Monday, September 6, 2010

Bon Voyage, You Lovely Aussies!

On the other side of the world, a good friend of mine is embarking on her dream vacation. I know this because she's reminded me of it constantly over the past few months. Sometimes I think she forgets that I already knew (because she's absent-minded like that), but mostly I think she's just rubbing it in (because she's mean like that).

And not only did she rub it in (my last real vacation was in... oh, shit... 2007?), she provided shopping updates for all of the essentials she'd need for the trip. Like traveling pants and bras (which she got cheap... on sale... I'm just sayin'). Personally, I'm one for simply throwing stuff in a tote and hopping on a plane, train, ship, or whatever. However, she decided to explain how such an attitude doesn't apply towards women.

The following is an excerpt from a real conversation: "All you need is a pair of boxers and nobody cares whether they have 'Swamp Thing' or 'Calvin Klein' on them. Women have to have something practical and comfortable but also glamorous. Not easy. Especially if you are, er, well-endowed."

Do you see the vanity involved with this person? Oh, it's all fine and dandy to point out that, sure, women have different undergarment requirements than men... but then she just had to subtly point out that she is, er, well-endowed. If I were female, I'd claim she was just rubbing it in. But I'm not, and I'm quite happy with the relative size of my man-boobs. So... nyer.

Where she is successful in rubbing something in is the fact that her uber-gorgeous daughter is accompanying her on this trip. Only, she's far more clever handling that particular subject. Devious, in fact.

So, let's go over the list (she loves lists): Absent-minded? Check. Mean? Check. Vain? Check. Devious? Check. (She's also rude, but we can talk about that another day). That I love her to death is beside the point.

Anyway, I hope she kisses the tarmac at Charles de Gaulle, I hope she gets slapped in the face by a gypsy, I hope her traveling pants don't fall apart, and I hope locals take pity on her understanding of their language and just break down and berate her in English.

Au revoir and bon voyage, you lovely Aussies!

9 comments:

  1. And what is more she is coming all the way over to Europe and not stopping off in West Yorkshire. What kind of woman is that?

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  2. Aww Alan, you know I would. If I get slapped by a gypsy and the French are rude I might come and play on one of your squares. Otherwise, get yer fat dog and yer fat arse over to Paris! And bring the good lady wife with you!

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  3. You would think that if someone took the trouble to come all the way from the Antipodes (where ever they are), they would have the good grace to go that extra mile. But no, it is always me who has to make the effort. May she get smacked by a snail.

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  4. poor Jeff! what are the withdrawl symptoms for going a month without skypechats with his precious Baino? Haha...we'll find out--oh and i'll miss Helen too!

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  5. At risk of turning poor old Jeffscape's blog into a forum. . . you grumpy Yorkshireman . . the War of the Roses aint over you know and I'm not going within a whiff of an escargot but might send Amy a pic of a poodle.

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  6. And Jeff darling, thank you for airing my clean linen and gorgeous daughter on your blog! Be grateful that I don't post screen captures.

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  7. While we're calling people out for "stuff"... Are you catching that not-so-subtle note of jealousy, H? I completely understand the requirement for the appropriate wardrobe when visiting Paris. It is Paris, after all!

    Men and women are not all that different about the hidden aspects of that wardrobe. Both know that what's underneath can affect one's view of oneself. But for women, it's enough just to know the satin, lace, pink bunnies, leather, or whatever is there. Men often wear their pants down around their knees so the world will know too.

    Have a wonderful time, H. Bring back lots of interesting stories!

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  8. It's been 16 months and I never tire of reading this. It and a couple of fiction pieces are the sweetest veiled compliments. You make me happy, even when you make me sad.

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