wow their uniforms are special in the US, shiny badges and guns, this is serious stuff. Once through we hit McDonalds for an ever familiar breaky. I have had breakfast three times since we left. Sausage biscuit? I went for the Breaky Burrito. It is sort of the equivalent to our chiko roll (and i was thinking this because our Chawain/shes not a hooker friend was talkiing about them earlier), an outside skin filled with items of unknown origin, they may or may not have been edible....it was ok. The iced coffee however came with options: cream and flavour, i said no to both and was given a giant sized cup of perculated coffee with ice in it. I added about 10 creams and 20 sugars, it was like drinking a packet of no doze, and tasted like shit. While waiting for our connecting flight to Vegas, i crashed into a heap on the floor once the hit wore off.
Southwest flew us to Vegas, the emergency advice was vague and the hostesses had an average age of 50yrs, not so glamourous, but we didnt care, we were almost there !!
Big man holding sign in Vegas airport "Russell S" once i convinced him my first name was Simone and not Russell, we climbed into our stretch limousines. We all had pictures of hanging our heads out the roof of the car and waving our way into Vegas....no opening roof. Sad.
Finally our hotel. What a flight, we had left at 4.30am Wednesday, 13 hours plus about 6 in the airports, plus another 1 for connecting flights. To escape jet lag, we dumped our bags and headed straight out. PFDPQ #1 and #2 disappeared into the casino abyss only to be discovered an hour later unable to string two words together, they had discovered the "bet and drink for free/tip", if this was any indication of how our tirp would be, i didnt pack enough drugs.
Sometime before the sun came up we finally went to bed, i cant calculate how many hours we had been awake, it was somewhere in the 30 something, 8am we had the wake up call....the rule was whoever was the least pissed the night before was responsible for getting the team to breakfast (i havent had any other meal it seems) time to see Vegas (without the double nip bourbans which cost about $1 when you gamble, at least until lunch time).
4am i set the alarm for, by 4.30 am i had checked that i had my passport at least 4 times on my way to Pop Princess house to catch the shuttle bus. We arrived too early and Pop princess and Stephan were still in the shower, i needed coffee/bourban asap. The shuttle gets lost, Pokie Free Drink Party Queen #1 may or may not have given the wrong house number,i had time for 2 coffees (no bourban). Finally arrives we are packed and on our way to Freemont Dancer and Pokie Free Drink Party Queen #2 to pick up the rest of the team and we are super excited " im on my way from misery to hapiness today, ah ha ah ha ah ha..." I wasnt exactly miserable, i just have this as my in my head theme song when i am about to do something cool or when someone i am sick off goes away (some of you will understand the latter).
For some reason there is no traffic, perhaps this is because i am not heading to work, there is always traffic on these days. We end up at Brisbane International with 3 or so hours to spare. This is probably a good thing, our Chawian (shes not a hooker, she is just being friendly) team member had mismatched numbers on his visa/passport, i took three attempts at filling out the departure form and panicked the whole time i would miss check in (with 3 hours spare, i doubt it).
We separate through customs and Elvis is in charge of my carry on, here is where my Miffy travel kit lives, he has no clue what to do and i see from a distance he is asked to take it out and show it to an unsmiling man in a uniform. PFDPQ #2 goes through her bag to discover not 1 but 4 lighters and tries to give me half to see if we can get through. Confiscated. con·fis·cat·ed 1. To seize (private property) for the public treasury (i hope they smoke). Once through customs, breaky is on. Elvis tells me that my travel kit has also been donated to public treasury as he could not explain the amount of drugs inside (or the fem fresh) and i neally burst into tears....instead i flip him the bird (i had one in my pocket) and go somewhere else for breaky.
He was joking. Not funny.
Board the plane after 50 million cigarettes (may or may not have been that many), lucky we could keep 1 lighter. 13 hours of shear hell, sleeping tabs didnt work, bourban didnt work and 6 movies didnt work. While Pop Princess was laughing out loud to Bridesmaids, i was balling my eyes out to Water for Elephants (why did he have to shoot the horse?), i must have been tired.
Arrive at LAX. Entering LA is like visiting a prison. I dont really know this because i havent visited anyone in prison, but i can imagine it would be pretty close. Fingerprinted, both hands, photo taken and questioned like i was in the hotseat of millionairre by a very big, very dark, non smiling man in a very official uniform. Wow their uniforms are special in the US, shiny badges and guns, this is serious stuff. Once through we hit McDonalds for an ever familiar breaky. I have had breakfast three times since we left. Sausage biscuit? I went for the Breaky Burrito. It is sort of the equivalent to our chiko roll (and i was thinking this because our Chawain/shes not a hooker friend was talkiing about them earlier), an outside skin filled with items of unknown origin, they may or may not have been edible....it was ok. The iced coffee however came with options: cream and flavour, i said no to both and was given a giant sized cup of perculated coffee with ice in it. I added about 10 creams and 20 sugars, it was like drinking a packet of no doze, and tasted like shit. While waiting for our connecting flight to Vegas, i crashed into a heap on the floor once the hit wore off.
Southwest flew us to Vegas, the emergency advice was vague and the hostesses had an average age of 50yrs, not so glamourous, but we didnt care, we were almost there !!
Big man holding sign in Vegas airport "Russell S" once i convinced him my first name was Simone and not Russell, we climbed into our stretch limousines. We all had pictures of hanging our heads out the roof of the car and waving our way into Vegas....no opening roof. Sad.
Finally our hotel. What a flight, we had left at 4.30am Wednesday, 13 hours plus about 6 in the airports, plus another 1 for connecting flights. To escape jet lag, we dumped our bags and headed straight out. PFDPQ #1 and #2 disappeared into the casino abyss only to be discovered an hour later unable to string two words together, they had discovered the "bet and drink for free/tip", if this was any indication of how our tirp would be, i didnt pack enough drugs.
Sometime before the sun came up we finally went to bed, i cant calculate how many hours we had been awake, it was somewhere in the 30 something, 8am we had the wake up call....the rule was whoever was the least pissed the night before was responsible for getting the team to breakfast (i havent had any other meal it seems) time to see Vegas (without the double nip bourbans which cost about $1 when you gamble, at least until lunch time).
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Fringe Benefits
Wow... i had the most amount of comments made on a pic i posted on Crack Book yesterday. Because i am 40 and dont care what people say i proudly put up a pic of my new 'do' which was clearly cut by Blind Freddie ( i am sure this is what her name tag said ), and gee i laughed hard at the response, some one words: "WOW" others more in depth "Oh Fuck, who does this to people" yeah it was pretty bad new 'do'.
I am about to embark on the biggest trip of my adult life, leaving for Vegas in the morning and i decide i need a fringe trim prior to departure....you know i will be featured in alot of photos and frocking up to go out, even attending a wedding, so i want to look good. So i drop in to Brookside shopping centre to fall into the first salon i see ( mistake #1), a girl with a bad hair cut and bad hair colour sits me down, as i scan over the other girls working there i note that they all have bad hair cuts and bad colours, in my head i said "this is not a good sign", my head told me to get up and walk out, but i had already comitted to the cut and couldnt get out of the seat ( mistake #2): hubby and i did this once before at a very expensive Italian restaurant, whose menu was also in Italian, we were comitted. So every 'hairdresser' here has bad hair/colour and my chosen one starts to cut mine "just a trim" and "give me a sweeping fringe, the last hair dresser i went to fucked it up so i need you to fix it"...."ok" miss bad hair says "great".
10 minutes later.....
"your fringe will sit much better when it dries" miss bad hair says "would you like me to dry it off for you"
"no thanks, all good, it will be fine" i say ( mistake # 3).
I didnt look in the mirror before i left (mistake #4), i checked it when i got home and freaked out !! Was she fucking blind....i would think (and i know some hairdressers) that after 4 years of college and cutting a million heads of hair, you could cut a sweeping fucking fringe.
Now my sister in law (aka Betty Boop) is a hairdresser, and while she was training...from day one, i let her cut and colour my hair, i was her guinea pig and proud of it, she never, not ever fucked up my hair that i would have to resort to pinning it back with fifty million bobbi pins. Betty Boop by the way is the ONLY hairdresser who can cut the perfect sweeping fringe...regrets: no it made for a funny night on crackbook, it will grow back, i dig bobbi pins and i am going to love the look on the bad hair chics faces when i dump this photo in their salon when i get back. Look forward to featuring in many holiday snaps with a bad fringe.
FYI i fixed it myself later that night....it may or may not be worse than the pic above....
I am about to embark on the biggest trip of my adult life, leaving for Vegas in the morning and i decide i need a fringe trim prior to departure....you know i will be featured in alot of photos and frocking up to go out, even attending a wedding, so i want to look good. So i drop in to Brookside shopping centre to fall into the first salon i see ( mistake #1), a girl with a bad hair cut and bad hair colour sits me down, as i scan over the other girls working there i note that they all have bad hair cuts and bad colours, in my head i said "this is not a good sign", my head told me to get up and walk out, but i had already comitted to the cut and couldnt get out of the seat ( mistake #2): hubby and i did this once before at a very expensive Italian restaurant, whose menu was also in Italian, we were comitted. So every 'hairdresser' here has bad hair/colour and my chosen one starts to cut mine "just a trim" and "give me a sweeping fringe, the last hair dresser i went to fucked it up so i need you to fix it"...."ok" miss bad hair says "great".
10 minutes later.....
"your fringe will sit much better when it dries" miss bad hair says "would you like me to dry it off for you"
"no thanks, all good, it will be fine" i say ( mistake # 3).
I didnt look in the mirror before i left (mistake #4), i checked it when i got home and freaked out !! Was she fucking blind....i would think (and i know some hairdressers) that after 4 years of college and cutting a million heads of hair, you could cut a sweeping fucking fringe.
Now my sister in law (aka Betty Boop) is a hairdresser, and while she was training...from day one, i let her cut and colour my hair, i was her guinea pig and proud of it, she never, not ever fucked up my hair that i would have to resort to pinning it back with fifty million bobbi pins. Betty Boop by the way is the ONLY hairdresser who can cut the perfect sweeping fringe...regrets: no it made for a funny night on crackbook, it will grow back, i dig bobbi pins and i am going to love the look on the bad hair chics faces when i dump this photo in their salon when i get back. Look forward to featuring in many holiday snaps with a bad fringe.
FYI i fixed it myself later that night....it may or may not be worse than the pic above....
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Pack a spare pair of undies
177 hours until departure.
I am fortunate to have so many caring friends in my life and from at least three of them they have reminded me to pack spare undies in my carry on. One so that i can feel brand new: post fem fresh, perfume and spritz, one more says just in case my bag gets lost and the other says its just the rules of travel. Seems like it must be an important tip, so i will go with it and pack a spare pair of undies (note to self: new ones, no holes that might impress a 20 something with abs who empties my bag at the airport after a drug detection dog chooses me) oh wait, thats in sufferers paradise.
I am actually so thankful to have friends that are concerned about my first time as a grown up travel experience, I guess they have seen the best and worst of me and believe i could do with the tips.
Just this week I stopped at the chemist to stock up on necessities. The pharmacist looked at me funny (weird, not ha ha) when i dumped my haul on the counter:
Sinutab (with pseudoephedrine)
Codral (without pseusdoephedrine: it is great for hangovers)
Tissues (snot during hangover)
Toothpaste and Brush (scrape the carpet from my teeth)
Barocca (hangover)
Vitamins (pre hangover)
Panamax (100 pack: no i wont take all 100, unless i lose my house on the craps table)
Hair Dye (i dont need a racing stripe)
Seems he thought i was going to change my appearance and sell the drugs i had created with the combo i had just purchased, i think i was photographed on CCTV on the way out.....
Back to my friend Miffy aka Kookie, who by the way has done more travel in the last couple of years than i can ever imagine doing, so i guess she is a pro and should market these packs to the general public, who have no clue what to pack. Some of her handy travel hints included:
Dont use the word BOMB in any vernacular.
Dont think about 911 while flying (it is only the 10 year anniversary after all) also reminding me that you cannot just open the exit door and jump in the midst of a panic attack, the cabin is pressurized (so barista boy says).
Dont sit on the exits as they limit your alcohol intake (despite the fact you cant open the doors)
Dont drink too much unless trying to sleep, if that is the case, go hard fast early and sleep.
Check
Now the pack that accompanied Kookies Travel Tips (and there were many more, i just wanted to touch on a few of my favourite) was like opening a treasure chest. It arrived via courier at work today, so i got to open it in front of all my work mates (might have some candle orders for you Miffy). The pack had a contents list, just in case i needed quick reference:
Peg (for your nose) people fart a lot on planes and you cannot hear them. OMG this has been troubling me all week, so i thought it hilarious it was on top of the list, even came with instructions to put one on my nose and fart, just to test it out.
Items for snot - tissues and vicks vapour drops
Items for front and back bums - fem fresh, wet toilet paper and hand wipes just in case you accidently touch your front or back bum or the filthy farting pigs on the plane.
Bach flower remedy (in case i feel the need to evacuate)
Hair bands, ear cleaners, hand and lip balm and band aids for post dancing blisters (in Vegas, not the plane).
Hangover cures: advil, Quickeeze (spelt quickies....not thinking of joining the mile high club (unless the 20 something with abs who is impressed by undies is on board...oooh did i say that out loud)
And a face washer which Miffy reminds me that if i was travelling business class i would have this handed to me, warm, after i finish my a la carte meal and real french champagne...i accept your apology.
Miffy even thought of my friends who are travelling with me and packed some spare pens, mine is clearly the flashy one (like business class), theirs is not so flash (economy).
Anyway
I feel blessed to have such special friends in my life, who know to pack items that are practical but will also help the morning after the re-creation of the Hangover...
637,405 seconds
I am fortunate to have so many caring friends in my life and from at least three of them they have reminded me to pack spare undies in my carry on. One so that i can feel brand new: post fem fresh, perfume and spritz, one more says just in case my bag gets lost and the other says its just the rules of travel. Seems like it must be an important tip, so i will go with it and pack a spare pair of undies (note to self: new ones, no holes that might impress a 20 something with abs who empties my bag at the airport after a drug detection dog chooses me) oh wait, thats in sufferers paradise.
I am actually so thankful to have friends that are concerned about my first time as a grown up travel experience, I guess they have seen the best and worst of me and believe i could do with the tips.
Just this week I stopped at the chemist to stock up on necessities. The pharmacist looked at me funny (weird, not ha ha) when i dumped my haul on the counter:
Sinutab (with pseudoephedrine)
Codral (without pseusdoephedrine: it is great for hangovers)
Tissues (snot during hangover)
Toothpaste and Brush (scrape the carpet from my teeth)
Barocca (hangover)
Vitamins (pre hangover)
Panamax (100 pack: no i wont take all 100, unless i lose my house on the craps table)
Hair Dye (i dont need a racing stripe)
Seems he thought i was going to change my appearance and sell the drugs i had created with the combo i had just purchased, i think i was photographed on CCTV on the way out.....
Back to my friend Miffy aka Kookie, who by the way has done more travel in the last couple of years than i can ever imagine doing, so i guess she is a pro and should market these packs to the general public, who have no clue what to pack. Some of her handy travel hints included:
Dont use the word BOMB in any vernacular.
Dont think about 911 while flying (it is only the 10 year anniversary after all) also reminding me that you cannot just open the exit door and jump in the midst of a panic attack, the cabin is pressurized (so barista boy says).
Dont sit on the exits as they limit your alcohol intake (despite the fact you cant open the doors)
Dont drink too much unless trying to sleep, if that is the case, go hard fast early and sleep.
Check
Now the pack that accompanied Kookies Travel Tips (and there were many more, i just wanted to touch on a few of my favourite) was like opening a treasure chest. It arrived via courier at work today, so i got to open it in front of all my work mates (might have some candle orders for you Miffy). The pack had a contents list, just in case i needed quick reference:
Peg (for your nose) people fart a lot on planes and you cannot hear them. OMG this has been troubling me all week, so i thought it hilarious it was on top of the list, even came with instructions to put one on my nose and fart, just to test it out.
Items for snot - tissues and vicks vapour drops
Items for front and back bums - fem fresh, wet toilet paper and hand wipes just in case you accidently touch your front or back bum or the filthy farting pigs on the plane.
Bach flower remedy (in case i feel the need to evacuate)
Hair bands, ear cleaners, hand and lip balm and band aids for post dancing blisters (in Vegas, not the plane).
Hangover cures: advil, Quickeeze (spelt quickies....not thinking of joining the mile high club (unless the 20 something with abs who is impressed by undies is on board...oooh did i say that out loud)
And a face washer which Miffy reminds me that if i was travelling business class i would have this handed to me, warm, after i finish my a la carte meal and real french champagne...i accept your apology.
Miffy even thought of my friends who are travelling with me and packed some spare pens, mine is clearly the flashy one (like business class), theirs is not so flash (economy).
Anyway
I feel blessed to have such special friends in my life, who know to pack items that are practical but will also help the morning after the re-creation of the Hangover...
637,405 seconds
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