Desert Travails

Camels on the side of the road. The sad thing was their front legs were tied together by rope so they could barely move, and just sort of hobbled from tree to tree. But guess it stopped them from running in front of cars... Now that would be an unpleasant mess.

Starfish! Dont really see them on beaches in Oz.

Omani Fort - not much else to say about that really...

Chasing the Arabian sun

Sun, sea, souks, shawarma - thats been the way I've been spending the last few days in Oman. But the days of luxury are soon to come to an end - booked a budget hotel in Muttrah - a part of Muscat - the capital of Oman - in the Arabian Gulf - uh - the Middle East - Earth.
Free internet at this hotel, I'll be happy with free towels in the next.
The adventure continues..... wooooooo!

Feeling hot, not, what?

Here I am, in the Middle of the East, its warm but not scorching - mild, pleasant but I'd rather it be hotter. HOT HOT Heat burn me. The mental gears are finding it hard to shift but breakdown:
Flight: anyone flown Etihad? Anyone even heard of them? Service crap, seats small, inflight entertainment pretty good - I was in the last row with 3 crying babies around me and a fat woman spilling into my seat. I even let her have the shared middle armrest all to herself. Which I think was pretty generous of me. Hate the shared armrest hoggers. And what do I get in return, constant elbowing as she shifted in her seat and a pleasant aroma of feet. Mmm I love cattle class.

Jet lag: I shouldnt, but I have it. Sleep at 4.30am, wake from sounds of loud morning prayers at 5.30am, which if I wasnt so tired would've appreciated the exoticism of it, fall asleep but wake from sounds of constant construction work at 7am, sleep, phone rings, eventually wake at 1pm. Tired.

Best part: Shoemart - I love this shop. Buy great bag and two pairs of shoes.

Memories are made of this: Watching my mum watching outrageously plotted Indian soaps. Like the one about the two women but one is a reincarnation of a man's dead wife, but now she's evil and hell bent on winning her husband back, except she's in the body of a teenager. whatta whatta?

See the Sydney riots on CNN and feel sad about it. It's all bubbling up to the surface now...

Aussie blogs

So Australia's best blogs were announced recently - and the winner is some travelling chick (who's a bit boring in my opinion *yawn*). Where were my friends? Anyway, this one is quite cute.

I miss Oz. I was recently interviewed on some late night BBC radio show (you know cos I'm just so showbiz - and not just another loser they needed to fill in airtime at like midnight) and they asked what my favourite city was (since I've lived in a few - I said I was showbiz didn't I?) and I said Sydney. Sydney, Sydney, Sydney by far! Although, having met quite a few Aussies in London, I have to say that Sydney-siders end up bad-mouthing their city far more than the other Aussies (I mean hello Adelaide(ians - is it?) you've really got nothing to boast about). Apparently Sydney's like a fashion model, all pretty on the outside but shallow on the inside. Well, its kind of true... But its still a lovely place to live. I mean certainly you won't get to watch Kevin Spacey performing in Richard the II (which was great btw), but you get the beach! The weather! No contest in my opinion.

Global changing

I like how American right-wing nutters try to justify the various wrongs they've committed in this world. It's not global warming apparently, it's uh, global "changing". This guy actually points to the fact that since certain parts of the US have been experiencing freezing temperatures means that the world isn't becoming a warmer place. Such logic! I love it. I can just picture one little hamster slowly crawling on a rusty wheel that is squeakingly turning in his miniscule brain. Turn little hamster, turn! We need you to give me stuff to ironically laugh at. Ha. Ha.

Becoming a grown up

I'm terrified by the fact that most of my friends are becoming grown-ups. What's going on? It's scary! Does that mean I have to become one too?

Expiration date conspiracy

I just ate some yoghurt that was 10 days out of date - and it tasted just fine. And its not the first time I've eaten something the label claimed was "expired". Which makes me wonder, are expiration dates just a conspiracy by food manufacturers to keep us buying new products and keep throwing out old ones even though they are perfectly usable. This way they keep churning the growing food economy - I'm assuming its growing since you know, we all eat and there's a growing world population and quite a few of us are far too fat.

I know the germaphobes of you out there are practically retching right now. Yes you know who you are ;).

Anyway here are my tips for food products the manufacturer claims are "expired":

If its smelly - it'll hurt your belly
If its green - it probably aint clean
If its mouldy - it's a bit too old-y
If its fuzzy - it'll give you a buzz-y (but make sure you dial emergency just in case)

In case you cant tell by my witty tralala writing style (wipe away those tears of laughter if you need to), this is all a bit tongue-in-cheek. Rest assured if you ever find yourself eating at my place, I promise not to serve you any expired food - well, food that I deem has expired anyway (which may or may not correlate with the date on the box)... I'm kidding of course.. Really

Sloth ridden

I'm so completely lazy right now its not funny. Can barely move myself from the bed, to the TV to the computer. I like this quote, Being a writer is 3% inspiration, and 97% trying not to get distracted by the internet. So true.

I also like this Homer Simpson quote - "I'm not lying. I'm writing fiction with my mouth."

So Milan was great. Best thing - free food when you order a drink at cocktail hour in all bars. Don't you love it - cocktail hour! Especially since the "hour" actually runs from like 6-9pm. 2 out of 3 nights we didnt eat dinner because we were too full from these bar snacks. Of course no self-respecting Milanese would be caught dead stuffing their faces with bar snacks, but we were neither self-respecting or Milanese. Plus two girls always get great treatment from Italian bar men - one of them even sliced up a passionfruit and gave it to us with little silver spoons inside - aww sweeet.. if not a little curious.

Big tip - always drink at the bar. Our cappuccino cost 1.10euros standing at the bar and a whoppping 4.70euros sitting down! Whoa what a mark up! No forget that - ridiculous mark-up #2 - 8.50 euros for half a pint of beer sitting down!!! Thats one expensive city.

Best thing #2 - upgrade at hotel room. We got a business class room in this 4 star hotel - which had twin black marble sinks - loving that! Wish I could get one at home. Oh to have the luxury of your own sink. Then there were twin showers facing each other. Plus a bath with another shower. 3 showers? Thats just crazy talk.

The duomo was amazing - although love the whole Italian disregard for health and safety. There we were up on the marble roof, which was icy and wet with nothing but a little railing stopping us from tumbling downwards to a messy if not rather posh death.

So barely been back a couple of days and leaving for Dubai day after tomorrow. Dont know why I bother unpacking sometimes. Looking forward to some glorious warmth and sunshine.. aaah.

Why the world conspires to make me angry

Yesterday started off as such a pleasant ol' day. I had lunch with my friend and her crying baby - *the cute little darling* - and we took him to see santa clause, a frankly scary old man with a polish-accent, a really bad wig and an ill-fitting beard who sat inside a giant christmas tree waiting for little children to visit him.... Then later in the evening I went late-night shopping and found the perfect bag, which to my great pleasure and surprise was discounted by 20%. And later on as I sat drinking coffee with my gorgeous new purchase sitting quietly next to me, I thought what an angelic perfect baby I have, all shiny and new and not making a fuss. Plus it had the added benefit of matching my outfit. And then I considered that thought and realised only people without kids can look upon new bags as babies. But is that really so wrong?

And then I had a nice meal with M, and the evening was going so well until it came time to leave. Four fat middle-aged suits (lets call them Pigs) sat at the end of the row of tables, having arrived at 11pm to "'ave a curry 'an a beer". The clientele till that point had been very nice and polite. But these guys pushed their chairs far back towards the wall and placed all their coats, bags etc in the way, thereby blocking the exit. As I got up to leave I had to walk past them, so I asked quite politely "Excuse me, can I get through?" And they sat for a while and considered that statement, and then finally moved their fat arses. One of them said something but I ignored it. As I was putting on my coat he kept saying the same thing, and its only on the fourth time he said it that I realised he was saying "Say please!" And not in a funny jovial manner, but in a demanding arrogant way. So I looked at him and his companions and said in a sardonic manner, "Oh excuse me! Thank you! Please. (And like George in Seinfeld when he was offered the ketchup from the couple sitting behind him in the cafe) Very gracious.." Then I went to the bathroom. But the more I thought about it, the angrier I got. Why should they demand I say please? Who the hell were they? The frigging polite society out on a social excursion? So I came back and as I was leaving I said to M, "There's a lot of racist testosterone in the air tonight..." But they didnt hear that. So I said a bit louder as we walked past them while making eye-contact with one of the pigs, "So rude, so f*king rude!" They heard that and they all turned around and watched us leave.

When you think about it, it's such a small thing. But it really kind of ruined the night. The great meal, the great purchase, all spoilt by four fat pigs. And all I could think of was I hope they contract e-coli, or have the worst horrendous curry cramps that have them bed-ridden for weeks, or they accidentally fall down the stairs and stab themselves in the eye. I wish I could've grabbed the glass of water sitting next to the sayplease pig and splashed it in his face and said please as I did it. Arrrrggggh. Londoners can be real shits sometimes. Four years in this city has definitely contributed to making me angry.

What annoys me most, is that these fat middle-aged suits feel that they have some inherent right to the world. That being at the top of the food chain, they can demand what they want of those they deem below them in the pecking order. They are the ones in their pinstriped suits carrying their pointy golf umbrellas sideways in crowded tubes, they are the ones who work in the square-mile of the City earning megabucks and blaming the breakdown of society on single mothers as they sip their £5 cappuccinos, they are the ones who have made this world the f*cked up place it currently is - I mean lets just look at our political "leaders" shall we. What great icons of admiration they be.

OK, so anyway, I've vented. I'm off on a girls weekend to Milan, so any Italian suits better watch out. Which considering how everyone dresses up in Italy means this weekend could be a whole lotta trouble! Which is why I've already started by brushing up on my Italian - Cuolo di schimia and Vaffanculo should come in handy.

Hey, dude!

I've noticed I've started saying 'dude' a lot recently. I dont know why. It's annoying, and fairly obnoxious, but its out there. Duuude. I mean what do I think I am, some Californian surfer stuck in the 80's? Honestly.

How about man - thats a bit outdated now, right? Hey, man! What's up, man? You know, man, you really shouldn't be wearing cords anymore. They are so 1990's. And I've never been able to use mate. Hey, mate, can you pass us that blade so I can cut through the wires of this car alarm? So random. Mate, goin' down to the pub? No one's ever said that to me. I'm more likely to hear, lets get some cocktails at that new bar in Soho. It's more a bloke thing, I think, mate. Mate, you want to grab some jellied eels?

I noticed on Lost that the fat guy says dude alot. After a while all that dude-saying becomes really irritating. "It's like dude, don't go down there, the polar bear will come out and like totally like get you! Dude!" Blah.

Maybe I'll start saying Rad, and Gnarly, and Right on! Or yo. Or hommie. Or homeboy. Or maybe even brotha, or sistah - how obnoxious would that be. My sistah, pass the doochie on the left hand side. Peace out!