Cheers to the Cooperative Waistline!

Too fat for the world!

I have done nothing since I have been back home besides lay in bed, watch tv and eat. This is clearly not a recipe for hotness. After another all-day binge fest of all my favourite Trini treats, I decided to see what kinda damage I was looking at it in terms of my waistline. Seeing that I am job hunting and may be called upon on short notice to put on  a suit and heels, I decided last night to ensure that I did not need to go shopping for said outfit. Nervous, I opened the door to my work accoutrements and selected a pair of pants that I know could make or break my plans for the weekend - Cold Stone Creamery, KFC, Hot Shoppe, cocktails. Nervous, I slipped one leg in, then another and then waited for the pull and tug motions around the hips.

But voila, the pants fit. Perfectly. Well, they could be looser but I am not going to complain. I have been really remiss with the healthy eating in the past few weeks. Cocktails like water, great dinners. Ridiculous. But the pants fit. Cold Stone, here I come! lol. I promise to work out next week.

I have just been in a bit of a funk though. Not a full-on funk. It's hard to be funky when you have not seen your family in months and there is sunshine. But there are so many negative feelings around certain events that have left a really sour taste in my mouth and I just don't have the energy to deal with them. Maybe next week.

Cheers to the freakin' weekend though. Gonna slide into some Caribbean friendly outfit, some platforms (yes, heels are back!!!) and turn it around with another round! Happy Saturday, guys!

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Home is Allegedly Where The Heart Is

Tired airline passenger

So all I could think about yesterday as I sat on BA 2159 was my bed, with my pillows and my stuffed dog, Muffy. I was totally exhausted and even with the cat naps on the flight, I got home just wanting to take a long, hot shower and sleep. So why am I awake at 4.05am??

So yes, I am back in Trinidad. The flight was not uneventful. From start to finish, there were the moments which make my life such a comedy treat.

1. The taxi ride from home to Gatwick. My cousin uses the guy all the time and trusts him. Turning up late did not inspire confidence, but he was wearing a full suit, so I forgave the slight time casualty. Yes. A suit. To drive a taxi. I was not sure whether to be impressed or amused. In any event, I was also warned that he is a devout Christian and before we could turn the corner, he asks, "Do you love God?" I do love God, friend, but I did not want to talk about it. The sermon was short thankfully but in hindsight, I needed it. To face the day. And the traffic. I sat stewing in angry juices for a while as we sat in London traffic, but somehow by God's grace and by some rather un-Christian driving, I got to Gatwick International safe and sound and without missing my flight.

2. The seat. So I have a habit of using online check-in to get myself a comfortable seat and in my opinion, with my budget, comfortable does not mean first class or whatever fancy name they call the posh sleeper seats. Comfortable means...the bulkhead seat.

The bulkhead seats

I have not had any bad experiences in the past. I crave legroom and also the convenience of either not having to get up to let my seatmate with an overactive bladder jam their backside in my face as they try to get out, or me jamming my backside in theirs. Also, when you're tired and want to sleep, you don't need people waking you up so they could go get their pee on. The bulkhead seat is my answer to convenience. I will open the exit door, no problem. I do not even mind sitting near the washroom - once I can stretch my legs and not be bothered by silly people.

The thing about the bulkhead seat is that they are right next to the seats typically reserved for passengers travelling with small children. Again, never a problem in the past but these 2 babies yesterday, while very good babies, hardly crying, very cute and happy, seemed to have some serious intestinal issues. lol. I mean, how much can a baby shit? Apparently, a lot! After a while, the cute chubby cheeks and goo goo gah gah sounds were not enough to save them from getting a face.

3. The delay. Add a delay to the rank smell of baby poo, and you get an irritable traveller. While I appreciate the airline's deep regard for my safety and I am glad the plane did not have to crash land anywhere, sitting in St Lucia for 2 hours when all I wanted was to get to my house, after already sitting on a plane for 7 or so hours, was not fun.

Blame it on the Henny

4. Immigration and Customs. The fault did not lie with the officers themselves but with the passengers. Why dear Lord, can't people fill out the forms on the plane? Credit to the immigration officer who told the lady to step aside so he could process my form and send me on my way, as she filled out the landing card. But why, lady, do you have to be argumentative and keep me back?  I don't understand it. Why could you not move like a nice old lady and let other people get out of there while you filled out your landing card? It's not hard!

Then the special lady in the Customs line. The customs declaration clearly states that one is allowed 2 bottles of alcohol and anything above that, you have to declare. It's not hard. Hiding 9 bottles of alcohol in between your panties and sweatpants is not going to change that. This, in addition, to the 2 bottles picked up in Duty Free. What? Is a bar yuh running?? Of course, when the suitcases containing the undeclared goods go through the scanner, the form is handed over to the Customs officer where she sees that the passenger has dishonestly ticked "nothing to declare" next to the spirits box, I sucked my teeth, rolled my eyes, and knew I would have at least another 5 minutes of waiting. I already looked like death warmed over, but really??

And after all this, getting home, taking that shower and crashing like a stone out of absolute exhaustion, my eyes were open at 4am? What's the deal here?

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Leaving on a Jet Plane - The Sequel

It's been a rather hectic couple of weeks. I have been here, there and everywhere, both physically and emotionally. I spent a few lovely days out of London, some lovely afternoons in and about London, and embarked on the painful process of packing (I am surely the Imelda Marcos of clothes) and saying goodbye. Many curse words were uttered (packing) and many tears were shed.

But the adventure carries on. See you on the other side of the Atlantic.

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Flirting 1.0 in a 2.0 world

I have on occasion on this blog described the Trini courting methods - maybe not in great detail but I have, like I did here. In case you needed a reminder, one such encounter went like this -

Scene: Trininista walking down the streets of Port of Spain, during her lunch break, looking cute as always, albeit a little aggravated cause the Third World pavements are destroying my Manhattan bought shoes, and threatening to give me a sprained ankle. A man is walking in the opposite direction, towards the 'nista. He is leering in that Trini way. Smiling. His lips curve as he prepares to speak, no doubt about to utter some lame line about my figure or my complexion. I roll my eyes behind my sunglasses and ready my lips, tongue and teeth to release the loud sucking sound Trinis call a "steups".

Man: Baby, you look good. I wanna ride you like Seabiscuit.

Steups averted. It was so funny I made sure I was out of his sight before I laughed aloud. It is a line that I have placed as my #1 pickup line ever!

Fast-forward to the technology age. Now I have weird men offering to chat me up on Facebook, as I have complained on countless occasions on my wall, and to friends whose "thirsty" friends spot my cuteness on a comment or a "like" and feel it is a free-for-all on the friend requests. Now I also have random men stalking me even on Twitter. How do you stalk someone on Twitter? I am not sure but it must take a special (idle) type of person. In any event, a few weeks ago, on my other handle - my professional handle - a young man sent me a DM, not just chatting me up, but extending the cyber assault by offering his BBM pin.

BBM fever

Two problems with this, Mr Twitterati-Flex:

1. I love the sound of the human voice. I mean, what is it now with people and all these gadgets and texting and BBMing and malarkey? Does anyone even know how to make a phone call anymore? Call me old fashioned, but I love a good old phone call. A few months ago, a guy, who should have known better cause he knew me well enough by then, tried to plan a date with me via text and email. He did not hear from me and never once thought, maybe I should call. Nope. He was depending solely on this email which I could not, or would not access cause I was out. Sorry but I only access emails on my laptop. I spend enough time on this as it is. I am not going to sit online via my phone as well. So he waited and waited, getting no answer from me, and then sent me a text. "What's happening later? I sent an email". A phone call would have solved all his dating problems. I thought maybe this was an English thing but I know it is becoming a global communication phenomenon. It irks me.

As for Mr BBM, I mean, if he had asked me for my Skype, he may have had a chance (.0000001 of a chance), but my BBM pin? Really? Which brings me to point #2.

2. I do not currently own a Blackberry or any type of smartphone. I know this makes me a social and technological pariah, but I don't want to be one of those hamsters on the platform, with eyes glued to the screens of a phone. While I can access all things internet on my piece of crap Samsung, I don't. Trinis love the art of maccoing aka minding other people's business. Being in London, the city of the seemingly indifferent, has not changed that. I always on the lookout for something interesting from homosapiens. That's the fun part of life.

I feel like all these gadgets, while great on many levels, also retard socialisation and I must admit, I resent it.

Needless to say, the young man never got a response. I do not respond to Facebook, Twitter or BBM flirting. Fun fact for today. I cannot believe I am saying this, but I much prefer random men in the street and their Seabiscuit analogies. At least it is in 3D and live surround sound.

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Bedroom Do's and Don'ts

A hamster is a fancy rat, in case you did not know

It's been a crap day but not going to talk about that. I will tell you what made me laugh out loud at the end of my crap day while talking to my girl. When you think your job is crazy, there is always someone else with a weirder experience.

And as a single woman, still exploring the minefield that is dating, I have to encourage other single people to really not take anything for granted when looking for a love match. So, when next you think your love life and/or your sex life is dull and could use some passion, DO ask some serious questions about your date's sexual habits and decide whether they are relevant to your tastes.

Now while I am all about freedom of choice, in and out of the bedroom, there are certain limits I think. Talking to my friend, I was shocked to learn that some people are using animals as part of their bedroom trysts. Very few things shock me, but I am regularly disgusted by the habits of mankind. So what would you tell a guy who comes into your emergency room with a hamster up his ass? What do you say when after you ask the all important question - how did the hamster get there? - he says, it was part of our...ummm...bedroom activities?

And when I asked how on earth this hamster got into such a...tight space...and was told that the hamster was positioned face first near the "door" and then a fire lit at its back end, which ensured frantic burrowing to get up there...well, there were no words really. A fire! This is not what The Doors had in mind when they sang "Light My Fire".

What is the sexual attraction of sending a rat up one's back door? Can't a vibrator do the job?

DON'T engage innocent animals in your sex life. I am not a lover of rodents, but this is horrible! Both for the rodent and the human.
DON'T be cruel to animals for your sexual gratification. Seriously.

Additionally, DO use websites or local sex shops to acquire toys and other such paraphernalia to enhance your sexual experience.
DON'T use lightbulbs. Yes, another person came into the ER with lightbulb filaments up there. Who thinks this is normal? Again, "Light Up My Life" was a big hit, but this was not the original concept!

DON'T assume your date is normal. DO ask these questions and spare yourself the trauma!
DO contact your local PETA or RSPCA/TTSPCA/ASPCA if you encounter such psychos.
DO save the hamsters of the world.
DO spare yourself from animal borne diseases!
DO think long and hard about your sexual behaviour during the dating process! Celibacy may be an option.

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