Wednesday, 14 October 2009

One man's poison is another man's rubbish - or so they say

Having just checked into my multiple-star hotel somewhere in the Med, I was quite pleased to see they stocked Algotherm products in the bathroom. I have a real soft spot for seaweed or marine-based beauty products and dream of the day when Creme de La Mer will send me boxes full of their lotions and potions every month for me to review, so that I don't have to spend a small fortune to keep my face looking "radiant."

Actually here is a bit of gossip: I had a paraffin wax pedicure yesterday from a lovely girl who used to work at a prestigious spa for many years, and apparently some beauticians are whispering amongst themselves that 80% of the Creme de Le Mer formula is made of .... VASELINE. yes, VASELINE.

That whole scarface-man-on-a-quest story is apparently glamed up/greased up bollocks!

I told her that it was impossible because it actually works, but she insisted and insisted again.

Other than that, I feel like shit because my fabulous hairdresser cancelled on me at the last minute today, and I was relying on him to give me a FHD (Fabulous Hair Day) to help me get through the first few days of my 7 days of sheer work-related stress stroke madness period, as I embark on a tour.

So I changed my departure date and time so that I could accomodate his timetable and so that he could come and do my hair before I caught my flight - but because of the fucking traffic at Golders Green and a miscommunication from his part, he had to cancel. OOOH, I was in a real pissed off mood on my way to airport, I tell you, I still am. And I have a minor toothache as well, and tomorrow I have to deal with about 200 people.

There is nothing like good hair to make you feel like you can face whatever happens. ANyway - better get the GHD's out again. Fuck

Oh - and at customs today , you should have seen the scene when I went through the metal detector. My Agent Provocateur bra had so much wiring in it (it's a 1950's style bra, which my boyfriend gave me for my birthday) that I had to stand with my hands in the air whilst this eager woman with the metal detector kept running the machine all over my tits over and over again and it kept bibbing over and over again -- she had never come accross a bra like it, and I was trying not to giggle. But I learnt one thing with customs, you just have to let them do their thing. The more you talk, the worst things get for you.

What really fucks me off with customs - particularly in some European countries - is that when you go through and you make the machine bleep, and you have to stand with your hands in the air - if you take them down, after let's say a minute, the custom official instantly gets aggresive and asks you to put them back up. They seem to freak out - even though it's a natural thing to do if you know you have nothing to hide. It's like your effectively under mini-detention.

So I was standing there like a fucking scarecrow for what seemed like a good 5 minutes, which is a long time. She let me go thankfully, I really thought they were going to take me to one side, ask me to bend over and make sing MOOOOOOOONNNN RRIIIIIVVVVVEEERRRRRRRR.

I shall put up some posts as soon as I have returned from my work trips - but in the meantime....... I leave you with this riddle me fiddle


When you and I have rotted in the earth,
Your millions squandered by ungrateful spawn,
My scribblings dust; fled passion; long-dead mirth -
No soul alive to know that we were born -
One thing I'll tell you: Though the planet's died,
And deserts blow where once sprang woods and plain,
Sprouting from former landfills, far and wide -
Look! Bright-green EZ-Ivy humps remain!

-D. McL.

No comments:

Post a Comment

London Girl also wrote about....

Related Posts with Thumbnails