Ever wondered how long it might take to get three tortoises to stand in a straight line? I HAVE:
Oh, and "a long time" is the answer, just FYI. That whole "tortoises move slow" thing is just a rumour they put about to try and trick you. Trust me, as soon as their little feet hit the deck, those bad boys are off and running…
Anyway, the reason they’re here, guest starring on the ole blawg today is because we have reached that part of the year when the in-laws take their annual five week trip to Greece and Terry and I take custody of Pepe & the Tortoises, which sounds like a 60s skiffle band, and actually, is almost as noisy as one, too.
Here is the lead vocalist of the group (the tortoises are on percussion, banging their food dishes against the glass of their tank. Yes, like prisoners.), Pepe le Parrot:
Don’t be fooled by the little smile he appears to be giving in this picture, folks: Pepe hates me with a vengeance (he hates everyone except Keith and Terry), and was probably thinking about how he’s going to bite my finger first chance he gets. And to think mine is the hand that feeds him, too!
And, because he gets crazy jealous every time we so much as look as the other animals, here is Rubin, just before trying to eat what appeared to be a large pool of vomit which we encountered on our walk tonight:
Terry and I will now be subjected to a couple of days of Rubin acting out almost constantly, in a bid to divert our attention away from Pepe & the Tortoises, and to prove that he’s still the most bad-ass pet in da house. (A mission he is doomed to fail in, by the way: Pepe is the most bad-ass pet, for sure.) Seriously, for the first couple of hours of their stay, he will generally follow me around, sometimes placing his paw on my knee appealingly and looking at me as if to say, "I’m still the number one pet, aren’t I? Say I am the number one pet." Then he’ll clamber up onto my knee (he can jump up perfectly well, but for some reason he’s always preferred to climb, like a small child), and will sit there looking at Pepe smugly, thinking, "Hee! Lookit me sitting on Amber’s knee! Not so smart now, huh?" Then Pepe will say "Hello, pretty boy!" and that’ll freak Rubin out all over again.
You know what they say, people, never work with children or animals…
Hey folks, guess who’s back? Back again? Shady’s back! Tell your friends!
Whoops, no, sorry, I got carried away there: it’s not Shady who’s back at all, it’s my old friend the RED WEALS. Yes, after a year-long absence, the red weals swung back into town a couple of days ago, taking up residence in the luggage under my eyes and making me look like I’ve been up crying all night. For a week.
So that’s good.
I would imagine it’s probably all the stress of being back on this rain-soaked little island (did I mention that it’s been raining a LOT here?) and having to, you know, work for a living, rather than just lying by the pool all day eating that’s caused the reappearance of my old enemies. Because that sucks.
So yes, I’m still depressed. Even more so now that I look like some crazy, red-eyed monster. In other news:
1. I am going to be on the radio again in a couple of weeks. Yes, BBC Radio Northampton (?) want to speak to me about blogging, and how I am such a great blogger and stuff. Hopefully the "and stuff" bit won’t include anything about how to get rid of red weals under the eyes, or apply fake tan or anything, but, you know… This is happening on July 9th. I tell you about it now so you can all begin the necessary preparations to move to Northampton and hear it. I’m sure those five minutes will be totally worth it!
2. We are heading south at the end of next month, to attend the christening of my best friend’s baby. Yes, people actually trust me to be around their offspring, how about that? Because we haven’t visited Terry’s brother John in… ever… we’re going to try and combine this with the christening. Yes, we will be meeting with John in the back of the church, can’t wait! No, I jest… it’s actually more complicated than that, and we will be flying into Birmingham, spending a few brief hours with John, and then being driven by him south to my friend’s house, before flying out of Luton the next day. So basically, two days, two flights. I’m sure I’ll deal with that JUST FINE.
3. I’m still loving my new phone. Still haven’t quite worked out how to moblog from it, which is probably a good thing, or you’d be having to put up with me constantly posting pictures of Rubin lying on his back and looking cute. Then maybe lying on his front and looking cute. Or standing up and looking cute. Or… you get the picture. Other than that, though, it’s all good, and this morning my wake-up alarm was a long speech by Terry, telling me to get the hell up and make him some breakfast already. The fact that this message came from the phone just made it all the more surreal at 7.30am.
Other than that, it still sucks to be back. How’s your week?
Yeah, I’m still depressed.
I mean, look at the weather forecast for this week:
Now, clearly this only takes us up to Thursday, but for the rest of the week/summer I’m going to go out on a limb and guess 14 – 15 degrees. And raining.
This is depressing. Being back home? Depressing. Not knowing when I’ll next see the sun? Also depressing.
Anyway, I’ve thought about this a lot over the past few days, and have come up with a cunning plan, which is as follows:
Stage 1: Find way to make lots of money.
Stage 2: Make lots of money.
Stage 3: Buy house in Florida. With all the money.
Obviously this plan needs a bit of fleshing out – particularly stage 1 – but I’ll get round to that, really. In the meantime, I’m stuck back at home, slowly working my way through all of the idiot comments and messages people decided to send me while I was gone. I knew this would happen. I knew that as soon as I tried to take a break, the readers of my blogs would be all, "Hey, Amber took her eye off the ball! Let’s act like assholes!" but it’s depressing all the same. A bit like the weather, you know?
Take this message, for instance, which came to me from a person known only as anyas@yahoo.co.uk. Anyas had these enlightening thoughts to share with me:
"I think gingers are so ugly. I have turned down dates with ginger men as they are so disgusting. I did get set up on a blind date once, he was ginger but I thought I would see how the date went. Halfway through I left as he was just to ugly to look at and he wanted to touch me. Vile. Ugly ugly gingers."
Umm, yeah. Thanks for that, Anyas! And I’m sure you’re every bit as beautiful on the outside as you obviously are on the inside, which leaves you really well qualified to talk about other people like this! < /sarcasm>
This is the kind of intellect I’m dealing with here, folks. It makes me wish there was some kind of IQ test people had to pass before they were allowed to use the Internet, but sadly, no.
There was also the guy who wrote to me asking for a job as a writer, and typed his entire email in lower case. Because that’s what professional writers do, you know? Gah.
It hasn’t been all bad news, though. I mean, it’s been mostly bad news, but I also returned home to this new toy:
It’s a phone that looks like a little dog, OMG! No, it’s the Samsung SGH-F480. Samsung sent it to me to review because… no, I give up, I have no idea why. But I’m very glad they did though, because I heart it. It has a touch screen like the iPhone, and I wasn’t sure how well I’d get on with that, but I actually really like it, and so far it’s easy enough for even me to use. I mostly love it, though, because not long after I got it working, Terry disappeared with it into the other room, and now my morning wake-up alarm features Rubin’s voice (yes, Rubin has a voice. D’uh!) shouting, "AMBLA! IT’S TIME TO GET UP!" And when Terry calls me? Rubins’s voice shouts out "RING RING! RING RING!" My last phone just didn’t do that.
I’m not sure what else Terry’s done to this phone, but I totally wouldn’t be surprised if I’m standing in the supermarket or somewhere one day and Rubin’s voice shouts, "AMBLA! I NEED A PEE!" from my bag. Ya gotta love that, no?
I got a migraine on the flight home.
A migraine. On a plane. Which is much worse than snakes on a plane, let me tell you.
You see, as anyone who knows me will testify, there are two things in life that are guaranteed to freak me out more than almost anything else:
1. Flying
2. Migraines
From time to time over the years, the thought has popped into my head that hey, know what would REALLY suck? Getting a migraine while on a plane! But then I’ve always dismissed this thought, for surely life could not be THAT cruel to me? Surely?
Note to self: yes, it can.
I mean, I had really thought there was no way I could have possibly felt any more miserable to be leaving Florida than I already did. But apparently my brain decided flying wasn’t quite traumatic enough for me, because just as our flight was called and I stood up to go to my doom, I realised that, whoops, couldn’t actually see anything properly. You know, because of the wavy lines and blank spots in my vision. THANKS, BRAIN!
On the upside, the migraine kind of helped take my mind off takeoff. And, even better, I didn’t get a horrendous headache (my migraines are all about the visual disturbances – the headaches that follow them aren’t generally too bad), so I only had the nausea to deal with all the way home. Oh, and the terror, of course.
To be fair, the flight itself wasn’t too bad, other than the fact that I became convinced at one point that the pilot had surely overshot the UK and was taking us to Australia, so long did it seem to be taking. The plane, on the other hand, was not so hot, and suffice to say that there will be a strongly worded letter of complaint winging its way to the people responsible just as soon as I can be bothered to write one.
Anyway, after all of that, we’re safely back home, and have been reunited with the Rubinman, who has been having the time of his life. I’ve got work covered up until Friday, so technically am still on "holiday", but now have to deal with the mountain of laundry, unpacking, and the fact that I can’t actually DO anything because it’s freezing cold and raining outside. Seriously, I had to switch the heating on as soon as we got home. I hate this country.
I always feel depressed after a vacation, but for some reason this year has been particularly bad – am uploading our photos to Flickr as I write this, and I just want to burst into tears at the sight of them. I want to go back. Preferably now. Even if it meant sitting on an aircraft with another migraine. It was such a great holiday, and thanks must go, again, to my parents, for making it all so fantastic. Don’t worry mum and dad, one day we will put you into a Florida nursing home for sure – it will be great!
Anyway, enough with the depression, and instead let’s all say HAPPY BIRTHDAY to Terry, who is 30 today. THIRTY. Hee! His family and I all clubbed together to buy him an XBox 360 plus some games, so I guess I won’t be seeing much of him from now on. Everyone say Happy Birthday to Terry…
(Image courtesy of Terry’s best friend. Hee!)
Also, those of you who really, really want to see more photos of my trip will find the Flickr set here. Be warned, though, it’ll take you a long time to go through them (Although not as long as it took me to upload them) and they’re all crazily jumbled up because they were taken from a bunch of different cameras. But, you know, enjoy!
Well, it’s our last full day in Florida. I’m sad. And also: totally and utterly depressed, because who wants to go back to the Kingdom, United when you can have the Kingdom, Magic? Not me.
(Why, yes, I did wear pretty much the same outfit to every park…)
The Happiest Place on Earth totally lived up to its rep (and huge thanks to The Parentals here for treating us to the trip, on account of how Sephora now has all of my money, and various retailers across central Florida have Terry’s), and was every bit as… magic… as I remembered it. My love of the Magic Kingdom has absolutely nothing to do with the rides inside the park (Especially not It’s a Small World), and everything to do with the atmosphere and appearance of the park. It’s just a little, perfect place, and it feels like nothing bad could ever happen there. Unlike, say, an airport. Or where we live. So, yes, it was all very magic indeed. Especially this bit:
I swear this picture is not photoshopped. And that even the Splash Mountain staff (sorry, cast members) laughed as they sold it to us. Just call me The Joker. Call Terry “crazy”. Moments after this photo was taken, my mouth ate my entire head. For real. (I’ve actually been having nightmares about Splash Mountain for years now, so this was actually a brave move for me, indeed. See “I don’t like steep drops“, for reference. Totally worth it, though, if only for this picture.)
So, yes, it’s the last day, and I’m now off to sit by the pool and feel sorry for myself while worrying about airplane crashes. We fly out tomorrow evening, so if this is the last entry you ever read here, my worst fears were probably realised. Rest assured, though, that I will not be leaving Florida without a few small mementos:
Tagged disney, florida, hoiday, magic kingdom
Hello, loyal reader, who has bravely remained with this blog through all of the “What I did on my summer vacation” posts! As a reward for your loyalty, here is a picture of the GLAST (no, I don’t know what it means either) rocket taking off from Kennedy Space Centre, on a day that may or may not have been this Wednesday. (What day is this? Where am I? Who am I?)
Thanks to my mad photography skillz, it’s almost like you were there, no? Say it is like you were there. Actually, being there was pretty cool – much more so than this crappy photo suggests. We were standing on a piece of scrub land right next to the highway on the approach to Cape Canaveral (We go to all the best places when we vacation), and the view was about as good as it gets without the type of security clearance they’re just never going to give the likes of me. Especially not if “they” read my blog…
There were a couple of dozen other people there, most of whom seemed to be rocket nerds (I say that in the nicest way possible, by the way, because they were all very lovely), and one guy counted down to blast off for us all through a loud hailer. A couple of military helicopters circled us constantly, which made it all feel a bit like an episode of 24, and when the rocket finally went up, it appeared to rise silently into the sky, followed a few seconds later by a rumble that grew and grew until it got to be really quite freaky. Which was cool.
After the launch, we drove to Cocoa Beach, where we managed to finally defeat the East Coast Curse which has dictated for years now that any time we try to take Terry to the Space Coast, it will pour with rain. The weather stayed warm enough for us to take a swim (the water was so warm it was hard to believe it was the same Atlantic Ocean that washes up against the UK. Back home, you wouldn’t even paddle in it without Wellington boots. And actually, probably not even then.) and for me to get a sunburn on my nose, which has led Terry to refer to me as “Rudolph” ever since.
Anyway, the rain stayed off until yesterday, when we drove down to Tampa Bay to go to Busch Gardens. It had been … um, 14 years… since I’d last been to Busch Gardens, and about the only thing that was familiar about it was the animals, who were really pleased to see us:
Blue tongue! Blue tongue! RUN!
(Note: Blue from cotton candy. Not strange tropical disease. But looks like it.)
After about an hour or so, though, the rain came on and basically closed down the park. Not before Terry and my dad managed to ride most of the (totally terrifying) coasters, though…
My dad took the opportunity to have a quick snooze on this one. He is famous for his ability to sleep anywhere, at any time. Terry, not so much. Oh, and speaking of coasters, I found the evidence of my one, never-to-be-repeated attempt at one (from last week) tucked away on my mum’s memory card:
Hee!
After that it rained, and it rained, and it rained a little more. And so we shopped. And I didn’t really buy anything other than half of the Benefit counter and some more workout gear, because seriously, that’s a LOT of food they like to give you over here. Terry did manage to win a couple of Barts (now there’s a phrase you don’t say every day) to add to the little Simpsons family we’ve got lined up for Rubin to eat when we get home:
The Barts are bigger than the Homer because they ATE ALL THE FLUFF.
Today we went to Downtown Disney. You know, for the MAGIC.
Two Princesses. I am the one on the right. (Disney: call me!)Aaaand… that’s about it. Tomorrow, though: MAGIC KINDGOM! OMG! THE HAPPIEST PLACE ON EARTH. And actually? That whole “Happiest place on earth” thing? Is totally true. I LOVE the Magic Kingdom. Love it. Haven’t been since 2001 (although before that I’d been more times than I care to remember), and am now so excited I may throw up any second. Although, that could be the wine.
Anyway, I’m off to bed now to make tomorrow come faster. And to eat FLUFF, obv…
Tagged florida
I just realised I ended my last entry with the implication that if I didn’t post again soon, it would probably mean that I had died of fright on a roller coaster, then… didn’t bother to post again. Despite the fact that there has been no huge outpouring of grief from my loyal readers about this, I thought I should probably set the record straight by recording that yes, I did try out the teeny tiny baby roller coaster I mentioned in my last entry, and no, I did not die. But almost.
What you have to understand here is that when I say "teeny tiny baby roller coaster" here, I AM NOT JOKING. This coaster is not tall. It does not go fast, or turn you upside down. There are no particularly steep drops or wicked twists. In fact, I’m pretty sure that it’s designed for children, such is the sheer tameness of the thing. All the same, as it begun its climb to the top of the frame, from which it would begin its lame, totally not frightening AT ALL descent, three things flashed through my mind:
1. I am scared of heights
2. And drops. Don’t much like drops, either. Even baby ones.
3. Actually, know what I REALLY hate? Like, more than almost anything in the world, except crabs and Crocs? Roller coasters. God, I hate them things.
And so it was that as soon as the ride started, I opened my lungs and commenced screaming, and I did not stop until was all over. And actually, maybe a couple of minutes after that too. Even the sight of a six year old getting out of the car in front of me did nothing to convince me that I had not just escaped with my life. And this is why I did not ride any of the coasters at Universal Studios/Islands of Adventure. I like to think of it as "knowing my limits". Terry likes to think of it as "being a complete and utter wuss" and… actually, you could call it that, too.
Despite this, we had a great day. The highlight, for me, was the new Simpsons ride, which is a simulator. Now, I like these, mostly because they ARE NOT ROLLERCOASTERS, and even although this one opens with … a roller coaster… I still loved it. So much so, in fact, that on the way out, I bought a Homer Simpson toy for Rubin to tear apart when when we get home:
Mmmm! Fluff!
Terry, of course, rode the coasters and loved them. So did my dad. My mum and I, meanwhile, found activities more suited to our level:
My dad had the camera on the wrong setting for this, but I think it worked out quite well because ooooh, look! Scooby caught a scary ghost! No, there is no trace of the fake tan job in this picture. Or, indeed, on me, because basically I got too lazy to bother maintaining it. You’d think the fact that this happens every. single. time. would deter me from using the stuff in the first place, but mmmm, nope.
Slightly less ghostly on the legs, though. But not much.
Yesterday was a little overcast, so we spent most of it shopping. Weirdly, I haven’t bought too much this year (other than all of Sephora, obviously), but I did buy some jogging pants and new running shoes because given the vast amounts of food I’ve been managing to consume since I’ve been here, I’m thinking the gym and I are probably going to be seeing quite a lot of each other when I get home. Which is something else to look forward too, only not really. Am totally dreading coming home already. In fact, I can feel that familiar fog of "Oh God, I don’t get to actually live here" depression start to descend, and on that note, I think it’s time to get me some sun while I still can…
So, hello! I am still alive, but I’m also very, very lazy and have been spending most of my time either lolling around in the sun or finding new branches of Sephora to bother, so I somehow haven’t found the time to blog. Just imagine me eating a lot, lolling a lot and spending a lot, and you’ve pretty much got a snapshot of my holiday so far, if you’re curious. Here are a few more, though, for the very bored…
Last night we took a cruise on Breathless, which is a lovely wooden speedboat which you board at Disney’s Boardwalk (officially one of my favourite places on earth)… I’ve been looking at and admiring Breathless for years now, so my parents booked us on it as a treat for Terry and I a few months ago – thanks, parents! You basically get the use of the entire boat and a driver for an hour, and they take you onto the lagoon at Epcot to see the fireworks from the water. I was apparently quite smug about this:
The thing about that, though? The boat goes FAST. Like, really fast. And spins you round in little tight circles, so the side of the boat is almost touching the water. It was seriously better than some of the rides you get in the theme parks, and the fireworks were absolutely amazing from where we were moored…. I’ve always thought Epcot’s firework display is one of the best, but from the water it was really spectacular, and all lump-in-the-throaty. It was fab. And I was still, apparently, very smug about it all:
Today has been a "laze around the pool with a headache" day, but tomorrow we’re off to Universal Studios, which should be good because I haven’t been there for years, and Terry hasn’t been there at all, so there should be some new stuff to see. Tonight we’re planning to warm up by riding the baby roller coaster at Old Town – or at least, Terry is. I’m too much of a wuss for even the teeniest of roller coasters, so if you never hear from me again here, you’ll know I decided to give it a try. (Note: I wont, though.)
For now, Terry is hanging over my shoulder waiting to use the laptop to find somewhere to eat tonight, so I shall finish by saying that I don’t care what anyone says: I still loves me some marshmallow fluff, so there.
So, I’m pretty sure no one is actually reading this at the moment, especially given that my parents and Terry are actually here with me, but for the benefit of anyone who is, hi! Please keep reading, and maybe even leave me a comment, because I am all about the attention. And just for you, here are some moments from our trip so far…
Yesterday morning we woke up to this sight at the back of the house:
It was kind of a shame we didn’t (and by "we" I mean "I") wake up to the fact that my camera was on the wrong setting until much later, but hey, them’s the breaks, and actually, I didn’t have my contact lenses in (it was about 7.30am and I’d just had a night of practically no sleep, with the small snatches of sleep I DID manage to grab marred by dreams in which I was made to blog about the shoes of every single person on our flight before they’d let me off the thing), so this is more or less "through the eyes of Amber". There were about four of these balloons surrounding our house, which gave a nicely surreal touch to the morning.
When we’d picked up our rental car the night before, they’d given us a car with two flat tyres (nice) which they replaced with a Jeep. We weren’t too sold on the Jeep, so we decided to take it back to the airport and swap it out for the car we’d originally paid for. This would’ve been a bit of a drag, but hey, lookit what I picked up on the way back:
I’m guessing I should probably be embarrassed by the fact that I hadn’t even been in the States for 24 hours before spending too much money at Sephora, but, oh, Sephora, how I missed you! And how I wish I hadn’t bought the Philosophy ‘The Present’ "clear" makeup because that stuff truly is the Emperor’s new clothes of cosmetics. Just in case you were wondering.
Oh! I also went to Target to faithfully buy the Jergen’s Natural Glow some of you recommended last week, but I’m afraid to say I was seduced by something that seemed like an even better idea at the time (and please remember I was probably still a little jet-lagged here) – it is sunblock THAT IS ALSO A GRADUAL TANNER, and that is why I now have orange palms and ankles. Oh yes.
Anyway, all of this frantic consumerism basically knackered us out so blah blah pool, blah sun, blah Cracker Barrel for dinner:
Blah blah wine by the pool, blah blah waking up in the middle of the night feeling sick after the huge amount of food I had managed to consume that day, and finally, today, in which we decided to take a trip to Tarpon Springs, which is a little community on the Gulf Coast which is basically like a little Greece with Greek restaurants, Greek shops, Greek music and… just Greek stuff. Because that’s totally why we came to Florida, you know?
I jest, of course… The folks and I had been to Tarpon Springs years ago, but we decided to bring Terry to see it, partly because it held particular interest for him (Terry’s family are Greek), and partly because you can take a little cruise out into the Gulf from there to spot dolphins, and all I can say about that is that if you’re ever in Tarpon Springs, TAKE THE CRUISE. It cost $13 each, and we totally thought there was no way we would ever actually see dolphins, but they took us out to this little island and lo and behold! Dolphins! That were jumping out of the water and rolling over on their bellies, and then following the boat like they do in the movies and stuff. Naturally I didn’t manage to capture this on film AT ALL other than in this one crappy picture:
But trust me: dolphins!
Then we ate Greek food, got back in the car and drove home via St Petersburg. Which was totally not on the way home, but still…
Anyway we’re back home now and I’m thinking I may go and sit in the jacuzzi for a while, but what I will probably actually do is drink wine. I leave you with this picture of my breakfast this morning:
Coffee and marshmallow fluff. Why don’t we have this stuff in the UK?*
(*Note: We do have coffee, obviously. We’re not THAT backward…)
Well, we have once again cheated death successfully, and are safely across the Atlantic, following a flight that was notable mostly for the pilot uttering the words, "this is going to be bumpy," as we came in to land, and for the fact that I managed to tip a container of strawberry jam all over myself half way through it, spending the rest of the trip feeling weirdly sticky.
Despite this, I did my best to make a good impression on the locals:
Anyway, we need to head to the supermarket for some essential supplies and then to bed, and also, Terry has just said, "Please tell me you’re not blogging right now" – a reasonable question given that it’s just passed 2am UK time…
Good to be back 
|
|
|
