Waxing Lyrical

Today I went for a bikini wax for the first time in approximately 2 years.

As an Eastern European woman skillfully plucked and tugged at my lady parts, I pondered what a strange sort of thing it is to have done. I mean, clearly the cave woman didn’t have access to warm wax – and I’m sure that the cavemen didn’t mind one bit.

But today, the general consensus is that bush is bad. I mean fair enough, no man wants to get a a few stray hairs in their teeth when pleasuring their woman, but why all the way? I’ve heard that it makes you more sensitive when doing the deed, but quiet frankly, that area is sensitive enough as it is.

Why the fascination of a perfectly bare hoo-ha? How is a pre-pubescent bald area sexier than a well maintained thatch of hair? Please enlighten me! Because this is pain I’m not entirely sure I can bear to go through again.

Day 3

Day 3 in London, and it was like mother nature knew that it was my final day of freedom before the gruelling job hunt.

A glimpse of sun and all the Londoners come out to play, with the pavements outside pubs overflowing with drinkers, the commons full of bare-chested men enjoying the sun, and everyone has a smile upon there face.

And it’s only the beginning, months of Summer fun times are stretched out before me, and I, for one, am looking forward to many a lazy Sunday drinking Pimms in the park.

But alas, tomorrow, I must turn a blind eye to all of the city’s charms, avoid the shops like the plague and keep myself glued to my laptop until I find a job.

Home Again

I am in love. And no, not with a man (although I am one rather smitten kitten at the moment, but that’s another story), but with this city.

Today I walked around the streets of London, just admiring how much the city has to offer and thinking about how excited I am to be here again in my new home.

My only predicament is that I am homeless and jobless. A situation which needs to be rectified soon because:

a) there are far too many pretty things to buy.. Spring / Summer 2011 clothes are making my mouth water
b) my suitcases are heavy and I want to unpack
c) there are so many fun things to do that cost money.

So as of Monday I shall turn a blind eye to the charms of summertime in Hyde Park and focus on my epic job / room hunt. Well done me.

Welcome to Brunei

As the song-like call to prayer rings out through the tiny transit lounge of Brunei Airport, I am weary, tired and uncomfortable after Part 1 of my journey to London.
For those who have not travelled with Royal Brunei Airways before, I thoroughly recommend their service, however, I would not fly again for the simple reason of this is possibly the worst airport I have ever encountered.
I’ve been to many airports in my time, and so far, Split Airport in Croatia has held the position of worst. But this one, I think, is the new winner.
When I went for my traditional transit loo break, I entered a smelly, soaking wet room. Why soaking wet? Well, the lady was cleaning it, by throwing buckets of water all over the toilets. As I was wearing skinny jeans I was unable to use the squatting facilities, and therefore waited in line for the one Western toilet.
Having washed my hands three times, I set off in search of something to eat. Alas, once again all I could find was One Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf with a sole overwhelmed barrista attempting to make coffee for what seemed like the entire passenger load of a Boeing 777, or an old school diner, where the entire menu was not available.
I made do with the convenience shop, and purchased a Starbucks Vanilla Frappacino (half of which was disposed due to it’s disgustingness) and a packet of Twisties. That’s right, Twisties. Similar packaging, same shape, ever so slightly less orange and a rather different taste, but still Australian Twisties. In hindsight I wish I had gone for Dr Joy’s Original Joy Juice (hee hee!)
But what baffles me the most, is that on a completely dry airline and airport, they are selling souvenir shot-glasses.
Stay Classy, Brunei. 

Airport

So here I sit, at Brisbane International airport, awaiting to board my plane.

Whilst I usually love airports, I must admit I’m not hugely impressed with Brisbane. For starters, the shopping is attrocious. Pure Merino? Why would I want wool? And I’m also rather frustrated that I just paid $10.05 for a 500ml bottle of water and a 24 pack of Panadol (dehydrated from all the tearful goodbyes this morning with my parents and dog). Also, the duty free shop reminds me of how horribly expensive Australia is. No shopping for me on this trip, in fact no shopping at all until I have found gainful employment.

My plane however looks completely respectable as I watch it awaiting my arrival.  We shall see if I feel the same after 23 hours.

See you on the other side xoxox