3 posts tagged “holidays”
...and if you tell anyone I'll cut you.
Iain and I have been shitting ourselves with excitement as we're flying back to California on Christmas Eve to surprise my mom and sister! I KNOW, RIGHT?! They have absolutely no idea, and my Step Dad is the only person that knows.
We only bought the tickets a couple weeks ago, and about 3 minutes before we did I called up my Step Dad and was like, "Oh hai. Is it okay if we come stay with you for a week and surprise my mom?" He was sort of okay with it.
He's been lying left and right like a pro, and he even managed to "send" the box of gifts my mom was sending us and stashed it in the back of his truck.
I feel like a total asshole at the moment because I told my mom that I "ordered some stuff off some internet shop and they said it should be there by Christmas Eve, but I dunno". She also asked me if I sent her any Christmas crackers like I did last year, and I had to lie and say that I totally forgot. (Even though I have like 25 of them in my suitcase.)
My ego is so large I almost want to tell her that we actually are planning The Best Surprise Ever and NO I'm not just a loser daughter who moved 5,000ish miles away and would forget to SEND CHRISTMAS CRACKERS. But alas, that is what she must think until Monday.
We fly to SF, and then to Sacramento which makes me incredibly excited that I will not have to drive the 2+ hours in horendous traffic...but I was terribly less excited about this when I Googled the Death Plane we'll be flying in from SF to Sac...
Yes. Those would be PROPELLERS. It's an EMB 120, it seats 30 people, and has *yet* to be involved in a fatal accident. I sat in horror researching and Googling this plane furiously, and all I could find is that sometimes it has a problem with "freezing", but the "chances of freezing" map I looked at said the Central Valley isn't a "high risk freezing" area. So. Hopefully we won't die. But believe you me, it will be the most terrifying 45 minutes of my life.
Anyway. We're getting a rental car at the Sacramento airport, and we'll high tail it to where my parents live, and surprise my mom and sister at about 6:00 at night on Christmas Eve. My goal is to make them cry for a good hour, so I have a feeling this will work.
I'm so excited I pee a little every time I think about it. In fact, writing this, I completely peed my pants.
We'll be taking loads of photos and videos, but most of the photos will be of my chihuahua licking my face....just so we're clear.
Happy Holidays, y'all! I'll check in with you soon!!!
xx
Hello everyone! So many things have been going on, I've just now had the time to sit down and pour over all of our photos from Hawaii. We woke up last Sunday at 4am, and we didn't get back to London until about 12 on Monday afternoon.
We were up for about 31 hours. We went to Starbucks in Honolulu, Los Angeles, Surbiton, and Kingston all in one day. Can anyone else say that? NO I DON'T THINK SO. WE WIN.
Now that my extreme jet lag has subsided a bit (I fell asleep in a pub and on a train this week) I can now write about the glory that was Hawaii. And by "glory" I mean "the fun bits we had in between fighting with my family".
I love my family to tiny smitherines, but anyone who has gone on a family "vacation", you know what I mean. (And you also understand the sobbing on a beach and screaming NEVER AGAIN!!! I HATE YOU!! Right? Anyone?)
Highlights from Hawaii:
- Heathrow Airport: We're hardcore jet setters and had enough air miles to upgrade from Economy to FIRST FUCKING CLASS on our next flight from SF to Honolulu flight. We sob tears of arrogant joy
- Somewhere over Greenland: I have the aisle seat at the
anus of the plane. (That's how far back I am.) There's a nifty spot
right next to my seat where the airplane door is. People like to
congregate there when I'm trying to sleep. They open the window on the
door, flood the entire plane with light and screech in possibly the
most irritating accent I've ever heard about the "TINY ISLANDS" down
below. For an hour. Then, some man decides to stand right next to my
seat and stretch his legs. He ferociously
marches in place yelling
about the dangers of DEEP VEIN THROMBOSIS. I prop my "Fuck off" sleeping
mask on my forehead and plan their deaths. (And drink wine.)
-
San Fransciso International Airport: Our flight from London was late. We had 25 minutes to get our luggage, go through customs, go through security, and basically run across the entire fucking SF airport. I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm not exactly a runner. On the verge of my untimely death, we make it with 10 minutes to spare. I contemplate doing a Endzone dance on the front counter, but realize I'm too tired. Mr.Front Desk tells us they gave away our first class tickets because he didn't think we would make it in time. "My! You're fast runners! Gosh. We're sorry about that." I spontaneously combust.
-
Kualoa Ranch, Oahu: Look desperately around for Lost
filming locations so I can find Jack. Find Kualoa Ranch, they tell me
they have a tour with Lost filming locations. I crap my pants. So, we
go on the tour. Basically, we spent $20 to see a log used in Jurassic Park, a WWII bunker that "Matthew Fox opened once", a hill where
Hurley played golf, and a giant footprint from Godzilla. This all took
place in a hundred year old school bus that bounced around so hard I
was afraid my boobs were going to fall off. (The left one did. We glued it back on, though.)
- Shark's Cove, North Shore: Snorkelled with FISH! Considering fish sort of freak me out, I was a wee bit nervous.However, the fish were actually quite welcoming. One offered me tea. I saw numerous of fish shitting in the water, and from then on noticed the copious amount of fish shit in water. I try really hard to not let this bother me yet suddenly start gagging every time I get water in my mouth. See an eel with mean looking face. Cut myself on coral and become seriously concerned that sharks will be able to smell me.
-
The Sheraton, Waikiki: We have an ocean front room on the 24th floor. I have a pina colada and watch sea turtles pop up their little, wrinkly heads for air. We then lay out and work on our pasty, English tans. A guy from the Sheraton stands over me with a mister and asks if I'd like an "ice cold spritz of water?" We, again, shed tears or arrogant joy. "Where the fuck are we?"
- Luau, The Royal Hawaiian, Waikiki: Develop crush on hot
(female) hula dancer. Get leid. Get involved in shouting match between my
mother and greasy Jersey Girl at the luau's buffet. Some immature words were exchanged, my mom then told her she didn't have any manners, to which she replied:
Jersey Girl: "Yeah? Well if I have a problem with someone I JUST KICK THEIR ASS. (She's 5'2, perhaps 270lbs.)
Mom: OH yeah. I'm really afraid that you're going to kick my ass AT A LUAU. (5'8, has a lot of pent up rage.)
JG: Oh. YOU SHOULD BE. (Adds sixth drumstick to her plate.)
Mom: "Don't worry. I'M NOT."
Me: "Shut up." (That'll show her. Biotch.)
JG: "No, YOU SHUT UP."
Me. "Uh...no you shut up." (Are you kidding?)
JG: "NO. YOU SHUT UP."
Me: "...You shut up INFINITY." (HAH! I can't believe I just said that!!)
JG: "Yeah? Well WHY DON'T YOU WEAR A LITTLE BRIGHTER LIPSTICK?"
Me: "Oh. GOOD ONE.'
Downtown Waikiki: We go drunk, late night shopping at tourist shops, Billabong, and The Stupid Factory at 10:30 at night! (Anyone from England will know why this is so exciting.) I buy a mousepad, a pair of jammies that say "Shake your Coconuts!", a big shawl, peanut butter M&Ms and Ritz Cheese Crackers. I am happy.
Kailua, Waikiki, Honolulu, North Shore, Haleiwa, Starbucks, the Taco Bell parking lot, our rental car: Fighting with my family!
"Well, what do YOU want to do then?"
"I don't know! I'm just saying I don't want to do that?!"
"Well if you don't know what you want to do then why do you have a problem with what we're doing?!"
"I DIDN'T SAY THAT!'
"GOD WHY ARE YOU SUCH A BITCH?"
"ME? Why are YOU such a bitch?!!"
"OH MY GOD I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS!?!"
"SO WHAT DO YOU WANT TO DO THEN?"
"I DON'T KNOOOOOOOOOOW!"
Plane ride from Honolulu to Los Angeles: First-Fucking-Class. Let me tell you about First Class. There was a phone. We got table cloths and cloth napkins. Iain drank about 4 mimosas - for free! We got A FUCKING OMLETTE for breakfast. And it was GOOD. They serve you beverages in real glasses! And the best part? I could actually fucking sleep.
Plane ride from Los Angeles to Heathrow: Back to Ec-o-fucking-nomy class. We're in the bowels of the plane, again. The bitchy flight attendant calls me "Young Lady" and skipped us when giving out drinks/lunch/pretzels THREE different times. My elbow got hit with the food cart 5 different times. The big ass lady next to Iain had to keep getting up to go to the bathroom, each time bringing a travel sized jar of VASELINE with her. Hemroids? Ashy knees? Dry labia? I DON'T KNOW.
We did have a wonderful trip. We got tanned. Despite the fighting, I got to give my Step Dad shit, take shots of Patrone with my mom, and laugh so hard at my sister I thought I would pee my pants. Moments I wouldn't trade for anything. (Except maybe the chance to fly First Class FOREVER.)
On the Sunday we flew back, my interview in The Observer Woman ran. I'm scanning that shit in as we speak, and I'll have a post on that coming up soon. Oh god, do I have a lot to say about that.
"Be Mine!"
"Be My Valentine!"
"Kiss Me!"
"I Got You Babe!"
Just as the thought of a white, pouffy, wedding made me want to throw myself into a pit of 100,000 burning copies of Martha Stewart: Martha's Wedding Ideas...I'm guessing you can take a wild stab at my feelings toward Valentine's Day.
I was all set to write a "All of My Hilariously Disappointing Valentine's Day Experiences" post, straight Bridget Jones style, yo...
But then I came across this tit of an article, entitled: "Why I Hate Valentine's Day: 6 ways the holiday wreaks havoc".
Before reading, I was like, "Oh awesome, this should be interesting!"...
And by about half way through, I had already broken out into hives, and was desperately searching the flat for a paper bag to breathe in.
According to this article, the "6 Reasons" that Valentine's Day is so horrible are:
1) Valentine’s Day makes people afraid to start dating someone
2) Valentine’s Day can wreak havoc for those who date around
3) Valentine’s Day can bring a couple to make-or-break status
4) Valentine’s Day can cause a relationship to linger... too long
5) Valentine’s Day ratchets up the pressure to have a perfect night
6) Valentine’s Day forces you to play Kreskin on the gift front
Some of these are just obvious, and very "OMG. Waaah. I'm single. My life is miserable." But JEEZUS, some of the things that were written in this article made me want to hunt down the writer and interviewees, beat them over the head with a copy of He's Just Not That In To You, and raid their homes for whatever "You Must Be In A Couple To Be Worthy Of Living & How To Make Your Crappy Relationship Work At Any Cost!" book that they're clutching to their bosom every night whilst they cry them self to sleep.
The article is just filled with the contradictions and the gaping holes that are in women's "logic" of what Valentine's Day and romance should be, and is just further proof that when it comes to VDay, MEN CAN'T FUCKING WIN.
One of the women interviewed, Heather, said:
“I hate seeing girls carrying home flowers that their boyfriends sent them, because I know that’s never me, even when I have a boyfriend—that’s just not how I am in a relationship. All of the expressions have just become formulaic—why bother if you know what’s coming?"
The writer (whom I'm so stoked to rip on I'm practically foaming with
anticipation) went on to talk about Heather's idea of Valentine' Day
and said,
"She says she’d rather her boyfriend did something nice for her unprompted than something “romantic,” just because it’s a day when he’s “supposed” to. So much focus on one little day can actually make people start to second-guess the hearts and candy they do get—is he really that into you, or did he just pick up the generic be-a-good-boyfriend package on his way home? "
Well, what I take away from this, is that maybe women don't want the typical romantic Valentine's Day bullshit gifts, but still want effort and romance. Maybe their boyfriend can tell that, and think that he'll get her something thoughtful that she'll actually use! Ya know, not just flowers that will die, chocolate that will get eaten (probably by himself), or a necklace that will get worn once every 7 months...
The author of this column wrote about friend's boyfriend who "had a knack for giving her exactly what she needed" like, for example "a toaster, a rolling pin, a hot-glue gun". That seems thoughtful isn't it? Maybe those are things she always says she wants, but will never go buy. However, apparently these gifts had "so little romantic quotient" that her friend quite frequently ended up spending VDay night "in the bathroom sobbing". Her friend's reasoning?
“I mean really, how could I not take those gifts as a sure sign that he thought of me as a pal he happens to sleep with rather than the sexy woman who rocks his world?”
For fuck sake! Seriously? Would you rather lingerie? Oh no, I imagine that would make him out to be only interested in sex, in your body, or that he wished you looked more like the girls in FHM.
What does a boyfriend/husband get the lady of his life to make her feel like she's "the sexy woman who rocks his world" without having her in the bathroom crying over a gift.
While a toaster or a hot glue gun isn't typically romantic, I can see the thought behind it. It shows that he was listening to her when she said she wanted on. That he remembered. That he wanted to her to have something she could really use! I could understand if he bought her a useful gift that she didn't actually need, but fuck! What do you women want?!!?
I loved how the writer also used women's own blind fantasies of Valentine's Day as "proof" that this holiday is bad because it "causes" couples to "make-or-break" their status. Her proof? Sophie, a lawyer in Putnam County, New York's sad little Valentine's tale.
"'I did the whole bed and breakfast suite in the country thing—very storybook,'she says. When her honey got there, he took one look at the overwhelmingly romantic (some might say stifling) set-up and decided that he really wasn’t ready to move in with her, as they had been discussing. Everything was seeming too couple-y, too fast for him. 'Lovely timing, right by the fireplace,' she recalls."
That poor girl! Just look at what that evil St.Valentine caused her boyfriend to do! Never mind that she clearly wouldn't be able to identify a red flag if it beat her over the fucking head, or that she obviously hadn't clearly gauged her boyfriend's readiness to move in correctly, OR that they obviously had communication problems...It's that Stupid Cupid's fault. This holiday is pure evil.
Just as most weddings and engagements that are fuelled purely by the Bride/Fiancée's psychotic plans and expectations
efforts; a Valentine's Day that is planned and organized only by the
female half of the relationship is, clearly, not a good sign. Take more
of the "proof" that Valentine's Day is evil, this time from another
interviewee, Suzanne, a copy editor from Boston:
Can we all pause for a moment to reflect on the aroma of bullshit that is seeping from this quote? Who the fuck spends all day to "treat" their boyfriend by making fucking HEART-SHAPED LOBSTER RAVIOLI and MOTHER FUCKING CHOCOLATE SOUFFLÉ if they're "not into" all the Valentine's Day bullshit? Are you serious? And then to go on to say that you "didn't expect anything" is fucking bullshit! She clearly didn't get flowers to TEST her boyfriend to see if he "knew or cared" about her "at all"!"One year, I decided to treat my guy, and I made a really fancy dinner—red, heart-shaped lobster ravioli, champagne, chocolate soufflé,” she says. For all her hard work, the one thing she skipped buying was flowers, assuming that her guy would at least pick those up out of instinct. “Nothing, nada,” she says. “Here I thought I really didn’t expect anything, because I’m not into that as a holiday, but I was still wondering if this guy even knew me or cared about me at all."
I can just picture her earlier that day, on the phone with him while she delicately cuts ravioli shells into little hearts telling him,
"No, really sweets, I don't want anything for Valentine's Day. I hate that stuff. Seriously, don't you worry! You know me, babe...Me? Oh, I'm not doing anything. I'm just reading a magazine!" ...Really babe, I'm not preparing Chocolate Soufflé or anything! And I'm definitely not secretly hoping you'll propose tonight or nothin'!
Perhaps the worst of all this, was when the author uses the excuse of "Valentine’s Day can cause a relationship to linger... too long" as one of her 6 reasons VDay sucks a big fat one.
Her proof? She once stayed with a guy who "didn’t even have a TV, for starters" but was "nice enough" and "that all my friends
thought he was way hot" because she DID NOT WANT TO BE SINGLE ON VALENTINE'S DAY.
She said she knew their relationship was over earlier that winter, but
"obviously I wasn’t going to break things off during the holidays" and
then stayed with him until after Valentine's day.
"It would have been easier to call the relationship DOA earlier rather than stretch it out unhappily in the hopes of being coupled-up on Cupid’s special day. In my case, it seems, St. Valentine's was the patron saint of emotional inertia."
However, things start to make more sense after reading the small print at the bottom of the column. The writer of the article?
Laura Gilbert.
Laura Gilbert who was once the Senior Editor for Maxim magazine. I have no idea why she left the magazine, however, all I really found was a collection of articles she wrote for Maxim while being the Senior Editor.
Articles like: "
Take Her Home…Guaranteed!" where Gilbert gives advice to Maxim Men about how to trick a woman into having a one night stand,
Her "we" meaning just women in general. Obviously, her insight into the female psyche is uncanny."Whether or not we’ll admit it, a night of anonymous debauchery is often exactly what we want!"
Or perhaps you'll enjoy her "Sexy Coeds Confess" article where she let's Maxim readers in on how "university hotties really get down".
She's like, the nerdy looking "GV behind the curtain" who's the Queen of Female Chauvinist Pigs . Okay, maybe not the Queen...but definitely a Duchess.
So, what's my own personal take on Valentine's Day?
I used to be a Valentine's Day whore.
Prior to being with ye old idiot (aka Spencer) I had only been on one Valentine-esque date with the elf-like lead singer of my second favorite punk band at my high school.
He gave me a mixed tape, and a card, and I was like, soooo totally excited when I got home. I actually had a Valentine!
Cut to 20 minutes later when my phone rings, and it's The Punk Elf, letting me know that he got back together with his ex girlfriend, and advised me to not listen to the tape he gave me...as he had recorded San Dimas High School Footbal Rules for me, and had -so romantically- replaced the name Whitney with my name.
Awesome.
Somehow, over the years, I would manage to morph into a "bitter, single girl" every February 14th, even while I had a boyfriend. I would spend so much time fantasizing about the gifts I could receive, or what my boyfriend might have planned, that by the time the damn day actually came, anything other than a pair of glass slippers and a horse-drawn carriage would caused me to end up sobbing in the bathroom.
There is nothing wrong with wanting to be wooed, swept off your feet, or be so drunk on romance that it's a struggle to not puke on your lover.
I just think that too many women are so starved for any form of romance or happiness in love, that they use this holiday as a "sign". Like, if he can't get his shit together and be romantic enough on VALENTINE'S DAY, then he really doesn't love me.
In some cases, he won't because -you're right- he doesn't really love you.
But there's also the fact that he may really love you, and you just have your head shoved so far up Lifetime and Hallmark's ass, that you wouldn't appreciate his gifts, no matter how heartfelt or thoughtful they were.
I'm not saying that you need to settle in order to be happy...
But, at least for me, I've found that once you have the "Omg this is so great I think I'm seriously going to throw up on your shoes" love...you won't be secretly longing for gifts and heart-shaped lobster raviolis.
Iain and I are staying in. We're cooking curry, using the £14 that's left on a HMV gift card from Christmas to buy a new DVD, gettin' drunk, and maybe we'll go all the way, but we'll just leave that to drunken chance, no?
The thought of roses, or flowers, chocolate, and a candlelight table for 2 doesn't gross me out.
It's the thought of doing that stuff while every other couple in the world is, and for the same reason every one else is, just seems a bit weird.
Plus, anything that is elaborately planned out and arranged simply because of a random date on a calendar isn't nearly as romantic as going to celebrate something simply because you want to...not because it's expected.
Romance is what you make it.
The other side of this is that, when asked, "What are you doing for Valentine's Day!?!!?" you're either supposed to sob and chug wine because MY GAWD you're SINGLE ON VALENTINE'S DAY, or squeal in delight if you have a boyfriend because your man has something super duper special and neat-o planned.
BUT, if you're one of those couples who could give a heart-shaped, organic chocolate-dipped fuck about Valentine's Day...No one believes you!
Valentine's Day isn't supposed to be evil, but over the years, I think our own romance-starved relationships have fueled the wide-spread epidemic of unrealistic expectations of what Valentine's Dya is supposed to be about.
I'm not going to let it drive me nuts or wear black and I'll even try to resist the urge to pelt every couple I see that's pretending to like one another and trying not bicker for a full 24 hours with those "Fuck You" candy hearts...
It's just a damn day.
Sure everyone is being more disgusting, and fake than usual...and it can,
understandably, rub your own unpleasant romantic situation in your
face..
.
But why not just take some personal responsibility for your life, and stop
placing blame on half naked,arrow slinging cherubs, or on clueless
boyfriends who can't read your mind and magically know that that YES YOU WOULD like him to buy you some flowers.
PLEASE do not end up crying in the bathroom tomorrow over an electric shaver your boyfriend bought you, or pointlessly slaving away over heart-shaped lobster raviolis hoping it will beguile your boyfriend into being a grateful lover, when really, romantically shaped pasta cannot, and will not ever change a miserable twat into the loving, appreciative man of your dreams.
Just say NO! to heart-shaped ravioli, this Valentine's Day....
...And just say YES! to alcohol and the possibility of going all the way.
