American healthcare debate
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Monday, August 17, 2009
Lewdness
DJ beaten up for playing the Pet Shop Boys
A fate *our* wedding DJ awaits if he *doesn't* play the Pet Shop Boys.
Obviously.
DJ beaten up for playing the Pet Shop Boys
A fate *our* wedding DJ awaits if he *doesn't* play the Pet Shop Boys.
Obviously.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Yay
Needless to say we didn't crash. For one I'm unlikely to be blogging from the afterlife (I'd hope I'd have something better to do, but on the other hand... I fear I wouldn't) and secondly you'd have heard it on the news: "Famous Blogger Piglet Wildebeest crashes on her way to/from Lisbon. Three people devastated!"
So I'm still here. And what have we learned?
Lisbon is HOT. Very hot.
Lisbon is a popular destination for The Gays. Less so for The Lesbians, but The Girlfriend and I did our best to uphold the Dyke Presence. We started by asking for a double room (we'd booked one after all), instead of the twin room they'd given us at the hotel. A word of advice, if a lesbian or gay couple can check into a hotel without the receptionist double-checking if they're sure they really really do want a double room, it's not because they've got a great gaydar. It's because they've assumed you were straight and have given you a twin. The Receptionist's English wasn't 100% so I made myself clear by saying "we've got two beds in our room and we only want one!". Ahem.
All was not lost though, because when I brought back the key to the twin room to the reception the other receptionist (female, tiny, curls) winked at me.
Score!
We saw palm trees. Yay!
The Portuguese drink something called SuperBock. I think that's a hilarious name.
The plane didn't crash. Did I mention that before? I think it deserves a second mention: it didn't crash. No crashing at all! None! I credit our female pilot with that. Thank you, Mrs Female Pilot, for keeping us safe.
Lisbon is a beautiful city, but also a very poor city. Especially the part where we were staying (the old lower part of the city). We felt like heathens for preferring the Parque de Naçaos (a modern part of town by the Tagus river) over the "authentic" Lisbon.
The Portuguese do weird things to fish. They rip it up and then smother it in scrambled eggs. I mean... What the hell? All I wanted was a piece of codfish and I got... something eggy and weird instead. Then again they probably think I'm weird for just wanting a piece of codfish.
I was either asked if I wanted to buy pot or if I was selling. The man coming up to me didn't exactly make himself clear. Me, I just held on to my bag and started walking a bit faster.
All in all, a very nice experience.
Needless to say we didn't crash. For one I'm unlikely to be blogging from the afterlife (I'd hope I'd have something better to do, but on the other hand... I fear I wouldn't) and secondly you'd have heard it on the news: "Famous Blogger Piglet Wildebeest crashes on her way to/from Lisbon. Three people devastated!"
So I'm still here. And what have we learned?
Lisbon is HOT. Very hot.
Lisbon is a popular destination for The Gays. Less so for The Lesbians, but The Girlfriend and I did our best to uphold the Dyke Presence. We started by asking for a double room (we'd booked one after all), instead of the twin room they'd given us at the hotel. A word of advice, if a lesbian or gay couple can check into a hotel without the receptionist double-checking if they're sure they really really do want a double room, it's not because they've got a great gaydar. It's because they've assumed you were straight and have given you a twin. The Receptionist's English wasn't 100% so I made myself clear by saying "we've got two beds in our room and we only want one!". Ahem.
All was not lost though, because when I brought back the key to the twin room to the reception the other receptionist (female, tiny, curls) winked at me.
Score!
We saw palm trees. Yay!
The Portuguese drink something called SuperBock. I think that's a hilarious name.
The plane didn't crash. Did I mention that before? I think it deserves a second mention: it didn't crash. No crashing at all! None! I credit our female pilot with that. Thank you, Mrs Female Pilot, for keeping us safe.
Lisbon is a beautiful city, but also a very poor city. Especially the part where we were staying (the old lower part of the city). We felt like heathens for preferring the Parque de Naçaos (a modern part of town by the Tagus river) over the "authentic" Lisbon.
The Portuguese do weird things to fish. They rip it up and then smother it in scrambled eggs. I mean... What the hell? All I wanted was a piece of codfish and I got... something eggy and weird instead. Then again they probably think I'm weird for just wanting a piece of codfish.
I was either asked if I wanted to buy pot or if I was selling. The man coming up to me didn't exactly make himself clear. Me, I just held on to my bag and started walking a bit faster.
All in all, a very nice experience.
Monday, August 03, 2009
Overpacking
The Girlfriend and I are masters (masters!) in the art of overpacking. Five days in Lisbon (ok, four and a half)? We've got enough with us to last two weeks! Well... we don't have enough underwear for two weeks, but apart from that, we're all set! We packed trousers, an umbrella, plastic raincoat thingies (well, you never know!), our bikinis, a towel (yes, a towel, in case we make a little trip to the beach and the hotel towels are too tiny), t-shirts, tops, skirts, shorts, and the list goes on and on... I think we could dress a small orphanage while we're at it. Then there's the two tubes of toothpaste (hers and mine), our two brands of shampoo (hers and mine) and the multitude of battery chargers, books and other assorted crap we absolutely cannot do without.
I've not been on a plane in seven years and I'm scared. Yep. Anyone have any valium?
Goodbye internetsssss, I'll see you back on Saturday (I hope)
The Girlfriend and I are masters (masters!) in the art of overpacking. Five days in Lisbon (ok, four and a half)? We've got enough with us to last two weeks! Well... we don't have enough underwear for two weeks, but apart from that, we're all set! We packed trousers, an umbrella, plastic raincoat thingies (well, you never know!), our bikinis, a towel (yes, a towel, in case we make a little trip to the beach and the hotel towels are too tiny), t-shirts, tops, skirts, shorts, and the list goes on and on... I think we could dress a small orphanage while we're at it. Then there's the two tubes of toothpaste (hers and mine), our two brands of shampoo (hers and mine) and the multitude of battery chargers, books and other assorted crap we absolutely cannot do without.
I've not been on a plane in seven years and I'm scared. Yep. Anyone have any valium?
Goodbye internetsssss, I'll see you back on Saturday (I hope)
Saturday, August 01, 2009
Coming out of the closet
For a few months now The Girlfriend and I have been traipsing the countryside and woods looking for GPS coordinates and -mostly- tupperware boxes filled with crap and a notebook. We've even got tools that we drag around with us: a notebook of our own, a walking GPS, tweezers, a torchlight, a mirror, walking shoes, etc. It's all quite scary. We've become Geocachers. Score so far: some 19 "caches found", about as many mosquito bites and a pressing desire for a dog (mostly on The Girlfriend's part).
Next week we're taking a four-day trip to Lisbon (yes, we'll take geocaching coordinates with us). Leaving Tuesday morning at 6.30am (my god I hope that pilot is more of a morning person than I am) and we get back the Friday around 11.30pm. Never been to Lisbon, as a matter of fact I've not been anyplace "warm" on holiday since I was 11. England and the North of France aren't exactly known for their nice weather are they. I hope we don't melt. I hope Lisbon is nice to a pair of lesbians in shorts/a skirt. I hope I find something to eat there. Above all I hope the plane doesn't crash. Did I mention I'm scared on planes? I'm a control freak, I don't trust anyone, especially not a big hunk of metal at an unnatural distance from the ground.
Brrrrr.
Right, off for another GPS treasure hunt!
All together now: Val-deri,Val-dera, Val-deri, Val-dera-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha, Val-deri, Val-dera. My knapsack on my back!
For a few months now The Girlfriend and I have been traipsing the countryside and woods looking for GPS coordinates and -mostly- tupperware boxes filled with crap and a notebook. We've even got tools that we drag around with us: a notebook of our own, a walking GPS, tweezers, a torchlight, a mirror, walking shoes, etc. It's all quite scary. We've become Geocachers. Score so far: some 19 "caches found", about as many mosquito bites and a pressing desire for a dog (mostly on The Girlfriend's part).
Next week we're taking a four-day trip to Lisbon (yes, we'll take geocaching coordinates with us). Leaving Tuesday morning at 6.30am (my god I hope that pilot is more of a morning person than I am) and we get back the Friday around 11.30pm. Never been to Lisbon, as a matter of fact I've not been anyplace "warm" on holiday since I was 11. England and the North of France aren't exactly known for their nice weather are they. I hope we don't melt. I hope Lisbon is nice to a pair of lesbians in shorts/a skirt. I hope I find something to eat there. Above all I hope the plane doesn't crash. Did I mention I'm scared on planes? I'm a control freak, I don't trust anyone, especially not a big hunk of metal at an unnatural distance from the ground.
Brrrrr.
Right, off for another GPS treasure hunt!
All together now: Val-deri,Val-dera, Val-deri, Val-dera-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha, Val-deri, Val-dera. My knapsack on my back!
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