29 January 2008

I may have a concussion.

Went to St Paul's Cathedral the other day, and whilst walking up the million and twenty five thousand stairs in a very small and winding passage way, i managed to smack my head at least four times, quite hard, on the low roof and pipes. It was fun... i was puffing like a mother fucker, claustrophobic with no way out, my hair was in my face, i was hot as hell and i kept smashing my numb-skull.

Anyhoo... so yesterday i, like any Aussie in London worth their salt, was at the Church and later the Walkie at She-Bu. You see, i always wanted to be one of those small girls that men would pick up and throw over their shoulder. But now i'm not so sure.

There was a man... he must have been the size of the Incredible Hulk, cause god knows, i'm not exactly small... and for some reason, he was jumping, and he wanted me to jump.

I didn't want to jump, but he really seemed to want me to jump. So he picked me up and started jumping up and down, while i squealed and squealed to 'put me dooooowwwwnnnnnn! *giggle*' ...that's the way it's done, right?

After he'd finished with me, i enquired about his poor back and if perhaps he'd strained it under my (considerable) heft. He then proceed to show us all how very strong he was by picking me up properly this time... and lucky me! He managed to pick me up right under a low hanging beam in the roof.

With an all mighty THUD i was out cold and slumped arse up in the air, over his shoulder. AWESOME. My mate sees me being carried away by the Incredible Hulk and stumbles rushes over (i assume) and as i come to with a wobble and a giggle, there they are... no interest in me what-so-ever, and about to start a fight!

So two things... firstly, it's lucky i've got no brain, cause if i did it'd be fucked anyway after this week. And secondly, i'm glad i'm not small... cause when you think about it; it'd be fucked to be small, cause then i wouldn't have been able to see the dirty stripper at the Church... and van dam, was she dirty.

24 January 2008

Dear Mars,

I'm fine. I've been traveling since Christmas and just got back to New York last week. Blane and I took a road trip though Texas and Louisiana. I liked it but I would HATE to live there.

One incident that sums my feelings up:

While stopping at a petrol station in Waco, Texas I decided to buy a small beer (you can buy beer EVERYWHERE in Texas; at the milk bar, at the supermarket, at the petrol station). I took my little Bud Light to the counter to pay. The 40-year-old (inbred) woman asked me for ID. This is a constant annoyance in everywhere-except-New-York, they ALWAYS ask. So I showed the girl my driver's license. She said, 'I can't accept that.' Fine, so I showed her my passport. The woman suddenly looked REALLY confused. She opened up the passport to a middle page and looked at ME like I was the idiot.
'This isn't ID. I can't accept this!' She said.
'That's about the most official form of identification you can get!' I said.
'I don't know... I don't know this.' She said.
I was incredulous. 'That's ID!' I said, 'That's a total overkill of ID!'
'We only accept Texas drivers licenses or Texas State ID.'
'So, are you trying to tell me you don't sell alcohol to anyone who is not from Texas?'
She repeated, 'We only accept Texas drivers licenses or Texas State ID. I don't know anything about passports.'
'Well, maybe you can ask someone.'
So the woman called over to another girl, 'Hey, Ilene, do we take passports as ID?'
This other girl looked thoughtful, 'Well, you could... But.. it's on your own head. I know I wouldn't risk it...'
Lucky for me the manager wandered past at this stage. The women asked the manager and he grunted an affirmative. Jesus! The woman then handed the passport back to me and asked me how 'to use it'. I showed her the ID page, she checked it very careful... and then voilá, sold me my beer.

What hicks! A similar incident also happened to me at a supermarket in Austin. However, this time the girl refused to even look at my passport. Then, this big guy behind us in the queue was all annoyed and said really menacingly, 'The lady told you what she wanted... so if you can't give her what she wants then MOVE along.' We moved along.

And that's all I've got for you for now.

Love Dot

PS - Snap out of it! Get a job! Love London! Do what that guy, who was addicted to heroin, says and 'Choose life!'
Oh England, how did you get the sausage roll so wrong?!

Oh Marsy, why did you have to burn it?!

20 January 2008

Mars: on London (10 days in...)

7Up... omg, 7Up!
The people i'm staying with
The shopping baskets at Sainsbury's that you pull along like a suitcase on wheels
The heaters against the walls in every single room (even the bathroom!)
The fact that i haven't had to wait longer than 5 minutes for a tube yet (that is; if it's actually coming, of course)
Galaxy chocolate
East Enders
If there's not a pub on every corner, there's at least an Offy

The 'water'... BLUGH, tastes like mud
Buses and the stinky people on them
Canceled trains
The HEAT on the trains especially when you've got your coat, scarf etc. on
Rain and/or drizzle
I'm staying in the East, which is a bit like living out in Broady...
Signs which say '"St Jame's Park" or "St James's Park"
Barsts who don't give me jobs that i want

The jury's still out on...
Prawn crackers are white, not pink (yet no less addictive)
My air-bed
Big Brother UK
Original Mel

16 January 2008

Mars: on meeting one's nemesis.


11 January 2008

Mars: on feelings of excitement, apprehesion and change.

I haven't really mentioned much about this trip to England on the blog, though truth is, it's been in the pipes for quite some time. Since i came back from Thailand in June, in fact. I guess at that time, i'd just been hanging out with an English friend for over a month, who was at the end of a year long round the world type expedition. She was fairly keen to get home at this point, and couldn't sing the praises of England highly enough. So this is how the seed was first planted for me...

I had been really unhappy at work for the previous 4 or 5 months, had several friends either move away or get married and i just wanted a change in my life.

Or did i?

I met this interesting woman a couple of months ago, who posed the question; Do you really want a change, or are you just making a change for the sake of something to do? And i've spoken about this question with a couple of people, who have mostly been of the opinon that it doesn't really matter why, the point is to just do it...

But i kinda think it does. I'm fairly certain that i wasn't genuine in my need for 'a change' as such, and this whole move has been more about me needing something to do, to make it seem as though i'm actually doing something in life. Because let's face it, i really haven't been doing anything much for quite some time now.

Which brings me to my feelings now that i'm here. And i realise i've not even been away from home a week yet, but i still think what i'm feeling at this point is relevant. I guess the main problem i'm having is that i'm not in the least bit excited to be here. At all. And this doesn't seem quite right.

So i bring myself back to the inital question of the reason for this move, and i fear that my reasons haven't been exactly true to myself. And i'm left wondering, who the fuck am i trying to kid, anyway?

09 January 2008

Right... this is just a quick post, as i seem to have some wireless coverage and i'm taking advantage of it seeing as yesterday there was nada... In hong kong at the moment... it seems okay.

Had a few incidents on the path to my arrival here... All week i've been fairly laid back and non-plussed about the whole affair, though it was kinda draining moving house in 40 degree heat on my own. Anyway, i finally got myself happening and ready to leave on monday evening for my midnight flight...

I had to drop the car i've been using (since i sold mine) back with its owner in freakin' Bundoora on the way, so i go to get in, but can't find the car keys... Dither.

Realise that the car keys must still be in my handbag, which is now locked inside my suitcase with one of those combination lock things (my mother is terrified of me getting 'schappelled')... which incidentally is now locked inside the boot of the car.


Find the spare key without too many issues... PROBLEM SOLVED. Kinda.

Try to get into the suitcase though... and the combination isn't working. Mum tried... brother tried... Mars thought they were complete morons, before trying herself and HOLY FUCK wouldn't you fucking know it... it seriously doesn't work. I dunno how i fucked it up, but i did. Suitcase appears irreversibly locked. We are now running a bit late... so the decision is made (after much yelling and hissy fitting in the driveway) that we should proceed, and smash it off when we get to the person's place we were returning the car to.

Get there... lock is smashed off with bolt cutters. PROBLEM SOLVED. Kinda.

So we're now running even later... shit traffic and annoying incidents making me late. Have to zoom past Marge's place on the way to the airport, say good bye to kids and i'm on my way.


For the first time in my history as a traveler, i've opted to take a suitcase on this trip (and let me just tell you... i do feel a bit of a fraud)... anyway, i acquired this suitcase, and it's pretty big, right. So what does one do with a big bag? Well, they fill it, obviously...

And fill it i did. I got to the counter to check my bag in, and the motherfucker weighed in at a hefty 35kg! I was 10kgs over weight and the dude at the desk was not budging. So he goes off for a while and comes back with a gigantic plastic bag for me to chuck 10kg of (my beloved!) stuff into... So i do this, getting crankier and crankier at all the arseholes standing around gawking at me in my hour of need!

So i get the beast down to 25kg, and i'm away. Teary goodbyes all round (out of interest; how old do you have to be before saying goodbye to your mum stops being so. damn. hard.?)

Arrive in Hong Kong 8 or so hours later... have a day of wandering and sooking and a night of sleeping on a damn hard bed, cursing the karaoke i would normally have been embracing, which was happening next door and there you have it. The present!

03 January 2008

I'm feeling a little bit nostalgic tonight as i settle in for my last night at D&M HQ after two and a half years. I've quite liked living here in this (so called) 'cesspit' and living with Dot while she was home.

I'm about 87% keen to move to England on Monday. I'm 10% can't be fucked... and 3% second guessing myself, questioning whether this is what i really want, or am i just going for something to do. I guess it remains to be seen.

So Dot, Cheltenham... i thank you, and goodnight!

My friend, Aphrodite (who happens to be Kiki's girlfriend) came over tonight. She was banging on about this band that he wanted her to get to know cause they're going to see them or something. Anyway, for ages, i thought they were called Babe Ruth. Swears, that's exactly what it sounded like when she said it.

Anyway, she comes over and i put it in the computer to listen.

'Would you like to load this CD into your ITunes Music Library?' pops up. Sure, i think... why not.

So the damn thing starts loading, my computer decides to do it's melt-down thing, causing me to scream, swear and threaten to chuck the fucking cunting thing out the fucking cunting window ETC. We get talking, and she has like 3 or 4 other CD's that i really want to copy and listen to.

Babe Ruth is taking ages to load, and she gets a call from her sister and she's gotta go...

SO... i missed out on all the good shit, and now have this BERUIT shit loaded onto my computer.