My Bladder is taking the piss
I’m sure you’ve heard dodgy stories about toilets in Thailand. Yes, they are porcelain holes in the ground. That I can deal with. It’s the lack of toilet-tissue I have problems with. Because their sewer system can’t handle solid matter other than the obvious, they supply the user with a hose fixed to the wall beside the unit and the rest, my friends, is up to your hands and your imagination. A nation of drip-driers who most likely go commando? I thought it rude to ask.
That was all well and good until TAT and I visited a bamboo tattoo studio on our penultimate day and spent the whole day being tapped to death, but that’s for another post. The bog in that place was the weirdest of all. A tiny cubicle, no hose, no toilet paper, just a bricked-up shower cubicle, an enormous spider skulking the doorframe, and a huge batik wall hanging depicting Metallica crossing over through the doorways of hell. It was all very charming until I realised a day too late that this bathroom was also E-coli heaven.
Yes, poor K8 the Gr8 spent the entire 22 hour flight home with crossed legs and crossed eyebrows and curled toes, praying teary-eyed at regular intervals for the seat-belt sign to be switched off, and convincing perplexed airline staff that peeing during take-off and rough turbulence is easy-peasy. Bloody Nazis and their safety regimes.
So, other than the fact that it’s sunny in Ireland for a change and it’s a crime to spend time indoors on blogs, this here website has been quite quiet. Sorry about that. Normal stories of deep-fried maggots, strange tattoos and Ladyboys will resume shortly, as well as a wee anecdote about how I was propositioned by a lesbian hooker if you’re very very good.
In the meantime, here’s a dodgy photo just begging for a caption;
Paleface
We palefaced people in Temperate climes aren’t the only ones unhappy with our lot!! This amazes me. We Irish pay an arm and a leg on St Tropez tanning products and tanning booths for that bronzed healthy glow, in fact the first thing I did upon reaching this side of the planet was leg it from the plane into broad Thai daylight screaming “Burn me!! Burn me now!”
Here’s the gas thing though… upon switching on the TV, I’m bombarded with products appealing to Thai ladies not for skin darkening, but for skin bleaching!
Yep, ironically, the land of balmy sunshine is full of women who hate darkened skin, who just like us but in reverse, are spending a small fortune in the effort to become as pale as a Tescos checkout operator, and are wondering why on earth all us reddened bikini-clad Westerners are beating each other for the best benches when we’re all (according to them) perfectly sexy to begin with.
Isn’t that mental?!
I think we should choose a new colour, a nice shade of cyan perhaps. That should even things out nicely.
Do Buddhist Monks kill Mosquitos?
We got to Bangkok after a fag-free 18 hours of flight, entirely cranky and pretty damn sweaty with it. Considering this season is off-peak, I wonder what their ‘summertime’ heat feels like. It’s hot right now. Very hot.
After a night of stormy shopping at dodgy street markets in Ko San Road, we moved on to Chiang-Mai, in the North of Thailand. There we were hustled into sight-seeing tours that began at 6am and involved riding elephants bareback, cuddling fully-grown tigers (but not squeezing too tight), feeling sorry for women who eat, sleep and bathe with 4 kilos of iron coils around their necks (even though our pity is unfounded because they think it the sexiest thing since teabags), rafting down rivers, exploring temples in underground caves, and trying to ignore the harrowing ‘looky looky!’ pleas of small children with friendship bracelets and their mothers with tacky but pretty homemade crafts, all desperate for our Bahts. We came with empty bags, now they are full.
While all this was amazing to experience, the lack of sleep invariably led to fiery cranky Sang-Som fuelled arguments at night time, so we were pretty glad to get out of Touristville and down to the Islands on the South-East coast. Here in Ko-Samui, things are different. Things are slow, and tourists are black as coffee. I and TAT feel like milk bottles by comparison.
Night time is the best, when things cool down and Geckos appear with strange and funky wee beasties to serenade you at dinnertime. Small kids appear with candles and cloth balloons and send them soaring into the stratosphere, the sky flashes every few seconds as thunderstorms loom overhead, yet there is no boom, only lightning, like our own pyrotechnics show. Occasionally a single clap of lightning will hit a short distance from where we stand and scare the holy b’jeezus out of our eardrums, but that’s all part of the fun.
We’re pooching off to another island tomorrow.
Same same, but different.
Scottish connections? Nah, I call it pure skirt-envy.
I broke bread with God twice this week, that’s got to be a record for me. The first time I drank from a chalice, the second time was today, during Laughingboy’s Communion. He wore a kilt… good suit-rental timing that was!
(somewhat unrelated wedding photies to show off the skirt action)
I so wish the HSE could’ve been there in the Church to see all those special needs kids in their finery with life sized pictures from school all over the walls and swaying clapping singers. The kids proudly did their bit and shouted and crooned as much as they wanted. They created their own mystical atmosphere and brought happy tears to their relatives, it was beautiful beyond description.
Then we left him into respite and said goodbye. (sad smiley goes here)
Puppychild’s already elsewhere with her Grandad (not the one you all know and love, but t’other one). He called to enquire about a haircut this evening, our fervent protests grew weaker when he told us of his reasoning;
“Grandad, will you bwush my hair peeze?”
“Okey dokey, sit down there and I’ll give it a go.”
Grandad sat quietly attacking the frizz on Puppychild’s shoulder-length mop as they watched TV for a while. He noticed that every time he hit a tangle, she’d flinch. He peeked around her shoulder after a bit to find tears streaming down her face, but she hadn’t made a squeak, and it broke his heart.
I, on the other hand, am well proud. She’s taken that brave step that all us long-haireds must take. Sleek hurts, but it’s worth it. Bravery building blocks.
So now I have no kids and I’m at a loose end. TAT is packing furiously, yet we still have five hours before the taxi is due to collect us for the airport. I am dodging responsibility and hiding in the corner with a can of Bulmers.
That’s right, baby, THAILAND!!!!
I can’t mention it to any of my friends or passers by or shop-assistants, they just tell me they hate me. It’s finally my turn to be hated. WOOT!!!!
See yiz in two weeks.
Jedding Witters
Definition of Wedding: (w
d
ng)
n
a. The act of remembering to take labels off new shoes.
b. The placing of deodorant under one’s boobs to stop wedding dress chafe.
c. The consumption of vast amounts of Rescue Remedy and Champagne.
d. Trying not to burst into flames upon entering the Church.
e. The act of finally uniting a dysfunctional family and starting a brand new family tree!
Wish me luck?
Ain't nature wonderful?
I was going to follow through with a meme I got gang-banged with recently, but since discovered that my six useless facts would likely bore the pants off you. Instead, I did it in my head and am presenting you with the highlights which happen to be of a natural nature.
o0o
Until recently, there was an empty field right beside my house. This meant I could briefly abandon my children, hop over the wall and have a proper game of retrieve the ball with Wouldye (without having to do much exercise myself) for ten minutes twice daily and still be within earshot of my house. Then, last week a farmer came along and boarded the entrance, putting nasty lengths of barbed wire everywhere and rendering the field completely inaccessible. Bummer. Later that evening a herd of cattle arrived. Stupid cows.
I thought the situation a complete pain in the ass until last night, when I swore I saw a cow lift its fore-leg and suck milk from its own udder. Meanwhile a bunch of cows gathered around her to watch, and I wondered what it was that they were thinking. This morning upon closer inspection I saw that these were indeed not cows, but bulls. Now I’m even more impressed, and know exactly what the other bulls were thinking.
o0o
I have invented a new fad-diet. It beats the pants off those new pills they sell to twelve-year olds in chemists these days, let me tell you. It’s a video I made on my camera involving my cat that you’ll never find on YouTube, because I’m going to sell it on Gumtree for €3,000 per download – it’s that effective. Whenever you feel hungry, all you have to do is watch the video and you’ll be happy never to eat again.
Poor cat. I’ve never seen anything vomit a tapeworm before and I’d be quite happy (surprisingly) to never have to watch it again. Ugh.
