Found my blog and it WELL cheered me up. Was actually wondering if the post from eons ago in which I described the breakdown of my engagement via MS paint pictures was still here, then remembered I deleted it after recieving a midly offended phone call from my ex. ah, life
Anyhow, having looked back at 'Misfortunes, the international years' (which i intend to continue, as there are many more to be added from various locations) I realised I have regretably not left the UK in a LONG time and so it is only fitting that my returning story of misfortune should have a home setting.
But, actuaally, despite all the epically bad times in the last 12 months or so, I am so very fortunate.
'To be nobody but yourself in a world that's doing its best to make you somebody else, is to fight the hardest battle you are ever going to fight. Never stop fighting.' EE Cummings.
I'm fed up with people thinking I should change. Be quieter. More refined. Go out and party more. Go out and party less. Be thinner. More confident. Less confident. Stop changing my hair colour. Be more ambitious. Stop being Ambitious, be content with now.
I've spent years trying to accept myself, who are you to say I should change?
I love the people in my life who accept me for who I am. Insecure, mildly flamboyant dresser, hair and accent chameleon, excitable with a good measure of decorum.
1. I talk to animals. With farm animals I occasionaly try to warn them of their impending doom, but perhaps I should let ignorance be bliss.
2. I hate wearing shoes.And not just after 2am and 2many glasses of rose Trips 2 sainsburys, in the office.....beee free my feet.
3. I'll always choose to sit on the floor over a chair. Closer to the rats.
4. I think 'Who are you?' is an acceptable way to greet people
5. I don't care if people don't like the way I look, as long as I do:
I liked my peroxide blonde that looked about as natural as a manatee on the high street.
And I don't mind being a dark shade of orange. I feel exotic.
...The wide selection of buskers: bollywood-style guitar player, guy doing chris brown impersonations, guy playing the drums on trash, middle eastern trumpet quartet, and the man with the singing dog. something for everyone.
Apparently Leeds is the only place in UK where you do not need a liscense to busk. Shrug.
Oh and Madge from neighbours, Chris Moyles and The Kasier Chiefs can be spotted (I served a Kaiser Chief at work once. Dunno which one)
1. I was supporting Ghana from the start, and I am wise. Follow in my ways.
2. They are the only country with a marked link to the UK left in the tournament: Former colony, LOVE the Queen. One might argue the British weren't always incredibly nice to the country in colonial times, so It'd be a nice peace offering, if a paltry one.
3. It would really suck if we lost our world cup spirit in wake of the Ger-turmoil. I'm not gonna lie, it bought a massive lump to my throat when I saw some Japanese guys crying at the end of the match, and kissing their England shirts goodbye (no, I dont get it either).
4. Brits can learn a lot from their shameless self confidence. To quote Asamoah Gyan: "I asked God to make me the greatest striker in the world, and he did".
5. Celebration at a Ghanaian foot ball game is awesome. Celebration after a Ghana game is awesome. To quote Marcel Desailly (ITV Commentator from Ghana)
"I can imagine now, there will be dancing, beer, and singing, and there will be a goat just there *points* "
6.They are in the quarter finals, i.e still in the contest.
7. THEY KNOW THEIR NATIONAL ANTHEM!
8. Entertainment factor: Scraps, drama dives, praying on the pitch, yellow cards agogo, more gestures than P-diddy at a night club doing sign language.
seriously....wouldn't you rather look like this...
than like this?
(incidentally my fave pic that I have taken so far this summer)
.....so everything must be going swimmingly on average. However:
1)It's 3:28, and I'm sat up waiting for the police to come round on account of an attempted burglary at my dear abode about 15 minutes ago. The scary thing is I was due to move out tonight, and as my bedroom window was the port of call for their attempted entry, they might have just skulked in unnoticed.
2)Yesterday, after frolicking in the park and playing basketball, I got on the bus. Whenever I get on a bus, It is guaranteed that the drunk,disheveled, mentally unstable bloke will accost me. Today, It went something like this:
*Bloke sits next to me*
"F****in hell, your nails are disgusting!! I CLEAN mine."
I would like to point out that my nails are not THAT dirty, and it must have taken some fairly close inspection for him to observe the feint, bohemian traces of dirt under my fingernails, which were only there due to park-frolicking and basketball twirling.
Often in the process of working a 6 day week, I manage to find the time to daydream. Today, I found myself recounting previous travel mishaps, and wondering why I didn’t publicize them more. I know, everyone has funny, ‘This one time, in Africaaaaa, I like, drank water and it was SO not purified ’ stories.
Mine are more just a mockery of my general misfortune.
Chapter one: Vivé Brasil
I’ve always had a problem of needing to pee whilst on public transport. One time, in another very hot country, I almost didn’t go on a trip of a lifetime because I was so scared I’d pee myself on the 14 hour coach ride. Luckily there was one bathroom break on this occasion, and was sweating so much there was no need to pass water.
Ahem.
On the incident in question, I was traveling from Trancosco (a), to Caraíva (b), a coach trip of around 6 hours. Which, in somewhere the size of Brazil, is pretty much the equivalent of popping over the road to buy some toilet roll.
Not hard to not need the toilet on a journey of such relatively small proportions, or so one might think.We nearly missed the bus, (due to my obsession with ‘cheesebread’ and just HAVING-TO-GET-SOME-FOR-THE-JOURNEY), but after running along a dust track and some Portugues expletives (from the driver, not us) we boarded.
The problem with Cheesebread (bao de Quejo) is that
a) its addictive, probably on account of the salt
b) due to the salt content it cannot be consumed without liquid.Seriously, that stuff is powerful.
After 3 weeks in Amazon land, I had become a bit cocky and convinced myself my bladder had the super-powers of your average giraffe.
So alongside my cheesbread for the bus, I had purchased its very best liquid- friend, 2 cans of Cola tZero (no that’s not a mistype, portugues pronouncing).
My friend Josie fell asleep, and people came on and off the bus, and we went though what I can only assume was rainforest with INSANE hairpin bends… as the 'crow flies' the journey should have taken 25 mins.
Major crisis. After 2 hours, and 2 cans of Cola tZero, I unsurprisingly need the toilet. I try to compose myself, with thoughts such as
‘I am a strong, confident woman. My bladder does not control me.’
To no avail.
I considered asking the bus driver to stop so I could pee, but having upset him earlier I was afraid he would either drive off and leave me, or watch and laugh.
Time passed.
I had no strength left.
It had to be done.
The window was open….but there was no way I could bend that way/not be seen, plus, WHO does that?!
My friend was still asleep and the people behind/in front were occupied/asleep, with the exception of one guy who was definitely AAE (alive, alert, enthusiastic). Then, in an epic must-be-divine intervention, his stop came up, and he departed.
The plan? The plastic carrier bag that I had bought my cheesebread and Cola tZero in. Fortunately rural Brazil doesn’t seem to have cottoned on to the ‘putting holes in carrier bags so small children don’t suffocate’ extravaganza
So, without leaving my seat, waking my friend, drawing anyone’s attention, or, ahem, ‘spillage’, I did it..
I’m sorry Brazil. I love you and your people and your crazy long bus journeys sem banheiro.
