<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1732443482500916138</id><updated>2011-08-28T14:39:01.269-07:00</updated><category term='rest'/><category term='obsessive'/><category term='worm therapy'/><category term='doctor'/><category term='SCD'/><category term='travel'/><category term='teeth'/><category term='accidents'/><category term='Seattle'/><category term='Specific Carbohydrate Diet'/><category term='rich'/><category term='naturopathic medicine'/><category term='bars'/><category term='holiday'/><category term='Canada'/><category term='life insurance'/><category term='men'/><category term='drunk'/><category term='New year'/><category term='dating'/><category term='naked'/><category term='depression'/><category term='brain damage'/><category term='Crohn’s'/><title type='text'>While there is tea, there is hope.</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Bella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10697442591785473699</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SCc_9sosgrI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ibFvrN82s7E/S220/scream.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>55</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1732443482500916138.post-5750272561989230123</id><published>2010-01-06T22:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-06T22:23:31.462-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Trial by fire</title><content type='html'>This post is more for me than anyone and I don't expect anyone to suffer through it. It's pretty personal but not too much so that I feel embarassed by it. Though those that are close to me will probably like to know what's going through my mind. This is a mental purging of sorts, something I needed to write to get out. As with any emotion I always need to write.It's so very good for the soul.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;I’ve been on a carnival ride lately….albeit an emotional one. For the past week I’ve been on my own personal emotional rollercoaster that’s been taking me for the ride of my life and won’t let me off. It’s no wonder too. In the past 3 weeks I have felt deeply just about every emotion you could possibly imagine. Shock, despair, devastation, hurt, anger, rage, pure happiness and joy, fun, love….you name it I visited it recently.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last time I was on this kind of roller coaster was right before I was diagnosed with depression. I’m not worried though. Last time it was situational and I am not chronic. Plus I have the skills now to cope and I honestly don’t “feel” like I am going there. Besides the roller coaster I feel overwhelmed as well and no wonder…with all I have been feeling lately. Keith (aka super duper naturopath type person) told me I am delving back into the feelings of depression because I “forgot” something when I was there the last time, didn’t learn something that I shoulda, didn’t take something away that I should have, didn’t change in a way that I should have. I did change a lot after going through severe depression. I learned a lot for sure and don’t regret for a moment going through it and I would certainly go through it again for what I learned. I became a much better person for it. But funny enough for the last two days I had been thinking just the same thing. I learned, I changed, but there was still something missing. I “kinda” got who I wanted to be, who I was, but wasn’t quite there yet. So who knows as of yet what I didn’t take with me last time. How will I know when I find it? Well I dunno…lol…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He did say I need to grieve. I need to let my emotions happen, feel them, let them out. How did I get so bad at doing that? Sucking it up over and over I guess. On the bus ride home I thought, how does one grieve properly? How do you know if you’re doing it right? Are you just sad for a while and cry a lot? And how do you know when it’s over? Did I grieve enough for my mom or are there still vestiges of that left to deal with too? How do I grieve for Wayne when I can’t feel the “missing” of his presence?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I got home and began to make dinner, a spicy fiery meal to compliment this “cleansing by fire”. I thought about my friend Wayne who had just passed before Christmas. I allowed my mind to go where it would. Wayne and I, although we’d been friends for over 20 years, didn’t spend much time together ever since he got with his wife. She was insecure about our friendship. We often talked about meeting up for lunch during the day when she was at work but never did. I am sure he wasn’t comfortable with that really and respected his wife’s feelings. I accepted that. But that acceptance changes when that friend dies. And now it hit me then what was bothering me the most. To him I wasn’t a good enough friend for him to deal with that and make it right. I wasn’t important enough to him to make the effort to see me. Whether or not that’s all the truth of it doesn’t matter, because that’s how I feel. I sobbed heartily over this, I still am actually. Hurt…I feel an awful, AWFUL lot of hurt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I got to thinking of all my other male friends, Steve, Keith, an old friend Tracey, Al, ALL have significant others who don’t like them spending time with me. Jayzuz. Most I only can spend time with if they lie to their girlfriends about it. Honestly if I wanted to be with any of these men I would be….would have been, a LONG time ago. Maybe I should be flattered that these women view me as some irresistible siren for who their men have absolutely no strength to fight. But in the end I am robbed of time with a good friend, robbed of saying goodbye, of one last chat, one last hug, one last shared smile, one last shared laugh. And all because of a women’s insecurity and inability to deal with it? How do I deal with that? I lost SO much because through my times with Wayne I gained so much…if that makes sense. So much laughter, so many good times, and so many good times with my family, so much good advice, such a big shoulder to cry on and he IS the one who brought me out of my shyness. It’s so very true. You never realize how important someone is to you until you lose them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keith says I am going through a very powerful time right now….and I agree. So very many emotions all at once, bombarding me, overwhelming me, taking me under and making not want to resist them anymore. I have already felt a shift in myself, a change for the better. I can imagine after all is said and done, after all the healing is complete, I shall emerge a different person…again for the better. Transformed by this cleansing through fire, cleansed of all my ills and renewed….reborn.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a journey for sure, a long tough one, but in the end I am sure worth every bit of pain, every tear, every day of not having chocolate. I can actually hardly wait to meet the person I will become.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1732443482500916138-5750272561989230123?l=fatal-beauty.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/feeds/5750272561989230123/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1732443482500916138&amp;postID=5750272561989230123' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/5750272561989230123'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/5750272561989230123'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/2010/01/trial-by-fire.html' title='Trial by fire'/><author><name>Bella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10697442591785473699</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SCc_9sosgrI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ibFvrN82s7E/S220/scream.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1732443482500916138.post-5926765507943398133</id><published>2010-01-03T19:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-03T21:13:58.203-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='New year'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='SCD'/><title type='text'>shhhh don't say it's a new year</title><content type='html'>Everyone’s been making New Year’s blog posts and so now I feel like I should make one too. Only thing is as much as I would like to sound all positive about 2010 the previous years have taught me that doing so only ends up jinxing me. But then on the other hand I don’t wanna end up sounding negative…so what do I have left? I’ve been trying to not think about 2010 too much. Have been just laying here fighting back the paranoia of 2010 by drowning myself in sappy romantic girly movies as my heart longs for a can of whipped crème.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After ending 2008 on a fairly good note I was still looking to have more in 2009. But I think it’s when you say things like “2008 was good, better than 2007 and so in theory 2009 should be even better” that some sort of evil hateful karma troll shows up to screw with you. Sure it gave me the first 4 months or so as a teaser, but it’s when you are all comfy in your new year that he’s most likely to show up. Then shit happens like near death experiences due to laxatives. (No pun intended)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could have been okay if it had ended there. My week long novel writing course had finally got me geared up to start the damn thing, and plans were in place! But then came the severe Crohn’s disease diagnosis and this subsequent journey into the Specific Carbohydrate Diet hell that has become my life. And of course the evil hateful karma troll can’t be satisfied with that. Oh no he’s got to make every bus ride I take be a torture in itself by finding someone with take out food to sit right beside me. And the guy moaning on his Subway sandwich in front of me on the Seabus? Lucky to be alive! As he opened the crisp wrapper, revealing the sub in all it’s deli meat glory the decadent aroma wafted out to tease my nose. And as the mayo oozed out the side of the sandwich when he bit into it my eyes glazed over. Heat suffused my body, causing a trickle of sweat to inch down my brow. I began to salivate….to tremble. I could see the headlines…. “Woman freaks out on seabus, ends up sprawled on floor shoving sub into her face while growling menacingly..” Dear god if I can just have a sandwich! But after 5 different gag worthy almond flour bread recipes and 2 oven fires later I give up on the thought of having one til at least summer. –frumps-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then as the lovely Christmas season approaches one of my best friends, my oldest friend, passes away. Was it a surprise? Well apparently only to me since his wife failed to tell me his was in the hospital. So no more time spent together, no goodbyes, he’s just…gone. That’s all I am able to say for now…..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now it’s a new year, dare I hope it can be better? Bumps in the road happen and there are always hurtles to jump, those will never ever be entirely avoided. Over all I feel pretty good and things will hopefully continue to improve. So I guess for this New Year all I will wish for is to grab my fun where I can find it, live, laugh, love, and when the world shoves me around just keep shoving back. Avoid laxatives, wolves, internet dating, Pilates bands, , Newfie GPS's, rude men at the Louvre, stinging insects inside my clothing, and men in hot tubs who stand FACING the jets. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But of course there’s always wine….:)…Happy New Year!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1732443482500916138-5926765507943398133?l=fatal-beauty.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/feeds/5926765507943398133/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1732443482500916138&amp;postID=5926765507943398133' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/5926765507943398133'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/5926765507943398133'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/2010/01/shhhh-dont-say-its-new-year.html' title='shhhh don&apos;t say it&apos;s a new year'/><author><name>Bella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10697442591785473699</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SCc_9sosgrI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ibFvrN82s7E/S220/scream.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1732443482500916138.post-8308837359759528689</id><published>2009-11-26T22:13:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-05T21:02:55.854-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Here's yer witty post now shaddup</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/Sw9uQoqiZ6I/AAAAAAAAIoM/6uLzkwr1J4U/s1600/vision03b.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 280px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/Sw9uQoqiZ6I/AAAAAAAAIoM/6uLzkwr1J4U/s320/vision03b.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408662909568051106" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the "embarrassing moment of the month" to win ladies!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So a couple months ago I discovered a place close to work that teaches Western Martial arts, aka swordfighting, yada yada. I fenced many years ago and decided it was something I would like to get back into. I’ve never been all that great at joining in group things but I go with my usual just suck it up and do it mantra.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thing is I am always paranoid of making a bad first impression with people in places where I will be spending some amount of time. If it were a one shot deal no problem I normally don’t give a shit and so am far more comfortable. In Europe? I’d talk to almost anyone with no care, hell I’ll never see them again! But at this new place I am not only going to have to show up but end up performing in certain weaponry manner in front of other people. All kinds of potential for all kinds of humiliating experiences especially when you’re talking about me….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the other week I leave work to go to class which is several blocks away. I make sure I look my best, always something that makes me feel more confident. I self-talk myself into the confident out going person I know I can be and off I go! It’s just a rapier class, what could possibly happen? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On this particular day there's a rain and wind warning and let me tell you they weren’t fucking kidding. But things are going fine as I walk down the streets hunched under my umbrella trying to block the wind and the rain from completely destroying my hair cuz god forbid I should get there looking &lt;a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/fatal.beauty.album/BloggerPictures?authkey=Gv1sRgCK_SudStwZCZVA#5408663543821916082"&gt;Bellatrix Lestrange&lt;/a&gt;. Going fine until I am about half way there that is. Then mother nature decides to blow a massive gust of wind turning my umbrella inside out and hurling it with me in tow into a construction fence with a rather loud, attention drawing BANG courtesy of some big sign we had just knocked over. I curse and wrestle against the gale force winds refusing to give up on my umbrella without a fight. I still had about 5 blocks to go! But mother nature? She had a one track mind and kicked that umbrella’s ass like she was Buffy the vampire slayer on a bad day and my umbrella was some sensitive sparkly Emo vampire named Edward.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wrestle with it the rest of the way, trying to keep as dry as possible but to no avail...the torrential downpour battering down on me is relentless. And the wind, still not satisfied with ripping my umbrella to shreds is still thirsty for that last piece of it and not letting up in the least til it gets it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I make it! I am at the academie standing outside but now instead struggling to get it working enough to keep me sheltered from the weather, I am struggling to close the damn thing. But all the little spines were now poking out all over the place at odd angles and so I am now fighting another battle entirely. And yes this place it ALL window looking out onto the street. My insecure self is convinced that everyone from inside is surely watching my epic struggle, the likes of even the most seasoned of the sword masters have never seen! I panic. Dear god if I can’t handle a mere umbrella how will I be able to wield a rapier? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I manage to get it kind of halfway closed but spines are still sticking out in various places, the fabric is soaked, floppy and pathetic looking and the entire thing is bent at an angle not natural for a healthy umbrella. But I admit defeat because it just ain't going to get any better than that. So now I open the door and swoosh into the academie on a gust of wind and although I don’t dare look up, my paranoid self simply KNOWS all eyes are on me. The wind has done damage to my hair the likes of only a mix master could accomplish, my face is tear stained from the wind stinging my eyes, I am sniffling from the cold, I got soggy, brightly colored fall leaves stuck in a vast array to my high heeled black boots, and I am dripping wet. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the bright side from that point things can only get better right? Let’s hope so because I haven’t even mentioned the falcons they have there…..and if you recall certain past experiences, me and animals? Not a good mix….&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1732443482500916138-8308837359759528689?l=fatal-beauty.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/feeds/8308837359759528689/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1732443482500916138&amp;postID=8308837359759528689' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/8308837359759528689'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/8308837359759528689'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/2009/11/when-mother-nature-has-pms.html' title='Here&apos;s yer witty post now shaddup'/><author><name>Bella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10697442591785473699</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SCc_9sosgrI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ibFvrN82s7E/S220/scream.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/Sw9uQoqiZ6I/AAAAAAAAIoM/6uLzkwr1J4U/s72-c/vision03b.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1732443482500916138.post-5030875423553880669</id><published>2009-09-19T10:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-19T10:27:27.508-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Saying farewell to the bachelorette diet</title><content type='html'>I know I promised a witty post, but nothing all that witty is going on...lol...maybe someday soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let the healing begin! I started the Specific Carbohydrate Diet (SCD) on Tuesday September 7. (Basically the following is not allowed: sugar in any form, any grains, so no breads, pasta, granola, etc , no starchy veggies like potatoes, no RUM or chocolate…) It hasn’t been all fun and games let me tell ya. Well the week before was, though sadly so. I allowed myself to indulge in all the things I wouldn’t be able to have once I started on this diet. Plus I was NOT going to let go to waste my homemade perogies and cabbage rolls in the freezer. I cried a lot. I know that is SO pathetic, but with each last bite or sip of one of my favourite things I teared up. Mock me if you will but I love my food, my Starbucks Chai Lattes and of course my rum and cokes. I can’t imagine being without them for a year or two or three. Course there was the underlying issue of, “I just got back on my feet after the last bullshit, why is this happening to me?” Pity parties are allowed for a time but then at some point you have to put your big girl panties on and just deal with it cuz what else are ya gonna do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I armed myself with knowledge of this SCD and even bought a couple of SCD recipe books.  There are also tons of sites on the net with recipes and support. A real nice lady, Gail, even emailed me a tone of links. So many people have gone on this diet so at least I’m in good company.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last two weeks have been a busy time of clearing out my fridge and cupboards of things I can no longer have, which was basically a good 99% of what was in them. Then I did a lot of shopping to restock things I CAN have. I also had to buy kitchen-y things like baking sheets, loaf pans, spatulas, etc for cooking these SCD recipes. I felt like a 20 year old moving out of the house for the first time. Okay I admit it, I was the bachelorette type. I was happy with just a toasted tomato sandwich for dinner or grabbing a couple slices of pizza on the way home, or even a Subway sandwich. “Cooking a meal” was something I very rarely did. I live alone, have only myself to cook for so why go through the hassle? There’re other things I would rather spend my time on than cooking. Sure occasionally I went all out and made those homemade perogies and cabbage rolls, but even then portions would get put into the freezer only to later be conveniently reheated. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now? Not so simple. Everything I buy or consume, I have to think first “can I eat this?” Going out to eat is a thing of the past for now. And people have been laughing at my grumbling about having to cook now but this is beyond cooking. Everything and I do mean EVERYTHING has to be made from scratch. Bread (only with nut flour, no yeast), tomato sauce, ketchup, mayo, soup…. There is NOTHING out of a can/jar/container that I can have since it ALL has sugar in it, even something as basic as soup stock. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One blessing in all this is I can still have wine though it must be dry.  But hey, while there is wine there is hope…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1732443482500916138-5030875423553880669?l=fatal-beauty.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/feeds/5030875423553880669/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1732443482500916138&amp;postID=5030875423553880669' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/5030875423553880669'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/5030875423553880669'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/2009/09/saying-farewell-to-bachelorette-diet.html' title='Saying farewell to the bachelorette diet'/><author><name>Bella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10697442591785473699</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SCc_9sosgrI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ibFvrN82s7E/S220/scream.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1732443482500916138.post-4670327513863586202</id><published>2009-08-31T19:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-31T21:39:04.390-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Specific Carbohydrate Diet'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Crohn’s'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='naturopathic medicine'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='doctor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='worm therapy'/><title type='text'>As if almost dying from laxatives wasn't bad enough...lol</title><content type='html'>Okay so normally I try to be somewhat entertaining and god knows my life supplies plenty of material for that. But the following post may lack much hilarity but I have to post it cuz I am tired of having to type it all out for everyone who’s asking…lol…I'm certainly not posting it up cuz I wanna do the wah me thing to y'all. And sorry it’s a long read, but &lt;strong&gt;I promise to make all this up with a witty post asap!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My previously mentioned colonoscopy was all “A” okay ‘cept for one bit that seemed” misshapen”. Since I was whacked out on sedatives during the doc’s explanation that’s about as detailed as I can get….lol. Anyways that led to me getting a CT Scan which led to the discovery that despite my lack of symptoms whatsoever I have severe Crohn’s Disease. I no I am not questioning the diagnosis since it’s all there in black and white. As much as I don’t want this, I got it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So he discusses treatment with me which of course only involves on choice, medication. This particular one works by suppressing your immune system and stopping the disease from progressing. (Crohn’s is considered an autoimmune disorder, with the immune system running overload. So hey let suppress it as opposed to…umm…fixing it? Yeeaaahhhhh ) And if that doesn’t set off warning bells in my head the fact that I would have to undergo regular blood work to detect any liver enlargement, bone marrow loss and cancer certainly has them ringing in deafening tones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now the thing with me and not having any symptoms is that I never know when the disease is actually active. My bowel could have been looking exactly like this for years, or it could be getting progressively worse as we speak. And if I hadn’t gone in for my regular colonoscopy I wouldn’t even have known. So the other option he gave me was to not take anything and get retested in a year and compare. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Too much to decide on the spot so I ask him to write down the name of the med he wants me to take and I’ll think about it. He writes it down but then warns me off looking it up on the internet. “The internet is a dangerous place,” he says,” you’ll read all kinds of scary things like cancer…” Umm okay so you want my to just blindly take a medication without thought, without looking into it myself to make an informed decision about what I put into MY body that’s going to affect MY health and? Are you joking?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So after going for lunch with a friend and indulging excessively in cool and refreshing beverages of the alcoholic kind, I start my research. Aside from the possible liver enlargement and bone marrow loss, the regular side effects I can expect are: hair loss, fatigue and of course a suppressed immune system, causing me to catch everyone’s cold and flu that I even remotely come in contact with. Oh and lets not forget this cancer thing. The drug is actually considered a carcinogen. Now if he cared to look he would know that every person on my mom’s side of the family has died of cancer. I’m about as high risk as you can get. So is it really a good idea to take a carcinogen? Call me crazy but I think not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Further research reveals a few support forums for those suffering from this disease. Every person who’s on meds talks about less flare-ups, no flare-ups, remission, remission is over have to change meds, etc. Not one person actually talks about healing. Yet everyone on this Specific Carbohydrate Diet talks about getting better to the point of actual healing….tests even showing no more disease. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So my plan of attack is no meds, do the diet and I seeing a naturopath who practises a variety of things like, herbal medicine, ancient Chinese medicine, acupuncture and homeopathy. I wanted one who knows a variety of treatments in the hopes he’d know what will work best. Since my disease is severe I wanted to compliment the diet with some natural treatments. Also the problem with me not having any symptoms it will be hard for me to know what’s working until I get retested in a year so I figure do as much as I can. The diet will be hard, but the diet I follow right now during the week is almost the same: no sugar, no bad carbs. There are a few other things I would have to cut out and also my weekends of having whatever I want will be now a distant memory. This diet has to be followed 100% until you are completely healed, them some cheating is allowed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I actually would really like to do the worm therapy. Yes, you ingest hookworms, but yes it actually cures the disease. They don’t reproduce on your system and you can take a pill at any time to get rid of them. And no they aren’t like the ones that eat your brain…lol. Those who have been on it are healed and now enjoying indulging in all those previously forbidden foods. How does it work? “In order to live as a parasite inside the human, the parasite must convince the host's immune system to chill and not try to reject it. With hookworms, they secrete a chemical that distracts the immune system, dampening down its response. Hookworms are common in undeveloped countries, places where inflammatory bowel disease is rare. Studies suggest the presence of hookworms in the human gut may be beneficial, secreting a chemical that turns off an overactive immune response.” (credit http://cbs5.com/health/hookworm.treatment.therapy.2.1016319.html)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would really like to do this. It’s certainly less effort that following the diet 100%. And it seems to correct the immune system which is something that I really would like. My ONLY problem with the worm therapy is the $3,900 price tag. Getting better shouldn’t cost so much….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This all sucks and yeah I spent a good two days existing in the depths of despair. But at some point I found my big girl panties and my fuck you attitude and I feel energized now and ready to take on the world………………..without chocolate…-sighs-…but at least I’ll still be able to have wine.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1732443482500916138-4670327513863586202?l=fatal-beauty.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/feeds/4670327513863586202/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1732443482500916138&amp;postID=4670327513863586202' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/4670327513863586202'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/4670327513863586202'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/2009/08/as-if-almost-dying-from-laxatives-wasnt.html' title='As if almost dying from laxatives wasn&apos;t bad enough...lol'/><author><name>Bella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10697442591785473699</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SCc_9sosgrI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ibFvrN82s7E/S220/scream.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1732443482500916138.post-4892675495233008970</id><published>2009-07-19T12:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-19T12:37:47.294-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Who needs that silly blood pressure thing anyways?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SmN0HUdE34I/AAAAAAAAIgQ/GeWQAv7bNQc/s1600-h/adversity.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 268px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SmN0HUdE34I/AAAAAAAAIgQ/GeWQAv7bNQc/s320/adversity.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360255650599591810" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During my last physical I mentioned I was due for a colonoscopy. I was blessed with a talented colon; it possesses the innate ability to grow potentially precancerous polyps at an age where I shouldn’t even be remotely thinking about them. (I’m not THAT old!) So lucky me has to have this procedure every 5 years or so to have them removed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So my spiffy new doctor sends me to a spiffy new gastroenterologist. It came up in conversation that I only take half the “prep”. Prep being all the shit they make you take the day before the procedure to ensure your colon is sparkly clean enough to eat off of. Wha?? He tells me they have newer gentler stuff and that I should take the whole thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fast forward to day before procedure. The two packets of stuff I had to take during the say made me agree with him wholeheartedly, hey this wasn’t so bad at all. It even tasted better than that other shit that I’m sure was some sort of mixture of trucker cab mattress squeezings and nuclear waste along with the obligatory hint of lemon. So far so good except that my first foray into the bathroom yielded a horrible discovery…MY TOILET IS SUDDENLY AND INEXPLICABLY BROKEN. Are you kidding me?! Now of ALL times!? I jimmy it, to make it kinda work cuz at this point I am NOT having anyone over. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before bed I had to take two tablets of something, although at this point I KNOW I got nothing left in me but I trusted this new doc about taking it all. About 5am I’m forced to bound from my bed for more purging fun….aka some INCREDIBLY INTENSE purging fun. Problem is there is nothing left in me and I wonder at what point when there’s nothing left does your body start purging vital organs? And then my body starts to feel REALLY inexplicably fucked up. My temp suddenly spikes and I instantly start pouring sweat. I don't know what to do cuz I can in no way get up to get the phone and call like maybe 911. Besides my place is kinda messy and do I want paramedics over? Imminent death vs guys seeing my messy apartment…hmmmm. Finally I am able to venture out. I get up but my legs feel like pliable rubber. I stumble and then promptly faint.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each time I woke up I tried to get to the phone, but my body would do the “no we are laying down again RIGHT NOW” thing. My legs stayed in rubber mode, my head swam, I was cared shitless…pardon the pun. It took me about two and a half hours and a visually entertaining combination of staggering, fainting, crawling, stubborn determination (because I refuse to die from laxatives, I just REFUSE! I survived a wolf, I can survive shitting) and fervently praying but I finally made it to the phone! Ha ha victory! Fuck you, you can’t keep a good girl down! I call the clinic where I will be having the procedure. Relief flows over me when someone answers and I know that surely they will send a team over right away to tend to my dying personage. I tell her what’s happening to me and she says to me in a sing song happy cheery voice that it's just a reaction to the prep, don’t worry. Wtf? I repeat – I keep fainting! "Oh yeah it’s just your blood pressure dropping that can happen don't worry, just drink lots of water." Dumbfounded doesn’t even begin to describe what I was feeling at that point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the end I survived the purging, dangerously low blood pressure, slight concussion, dehydration and the vast disappointment of only getting some lame ass sedative that was no fun at all instead of the highly anticipated shot of Demerol. Fuckers…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1732443482500916138-4892675495233008970?l=fatal-beauty.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/feeds/4892675495233008970/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1732443482500916138&amp;postID=4892675495233008970' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/4892675495233008970'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/4892675495233008970'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/2009/07/who-needs-that-silly-blood-pressure.html' title='Who needs that silly blood pressure thing anyways?'/><author><name>Bella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10697442591785473699</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SCc_9sosgrI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ibFvrN82s7E/S220/scream.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SmN0HUdE34I/AAAAAAAAIgQ/GeWQAv7bNQc/s72-c/adversity.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1732443482500916138.post-1651367444718479085</id><published>2009-07-14T20:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-14T21:03:26.998-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I am in a quiet room</title><content type='html'>Do not stand at my grave and weep, &lt;br /&gt;I am not there, I do not sleep. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am in a thousand winds that blow, &lt;br /&gt;I am the softly falling snow. &lt;br /&gt;I am the gentle showers of rain, &lt;br /&gt;I am the fields of ripening grain. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am in the morning hush, &lt;br /&gt;I am in the graceful rush &lt;br /&gt;Of beautiful birds in circling flight, &lt;br /&gt;I am the starshine of the night. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am in the flowers that bloom, &lt;br /&gt;I am in a quiet room. &lt;br /&gt;I am in the birds that sing, &lt;br /&gt;I am in each lovely thing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do not stand at my grave and cry, &lt;br /&gt;I am not there. I do not die &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;by Mary Frye &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still miss ya mom, even though I know you're around and even with that thwap on the head....it might take a few more for me to get it as dense as I am...lol&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1732443482500916138-1651367444718479085?l=fatal-beauty.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/feeds/1651367444718479085/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1732443482500916138&amp;postID=1651367444718479085' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/1651367444718479085'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/1651367444718479085'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/2009/07/i-am-in-quiet-room.html' title='I am in a quiet room'/><author><name>Bella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10697442591785473699</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SCc_9sosgrI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ibFvrN82s7E/S220/scream.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1732443482500916138.post-6708996844803520897</id><published>2009-07-11T11:43:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-12T17:51:51.372-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What happens when you mix two Canadians, the US of A and a Newfie GPS?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SljdiCcS2dI/AAAAAAAAIgI/2Um_jQFNqR8/s1600-h/ignorance.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 268px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SljdiCcS2dI/AAAAAAAAIgI/2Um_jQFNqR8/s320/ignorance.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357275333598042578" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So my partner in crime from my Europe adventure came out to visit me a couple weeks ago. Rather than hanging out here like we always do we decided to rent a car and head on down to Seattle for a little USA fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now being rather impressed with the GPS that my cousin had brought with him on the Provence leg of our previous trip, (other than that one time it had us driving through some farmer's crop) I asked Trish to bring the GPS that her husband had bought her for Christmas. (-shrugs helplessly here- I know…). So anyways I pick her up at the airport and then we were off!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After making it to the border we spent the time waiting in line by setting the GPS up. There were a few different voices to choose from and we choose the male, Richard. Now why we didn’t pick a female is beyond me. My head was going towards a sexy male voice when I should have remembered the golden rule of trips…men and directions are like oil and water.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Add to that the time on the GPS was a half hour ahead of what it should be. A half an hour!!? It doesn’t take a genius to realize that we are dealing with some sort of Newfie made device. You can’t fool us! And in typical Newfie style we were sure Richard drank heavily. If he didn’t at that point he was sure gonna start after dealing with us. Ohhh yeah you do NOT want to go against what Richard says. As you take a  right instead of the instructed left you could almost hear the annoyance in his voice as he repeated turn left, turn left, over and over again….and then begin to sputter directions in a vain attempt to get us back to where HE thought we should be going. (but hey we HAD to get off the road and eat at some point!) In the end I think he pretty much gave up. You could almost here him sigh in defeat as we blatantly defied his directions! In the end he got his little revenge by having us drive about in a shopping mall parking lot for a while before getting us back onto the highway. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the revenge wasn’t over yet! Oh not by a long shot. After lunch we decided to kiss and make up with Richard and smartly put the address of our hotel in the GPS, deciding to just TRY and trust him from this point on. I was leery at the way he was taking us to the hotel after getting off the I5 but I pushed aside my doubts and followed Richards’s confidently spoken directions. That is until we ended up at a Shell gas station wherein he triumphantly announced that we had reached our destination!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uuummm….not so much. We looked about thinking the hotel HAD to at LEAST be close by. Nope, couldn’t see it. I decide to drive around a bit and see if another “approach” would get us to our hotel. The second attempt ended just like the first, with Richard announcing once again that we had arrived at our destination, the Shell gas station!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With Richard now gagged and bound in the backseat of the car, we followed the street numbers aided by the map and found the hotel OURSELVES. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ha! Take that Richard! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I never did ask what Trish did with the GPS when she got back home. I'm wondering if "talking out your asshole" has taken on a whole new meaning in her household)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1732443482500916138-6708996844803520897?l=fatal-beauty.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/feeds/6708996844803520897/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1732443482500916138&amp;postID=6708996844803520897' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/6708996844803520897'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/6708996844803520897'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/2009/07/what-happens-when-you-mix-two-canadians.html' title='What happens when you mix two Canadians, the US of A and a Newfie GPS?'/><author><name>Bella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10697442591785473699</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SCc_9sosgrI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ibFvrN82s7E/S220/scream.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SljdiCcS2dI/AAAAAAAAIgI/2Um_jQFNqR8/s72-c/ignorance.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1732443482500916138.post-9102165784730099059</id><published>2009-07-01T12:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-02T12:21:22.316-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Canada'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='teeth'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dating'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='men'/><title type='text'>Adventures in Dating Part Seven/Happy Canada Day</title><content type='html'>Thought I would combine something Canadian-ish with something reflecting my adventures in dating. (Only some of you will get how this really applies...lol)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/eeB2lWjh8KY&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/eeB2lWjh8KY&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1732443482500916138-9102165784730099059?l=fatal-beauty.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/feeds/9102165784730099059/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1732443482500916138&amp;postID=9102165784730099059' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/9102165784730099059'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/9102165784730099059'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/2009/07/adventures-in-dating-part-seven-happy.html' title='Adventures in Dating &lt;em&gt;Part Seven&lt;/em&gt;/Happy Canada Day'/><author><name>Bella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10697442591785473699</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SCc_9sosgrI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ibFvrN82s7E/S220/scream.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1732443482500916138.post-7517625011483714287</id><published>2009-06-26T21:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-02T12:21:44.876-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rest'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='travel'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='holiday'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Seattle'/><title type='text'>We interupt this regularly scheduled program....</title><content type='html'>cuz I need a fuckin' break. I am off to Seattle to have a much needed rest and have some fun. There won't be any Charring Cross or Yorkshire, but hey, it's "away" and not at work. I'll leave you with the ultimate of vacation music videos....ahhh yes....hope it's this good....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/sPJD3qcIL7s&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/sPJD3qcIL7s&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1732443482500916138-7517625011483714287?l=fatal-beauty.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/feeds/7517625011483714287/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1732443482500916138&amp;postID=7517625011483714287' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/7517625011483714287'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/7517625011483714287'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/2009/06/we-interupt-this-regularly-scheduled.html' title='We interupt this regularly scheduled program....'/><author><name>Bella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10697442591785473699</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SCc_9sosgrI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ibFvrN82s7E/S220/scream.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1732443482500916138.post-1550869427448813105</id><published>2009-06-17T22:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-02T12:22:11.716-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life insurance'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='depression'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dating'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='doctor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='accidents'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='men'/><title type='text'>Adventures in Dating Part Six</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SjnZIwD8rAI/AAAAAAAAGcY/5lmQKNNl4Ww/s1600-h/misfortune.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 268px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SjnZIwD8rAI/AAAAAAAAGcY/5lmQKNNl4Ww/s320/misfortune.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348544776842816514" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I recently began seeing a new doctor. I had begun to get the very distinct feeling that I was wearing out my welcome with the old one. Not my fault of course…-insert shifty eyes and a slight clearing of the throat here-! It’s certainly not that I LIKE going to the doctor. Weird shit just happens to me and those that know me are nodding their heads in collective agreement as we speak.You just don’t make up shit like almost losing an eye due to a Pilates band mishap, hiking+low lying branches=more eye mishaps, or having my new $100 Calvin Klein bra (the only one in the entire store that is my size because apparently I am some sort of freak) give me a lump the size of a large olive on my boob convincing me I had an advance stage of breast cancer, leaving me with mere hours to live. But come on, at least she wasn’t around for the whole “wolf thinking me tasty” experience or the “attack of the perverted/in the top ten of most painful stings/I’m gonna start stinging like there’s no tomorrow only AFTER making my way the inside of your pants” wasp attack. And let’s face it, my time could be better spent doing other things like staring blankly at my computer screen rather than waiting in her office for at LEAST an hour and a half every single time for her perpetually behind ass to work it’s way up to my turn. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plus the woman had absolutely no sense of humour whatsoever and believe me with the shit I go to her for there’s a whole wealth of things to snicker about. Like the time I finally caved and went on the antidepressants. Well excuse me for freaking out but no one thought to inform me of the possibility of a “certain” little side effect. And no, not so little….least in my opinion. I didn’t have much in my life at the time but at least I had that…HAD being the operative word here. Upon discovery I immediately raced over to her office demanding to be seen right away due to the horrific side effect the medication SHE put me on was causing. She came into the room with her usual look of “here we go again” on her face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me looking panicked:&lt;/em&gt; I can’t have an orgasm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Her with evil taunting gleam in her eye disguised as feigned interest if that makes sense: &lt;/em&gt;With a partner or by yourself?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(yeah thanks for that…just had to throw that in…LIKE IT MAKES A DIFFERENCE???)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me screaming said above statement in my head:&lt;/em&gt; By myself&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Her:&lt;/em&gt; Is it that you can’t or that it takes a really long time?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me with quirked poignant brow:&lt;/em&gt; Well how long does it take? I only have two hands…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing. I got nothing and I have to say that as those words left my mouth even I found it funny. But seriously wtf? Like depression isn’t bad enough the supposed “cure” takes away even that last bit of pleasure you get out of life? Someone somewhere has a really f*cked up sense of humour….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(btw, apologies to immediate family members for previous posting…TMI….I know I know….)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyways I have a new doctor and like all new doctor she’s got that keener thing going on like there’s no tomorrow. I was due for a complete physical and she sent me for the works and I do mean ‘the works”. One thing she was concerned about was the history of cancer in my family and so suggested that perhaps I might be a candidate for that genetic testing stuff. She did warn me however that I should get some life insurance in place first, because if I tested positive I would have a hard time getting it after that fact. Ignorant of purchasing any kind of insurance I decided to consult my dad, former insurance guy extraordinaire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I’ll just say here that mom and dad raised two very independent daughters, perhaps to a fault. Neither of us has ever married, but hey, we refused to ‘settle”, preferring to be single than put up with guy shit. Although we DO still yet hold out hope for that Mr. Right, that guy with whom we can put up with on a daily basis. I suppose as the years go by in only makes sense that the hope of others slowly dwindles away…..though it’s bad when even your own father no longer holds out much hope…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I phone dad and explain the situation, asking his advice on buying life insurance. His response?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Dad, voice chalk full of sage advice:&lt;/em&gt; What do you need life insurance for? You don’t have kids and you’re not married…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Thanks for the vote of confidence dad!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think he’s been reading my blog…..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1732443482500916138-1550869427448813105?l=fatal-beauty.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/feeds/1550869427448813105/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1732443482500916138&amp;postID=1550869427448813105' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/1550869427448813105'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/1550869427448813105'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/2009/06/adventures-in-dating-part-six.html' title='Adventures in Dating &lt;em&gt;Part Six&lt;/em&gt;'/><author><name>Bella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10697442591785473699</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SCc_9sosgrI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ibFvrN82s7E/S220/scream.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SjnZIwD8rAI/AAAAAAAAGcY/5lmQKNNl4Ww/s72-c/misfortune.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1732443482500916138.post-1231655135324166121</id><published>2009-06-07T20:35:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-02T12:16:53.179-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dating'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='drunk'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bars'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='men'/><title type='text'>Adventures in Dating Part five</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SiyHFCS4u2I/AAAAAAAAGcQ/m_H-1NzSdvY/s1600-h/challenges.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 268px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SiyHFCS4u2I/AAAAAAAAGcQ/m_H-1NzSdvY/s320/challenges.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344795378367118178" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For many years I worked in bars and pubs. I actually miss the job, the hours were awesome, it was usually a fun atmosphere and the money….oh I miss the money! Anyways there was never a lack of guys asking me out. I’d like to say it was the awesomeness that is me but a lot of times it’s cuz you’re the only chick in the bar talking to them. Despite the fact that the only thing you’re saying to them is “do you wannanother?” men being men will still consider this communication from the female species and take it as meaning “she must want me”. I never dated anyone from the pub except for two exceptions. My ex whom I was with for about ten years and “Mr. Completely lacking balls, integrity and caring for anyone’s feelings other than his own I work in the movie industry and so I am great”. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was after I stopped waitressing that I caved in and accepted a date from a guy who’d been trying for years to get me to go out with him. What the heck I thought, what harm could it do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I met him at the pub and we immediately left to catch a cab to the Thai restaurant to which he was taking me. As we approached the cab I thought I saw, out of the corner of my eye, him stagger slightly. I dismissed it as just seeing things and got in the cab. By the time we got to the restaurant it was apparent that he had started the party ahead of me…much like “Mr. Coke will make me sober” guy. Wtf? Again? Is the prospect of going on a date with me so daunting that men feel they need to overly fortify themselves with liquor? I’d say maybe it was so terrible that they needed to numb themselves but hey they asked ME out!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should have left right then and there but it wasn't unitl we were sat at our table and he had ordered a bottle of wine, that it became clear just how drunk he was. Thinking someone needed to take one for the team, the team being me and me being the only player on it, I took it upon myself to drink as much as the wine as possible because there was NO WAY IN HELL he should have been drinking anymore. The F word left his lips at the rapid pace of one per 7.67 seconds and not subtly either. (okay yeah yeah I’m no angel when it comes to the spoken language but come on, a least I don’t spout off in the middle of a nice place on a date) I was more than dreadfully aware of the people around us giving us those “looks”. I wanted to either have the ground swallow me up or leap across the table and ram my knife into his jugular... ANYTHING just to get this experience over with. At the time I guess I was just too…nice?...or too…something?…..to just get up and leave which is what I should have done….with said knife stuck in said jugular.  But hey, hindsight is 20/20 right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we “enjoyed” our meal, with me doing my best at keeping the wine away from him by chugging it like a pirate on shore leave, it was clear that he was raised in some sort of sect where the use of utensils is frowned upon.  He was obviously not very experienced in the handling of any of them. Soon the table around his plate was littered with more food that I would bet he managed to get into his foul mouth. Probably the longest meal I ever endured, but blessed be it was eventually over. He set his plate aside with a satisfying sigh, then proceeded to brush the table scraps into a small pile in front of him. He then placed one hand just underneath the table as the other brushed this pile onto it. I then expected him to put said pile on his plate but nooooooooooo. He brought said pile to his lips, tilted his head back and knocked ‘er all back into his open gaping mouth. I could only sit there and stare in disbelief, wondering how the hell I was going to describe this to anyone because there was just no way anyone outside of his sect was going to believe this!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It ended, thank god, it ended, leaving this yet one more reason for me to fold and walk away from the table in this, the dating game.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1732443482500916138-1231655135324166121?l=fatal-beauty.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/feeds/1231655135324166121/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1732443482500916138&amp;postID=1231655135324166121' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/1231655135324166121'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/1231655135324166121'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/2009/06/adventures-in-dating-part-five.html' title='Adventures in Dating &lt;em&gt;Part five&lt;/em&gt;'/><author><name>Bella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10697442591785473699</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SCc_9sosgrI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ibFvrN82s7E/S220/scream.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SiyHFCS4u2I/AAAAAAAAGcQ/m_H-1NzSdvY/s72-c/challenges.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1732443482500916138.post-665693906625627442</id><published>2009-05-31T21:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-02T12:22:38.737-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rich'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dating'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='men'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='brain damage'/><title type='text'>Adventures in Dating Part Four</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SiNfRgGGRWI/AAAAAAAAGcI/t95ZUYBDLBg/s1600-h/romance.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 223px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SiNfRgGGRWI/AAAAAAAAGcI/t95ZUYBDLBg/s320/romance.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342218337269466466" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realize it’s been a long time since I've written something and I have been totally bugged about leaving yet another 'cliff hanger" but geez come on guys, like my life is really something that leaves you hanging in suspence? Anyways, I can’t say exactly why, but I think I may have hit on the possibility yesterday. One thing that’s been glaringly apparent is I haven’t been feeling all that “blogger witty” lately and me being the perfectionist I am…well it just wasn’t happening for me. But another thing that hit me yesterday as I was thinking about my particular subject for this particular post was this-----he was genuinely a really nice guy and deep down I believe he had a good heart. And to be witty would have had me poking fun at him at his expense and I honestly can’t do that. If a guy’s a total shithead then fine, it’s no holds barred. But someone who’s nice, yet had fate shit on him a little makes me not so able to rip him to shreds like so many of the others deserve. So here it is…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He hit me up on the dating site and truth to tell something just wasn’t screaming “giddy-up!” for me with this guy. What it was I couldn’t really say…just one of those ‘gut feelings”. But he persisted and continued to remind me that he was “financially secure for life” and just “wanted to find a partner to have fun in life with”. Well all gut feelings aside, I suppose if a guy’s “financially secure” for life he’s gotta be worth at least a look-see right? I mean it would be stupid to say no to a guy who’s rich and just wants someone to go sail around the world with him right? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well not so fast. We met up at one of my fav restaurants and he was already there when I showed up. He was dark and good looking but there was just something “off” about his face…something I couldn’t quite pin point. We ordered drinks and our dinners as we talked and began to get to know one another and the whole revelation all came crashing down on me rather quickly. Somewhere amidst having the exact same conversation every 10-15 minutes, it was revealed that the reason he was “financially set for life” was that he was in a motorcycle accident and the city was at fault and so subsequently received a rather healthy settlement……………………because the accident left him slightly brain damaged. And yeah he did drool slightly out of the corner of his mouth. I felt bad for him, sad, sympathetic….he was a great looking guy and before the accident was probably drop dead gorgeous. He was sweet and nice and I gladly spent the dinner with him, despite having the same conversation over and over and over again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we parted I could tell he wanted to see me again, but in all honesty it just wasn’t something I could do and yeah I felt like a total shitbag for it too. But unbeknownst to me was that I was a couple months away from being diagnose with severe depression and though I didn’t realize this at the time, I WAS very well aware of the shit I was dealing with in my own life and just didn’t have much left for someone else. It would be a big factor in realizing that I just wasn’t in the right place in my life to start up a relationship, But apparently I still had a few more “dates” left in this adventure before it all these revelations came to the fore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I suppose now he's found some woman who is totally lacking in morals and integrity who's taken him for all he's worth. "no hunny you only had $75 000, not $750 000!". I truly hope this hasn't happened but knowing women as I do....yeeeeeeeeeeah....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So sorry for the total lack of wittiness in this dating adventure, Yeah he drooled and I could have made all sorts of witty remarks about how I shoulda went with the ”haz mat” suit instead of the halter dress, but I just couldn’t evoke my inner bitch enough to do it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear God! Am I now finally losing my post depression cynicism? Lord help us all…..this blog is doomed.....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1732443482500916138-665693906625627442?l=fatal-beauty.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/feeds/665693906625627442/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1732443482500916138&amp;postID=665693906625627442' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/665693906625627442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/665693906625627442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/2009/05/adventures-in-dating-part-two.html' title='Adventures in Dating &lt;em&gt;Part Four&lt;/em&gt;'/><author><name>Bella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10697442591785473699</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SCc_9sosgrI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ibFvrN82s7E/S220/scream.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SiNfRgGGRWI/AAAAAAAAGcI/t95ZUYBDLBg/s72-c/romance.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1732443482500916138.post-858412588640830557</id><published>2009-02-21T18:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-07-02T12:20:06.576-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dating'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='obsessive'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='naked'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='men'/><title type='text'>Adventures in dating Part Three</title><content type='html'>So blogger's been a bitch and after beating into submission today I am finally able to get my backlog of posts up. Plus I am off ot Vegas for the week so you get two...two in one day!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what is it with women? The very thought of a date and we turn into obsessive, hysterical freaks where things like waxing and plucking become matters of life and death. Men don’t go through this why should we? We spend the week before a date agonizing over what to where, (should I show off my legs or my cleavage or both?) making waxing appointments even though we KNOW he isn’t gonna get THAT far. Then there’s the buffing, moisturizing, polishing, plucking, hair appointments, manicures, facials, the abject terror over possibly getting a huge zit right on the tip of your nose…omg who has the time for dating?! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now the guy….bet he doesn’t put much thought into it all week. Some are probably even likely to forget they have a date in the first place. He probably doesn’t even think about getting ready until about 10 minutes before he’s gotta leave. He showers, runs fingers through his hair and grabs whatever clothes happen to be clean out of his laundry basket cuz he hasn’t bothered to put them away yet. How handy is that, he thinks…. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it doesn’t even stop there. So now you’ve made it through the first date, and then the next several and all of a sudden you are heading towards that thing called ‘exclusiveness”. Obsessing then turns to the old, omg I need to go on the 'new man’s going to see me naked soon' diet. Your workouts become more like boot camps run by sadistic Nurse Ratched types, you starve yourself and deny yourself even such basics such as chocolate and potato chips. You frantically go out and begin buying up all kinds of lingerie even though you have drawers full already.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And him? Well, judging by the number of men who go about shirtless in the summertime, showing off their beer bellies and man boobs, they just might not be as obsessive as we are about their appearance. Call me crazy….but I really don’t think guys obsess over what we’re gonna think when WE see THEM naked. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is that fair? I think not. Men have it pretty good. They show up and get this perfectly groomed woman who’s been through the bowels of hell to look as good as she does and what do we get? Yeah…it’s all a crap shoot…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1732443482500916138-858412588640830557?l=fatal-beauty.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/feeds/858412588640830557/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1732443482500916138&amp;postID=858412588640830557' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/858412588640830557'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/858412588640830557'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/2009/02/adventures-in-dating-part-three.html' title='Adventures in dating &lt;em&gt;Part Three&lt;/em&gt;'/><author><name>Bella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10697442591785473699</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SCc_9sosgrI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ibFvrN82s7E/S220/scream.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1732443482500916138.post-1381738916009929053</id><published>2009-02-21T09:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-07-02T12:23:34.639-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dating'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='drunk'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='men'/><title type='text'>Adventures in Dating Part Two</title><content type='html'>He hit me up on the dating site and we exchanged messages back and forth. He was pretty good looking, in GREAT shape (oh those arms!) and was employed, a few things that are usually near the top of every girl’s wish list. We decided to meet for drinks and I took the time to put extra effort in my appearance, looking forward to this first date and the fun I would surely have just like my friend was having. Now, albeit I WAS late, but he hadn’t explained the location of the place all that well and it took me a long time of wandering about in torturous high heeled strappy shoes before I found the damned place. But that’s okay because he apparently found a way to occupy himself…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;with alcoholic beverages. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trying not to be a total snob (and I WAS new to this thing) I decided to give him a chance. However he continued to drink steadily getting more and more drunk as the evening wore on. But in the end that was okay because he did sober up at the end of the evening…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;by doing lines of coke in the bathroom. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I can admit defeat as much as the next guy and so made my way home. I don’t recall much else but I do recall him phoning me a day or so later. He just might have been waiting for another date to show up because once again he had obviously been imbibing in more of those time fillers. By far it was one of the most painful conversations I have ever had and having worked in bars for 17 years that’s saying a lot. Of course the topper of this particular conversation was me having to listen to him proceed to puke his brains out without the courtesy of either hanging up on me or at least covering the mouth piece on his phone. But I suppose when your body starts rejecting the contents of your stomach, who thinks of silly little etiquette details? But that’s okay because I took the initiative and hung up on him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not a good start to the online dating scene, but undeterred, I was ready to move on and try again. Stay tuned for the drooler.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1732443482500916138-1381738916009929053?l=fatal-beauty.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/feeds/1381738916009929053/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1732443482500916138&amp;postID=1381738916009929053' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/1381738916009929053'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/1381738916009929053'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/2009/02/first-date.html' title='Adventures in Dating &lt;em&gt;Part Two&lt;/em&gt;'/><author><name>Bella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10697442591785473699</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SCc_9sosgrI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ibFvrN82s7E/S220/scream.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1732443482500916138.post-374131210212151771</id><published>2009-01-31T12:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-31T18:37:30.231-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Adventures in Dating  Part One</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;“People go to casinos for the same reason they go on blind dates - hoping to hit the jackpot. But mostly, you just wind up broke or alone in a bar.” Carrie, Sex in the City&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So it’s been a while…actually a very long time…okay FINE it’s been a very VERY long time since I went on a date or even considered going on one. Sure it was a rough road for me a few years back with life continuing to bitch slap me around for a good year or so. Then, what with all that reinventing of myself, who had the time to even consider starting something up? And then when life got good again and I was back on my two feet better than ever, I found I was quite happy to be on my own. As they say, “if you can’t make yourself happy then you can’t expect anyone else to make you happy”, right? I am not one to “pine” for a boyfriend, or actively search in rapid desperation, feeling like I will surely shrivel up and die if I go more than one month of singleness. Sure there’s that fear of dying, alone in my apartment with no one knowing about it until the smell of my decomposing corpse permeates the hallways and the neighbours realize that this time it’s NOT the smell of the Thai people’s cooking downstairs. Sure it sucks when your ceiling fan goes tits up, you have blinds to hang, or a wall in your apartment you want taken out but, for as independent as I am, there are things that are too far into the realm of manliness for me to want to tackle. Or maybe I’m just lazy that way… &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course then there was the overriding thought of, “I can’t imagine there is a guy out there with whom I want to deal with on a daily basis.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously….but lets not rush things and get into cohabitating yet…I haven’t even been on a date in years. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My last forays into the dating world were less then fulfilling, but I live the type of life where if something weird, bizarre or even hilarious is gonna happen it’ll happen to me. (ie: &lt;a href=http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/2008/08/and-ill-huff.html taget=blank&gt;almost getting eaten by a 120 pound wolf&lt;/a&gt;, almost blinding myself with a pilates band, the uncanny ability to end up with stinging insects inside my clothing, causing me to rip said clothing off my body as I screech in a mixture of  pain, panic and horror, much to the delight of the guys I was with at the time…you get the picture…) And I am okay with that, at least you wind up with a few funny stories to entertain people with. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I guess it was about 4 and a half years back I decided to join a dating site. A friend belonged to one and she happily regaled me with what a great time she was having going on all these dates. You see all these other people doing it and having these great dates and some even end up blissfully happy. I figured if it worked for them why not me? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well stay tuned for the drooler, the drunkard and the guy who apparently hasn't seen utensils before, plus many more tales of the bizarre and unexplainable!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1732443482500916138-374131210212151771?l=fatal-beauty.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/feeds/374131210212151771/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1732443482500916138&amp;postID=374131210212151771' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/374131210212151771'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/374131210212151771'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/2009/01/adventures-in-dating-part-one.html' title='Adventures in Dating  &lt;em&gt;Part One&lt;/em&gt;'/><author><name>Bella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10697442591785473699</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SCc_9sosgrI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ibFvrN82s7E/S220/scream.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1732443482500916138.post-624694850385501663</id><published>2009-01-27T21:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-27T21:01:11.751-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Things I’ve learned in the last 2 months</title><content type='html'>I suck at Guitar Hero (and the song I sing best is the one I hate the most – Hotel California)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things even out (money saved for Vegas trip=$400 – cost of most recent vet bill=$411)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Joining Facebook hoping to get in touch with old friends may not be such a good idea after all (cue high pitched screechy violin horror movie music)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know the lyrics to an alarming number of 80’s hairband songs&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Assignment due for school=a clean apartment (apparently the procrastination factor works in favour of cleanliness here…go figure I finally found my motivation)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Having a hot sex dream about Clive Owen makes the following day that much better&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And last but not least…I still hate school…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1732443482500916138-624694850385501663?l=fatal-beauty.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/feeds/624694850385501663/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1732443482500916138&amp;postID=624694850385501663' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/624694850385501663'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/624694850385501663'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/2009/01/things-ive-learned-in-last-2-months.html' title='Things I’ve learned in the last 2 months'/><author><name>Bella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10697442591785473699</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SCc_9sosgrI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ibFvrN82s7E/S220/scream.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1732443482500916138.post-7365343156520127116</id><published>2009-01-02T23:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-02T23:13:03.211-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hero tested and approved!</title><content type='html'>So anyone that knows me knows of my “feelings” towards children. Not that I dislike children, I mean I do choose to volunteer my time at a children’s hospice. It’s just all those times like when you’ve been in a store or on the street and you encounter that mother and their child nearby and the child has that whiney drama queen moment or that extremely high pitched temper tantrum that threatens to crack your contact lenses? Yeah those moments…well I can’t BEGIN to tell you how many times over the years my tubes have tried to tie themselves ….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the big irony of my workplace is this. I work on the 4th floor of a 5 story building. On the top floor is a daycare. Apparently, and I was told in no uncertain terms, that it’s my responsibility (as well as others on my floor) that when there’s a fire alarm I have to go against my natural instincts that tell me to flee the building screaming like a sissy girl and actually go UP the stairs and grab a kid and carry them to safety. Yeah me…the person who has chosen NOT to have children has to risk their life in order to save someone else’s spawn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day I was actually trying to rationalize this in my head when my supervisor asked me if I could really, in good conscious, just leave the building and thus the children behind. Moments ticked by in silence as I struggled with what to say and I soon realize that the people around me were staring at me horrified that I had not yet answered such a fundamental question. Okay so now this isn’t to say that I am THAT cold hearted. I was just pondering that fact that on a day to day basis I, who has NO children of her own, honestly do not think about other people’s children. I just don’t. And then I wondered that if a time like that should arrive, and amidst the panic and terror of imminent death,  would I really instinctively think about these children of others?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So it would just happen that the other week after I had finally gotten my butt down to the gym (3dr floor) after procrastinating for most of the day, that the fire alarm went off. It was a Friday and almost 4:30 in the afternoon by then. I had just begun to work up a sweat when the fire alarm went off. Cursing I grabbed up my water bottle thinking how it figured that I finally get my ass to the gym and the fire alarm goes off. As I made my way to the door it clicked in my head. OMG the children! It’s 4:30 on a Friday and most people are gone by then! In a panic I race around the building but because of security I can’t get up to the 5th floor. I make my way outside and see one of the maintenance guys who’s got a key for everything. I explained to him the situation and we run up to the 5th floor and see the children all gathered around ready to be delivered to safety. Luckily there happened to be enough people left on my floor and who, in good conscience, came up to scoop all the kids up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So in the end I wasn’t needed but I have to admit that I was pretty proud of myself for actually thinking about the kids when that ‘emergency’ actually became a reality.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the way it turned out that the reason the fire alarm had gone off is cuz someone on a Bosa ball lost their balance and hit the fire alarm. Yeah......thanks for that, I really liked standing outside for an hour in wintertime in my t-shirt and shorts just after getting a good sweat on. –thumbs up-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1732443482500916138-7365343156520127116?l=fatal-beauty.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/feeds/7365343156520127116/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1732443482500916138&amp;postID=7365343156520127116' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/7365343156520127116'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/7365343156520127116'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/2009/01/hero-tested-and-approved.html' title='Hero tested and approved!'/><author><name>Bella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10697442591785473699</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SCc_9sosgrI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ibFvrN82s7E/S220/scream.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1732443482500916138.post-8475451045351728865</id><published>2008-12-07T10:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-07T11:12:40.946-08:00</updated><title type='text'>and that's a wrap!</title><content type='html'>Okay let’s wrap up the trip! It won’t be pretty but here we go…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next day saw us heading to &lt;a href=http://www.letrabet.com/carcassonne1.jpg target=blank&gt;Carcassonne&lt;/a&gt;, a place Jeff affectionately calls Disneyland…lol…He had been there before and didn’t particularly like it but for our sakes he sucked it up, trouper that he is and took us. The external façade of the castle is very Disneycastle-like in the turrets that adorn it all around. At night they light it all up real purty an it looks really nice. Unfortunately they’ve not really done much with the inside of the castle itself, so paying to go in was a bit of a waste. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyways, you get there and as with all medieval castle/villages they were encased in a high wall, So through the gates let you into the village itself with cobblestoned streets and old buildings. Each though has been turned into a tourist shop of some kind or a restaurant. But still the overall look of it was cool. We went into the torture chambers which housed a lot of old torture devices from the medieval times, complete with an &lt;a href=http://picasaweb.google.com/fatal.beauty.album/Carcassonne#5258766962802472162 target=blank&gt;iron maiden&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;a href=://picasaweb.google.com/fatal.beauty.album/Carcassonne#5258766907986752818 target=blank&gt;This little tool&lt;/a&gt; was interesting and certainly had me squirming. The “scoop” like end was made to be inserted into an orifice, and then the other end, when twisted, caused the part that was inserted to slowly open wider and wider. Can you say OUCH!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After that we stopped in…..and Jeff took us to a &lt;a href=http://picasaweb.google.com/fatal.beauty.album/Amphitheatre#5277111975918768690 target=blank&gt;Roman amphitheatre&lt;/a&gt; that is actually still used today. You can’t get inside but still it was amazing to see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next day Jeff drove us to the airport and we said our farewells. Then we caught our flight back to London, sans my bottle of wine from the Papal Palace that security confiscated. (I had intended on checking both bags, but wasn’t allowed and forgot the wine was in the one I was carrying on…-sighs-) I was once again hoping to make it to Highgate Cemetery to see the old part, but apparently when they say "London" Stansted airport, they don’t really mean London they mean way the fuck outside of London. So once again we arrived too late to see it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We once again met up with my online friend Liam, who accompanied us through the “newer” part of Highgate and I at least got to wander about there and snap some pics. Then we dragged Liam through the London underground tube, much to his displeasure. Liam doesn’t like the tube, is kinda afraid of it actually, but the tough Canadian chicks took good care of him…lol…We went back to Piccadilly Circus and found a nice pub for some fish and chips and then did some last minute tourist shit shopping. Then we escorted Liam back on the tube to catch his train and said our sad farewells.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next day (after not getting much sleep due to the domestic dispute directly across the hall that began at 5 AM) we headed off by bus to Cheltenham and Sudeley Castle to attend the Medieval Faire. I immediately fell in love with Cheltenham and the surrounding countryside and swear that one day I will spend a lot of time there, if not live there. We took a cab from the bus station to the castle and our cabbie regaled us with stories of the town, very interesting! The Faire was awesome, the jousting was WAY cool!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that’s that. Next day it was back to the hotel, and the next day it was catching the flight back home. I admit I was pretty close to just staying…lol&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1732443482500916138-8475451045351728865?l=fatal-beauty.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/feeds/8475451045351728865/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1732443482500916138&amp;postID=8475451045351728865' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/8475451045351728865'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/8475451045351728865'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/2008/12/and-thats-wrap.html' title='and that&apos;s a wrap!'/><author><name>Bella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10697442591785473699</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SCc_9sosgrI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ibFvrN82s7E/S220/scream.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1732443482500916138.post-3147172028208596231</id><published>2008-11-30T22:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-30T22:31:40.300-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Stand Up</title><content type='html'>sorry...been too tired to finish off the trip..I will though. Work is insanely busy, the girl that took over my job when I got promoted has gone on mat leave with no one to repalace her yet. I get home from work and I am brain dead...literally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I am not toto tired to post something important. Watch...support...fight....help....don't let the bastards win...no one should be prosecuted for wearing heavy metal t-shirts and reading Stephen King....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://www.wm3.org/splash.php&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/JrFna6GeAn8&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/JrFna6GeAn8&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1732443482500916138-3147172028208596231?l=fatal-beauty.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/feeds/3147172028208596231/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1732443482500916138&amp;postID=3147172028208596231' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/3147172028208596231'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/3147172028208596231'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/2008/11/stand-up.html' title='Stand Up'/><author><name>Bella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10697442591785473699</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SCc_9sosgrI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ibFvrN82s7E/S220/scream.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1732443482500916138.post-1081614414919737870</id><published>2008-11-15T01:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-15T02:00:41.662-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Je veux mourir, or what happens in Aix-en-Provence, stays in Aix-en-Provence</title><content type='html'>So now that I’ve been back for about 2 months I feel that my travel blogging has lost a bit of it’s lustre..lol…I mean a lot has happened since I’ve been back.. Being viciously attacked by a hornet is just one thing. Of course it waited until it had managed to crawl up to thigh level on the INSIDE of my pants, before it started stinging the fuck outta me. Of course never one to do things half way, this happens to be the hornet that's rated in the top 10 of most painful stings. I, screaming in pain, thrust my pants off faster than if I had drank a 2 mickies of gin on an empty stomach in 2.5 seconds, much to the delight of the guy I was with at the time. (take notes guys). Then there’s the couch incident. Ya know, the couch I PAID for in JUNE and waited and waited and waited for it to be delivered only to find out the night before I left on my trip that the company had gone out of business. So anyways I get back and look into it. Seems the warehouse that made the couch actually has it, along with all the other 494757 customers in my position. And hey! I find out their willing to give us our stuff…though there’s a catch. I phone and inquire…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then: yep that’s right we are willing to sell you your couch for wholesale price.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Sell it to me? But I already paid for it.&lt;br /&gt;Them: We are not associated with them. We only supply them, we don’t have anything to do with their business.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Okay so how much is wholesale?&lt;br /&gt;Them:$676.00.&lt;br /&gt;Me: So are you gonna make me bend over so you can fuck me up the ass too?&lt;br /&gt;Them: ~silence~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So…I took that as a no, which was maybe the ONLY plus in this whole charade. Anyways I got my couch, affectionately known as “the couch I paid twice for”. I am Seriously debating starting to dry hump the thing just to feel that I got my money’s worth…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So back to the travel bogging. I shall go on, but it may not be pretty! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I actually forgot that after Vaison-de-Romane we went to the &lt;a href=http://picasaweb.google.com/fatal.beauty.album/ChateauDeLourmarin#5258735927483735698 target=blank&gt;Verdon gorge&lt;/a&gt;. It’s the second biggest gorge next to the Grand Canyon. It was very cool, and a VERY long way down (it’s 700 meters deep)…lol…I took a couple pics and we were off again. We could have driven along it further, but it had been a long day already, so we made our way back home. I was okay with this cuz you think that the Coquihalla is a scary drive? Not even close.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And ya know while I am typing this I realize I also forgot the biggest highlight of the Provence leg. No trip should EVER be without one night of drunken revelry. And I meant drinking oneself into a stupor like no other. So that night, at a loss as to where to eat, we stumbled upon a tapas place in Aix of all things. Jeff was going to order a margarita and I said well I’m all for that so how about a pitcher, whilst looking at Trish. She’s in, so a pitcher it is…..which in turn led to second pitcher. Of course after a second pitcher one’s good sense kinda goes out the window and so we ponder a third, reasoning…and this was Jeff’s idea I might add, NOT mine as everyone likes to blame!...that by having a third pitcher it would make splitting the bill up 3 ways that much easier. Hey, made PERFECT sense at the time! Drinking this much does have it's advantages however, like the next day when Jeff worries about all he said, and I reassure him that I can't remember a fucking thing!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next day was a lil’ grim. We got up, got ready to go, then went back to sleep for another 2 hours….lol…then got up and went. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We dragged our sorry hungover asses to Lourmarin, supposedly the most beautiful village in Provence, but they all claim that…lol…We went to the Chateau up top and I quite liked it….not medieval in any way, but I would so love to live there. Plus they had a kickass &lt;a href=http://picasaweb.google.com/fatal.beauty.album/ChateauDeLourmarin#5258734619633400434 target=blank&gt;staircase&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we were off to Pont du Luop and the Florian candy factory, &lt;a href=http://picasaweb.google.com/fatal.beauty.album/EzeAndMonaco#5258751649242936882 target=blank&gt; Confiserie des Gorges-du-Loup&lt;/a&gt; that Jeff had been to before. It was a bit of a drive but we really appreciated him taking us there! This place was incredible. They’ve been around for over 100 years and make candy out of flower petals! And all other sorts of things too. I tried some Rose jelly and it’s so weird to taste something that tastes exactly like you would think a rose tastes! I brought back a bunch of flower petal candy for everyone, though dunno how much they really appreciated it. But I thought it was cool cuz how often do you get candy made of flowers? Sheesh…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we were off to &lt;a href=http://picasaweb.google.com/fatal.beauty.album/EzeAndMonaco#5258753517628915746&gt;Eze&lt;/a&gt;, with its medieval village built on top of a big hill of course, but this one was along the ocean. It was really awesome, busier than Vaison, but not as busy as Carcassonne (which we will see later). I really liked it. It was a great sunny day and hot too! There was a cactus garden at the top, (Jardin Exotique d'Eze aka the exotic garden) overlooking the ocean which was cool. There were a lot of shops and I was tempted to buy a tapestry of the Klimt painting “The Kiss”. I think it was on sale for about $500, but it was quite big and didn’t know how I’d get it back. It’s one of those things though that you regret not buying it.  And lots of restaurants too, we stopped at one for a drink…I had a rum and I swear to GOD that France has the shittiest rum EVER!. I don’t care that the waiter tried to tell me it was what the pirates used to drink…bah!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we were off to &lt;a href=http://picasaweb.google.com/fatal.beauty.album/EzeAndMonaco#5258756306693108194target=blank&gt;Monaco&lt;/a&gt;. It wasn’t anything on our wish list, but it was close at this point so why not? Thing is about province down here is there is only one main road in and out,. Traffic was bumper to bumper, it was a big busy city and so not my style. It was great to see though for sure! We found parking and walked up to the palace. It wasn’t all that inspiring but I have to comment on the guard out front. Now he was a guard like at any palace, ya know, holding the rifle over the shoulder and marching back and forth…But these guys wear these uniforms that are all white. So white shirt tucked in and white pants. And this particular guard either liked his clothes REALLY tight or he's been into the donuts a little too much lately but holy hell his pants fit him like a second glove. And NOT a pretty sight I might add while both being white and donned by an unattractive man. Sorry, I took no close ups. –shudders-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well that's it for now, amybe I can wrap this up next time...lol&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1732443482500916138-1081614414919737870?l=fatal-beauty.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/feeds/1081614414919737870/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1732443482500916138&amp;postID=1081614414919737870' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/1081614414919737870'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/1081614414919737870'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/2008/11/je-veux-mourir-or-what-happens-in-aix.html' title='Je veux mourir, or what happens in Aix-en-Provence, stays in Aix-en-Provence'/><author><name>Bella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10697442591785473699</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SCc_9sosgrI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ibFvrN82s7E/S220/scream.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1732443482500916138.post-2151924382926925011</id><published>2008-11-07T06:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-07T06:54:02.726-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Provence!</title><content type='html'>The next morning we met Jeff at the train station and were off to Provence! I didn’t want to sleep as I didn’t want to miss a second of the French countryside whizzing by at over 300 MPH. Those trains are fast! It was cool to see all the little villages along the way, with their old buildings and always near a hill with either a cathedral or a chateau perched on top of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At Aix-en-Provence which would be our home base, we picked up a rental car and then went o check in at our hotel. Then we were off once again, this time to Avignon. Jeff has a spiffy little hand held GPS that was cool and I got to play navigator. Funny is that it looks for the shortest route, tho it may not be the “best” route. A few times it took us on what Jeff likes to call “goat paths” but I love those kinds of wrong turns…lol…it’s where you see the most interesting things. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There we went to the Papal Palace, an impressive castle type building where, you guessed it, the Popes used to reside. It’s unfurnished though it has displays about, and you can get the guided tour thingie and hear about the history of the palace. On top there’s a nice view overlooking Avignon. I managed to take several pictures before some French woman came at me shaking her finger and saying “ no no no no no”. I took a good guess then and there that taking pictures is not allowed…lol…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the cellar of the palace is the “Bouteillerie”, a wine cellar that sells Côtes du Rhône wines from grapes grown along the Rhone river. They boast over 40 wine choices and you can have a “tasting” of any one that you like poured by the incredible piece of man flesh they had working behind the counter. Oh la la! This was MY kind of place! You had to pay for the tastings but they gave you a good half a glass. I could have spent the entire day there…lol…or at least a bit longer but not wanting to hold my traveling companions up, I bought some to go and we got outta there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we went to have a quick boo at the famous Saint Bénezet bridge. In 1177 some shepherd by the name of Bénezet came to town and told the bishop that god told him to get a bridge built. Why? I dunno…but there ya go, they built it and it’s quite nice…lol&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we were off to see Le Pont du Gard, the Roman aqueduct probably built in the middle of the first century A.D. Designed to carry the water across the small Gardon river valley, it was part of a nearly 50 km (31 mi) aqueduct that brought water from the Fontaines d'Eure springs near Uzès to the Castellum in the Roman city of Nemausus (Nîmes). Where we were is where it passed over the river and is still standing. It’s absolutely amazing that they built something like this so long ago, and amazing still that it still stands and is in such good shape. Trish and I walked up the bank along one end of it, while Jeff stayed behind to have a snooze in the sun. From the top of the bank we could look down onto it and see the actual “aqueduct” part. It was way cool. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we drove to Vaison-la-Romaine where you find the old original “medieval” type city built up on a hill topped with, you guessed it, a château. The narrow streets were all cobblestone, the buildings all stone as well with vines growing along the walls in places. It was like taking a step back in time and was truly beautiful. The château at the top is in ruins basically, and not open to get inside. But the top had an amazing view of the surrounding city and country side. We roamed the streets for a while then made our way back to the car and then back to Aix to call it a day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1732443482500916138-2151924382926925011?l=fatal-beauty.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/feeds/2151924382926925011/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1732443482500916138&amp;postID=2151924382926925011' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/2151924382926925011'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/2151924382926925011'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/2008/11/provence.html' title='Provence!'/><author><name>Bella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10697442591785473699</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SCc_9sosgrI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ibFvrN82s7E/S220/scream.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1732443482500916138.post-4287879652469193175</id><published>2008-11-02T09:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-02T09:46:02.672-08:00</updated><title type='text'>and then a fight broke out at the Louvre...</title><content type='html'>After sleeping off our severe disappointment we got up, undaunted by our previous day, and were off to the Louvre. Once again this isn’t somewhere I woulda gone but Trish wanted to go so I conceded to the hour and a half “Masters” tour. Course when we got there that tour was sold out...lol…so, armed with a map, we did our own damn tour. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to say it was pretty impressive. I mean fuck! do they ever have a lotta art there. Top of the list of course was the Mona Lisa and the Venus De Milo. For the Mona Lisa they have a large area in front of it roped off so you can’t get real close. I was surprised that it’s actually quiet small. After a lot of pushing and shoving and be jostled around, I made it to the front to snap some pics. People are just so rude tho, I mean what’s so hard about waiting your turn to get up there, allowing others to take their pic and leave? But no you end up having to try and take your pic whilst fending off rude ignorant idiots who think that it’s okay to just shove you out of their way so that THEY can get THEIR pic. I got mine and got the hell out of there thoroughly disgusted. Venus De Milo was the same story though slightly worse. They allowed you closer but the shoving was just as bad if not worse. I got to the front and this guy beside me actually shoved me or tried to, out of the way with his elbow. I let that go but then he did it again. I turned to him and said in no uncertain terms, “stop shoving me”. Well yeah you guessed it he shoved me again. Thoughts raced through my mind then, followed by images of me being dragged out and subsequently tossed out of the Louvre. Actually that would have been a cool story and I would have left there thoroughly satisfied and suitable revenged. It took all I had in me to just take my pictures, turn and leave.  As I passed by Trish I said, “Trish I gotta get out of here before I start dropping people”, to which some others had a good laugh over. Funny thing is when Trish got up there this same guy used her shoulder as leverage to steady his camera so he could take his pics….lol…he’s lucky he didn’t do that to me, something bad might have happened to his camera…-shifty eyes-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we met up with my cousin Jeff and headed off to Notre Dame. It was awesome inside but too dark to get decent pics. I was again to be disappointed because going to the top to see the gargoyles had been at the top of my list of things to do. But…we were too late, they weren’t letting anymore people in and there would be no other time for me to go…I was crushed. Still am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we were off to the catacombs, where they put all the bones of all the people that they dug up from the cemeteries when the city needed the space. Trish didn’t really wanna go, but it was one of my highlights. Actually I had tried to bargain and have her go to the Louvre and me to the catacombs but she said she wanted to see them so there. She’s claustrophobic and doesn’t like dead people so this was a stretch for her. But hey, I went up to the spire in Salisbury! The whole tour took about 45 minutes and it was amazing. It took a while even just to get down deep enough. Unfortunately it was too dark to take pics and flash photography wasn’t allowed. I managed to get a few shots where there happened to be some lighting just so you could get an idea of what it was like but it was hard to keep my hand steady enough so that they weren’t blurry. We are talking hallways that go on and on, each side with bones stacked higher than your head. And they stacked them so neatly too! They used what I guess were the leg bones for the “walls” and they took the skulls and inserted them in various patterns in these “walls”. There were crosses, heart shapes, you name it, the guys that stacked this were creative!  Trish survived though was suitably creeped out. I thought it was really cool!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So then we went and had some dinner and drinks and I was bummed I didn’t get the sauerkraut dish cuz the people beside us had it and holy moly it looked good. Then it was to bed cuz we were off first thing to Aix-en-Provence!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;pictures are mostly up... click &lt;a href=http://picasaweb.google.com/fatal.beauty.album target=blank&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1732443482500916138-4287879652469193175?l=fatal-beauty.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/feeds/4287879652469193175/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1732443482500916138&amp;postID=4287879652469193175' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/4287879652469193175'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/4287879652469193175'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/2008/11/and-then-fight-broke-out-at-louvre.html' title='and then a fight broke out at the Louvre...'/><author><name>Bella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10697442591785473699</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SCc_9sosgrI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ibFvrN82s7E/S220/scream.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1732443482500916138.post-7437960811349161758</id><published>2008-10-28T20:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-28T21:34:37.766-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Versucks!</title><content type='html'>So I had misplaced all my journaling notes and so been holding off on posting til I found them and yay me I finally found them. So here we go…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next morning we were off to Versailles. OMFG were we ever in for a major disappointment! If you ever think of going, don’t. Of all the dozens (hundreds?) of fountains there, you know the ones that are ALWAYS in the pictures, something that defines the gardens? NOT ONE of them were going…yep that’s what I said…none. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the rooms? Well when we first walked up to the palace we were met with an exterior covered in scaffolding. Okay, they have to keep it all spiffy I get that. But the rooms…well, first of all they were barely furnished and omg don’t even get me started on the wainscoting. Someone actually attempted to paint it to make it look like it was marble. Fine if they had done a good job, but the quality of this faux painting would send &lt;a href=http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Debbie_Travis target=blank&gt; Debbie Travis&lt;/a&gt; into a fit of horrified-ness that could only be imagined. Hell, I was horrified! Actually they should have gotten her to do it, at least then it would have looked real and what a show that would have made!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So think this all sounds bad now? Well hold on to your Joe Boxers it gets worse…much much worse. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some shit for brains moron who is obviously not even equipped with enough intelligence to being donning a paper hat and asking people if they want fries with that (thanks Donnie) made the decision to have an art exhibit throughout the palace. To call it art would be an insult to black velvet Elvis painters’ everywhere. It was vile, disgusting and horrendous shit that I wouldn’t even subject someone I hate to. There’s never been anything else in my life that could come close to offending my senses as much as this complete, total and utter crap did. And yes, it was in every room throughout the palace, some even made its way outside. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SQfmJg72hdI/AAAAAAAAFJc/R7zsALe_Kmc/s1600-h/IMG_1575.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SQfmJg72hdI/AAAAAAAAFJc/R7zsALe_Kmc/s320/IMG_1575.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262427740739896786" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SQfh20ekWhI/AAAAAAAAFJU/pNiUW_ld95g/s1600-h/IMG_1557.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SQfh20ekWhI/AAAAAAAAFJU/pNiUW_ld95g/s320/IMG_1557.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262423021521754642" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SQff-NLs6yI/AAAAAAAAFJM/35Q5k5vo1gY/s1600-h/IMG_1546.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SQff-NLs6yI/AAAAAAAAFJM/35Q5k5vo1gY/s320/IMG_1546.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262420949389339426" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SQfblfzCJHI/AAAAAAAAFJE/PTkyboNTscI/s1600-h/IMG_1540.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SQfblfzCJHI/AAAAAAAAFJE/PTkyboNTscI/s320/IMG_1540.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262416126842905714" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks guys for completely ruining what should have been a once in a lifetime, truly amazing experience. I hope you all rot in hell, deservedly surrounded by giant balloon animals, inflatable pool toys, lobsters and badly faux painted walls. Fuck you! That’s an entire day out of my life that I can never have back.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1732443482500916138-7437960811349161758?l=fatal-beauty.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/feeds/7437960811349161758/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1732443482500916138&amp;postID=7437960811349161758' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/7437960811349161758'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/7437960811349161758'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/2008/10/so-i-had-misplaced-all-my-journaling.html' title='Versucks!'/><author><name>Bella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10697442591785473699</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SCc_9sosgrI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ibFvrN82s7E/S220/scream.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SQfmJg72hdI/AAAAAAAAFJc/R7zsALe_Kmc/s72-c/IMG_1575.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1732443482500916138.post-3014918450488375785</id><published>2008-10-21T17:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-21T17:40:36.972-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Not So Gay Paris</title><content type='html'>Next morning we were off, on the train with our bags and headed to Heathrow airport where we would catch a flight to Paris! British Airways charged us each for our second bag, the bastards, like who travels with only one bag?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways we made it there and through customs and were then on the Metro that would take us into the heart of Paris and our hotel conveniently located just feet away from a station! Well…except when it’s closed due to remodeling. So after getting off at the one before we hiked some blocks up the street and made it to our hotel, a little sweaty but none the worse for wear. While Trish was in the shower I sprang out to get some drinks and snacks at the store and immediately noticed the difference between British men and French men. Me, unshowered, sweaty and yucky, glasses on, no makeup and guys in suits were even eyeing me up. Hell in England I couldn’t get a guy to look at me if my life had depended on it. Mini skirt, low cut top, all made up and having to push my way through the crowd of guys to get to the bar and seriously not one of them noticed I swear! Very weird…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We showered and got all spiffy and then were off again, this time to the Champs____, a hoity toiy strip chalk full of expensive restaurants and shopping. I eyed one menu as we walked by, 19 Euros for a Caesar salad! We definitely would be finding cheaper eats somewhere else. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The street led us to the Arc de Triumph. It’s was fairly impressive I suppse, but I was more wowed by the buildings leading up to it. All the sculptures and other detailing on the buildings themselves was truly amazing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After snapping some pics there we headed off to the Eiffel Tower. On our way we happened to end up walking with a group of young ladies who were armed with signs. Not being THAT fluent in French I had no idea what they said, but it couldn’t have been anything that bad…no one threw paint at us or nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyways we got there and it was pretty trippy seeing it. It was just before sunset and so by the time we took the elevator up it was dark and the lights on the tower were on. Yeah we took the elevator right to the top floor. It was a bit scary for me, the elevators are glass and you can see out. All the scaffolding going by and you think, how does that hold everything and everyone up? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We spent some time looking out over the city, all prettily lit up. It was a weird feeling being up so high, but also pretty cool cuz hey, we were on the Eiffel Tower! By the time we came down it was late and we just hoped a cab to back to the hotel. Actually the Italian joint right beside and had an awesome pizza and some wine.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1732443482500916138-3014918450488375785?l=fatal-beauty.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/feeds/3014918450488375785/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1732443482500916138&amp;postID=3014918450488375785' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/3014918450488375785'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/3014918450488375785'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/2008/10/not-so-gay-paris.html' title='Not So Gay Paris'/><author><name>Bella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10697442591785473699</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SCc_9sosgrI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ibFvrN82s7E/S220/scream.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1732443482500916138.post-6725535182000912195</id><published>2008-10-14T21:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-14T22:02:16.708-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Great Times!</title><content type='html'>The next morning we were up bright and early…when weren’t we? No rest for the wicked as they say….and catching a train to see yet another online friend who very graciously offered to show us around her neck of the woods AND take us to Hever Castle.  I am not sure that I am allowed to mention this one by name as she likes her privacy and I totally respect that. For in saying who she is, it will kind of give away where she lives...lol...not always a good thing online.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She met us at the station near her place and we ended up scaring her a bit. See Trish and I had to pee really bad…we didn’t know there were bathrooms on the train…lol…so anyways we got off and immediately made a beeline for the ladies. Well my online friend thought we’d miss the boat and got worried. But we eventually came out and found each other! It’s was great meeting her, she’s an absolutely awesome lady all around and I can’t say enough good things about her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we piled in the car and she took us to see Hever Castle, Anne Boleyn’s (King Henry Vlll’s second wife) family home. I’ve always been rather obsessed with Anne ever since I was young, read everything I could ever find on her and always felt somewhat of a strange kinship with her. Btw, The Other Boleyn Girl is a crock of shyte. Anyways…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got lost along the way to the castle though I am sure that was planned to make me fall in love with the countryside even more. It IS beautiful that’s for sure. And oddly enough, no matter how out in the middle of nowhere you may think you are, I swear there’s always a pub just around the bend. Kinda like roundabouts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we got there and had a quick tea and coffee and were off! The grounds were lovely with their topiaries. The castle itself is on the small side but VERY beautiful. The moment I stepped inside I wanted to cry, it just took my breath away. The guy that owned it over the last hundred years or so really kept it up well and probably didn’t change it a whole lot, avoiding the garishness that we found in Warwick Castle. The whole house was spectacular and was interesting to see the room that King Henry himself had stayed in while visiting there. Odd to be in the same room that he had once been in….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the castle we went about the gardens. They are quite large and breathtaking as well, with a lake at the end. My online companion had packed a wonderful picnic and we sat and devoured what we could of it, it was SO delicious, though in true generous style she packed enough for ten of us. Even the ducks were coming over begging for a nibble that’s how good it was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After that it was off to her lovely home and beautiful backyard….simply wonderful. Her hubby came home just as we got there and we had a very very wonderful evening visiting, laughing, (oh did we laugh) and partaking in a much love home cooked meal. (I’m craving that btw!...hehe) I think spending time with treasured friends beats seeing sights any day and these last few days would be my favourite of the trip. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was hear where we picked up a well seasoned travelling companion, a teddy bear with an insatiable thirst for seeing the world. Seems this little bear’s been travelling around with the family for ages and just HAD to see France! So armed with a can of mushy peas he hitched along for the ride, with the promise of being mailed back in the end. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a teary farewell at the train station that night. I am SO glad to have met these two wonderful people, I had so much fun, I love them both to death! I sorely wished we could have spent more time together. Hopefully one day soon!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1732443482500916138-6725535182000912195?l=fatal-beauty.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/feeds/6725535182000912195/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1732443482500916138&amp;postID=6725535182000912195' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/6725535182000912195'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/6725535182000912195'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/2008/10/great-times.html' title='Great Times!'/><author><name>Bella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10697442591785473699</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SCc_9sosgrI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ibFvrN82s7E/S220/scream.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1732443482500916138.post-4846782940331228845</id><published>2008-10-06T20:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-06T20:49:10.007-07:00</updated><title type='text'>More dead people stuff...are you seeing a pattern?</title><content type='html'>So the next day we dropped off the car, much to Trish’s delight and hopped a bus to London. No I couldn’t convince her to drive into London…I KNOW! We had 2 drivers, one was in training and so that left the "trainer" free to be our tour guide as we drove to the station in london...he was great! After finding our hostel and washing up we were off to meet up with yet another of my internet friend, Ally. What a beautiful girl (young lady I guess I should say…lol) she is and I SO want her boots! Anyways, we met at the station near the Tower of London and headed off to there to see that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was okay, not as great as I would have thought. We actually got searched before we went in! Security is tight in London at all their big historical attractions I guess. It just seemed so odd to us Canadian girls. But we made it through with no arrests…whew. What the coolest part of the towers I thought was…me being the macabre sort…was all the engravings on the insides of the towers, carved there by so many of the prisoners that inhabited the place so long ago. They are supposed to be haunted and I did have a nauseous moment or two but nothing major. As my psychic friend Diane says “I think they’ve all left”…lol&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They also had the ravens there and if anyone doesn’t know the myth surrounding them it’s this: the tower must always have 6 ravens in residence…any less then England shall fall. Well they have 12, I think the guy said, and all have their wings clipped which I think is totally NOT playing fair!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After that we found a great tapas place complete with cute waiters (the semi owner guy who waited on us was tons of fun!) and had some good food and of course drinks…-coughs-…we had a great time, Ally is lots of fun and has a great sense of humour. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we were off to the Jack the Ripper Tour which led us about the streets of the infamous darkened streets of the White Chapel District. It was awesome, interesting, fun and totally gruesome…all my favourite things! Apparently depending on whom you get as your guide you end up with a different prime suspect at the end. I would so love to do them all. But I still think the orangutan did it. (yes the resident zoo ape was at one time on the suspect list). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When that was over we all said our sad farewells and got on our respective trains and found our beds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next day Trish and I were off to (actually Hever Castle but now that I've finished typing this all out I've realized that I’ve so screwed up the dates so I’ll post about that next…lol) Westminster Abbey. On the way to W.A. we of course saw Big Ben which is located right there and also the parliament buildings where guards were at the gate with great big assed guns. And Big Ben? Eh…it’s just a big assed clock.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Westminster Abbey wasn’t something that I would put on my list had it been myself going, but Trish wanted to go and so we did. I was surprised by the amount of people who are buried there…holy crap! Elizabeth 1st, her half sister Mary, Mary Queen of Scots…the list goes on and on. I particularly loved poets corner, a corner of the abbey devoted to poets, writers and actors. Buried here you’ll find Chaucer (holy shit!), Robert Browning (I was very saddened to read that his loving wife is buried in Austria! Why?!), Dickens, Jane Austin, Laurence Olivier…on and on and on…they had wanted to get Shakespeare moved to here but if you remember the curse on his grave that I took a picture of, you’ll see why they probably didn’t. (Good friend, for Jesus' sake forebeare&lt;br /&gt;To digg the dust enclosed heare; Bleste be the man that spares thes stones, And curst be he that moves my bones) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After that we were off to Highgate cemetery, Yay! Yeah well not so fast. It took us forever to get there and when we finally did we found out that the oldest side, the Westside can ONLY be seen on their tour that they do once a day during the week at 2pm. We were too late. –cries- We could still see the East side but it was already getting close to being the time we had to meet, yes, another internet friend, Liam! So with me totally bummed we left, hoping to catch the tour when we would be back in London after France.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So off to Piccadilly Circus we went to meet up with Liam at the huge fountain. If you’ve been there you know the one. We waited for some time, looking around at the zillions of people hanging around there wondering how the hell I was gonna pick him out. I saw someone I thought might have been him but he walked by us a couple times and didn’t react in any way to the Canadian patches on our bags….so I thought it wasn’t him. But in the end it turned out it was..lol..and so we went to, yes, a pub! Liam was really sweet and funny and nice and we had a great time. We agreed to meet up when we came to London after France.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So then it was a little shopping at a souvenir store and then off to find our beds once again. Next day would be Hever...well not really but you know what I mean...lol&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1732443482500916138-4846782940331228845?l=fatal-beauty.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/feeds/4846782940331228845/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1732443482500916138&amp;postID=4846782940331228845' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/4846782940331228845'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/4846782940331228845'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/2008/10/so-next-day-we-dropped-off-car-much-to.html' title='More dead people stuff...are you seeing a pattern?'/><author><name>Bella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10697442591785473699</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SCc_9sosgrI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ibFvrN82s7E/S220/scream.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1732443482500916138.post-3065222255611861718</id><published>2008-10-02T19:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-02T19:58:28.131-07:00</updated><title type='text'>No one told me I'd have to bring an extra pair of underwear...</title><content type='html'>After the Chalice Well we waved goodbye to the caring ghosts at the George and Pilgrim and were back on the road, this time to Salisbury. It wasn’t that far, so we would get there in plenty of time to pretty much do all that we wanted to do in the town; which was Stonehenge and the Salisbury Cathedral, boasting the tallest spire in England. Both of these we would do before bothering to book into the hostel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to say it’s more than a bizarre feeling to be driving down the highway then all of a sudden spot Stonehenge up ahead. Seriously it’s mind blowing! After a few moments of staring mouth agape you have to shake off that stunned look and say holy shit, that’s fucking Stonehenge! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After parking we headed to the infamous stone structure and slowly walked around it, eyes taking it all in. I had a hard time assimilating the fact that I was standing before Stonehenge and as most people say it’s actually smaller than you would imagine it to be. I was glad I managed to catch a National Geographic article about it in the dentists office cuz it really made me understand it better…what it was supposed to have looked like and explained the small “trenches” that go in circles around it and all that. But all in all it was truly inspiring to imagine that something that grand was built so long ago and with stones not even native to the area.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After that we went to the cathedral where we had a tour of the tower booked. In hindsight I would wonder exactly wtf was going through my mind when I decided to do this because I am afraid of heights…lol…and if I had known exactly what the conditions of the climb would be, I might have not even attempted it. Yeah, fear of heights + climbing bell towers in the tallest spire in England = not a good thing. I wouldn’t make a great Quasimodo for certain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there were several stages to this climb, taking us to various levels of the tower. The first one had us go up in one of those medieval stair cases, stone, enclosed and very small. I am okay with that cuz you can’t see how high you are going but this is what Trish doesn’t like, she’s claustrophobic…so basically we took turns shitting our pants on this tour. There were about two of those staircases I think and that first one took us up to a place where we could look out over the cathedral interior. Not too bad so far but it was to get much, much much much worse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were two sets of these other staircases, spirally ones with not really much around them, they were very open and they went up really fricken high. I bravely started up, the floor of where we had been getting further and further below me, the emptiness of air all around me. I got partially up before that feeling kicks in, you know the one where your brain starts to scream, “HOLY FUCKING SHIT I’M UP REALLY FUCKING HIGH AND I’M GOING TO DIE.” And at the same time that is happening your body freezes up, refusing to go anywhere whether it be up or down. Your foot tries to take another step, but it’s all in vain and just sort of hangs there frozen in mid step. I start to feel lightheaded and I can hear my heart hammering away in my chest and soon a cold sweat will surely break out upon my deathly white brow. But screw that, that teeny tiny part of my brain says, the part that’s rebelling against such silliness. If I don’t do this the whole way I am going to regret it. I survived driving across the English countryside with signs that read “oncoming traffic in middle of road” and I can survive this! So forcing one foot in front of the other and breathing like I am about to give birth, I make it all the way up! Yay! Well not so fast! We get to where we were going and it’s just some old scaffolding somehow attached along the circular wall, maybe a few feet wide and probably built in 1041. Ugh….my back hugs the wall for this part. Then I find out we have another set of those staircases to do and I go through the exact same thing, worried now that I won’t be able to make it back down and will be forced to live in the bell tower forever, my only companion a hunchback and a whole lotta pigeons. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the top we go out onto a small, very small (not even 2 feet wide) balcony that runs along the outside of the tower. I kindly allow everyone else to go first (see the first people have to move along that balcony to let the others on…not me! Ha ha!) I stayed last and kinda kept one foot in the door and tried my best to surreptitiously peer over the town. Holy shit we were up high! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Going down wasn’t much fun either but at least we got to the bells in time to hear them bong 6pm…that was loud! The whole time I can’t help but think of that joke, “I dunno but his face rings a bell!”…lol…But in the end I did it! I did the whole damn thing and I even got a pin that says so…a treasured possession I wear with pride that’s for sure. Our guide was totally awesome and I highly recommend doing this tour if you are ever in the area. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So then we went to find our hotel, a bit of a pain as the road was blocked off 2 blocks from our hostel preventing us from getting there directly. We then had to take this huge detour that got us lost…ugh. Anyways we got there checked in and were off to find food at the only pub that serves food after 6pm. Course that night their kitchen just happened to be closed for some reason…lol…but we made it to a pizza/pasta place, had a great meal and were off to bed….the next day was our trip into London!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1732443482500916138-3065222255611861718?l=fatal-beauty.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/feeds/3065222255611861718/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1732443482500916138&amp;postID=3065222255611861718' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/3065222255611861718'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/3065222255611861718'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/2008/10/no-one-told-me-id-have-to-bring-extra.html' title='No one told me I&apos;d have to bring an extra pair of underwear...'/><author><name>Bella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10697442591785473699</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SCc_9sosgrI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ibFvrN82s7E/S220/scream.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1732443482500916138.post-2589823044768445616</id><published>2008-09-28T17:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-29T19:08:27.443-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Is that truely the shape of your codpiece or are you just happy to see me?</title><content type='html'>Break out the Allsorts Wade this ones for you! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We arrived in Glastonbury without issue from what I remember...lol, the road we had been on took us right into the town as seems to be the norm in England. Glastonbury calls itself the land of King Arthur, Camelot, and Isle of Avalon and all that. It's supposed to be a very magical place and rightly so as there are a lot of magnetic fields that come together there apparently. As we turned on the road we were on the inn, &lt;a href=http://www.flickr.com/photos/37066925@N00/256690507/ target=blank&gt;The George and Pilgrim &lt;/a&gt; came into view, unmistakable, distinctive, looking ever as much the oldest (700 years old) and most haunted inn in England that it is. Yes, it looked appropriately creepy. In fact King Henry VIII stayed here at least once, supposedly watching from the window of his room the nearby abbey burn under his orders when he was attempting to rid England of Catholicism. I tried to book that particular room but it was already booked so I requested a room in the old part of the inn...I had some ghost chasing to do. But a mistake was made and I didn't even get that -growl- but even though our room was in the addition it was only a few steps from the old part so I sucked it up...what can ya do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two of the inn's resident ghosts are a monk and his lady lover. Seems that there was an undergroud tunnel that linked the inn with the abbey and was probably well used by the love struck monk. Rumour has it they are often seen wandering the halls together at night, time and death not enough to seperate the lovers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We checked in and then scooted off to the Glastonbury Abbey. It's an impressive ruin of what once must have been an incredible Cathedral and abbey. Add to Henry's part in it's distruction the common practice of taking bricks from buildings no longer in use to build new ones, most of it's gone only skeletal remains are left, but even those have a sense of beauty as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We wandered about and a really nice gentleman in an kick ass costume complete with the most interesting codpice I've ever seen...lol...spent some time with us, explaining the sight and history of the place. King Arthur was at one time buried here but supposedly moved but to where no one really knows for sure. But really, the whole time he regaled us with tales of yore, my eyes invariably continued to wander back to his codpiece, it was so wierd! I regret not asking if I could take a picture of it, it's not like me to be so shy...lol&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we were off to &lt;a href=http://www.isleofavalon.co.uk/tor/introduction.html target=blank&gt;Glastonbury Tor &lt;/a&gt;, a bizarre hill with a lone tower on top. The hill is rumoured to have been the Isle of Avaon back in the day and there are lots of interesting tales surrounding it, such as it's the home of Gwyn ap Nudd, King of the Fairies. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a nice sunny day and we trudged up the hill taking in the views around us, even laying down on the grass for a bit to soak up some fairy. Nothing overtly strange happened but I did feel a pleasant sense of energy, my body felt as it was humming with vibracy, comfortable, free from all discomfort and pain. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the Tor we went back to the hotel and had an amazing dinner in the pub there, then wandered back to our room and washed up. After settling down, Trish went to bed and I, armed with my camera, went to wander the haunted halls of the inn. The first thing I noticed when stepping out into the hall was the very strong scent of incense that hadn't been there before. I walked about snapping pics as I went. A strange shadow showed up in one pic where there shouldn't have been a shadow especially since I was using a flash and nothing was obstructing it. I snapped another in the same spot and this time no shadow hmmmm. will have to look at the pics when I get them uploaded. I made my way back to the room and to sleep, but I did wake up a lot throughout the night. Trish said she heard banging every so often that woke her up so maybe it was that waking me up. Each time I did wake up I peered about the room, searching for a ghostly spectre floating about but no such luck. Trish saw nothing but she kept her eyes tightly shut...lol. The only other odd thing I can report is on one of the occasions of me waking up I had the sense that someone was bending over me and I felt a very strong feeling of being loved and cared for...not something you'd expect in a haunted inn...lol...so that was it....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Creaky Cauldron was nefariously creepier. As we had walked around that building I felt what I called being "dogged"....as if someone was following behind me, extremely closely, like if they were tangible I could feel them pressed up against me. That does happen to me on occasion. In hindsight I guess I should have had Trish snap a pic of me and see if anyone showed up in it standing behind me. I mentioned this to the guy that did our ghost tour and he explained the hauntings in the building...a man who murdered a women Jack the Ripper style that was witnessed by her young daughter. He had fled but came back to the inn sometime later and threatened the little girl but she died falling down the stairs in her attempt to get away from him. He was actually found guilty of her murder and sentenced to hang and right before hanging he did confess to the women's murder. They are all three supposedly haunting the building to this day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day we were off to the Chalise Well Gardens, located at the foot of the Tor it's here where you can partake of the magical healing water that springs up from underneath the hill. they had little pools of it that you can bath in and also various places to drink from. There were various people wandering around, mostly all over the top new age types who like to walk around in zombie like states or sit at one of the wells and gaze into it with a wide eyed, vacuous stare. One couple were sitting on a bench, one set of hands clasped while the other set pressed up against each other hearts while they gazed unblinking into each other's eyes. -gag- I drank the water and it tasted a lot like...well blood to be exact and I am hoping that was the high iron content and not due to some of these freaks having sacrificed goats only that morning. Hoping to cure my recent injuries I even tested this healing theory by rubbing some on my ass. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why rub some on my ass you ask? Guess I forgot that little ditty from Stratford. The hostel there has these single units that have the shower toilet and teeny tiny sink all in one. so the floor is wet and the bottom of my shoes get wet and I slip on the four steps heading down to our room. In notorious Bonnie fashion I go down like a ton of bricks. I then developed the biggest darkest black and purple bruise on my ass and at step length intervals down my thigh. (A few days later I walk into the corner of the foot board of the bed while going pee in the middle of the night and get a huge bruise on the front of my thigh, same leg...in hindsight I shouldn't have bothered packing the miniskirt) After about two weeks I started debating seeing a doctor cuz the thing was NOT yet beginning to fade, could a bruise be deadly? At the very least gangreous?  Is gangreous even a word? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I digress. Back at the well I rubbed some water on my ass and not a damn thing happened...no spontaneous healing, no bright lights, no angels not even the sounds of a heavenly choir. I did mange to hold myself back, though I was tempted to break the serenity of the garden and scream at all those new age suckers, "My ass?! What about my ass?! You fools! Get away from the water...it's all a hoax!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1732443482500916138-2589823044768445616?l=fatal-beauty.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/feeds/2589823044768445616/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1732443482500916138&amp;postID=2589823044768445616' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/2589823044768445616'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/2589823044768445616'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/2008/09/is-that-truely-shape-of-your-codpiece.html' title='Is that truely the shape of your codpiece or are you just happy to see me?'/><author><name>Bella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10697442591785473699</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SCc_9sosgrI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ibFvrN82s7E/S220/scream.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1732443482500916138.post-610078240589858287</id><published>2008-09-24T12:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-24T12:51:57.828-07:00</updated><title type='text'>FINE!</title><content type='html'>sheesh....cliffhanger ending? Hardly. It's not as if I left off where we'd been tied to a table that was slowly, yet terrifyingly moving us towards a rabidly turning, freshly sharpened saw...with a guy standing off to the side, a sneer painting his lips as he wickedly twirled his handle-bar moustache. Plus I SO hate typing on these French keyboards...the keys are seriously all not where they should be. See they allow for shit like é à ù £ ¤. I mean really wtf is ¤? They actually have to have a second alt ctrl button for all this extra stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moving right along...Creaky Cauldron is a place that sells spells, potions and other such 'witchy' things, ya know, things right up my alley. They also seem to have gotten on the Harry Potter bang wagon and have some of that HP-ish stuff there. Trish and I got Salted if that's how you spell it. Yes, talking hat and all. I am the same thing as HP and Trish is a slitherin. As if...I think the hat was on crack...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's in an old house once owned by the Bombay family, a family with more wierdness than you can imagine. I thought it must be a bunch of hooey but the guy running the tour later that night says it's not. Who knows, I may have to look into it. Anyways the house that it's in has a witch and wizard museum upstairs and is also haunted, so of course we went up...lol. It was creepy and had a lot of interesting stuff to read up there but we really didn't have the time which was a bummer for me. Trish didn't like being up there and when we came back later for the tour there was an option to go back into the house but she didn't wanna. So we walked about the city with the guide...we were the only ones again. He was really really awesome and had some great stories and also told us a lot about the history of the city as we walked about. He also told us how the Shakespeare attraction people made up a story for that TV show Most Haunted and they actually filmed a segment about it and the idoit psychic guy  'felt' what they had lied about...LOL...suckers...anyways it was great but nothing dramatic happened. I've been slightly dissappointed on this trip actually...lol...I had figured I would be bothered all the time but I get more activity in my apartment at home. sheesh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So after that we went to...you guessed it...a pub and then it was home to get some sleep before our drive to Glastonbury the next morning. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy now? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though I could leave you with another cliff hanger and tell you that the hotel where we would be staying in Glastonbury is the most haunted in England...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;mwah ah ah ah ahhhhhhhhhh&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1732443482500916138-610078240589858287?l=fatal-beauty.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/feeds/610078240589858287/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1732443482500916138&amp;postID=610078240589858287' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/610078240589858287'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/610078240589858287'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/2008/09/fine.html' title='FINE!'/><author><name>Bella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10697442591785473699</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SCc_9sosgrI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ibFvrN82s7E/S220/scream.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1732443482500916138.post-6853226041000209486</id><published>2008-09-23T12:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-23T12:51:41.725-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bath</title><content type='html'>The drive to Bath was pretty easy, and the country-side around Stratford is so beautiful I feel it to my bones. The trees are "puffy"...they are so big and full and look so soft in texture. We didnt like the narrow country roads for driving, they are so narrow and other drivers go so fast, but they really are lovely. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got into Bath and were both surprised to find that the city was so big. I dunno why we were expecting smaller. Anyways we found that our previous two days luck had most definately run out and we found ourselves horribly lost in the thick of Bath. I rang the hostel from my cell phone for assistance but she was at a loss as well, admitting that she never drove. But she made an attempt to help and got a map and tried to figure out where we were. The ensuing conversation went like this...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Youve missed the turnoff to Bathwick Hill."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I didnt see any signs for Bathwick Hill."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh thats because there arent any."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes I was struck virtually speechless because wtf can you really say to that? She also went on to explain that because Bath is an historic city they arent allowed to put up signs for the hostel. Uuummm yeah well thats great. So to see a sign for the hostel we would pretty much need to actually make it to the hostel when at that point we really wouldnt need a sign anymore. Gah! So an hour and a hlaf later and with the help of a really nice restaurant owner we made it to the hostel. We were pretty bitchy and even more so when we found out it was too early to check in and had been looking forward to washing up. I had just crawled outta bed that morning and needed so,e buffing up. Oh well we managed with the public restroom and were on our way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First we did the hop on hop off bus and toured about the city...these are great for ahen you don't have a lot of time and want to see the key spots of the city. We then went to the Roman baths. They have Roman ruins under a lot of the city here as well and have unearthed as much as possible. They had crypts, the sweat bath, tomb markers and various other things. But the baths themselves are all pretty much there for the looking and were really incredible. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next was the Jane Austen centre which was pretty cool if you are a fan...so not a guy thing. Jane lived in Bath for a time and the city is mentioned in a lot of her books. She never really liked Bath, it felt too enclosed for her and I quite agree. Though the buildings are beautiful they are all large and the streets narrow and so they just feel too imposing. We just didn't like Bath at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After tea at Sally Lunn's, the oldest building in Bath and famous for her buns we made our way back to the hostel. It was then we noticed that the fog light was on, on the back of the car. Well we couldn't for the life of us get it off. This added to the stress of the day unfortunately. Trish was worried about it not starting in the morning. But I said if it doesn't, we get a boost, no biggie really and so not worth stressing about. It would turn out that the light stayed on the whole time with it not sucking the life out of the car and so that was that. I dunno, maybe a new car glitch? I did tell you that they gave us a brand new off the lot car didn't I? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-snorts-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next day we were back to Stratford, the reason being that we had a tour booked and had to go back. Also we still hadnt seen any of the Shakespeare shit in town. So we did the drive back, made it there fine and were once again off sightseeing. Shakespeare's birthplace which you find out if a replica and not really his birthplace only AFTER you pay the 9 pounds to get in. Then we went to the church to see his grave and then to Anne Hatthaway's cottage. It was pouring rain for most of the day but we dealt with it. We had to wait outside the church for a while as there was a wedding going on. Pour bride shoulda wore Wellies...lol&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later we did a ghost tour and oh, I forgot to tell you about the Creaky Cauldron, but I am off to bed...night!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1732443482500916138-6853226041000209486?l=fatal-beauty.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/feeds/6853226041000209486/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1732443482500916138&amp;postID=6853226041000209486' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/6853226041000209486'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/6853226041000209486'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/2008/09/drive-to-bath-was-pretty-easy-and.html' title='Bath'/><author><name>Bella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10697442591785473699</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SCc_9sosgrI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ibFvrN82s7E/S220/scream.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1732443482500916138.post-7098576767135671921</id><published>2008-09-20T12:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-20T12:28:27.627-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Castles and ruins and abbeys oh my...</title><content type='html'>This may be short and sweet due to the fact that French keyboards are fucked. Letters and other stuff are all in different places. But being a look and peck typist just may pay off here…lol&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So our first day in Stratford found us heading out to &lt;a href=http://www.warwick-castle.co.uk/ target=blank&gt;Warwick Castle&lt;/a&gt;.It’s a beautiful castle and even has a trebuchet. (for sister purposes think Northern Exposure and that thing that Chris built…the “fling”) Inside the castle was somewhat disappointing as it wasn’t very ‘medievally’. But it was alright and we even climbed the stairs all the way up to the towers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our drive there wasn’t too bad. We did end up losing our way, but we just kept driving around and then just happened to eventually fluke our way to it…lol..go figure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next night found us heading out to &lt;a href=http://www.kenilworthweb.com/ target=blank&gt;Kenilworth Castle&lt;/a&gt; (castle ruins) and to &lt;a href=http://www.stoneleighabbey.org/ target=blank&gt; Stoneleigh Abbey&lt;/a&gt;. The original plan was to catch the 11 am tour at Stoneleigh then head to Kenilworth, but once again we lost our way…lol. And again we continued to drive around and this time fluked our way to Kenilworth. Not quite the plan but hey a bird in the hand…!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kenilworth is a castle ruin, once occupied by Elizabeth the first’s favourite, Robert Dudley. He had renovated to make the main part fit to impress Elizabeth and it’s a shame that it was left to ruin but a spectacular ruin it is! Got lots of pics…it was wonderful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From there we went to Stoneleigh. Once known as Stone Lay it HAD at one time just been an abbey. Now they main part of the abbey is still there (well the gatehouse anyways) and split into about 4 residences. Along with this there is a huge mansion built by the Leigh family alongside it, built in 1558. Oddly enough we found that we had really lucked out cuz the fact that we were lost earlier meant we could only get the last tour and we ended up being the only ones on the tour! She asked what our interests were and she tailored made the tour for us….medieval stuff and of course Jane Austin who despite only spending 2 weeks there, descriptions of the house and grounds and even relatives names taken from the many portraits on the walls and their personal stories influenced her books heavily. The house and grounds were breathtaking I cannot say how much. It was no wonder her short stay influenced her so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One other lucky thing was that twice a month one of the people who are in residence in the old abbey allow the tours to enter his home and this day was one of those…lol…Imagine a home inside an old abbey with it’s stone arched ceilings and stone walls, and huge columns about. When I walked in I swear I wanted to cry at the site…I would die to live there!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We walked bout the grounds and through the woods a bit to a small pet cemetery tucked away in there. On the way we saw a big red fox…he was gorgeous. The cemetery was cute, snaps some shots and we made our way back to town.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day had us off to Bath…..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1732443482500916138-7098576767135671921?l=fatal-beauty.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/feeds/7098576767135671921/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1732443482500916138&amp;postID=7098576767135671921' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/7098576767135671921'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/7098576767135671921'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/2008/09/castles-and-ruins-and-abbeys-oh-my.html' title='Castles and ruins and abbeys oh my...'/><author><name>Bella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10697442591785473699</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SCc_9sosgrI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ibFvrN82s7E/S220/scream.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1732443482500916138.post-3705975179788875991</id><published>2008-09-15T14:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-15T14:57:31.189-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the adventure continues...</title><content type='html'>So I left off at us going to Birmingham then on to Stratford. I forgot to mention one weird thing we did in Chester though. See, everything closes around 6pm except the pubs and bars of course. We didn't feel like hanging out in the pub all night (I know...shocker!) or the hostel and so we went to see a movie...lol...but at least it was semi appropriate. We saw the Dutchess period drama set in England and based on the real life story of The Dutchess of such and such. In the words of Emma Thompson my brains has been replaced by soft turnip and I cannot think nor do I want to anymore than I have to right now. The movie was actually rather depressing and left us feeling blah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also the bus to Birmingham was yucky, it stunk to high heaven literally...why I do NOT want to know. I could complain but am not gonna cuz I think that the fact that there were no beheadings was a huge plus!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we managed to get to Stratford in one piece, after finally getting out of Birmingham. I have to say that the signage really sucks ass. As I said before if the arrow looks like it's pointing left they may very well mean to go straight. I particularily loved it when the locals told us to go 'straight' thru the roundabout...hmm..okay...lol...Another thing we discovered is that street names and motorway numbers can and will change in the middle of nowhere with no rhymn nor reason. I swear...it's some sort of conspiracy! I just know it...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The very narrow roads didn't do much for our confidence either. But we settled into a routine of me calling out 'curb!' every so often. I avoided looking at the sides of the tires on the left hand side of the car...lol...naw I don't think it was bad at all. And we actually saw a sign while driving that said, 'Oncoming traffic in middle of road'. To this I can only say no fucking shit! For the most part it went well. I am sure that in time the blisters on Trish's hands from her death grip on the wheel will heal, and my butt will relax out of it's puckered state.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had our own room at the hostel in Stratford which was in an old Georgian mansion. It was a great hostel, free breakfast in the mornings which we took advantage of. When we got checked in, settled in and freshened up we headed to the Dirty Duck Pub where we proceeded to drink more than a little. It was a really nice pub that gets busy after the plays are over as that's where the actors like to hang. We shared a meat pie that was fab and in the morning I realized that we never paid for it. You see there's really no table service over here in pubs so you go to the bar and serve yourself. But at this particular place there was a guy that took our food order but I still had to go to the bar to get the drinks. So he forgot to bill us and we forgot as well. He even called us a cab and so knew we were leaving. Or maybe we just blinded him with our stunning beauty and witty charm and he got confused...yeah that's it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I am off to bed...seems here in London we are sharing a room with not one, but 5 Asian Disney Princesses...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1732443482500916138-3705975179788875991?l=fatal-beauty.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/feeds/3705975179788875991/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1732443482500916138&amp;postID=3705975179788875991' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/3705975179788875991'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/3705975179788875991'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/2008/09/adventure-continues.html' title='the adventure continues...'/><author><name>Bella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10697442591785473699</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SCc_9sosgrI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ibFvrN82s7E/S220/scream.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1732443482500916138.post-8724239541738909017</id><published>2008-09-11T12:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-11T13:38:01.457-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Chester</title><content type='html'>alright so I left off at Chester...seems so long ago already...lol&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chester was awesome, it's probably one of the most unique cities in the world. It's built on the ruins of a Roman city that was built 2000 years ago. They had built a wall around their city that remains to this day and is the most complete Roman wall of anywhere in the world. Some of you might have seen the Roodee on TV, it's the horse race track that's faily famous there. If I could upload my pics you could see it...lol...but anyways the waters used to cover that racetrack and the Roman could sail their ships right up to the walls of the city. The people of the Medieval times ended up building ontop of the roman ruins and also added here and there to the walls, also adding various watch towers to guard the city. Our awesome tour guide had keys to take us up in the towers and it was pretty cool. Chester is famous for it's 'rows' and you can see a pic of them &lt;a href=http://www.dkimages.com/discover/previews/770/888691.JPG=blank&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;. They built 'storage' for their goods on the bottom, then eventually added shop front on top, then eventually added their homes on top of that...THEN eventually extending them out, creating a kind of a covered second floor to walk through. Over the years people changed the looks of the fronts to reflect the styles of the times, so you have an eclectic mix of Medieval, Georgian, Victorian and even modern styles. In lots of them you can see glassed parts where you can glimpse old Roman columns and old medieval building structures, crypts and all kinds of stuff from the past that they are kind enough to display. To add to the ambiance, the streets are cobblestoned, and very uneven, watch where you're walking...lol&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chester gets nutso at nighttime, with the younger people flooding in to party. It wasn't all that balmy yet there were hordes of young women dressed very skimpily. I actually have never seen so many tartly dressed women in one place ever. We're talking 8 inch heels, mini mini skirts, skanky tops...you name it. Very trashy...us classy broads felt right out of place ya know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways later that night we did a very disappointing ghost tour....sadly the guide wasn't very enaging and told the stories with an attitude of 'this is the story but it's probably not true'...not very fricken scary...lol. And he was the one that created the tours! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anwyays the next day we roamed around the city. One stop was Chester Cathedral and I dunno how to explain just how breathtaking it was! We were blown away. It was huge and there was even a choir singing to add to the ambiance there. Wish I could show you pictures...lol..We also saw the ruins of the original cathedral and also went back to the Roman Amphitheatre that we had gone to the night before on the ghost tour. I felt rather lightheaded and nauseous there, but lots of gory things went on there and it must have a lot of bad energy. Apparently they only discovered it several years ago...there used to be houses built on top of it. They have been slowly excavating it and have found lots of things including hacked off fingers and other body parts...lol...how entertained the Romans must have been...like their own real live version of horror movies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our hostel was in an old house and it was really nice until you starting going up to the top floor where our room was. It was kind of creepy up there. The toilets were in the hall and we hating getting up in the middle of the night to go pee. I think we set new records for speed peeing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh I should say that one morning we were very English and had tea and crumpets for breakfast. It was the most incredible tea we've ever had and the crumpets were warm and literally dripping with butter...yummmm! We were full for the next 6 hours I think...lol&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next day we caught the bus to Birmingham to get our rental car. We found out why people cringed when they asked us where we were going after Chester, then proceded to ask why the hell we were going there. I dunno why every bus depot in every city is always in the crappiest part of the city. It was dirty, run down and just gross. The roads was bumper to bumper traffic and the streets were teaming with people. And I don't mean to come across as racist but I kid you not, there was not one white person to be seen. Looking around I felt like I was in some middle eastern country. So we got our car and got the hell out of there. We got a little lost getting out of town because "just get out on that road and stay on it and it goes straight into Stratford" isn't as straight forward as it sounds. Trust me on that one! But a kind lady in a park somewhere helped us and we managed to get to our next hostel with very little trouble. Trish was nervous driving, but after a few days she got the attitude of "taking back the road" and got much braver....lol&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I am beyond tired and going to bed. We are in Bath now and heading back to Stratford first thing in the morning...don't ask....lol&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1732443482500916138-8724239541738909017?l=fatal-beauty.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/feeds/8724239541738909017/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1732443482500916138&amp;postID=8724239541738909017' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/8724239541738909017'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/8724239541738909017'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/2008/09/chester.html' title='Chester'/><author><name>Bella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10697442591785473699</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SCc_9sosgrI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ibFvrN82s7E/S220/scream.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1732443482500916138.post-4787203799063301870</id><published>2008-09-09T13:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-09T13:17:49.959-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Things I've Learned so Far....</title><content type='html'>1) they got WAY too many traffic circles&lt;br /&gt;2) they eat beans on toast for breakfast...talk about 'fuelling up'&lt;br /&gt;3) when you see a street sign that seems to be pointing to go left, they might very well mean to go straight...or visa versa&lt;br /&gt;4) they got WAY too many traffic circles&lt;br /&gt;5) most pubs don't serve food after 6 pm&lt;br /&gt;6) you have to know what your table number is when going up to order food&lt;br /&gt;7) they got WAY to many traffic circles&lt;br /&gt;8) no one gives a shit where you are from&lt;br /&gt;9) in a 20 minute drive you feel as though you've completely turned around a good 20 times because....they got WAY to many traffic circles&lt;br /&gt;10) if you take a wrong turn at some point there'll be a ...yes you guessed it...a traffic circle to turn you around again&lt;br /&gt;11) the hot and cold water taps are ALWAYS seperate so you can either have your choice of freezing or piping hot water...no in between&lt;br /&gt;12) men sucks as bad here as they do at home&lt;br /&gt;13) it's impossible to get a suntan here&lt;br /&gt;14) we shoulda rented a boat not a car&lt;br /&gt;15) they got a hellovalotta sheep&lt;br /&gt;16) they got WAY to many traffic circles&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1732443482500916138-4787203799063301870?l=fatal-beauty.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/feeds/4787203799063301870/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1732443482500916138&amp;postID=4787203799063301870' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/4787203799063301870'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/4787203799063301870'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/2008/09/things-ive-learned-so-far.html' title='Things I&apos;ve Learned so Far....'/><author><name>Bella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10697442591785473699</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SCc_9sosgrI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ibFvrN82s7E/S220/scream.jpg'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1732443482500916138.post-1157413124078993910</id><published>2008-09-08T10:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-08T10:50:09.803-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Jet Lag and the Green Apple Quick Step</title><content type='html'>I was hoping to blog in Chester but our hostel had no comp, unlike Manchester did. I guess internet access to them meant B.Y.O.C. Now I am way behind! Bad news for now is that on this comp I am unable to upload my pictures onto my online album. Hopefully I can remedy this soon!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways the flight to London was long but not as horrendously torturous as I had anticipated, despite the woman sitting beside me who elbowed me inconsiderately and continuously throughout the flight...not even taking care when I was obviously asleep. I am sure there's a special kind of hell awaiting her somewhere. Least I can hope. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the free booze certainly helped as did the first inflight movie, Iron Man! Choice! Though I fell asleep in the last 5 minuets of it...:(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had a 3 hour stopover in London Heathrow and spent half that time travelling to the other terminal (holy shit big airport!) and waiting in line at customs. The other half was having a 4:30 PM "breakfast".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The flight to Manchester was nice, got to see some of the English countryside. Much like Saskatchewan except the farm plots aren't as perfectly square, there's a hellovalotta sheep and way more trees...and greener too. Okay well maybe not that much alike...lol...I have pictures but you'll have to wait...meh. We got in about 6 PM England time and were glad to have gotten a hotel within staggering distance of the terminal, as expensive as it was. The whole crap with the airlines ended up getting us there a day early and the hostel had already been booked up. After settling in, drinks at the lounge complete with an order of nachos (consisting of, I swear to god, all of 12 chips wtf??)and washing up we were in bed and asleep by midnight and slept for the next 10 hours...lol&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Twe were on our way to Manchester YHA Hostel. Luckily we really didn't have much planned for that day because besides the torrential downpour outside I was plagued by some horrible stomach ailment. So we whiled away the day at the hostel, they had a cafe, bar, computers, which from hindsight I shoulda posted from. That evening we made our way to Lass O'Gowries Pub...(I needed to replenish my fluids...-w-) My online friend Marcus was supposed to have met up with us but jammed out, pleading a long day. I had battled 14 hours of travelling, being elbowed to near death, jet lag, and a mysterious stomach virus yet I dragged my ass to the pub. Ugh...men! Sure I was angry and probably even hurt but what can ya do? We ended up having a great time with some 'blokes'. They teased us about Canada and called hockey players girly-men...we had a lot of defending to do!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our hostel was shared by 2 other girls, a German and an Asian, the latter being a petite, extremely cute girl with Mickey Mouse baggage. She was one of those ones that you can say anything to and they'll just smile, giggle and nod and say 'yes'. We could have really fucked with her...haha...the next morning her alrm went off, playing this cute music and she literally sat up, and did one of those disney princess moves, ya know where they do that stretch and smile ever so sernely and prettily and say in that sing song voice 'good morning'. I was fully expecting birds and squirrels to appear out of nowhere to lift the covers off of her and bring her her robe. Meanwhile my own hair is all over, I look at tired and ill and basically like shit and my voice sounds like Marge Simpson's as I answer her back....frightening any animated birds and squirrels away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next morning we were up and off to Chester by bus. They dropped us off at the visitors centre and after collecting various pamphlets inquired how to get a bus to our hostel. The guy insisted that by the time we walked to catch a bus we could be at the hostel. Yeah right. We hoofed it blocks and block with our packs and arrived hot and dripping with sweat. But you can't stop us, we washed up and were off once again, to our Secret Chester walking tour and later that night, the Ghost tour. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But enough for now. I can hear the Black Swan pub (affectionately known as the Dirty Duck) calling my name...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1732443482500916138-1157413124078993910?l=fatal-beauty.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/feeds/1157413124078993910/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1732443482500916138&amp;postID=1157413124078993910' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/1157413124078993910'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/1157413124078993910'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/2008/09/jet-lag-and-green-apple-quick-step.html' title='Jet Lag and the Green Apple Quick Step'/><author><name>Bella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10697442591785473699</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SCc_9sosgrI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ibFvrN82s7E/S220/scream.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1732443482500916138.post-2908241499042823880</id><published>2008-08-29T23:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-30T09:31:14.149-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Nightmares Continue….</title><content type='html'>Okay so…not a dream but reality this time...lol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The airline with which we had our tickets booked with, leaving for the UK next Thursday I might add, has gone belly up. I KNOW!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It all started with a frantic call from my best friend a.k.a. travelling companion at approximately 7:30am Thursday morning. Okay well frantic being an understatement. Apparently our airline had started to have its flights grounded for failure to pay bills. NOT a good sign. I vaguely remember managing to mumble some incoherent (I’m thinking) responses to her almost hysterical ramblings. (you can hit me later Trish) Upon asking why I sounded so calm I would have loved to have responded that it was my innate ability for staying calm, cool and collected under the face of chaos that made me so mellow at this moment. Kinda like some covert ops spy/assassin from some really great mystery/adventure novel. But in reality it was probably the fact that in trying to avoid as much jet lag as humanly possible I had been going to sleep ungodly early (well, for my body) and had gotten up at 5 fucking 30 am and so was, in reality, not quite awake and all that with it at the time of the call. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I am going with the covert ops spy/assassin thing cuz it just sounds so much sexier…and I would so have Clive Owen play some sort of counterpart, like in whatever way we could have that totally fighting, hating each other yet total sexual chemistry thing going…..oops off topic…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyways, I get to work and have the airline’s news up on my Google search and for the next few hours continue to refresh it to read the latest. Then the inevitable happens and yes the damn company goes bust and cancels all operations including –gasp!- our flight! I KNOW! I’ve only been anticipating for this trip for 20 years…and they cancel it like it totally doesn’t matter!? The bastards…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I immediately call my best friend a.k.a.travelling companion to talk about what we should do and she can’t talk cuz she’s about to go into an interview with her daughter’s new teacher. I KNOW! Like our trip isn’t more important than her daughters education!? Sheesh…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways we are all nicely booked on Air Canada, the airline that I avoided booking with like the plague in the first place because of their unprecedented talent for continually losing my baggage. My luggage has been more places that I have! I am actually jealous of my luggage. So irony of ironies I am now flying with this company, fully anticipating that my luggage will go to someplace like Guyana, or Boca Rattan or hell, even…well…Hell itself!….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aw well, I hope it brings me back something nice...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At any rate now we are having to leave a day early which means one day less of shoe deciding. I KNOW! OMG! Which shoes to bring which not to bring...how much more can a girl take!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1732443482500916138-2908241499042823880?l=fatal-beauty.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/feeds/2908241499042823880/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1732443482500916138&amp;postID=2908241499042823880' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/2908241499042823880'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/2908241499042823880'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/2008/08/nightmare-continues.html' title='The Nightmares Continue….'/><author><name>Bella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10697442591785473699</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SCc_9sosgrI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ibFvrN82s7E/S220/scream.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1732443482500916138.post-6024426373814337932</id><published>2008-08-16T12:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-16T12:32:34.612-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the nightmares begin.....</title><content type='html'>I’ve been pretty lame about posting here in my blog. I have to admit that with it being only 19 days away, my mind is pretty consumed with my upcoming trip to the UK and France. I have even started to have those “before a big trip” nightmares where my flight leaves in less than 2 hours and I am not even packed yet, AND the ride to the airport takes at least 3 hours, and bears keep getting into the house to attack me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, if only it were that easy! I have chosen to only bring my backpack, since I like carrying that around as opposed to dragging a suitcase about but I swear deciding what to pack has become a hell unto itself. Everyone keeps telling me “the weather there is a lot like here”. Yeah…that helps. NOT! September in Vancouver? The temperature could get anywhere from 14C to 25C. It could be sunny or it could be torrential downpours, but hey, thanks for the tip!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The guy at the travel store, who was a fountain of information I might add, attempted to give me some packing advice as well. He suggested 3 shirts, one that I would be wearing, one that would be dirty and awaiting hand washing in some sink somewhere and a spare. I simply stood there staring back at him speechless, that “deer caught in the headlights” look overcoming my face. Then he also suggested only 2 pairs of shoes. TWO! I KNOW! At this point I gave him my best quirked brow and simply said, “I am female AND single!”. I thought that explanation was explanation enough (it would be for any female out there)  but he didn’t get the point. I assumed he’d never ever had any interactions with females at all in his life…60 year old virgin popped into my head. But then he told me he and his wife did 3 months of Africa with only their carry-ons. Freaks!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I have if down to 5 pairs of shoes and simply cannot cull it down any further. I refuse. Mind you one pair is flip flops for the showers, since we are staying in hostels and will be sharing said showers with people from all over the world and all their wacky foreign foot germs. But really…runners, boots in case of torrential downpours, a nicer pair of runners and a dressy pair of sandals. That’s it! Oh the sacrifice….To be honest I would like to bring my nice high heeled boots, ya know, for that trip down the Champs Elysées. Have to look stylish there. I wonder if they rent little died pink poodles with diamond collars….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyways this weekend I am planning a packing rehearsal, to determine exactly all what I can cram into my backpack and what all has to sadly stay behind. I also have more planning to do, mapping out how to get from the Chunnel station to our hotel in Paris, because I will not end up paying $45 for a 2 block cab ride cuz I have no idea where I am. Happened to a friend of mine. Sheesh. The things you have to watch out for. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I may be scarce here on my blog til I am ready to leave. Right now I may attempt that packing rehearsal…if only the bears will leave me alone!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1732443482500916138-6024426373814337932?l=fatal-beauty.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/feeds/6024426373814337932/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1732443482500916138&amp;postID=6024426373814337932' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/6024426373814337932'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/6024426373814337932'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/2008/08/nightmares-begin.html' title='the nightmares begin.....'/><author><name>Bella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10697442591785473699</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SCc_9sosgrI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ibFvrN82s7E/S220/scream.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1732443482500916138.post-1782431267259435204</id><published>2008-08-01T22:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-31T19:41:49.430-08:00</updated><title type='text'>and I'll huff.....</title><content type='html'>So it’s been almost 2 years now and this still, to this day, gives me the willies. Even now if a certain dog that even remotely resembling a wolf comes running at me, I wanna crumble to the ground, curl up in a fetal position and whimper in abject terror as I pee my pants. I am a dog lover, always have been…at one point I even wanted to make a living as a dog trainer. Now over the years I keep hearing of people who say, “I want a wolf” and I have to say “ARE YOU FRICKEN NUTS!” after smacking them back to reality. People have no idea…no idea at all….I heard this yet again today from someone else and of course this incident came to mind. My grandfather always said, “never trust a wild animal” and ya know what? He was right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had gone to visit my friend in the interior of BC, a place that’s a pretty big vacation/summer spot. Close to where we were staying there was a “wolf center” with wolves that were either rescued and/or born in captivity and who could not be re-introduced into the wild. They are kept in big pens at the center and a few times a day the people who run the place take them out on hikes for exercise. For the small fee of $100, you can go along too! Sounds just lovely, like some mystical fantastical once in a lifetime experience and of course their brochure boasts all sorts of pictures of people who have done this.  They all look so utterly happy with that smiling look of wonder as their eyes say “look at us cohabitating with the wolves and not being eaten alive!”. So I thought, HEY!, this was great and wanted to do something special for my 40th birthday coming up and so like a fricken idiot I booked my friend and I a time. (she wanted to do it to I might add, I never once coerced her ANY way!) I had all sorts of wonderful visions in my head about getting all these great shots with me and some wolves ...but this is me we are talking about…lol&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We make the drive to the facility and they load us and the wolves into a truck (wolves in the bed) and we drive to a trail head. There's my friend, me, another couple and the couple that runs the center. On the way they give us the run down about what to expect and what to do and what not to do, ya know, your usual “hiking with wolves” debrief. “Don't approach the wolves let them come to you”.....”they will eventually warm up to you and get comfortable with you”, “then they will eventually approach you and sniff your crotch if they feel comfortable enough with you” etc etc. A short time later I would be wishing that they had debriefed us on the signs of “when a 120 pound male wolf is feeling just a little TOO comfortable with you”...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we get to the trail head and we all get out of the truck. Wylie, the 120 pound male, immediately proceeds to walk by me a few times brushing up against my legs. Just me, no one else. “Cool!” is what I am thinking at this point as the other couple look on in envy.  Then a few minutes down the trail he comes up to me and does the crotch sniffing thing….just jams his big snout right in there without hesitation, like only a male would. Again he does this to just me, no one else...so I am thinking “this is great, I rock, I am one with the wolves!!! He totally loves me and I will be going home with all these kick-ass shots of me and him, the best of buddies and I can treasure them for a lifetime!” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well....not so fast! (I should pause here just to say that the couple heading the show actually had a plastic container full of raw deer meat as treats for these guys…a long way from Scoobie Snacks I must say!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A short time later we stop by a river and the head guy says “maybe we should sit down and see if they are comfortable enough to approach you”. In hindsight I don’t see any situation where a 120 pound wolf with hideously big teeth and a hankerin’ for raw flesh wouldn’t feel comfortable approaching a 125 pound woman like myself but hey, what do I know? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So at this point I am STILL the eager, naive idiot and happily find a rock to sit upon, all ready, willing and able to become one with nature and have the mystical experience of a lifetime. Well, it doesn't take long for Wylie to come over and walk by me a few times, love struck as he most obviously was. So I stuck my hand out slightly hoping he'll give it a sniff or something when he decides to come back around for another brush up against me. Well he does this…comes back, sniffs my hand and then settles right up in front of me and basically between my legs. Cool huh? Well…not so fast! I start petting him gently (all the while anticipating the really awesome pictures that I, the LUCKY one on THIS hike, am going to get!) Then he proceeds to lick my leg with his enormous dead deer/bloody/raw meat/smelling wolf tongue. Still under the spell of naivety I am still thinking how absolutely amazing this is. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well whatever yummy thing he tasted on my leg he wanted more of (probably raw meat, I dunno, I be wrong here), so he opens his mouth and proceeds to rake his teeth agaisnt my leg, in a biting motion albeit gentle but still, HELLO! Needless to say I am getting slightly uncomfortable. Then he licks a few more times and does the teeth thing again, a little more harder this time. And this process repeats a couple more times, his teeth biting down harder and harder each time. Sorry but now I ain’t quite feeling the mystical anymore!  I tell him "NO...no biting please" in a nervous kinda apologetic voice that the head couple hear and who begin to head over. Though they ARE a fair distance away cuz god forbid you should actually be close to people who your pet carnivores approach. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wylie does the teeth thing again, even harder this time, rapidly nearing the skin puncturing stage, and panic sets in. The rest happened so fast and is a bit of a blur. I recall my hand on his head, formerly petting and now clenched into his fur and my arm tightened and straight in a way as if to try and hold his massive fang infested head away from me. He's still between my legs somewhat and is really maybe only about a foot from my face. But my trying to hold him back? Yeah he didn't like so much and now he begins to growl menacingly….in my face! I can't tell you the complete and total fear of having a wolf right there in your face and growling at you, giving you that “I am going to fricken kill you” look. The head couple are now starting to scream at Wylie as they come running as fats as they can and also scream at me repeatedly to stop holding him back. Are you f*cking kidding me??  When a wolf wants a better taste of me sorry but it's just a natural reaction to try and prevent him from doing just that. Eventually though, whatever they said sank in, (and maybe a little of my dog training came to me too) and in that slow motion way, I took my hand off of him and then bent closer to him and yelled into his face "BACK OFF!" in a very authoritative voice...I suppose all in a vain hope that since being authoritative in dog training works, it just may work here too. But he’s still stood there growling at me despite my yelling at him, but at least didn't proceed to attack me….yet. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well the head guy gets there and steps in between us, gives the wolf shit and Wylie?...he just ain't happy one bit. Now he goes to my friend and as he attempts to stick his nose up her shorts as he growls at her. They get him away from her and get a leash on him. After a few minutes for some reason know only to their disillusioned “we’ve been hanging out with wolves WAY too much” brains, they let him off the leash and I make a b-line to get myself far, far, FAR away, but my friend is closer and he goes to her and growls at her again. WTF? They get him back on the leash and he is just continues to growl all menacingly like, the tough male pre-menstrual alpha wolf that he most obviously is, and giving the girl handler a really hard time, even growling at her as she's holding him on his leash and telling him off. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point my friend and I have had all the “up close and persona mystical, life changing” wolf experience we could ever want for our lifetimes and decide to call it a day. The head guy agrees (gee…surprise!) to take us back to the center and I kid you not, as we were walking away that wolf was straining on the leash wanting to come after us, as if we had bathed in fresh baby deer blood only that morning!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got back to the center but the part where I had him clenched in my fist and was holding him off while he was growling? I couldn't get past that...not at all. I managed to make it back to the center and into the bathroom before losing it totally, crumpling onto the floor in a heap of trembling sobbing pathetic-ness. After a time I tried to get myself together but just could not get past that moment and ended up going to the hospital for some drugs that make you all happy to have almost been mauled by a 120 pound wolf with horribly big teeth and bad smelling breath. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometime I’ll tell ya about my horse experience.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1732443482500916138-1782431267259435204?l=fatal-beauty.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/feeds/1782431267259435204/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1732443482500916138&amp;postID=1782431267259435204' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/1782431267259435204'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/1782431267259435204'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/2008/08/and-ill-huff.html' title='and I&apos;ll huff.....'/><author><name>Bella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10697442591785473699</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SCc_9sosgrI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ibFvrN82s7E/S220/scream.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1732443482500916138.post-7383095329375396801</id><published>2008-07-15T20:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-15T20:52:51.760-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Feeling Punk'd</title><content type='html'>I finally gave in, after ALL this time holding out I caved. I bought a cell phone. My reasoning for not having was simple really, I don’t answer the phone at home, why would I want to carry around something I don’t answer? But pay phones are getting few an far between, damn them, and I have found myself more and more needing to make a call and not being able to find one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the thing about it is, I didn’t want to have 2 phones so I thought I’d replace my land line with a cell if I could find the right plan. Now my problem is that most of my time spent on the phone is long distance. Yeah leave it to me to live in a city far away from both friends and family. So after spending a good two hours with Wade the dynamic sales guy,  I ended up with this phone that allows you to make long distance calls through a wireless router, at anytime in the day everyday, basically free aside from the monthly rate. Sounds all spiffy til I get home and try and get the damn thing to work. After a few hours of cursing and swearing I phone the Rogers support line, cuz gee that’s where I got the phone from. The guy had no idea what I was talking about and after trying to explain to him for the fourth time he finally just said, “oh we don’t do that, you need to call Fido.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-twitch-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By this time I had lost whatever semblance of patience I manage to hold to on a daily basis and, yes, I actually yelled into the phone, “It’s a Rogers phone!!! I bought it at Rogers five hours ago!!!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways I managed to get it to work and after a week or so of using it, it’s a piece of shit and makes me want to talk on the phone even less then I did before. Only another 3 years to go on the contract….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This got me to thinking about other customer service nightmares I have been through. Like the time I had to mail a small package. Sounds simple right? Not so fast. I was at work and the address was for a post box at the main post office (where all the mail gets processed) which is only 5 blocks away, so I decide to just walk it over. I get up to the counter and I can actually SEE the post box several feet behind the guy who comes over to help me. I point over his shoulder at the post box and say,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I want to put this in there.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; He promptly grabs it and puts it on the scale and tells me “that will be $5.95.” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-blink-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“But I just want it to go right in there.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yeah but you still have to pay.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Fine, how much again?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Do you want standard or overnight delivery?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My lips then part as all sorts of replies ripple through my mind like clowns dancing around center ring. I can even here the circus music echoing in the background. In the end I chose the best answer I could come up with,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Standard is fine….”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there was the car rental when my friend came out to visit me for the weekend. Go pick her up at the airport, get a car there and then I can drop her off when she leaves and just bus it home. Simple right? Not so fast. I get there and tell them I have a reservation. She then asks me for my boarding pass. I look around briefly to make sure I am actually in the car rental place and not about to board a flight for Tahiti. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I don’t have one”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Well you need one”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“To rent a car? I’ll be the one driving it, I am not expecting a full crew and a pilot.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Well we only rent to people flying in and out of Vancouver.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My eyes glance about looking for the camera because surely I’m on a show like &lt;em&gt;punk'd&lt;/em&gt; or something.  Or maybe I’ve fallen into some alternate reality where my life is now very similar to a Seinfeld episode. Something…anything because this makes no sense whatsoever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“It didn’t say that when I made the reservation.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Well it’s under terms and conditions” (yeah you know that 2 page long document typed in 5 point font that no one in their right mind ever reads? Yeah that one)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“So you are telling me you won’t rent me a car.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“That’s right.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’ll stop there cuz what I said next is not fit for human consumption. At least they didn't call security...lol&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1732443482500916138-7383095329375396801?l=fatal-beauty.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/feeds/7383095329375396801/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1732443482500916138&amp;postID=7383095329375396801' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/7383095329375396801'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/7383095329375396801'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/2008/07/feeling-punkd.html' title='&lt;em&gt;Feeling Punk&apos;d&lt;/em&gt;'/><author><name>Bella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10697442591785473699</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SCc_9sosgrI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ibFvrN82s7E/S220/scream.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1732443482500916138.post-1143097036870910527</id><published>2008-07-01T00:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-01T00:38:06.286-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Canada Day!</title><content type='html'>WHAT DO CANADIANS HAVE TO BE PROUD OF? &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;1. Smarties&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;2. Crispy Crunch, Coffee Crisp&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;3. The size of our football fields and one less down&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;4. Baseball is Canadian&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;5. Lacrosse is Canadian&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;6. Hockey is Canadian&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;7. Basketball is Canadian&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;8. Apple pie is Canadian&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;9. Mr. Dress-up kicks Mr. Rogers' ass&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;10. Tim Hortons kicks Krispy Kreme's ass&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;11. In the war of 1812, started by America, Canadians pushed the Americans back ... past Their 'White House'. Then we burned it and most of Washington,under the command of William Lyon Mackenzie King who was insane and hammered all the time. We got bored because they ran away, so we came home and partied ... Go figure ...&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;12. Canada has the largest French population that never surrendered to Germany.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;13. We have the largest English population that never ever surrendered or withdrew during any war to anyone ... anywhere .EVER.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;14. Our civil war was fought in a bar and it lasted a little over an hour.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;15. The only person who was arrested in our civil war was an American mercenary, who slept in and missed the whole thing .. but showed up just in time to get caught.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;16. We knew plaid was cool far before Seattle caught on.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;17. The Hudson's Bay Company once owned over 10% of the earth's surface and is still around as the worlds oldest company.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;18. The average dog sled team can kill and devour a full grown human in under 3 minutes.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;19. We still know what to do with all the parts of a buffalo.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;20. We don't marry our kin-folk.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;21. We invented ski-doos, jet-skis, Velcro, zippers, insulin, penicillin,zambonis, the telephone and short wave radios that save countless lives each year.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;22. We ALL have frozen our tongues to something metal and lived to tell about it.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;23. A Canadian invented Superman.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;24. We have coloured money.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;25. Our beer advertisements kick ass&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;BUT MOST IMPORTANT!&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;24. The handles on our beer cases are big enough to fit your hands with mitts on!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/pXtVrDPhHBg&amp;hl=en"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/pXtVrDPhHBg&amp;hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Salutes! Happy Canada Day everyone!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1732443482500916138-1143097036870910527?l=fatal-beauty.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/feeds/1143097036870910527/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1732443482500916138&amp;postID=1143097036870910527' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/1143097036870910527'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/1143097036870910527'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/2008/07/happy-canada-day.html' title='Happy Canada Day!'/><author><name>Bella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10697442591785473699</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SCc_9sosgrI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ibFvrN82s7E/S220/scream.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1732443482500916138.post-2417994239133681449</id><published>2008-06-17T21:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-18T20:03:41.143-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Beware of cannibalism and false mountings...</title><content type='html'>As you may know I live in a very multicultural city. This can be really neat at times, or frustrating or irritating or it can also be a vast source of amusement. Take for instance the language barriers and things like trying to explain to 3 Asian girls on the bus what "oopsy daisy" means. Hell I don’t even know if that’s the way to spell it. And I have to admire someone who comes to a foreign country and opens a business. You either have to be very brave or utterly clueless, I am not sure which. Maybe a little of both. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now there’s this nice Asian guy who owns a counter at the food court across the street from work. It’s a Mexican/sandwich place cuz god knows people from other countries can hardly ever stick with just one thing. There’s a Filipino place near me called appropriately enough Fiesta Filipino! It’s a grocery store/video rental/hair and nail salon. (they sell fish flavoured potato chips because who doesn’t ever crave the taste of fish during late night snacking time? Or when you are PMSing…oh yeah fuck chocolate, it’s fish all the way baby!) So anyway, back to the guy across from work. He makes party trays of sandwiches which works well for us since we often have a lot of meetings and such. So one time one of the girls got his business card. It actually said, underneath the name of the business, “homemade soups and FLESH sandwiches”. I am trying to figure out if the guy who printed them was also Asian and had no idea, or if he knew but simply snickered when the order was placed, rationalizing that he’s giving him exactly what he asked for. I am wondering if he found a sharp drop in business after he started handing those puppies out?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other day we all got pedometers at work. (made it China of course cuz what isn’t?) It didn’t take long for someone to point out the instructions that were on a small piece of paper that came along with them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Mounting: Attach device securely to your waistband or belt, close to the center of your body. False mounting will possibly arouse inaccurate results.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes that’s exactly what it says word for word. At this point I am looking for the button that sets the thing to vibrating and wondering how on earth you can mount something so small. Or maybe if I read further down the instructions there will be a website from where I can order all sorts of erotic attachments. Walking could never be the same again!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All that got me to remembering this little news story from way back, yes ladies, remember those Passion Pants?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href=http://www.theregister.co.uk/2005/05/18/vibrating_knickers/ target=blank&gt;click here for Passion Pants&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I won’t be blogging again til next week. My friend is coming in town to visit, so we can plan, plan, and plan for our trip. Drinking profusely WILL be in there somewhere I am quite certain. We’ll need something to wash those fish flavoured chips down…..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1732443482500916138-2417994239133681449?l=fatal-beauty.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/feeds/2417994239133681449/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1732443482500916138&amp;postID=2417994239133681449' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/2417994239133681449'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/2417994239133681449'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/2008/06/beware-of-cannabolism-and-false.html' title='Beware of cannibalism and false mountings...'/><author><name>Bella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10697442591785473699</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SCc_9sosgrI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ibFvrN82s7E/S220/scream.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1732443482500916138.post-462510141124778401</id><published>2008-06-14T12:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-15T10:58:55.641-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Trip Planning Trial and Tribulations</title><content type='html'>So being the anal perfectionist that I am, I have been diligently planning our trip to England and France which is to happen for three weeks in September. Everything is pretty planned out and hopefully things will all go smoothly, though there’s still lots to be done and with it being less than three months away I am beginning to feel stressed. There still so much to do! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now there have been some glitches in the planning process that have had me pulling out my hair in frustration. One is that apparently the British people don’t really believe in addresses.  For instance the address for the bus station in Stratford-upon-Avon, is “Riverside bus station”. Yep that’s it, that’s all you get. Try looking that up on google maps! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another is getting into Glastonbury. Our bus doesn’t go there, why I have no idea. I have emailed the bus guys a few times about this and each time they give me an answer that really has nothing to do with what I asked, or it’s so obscure it makes no sense whatsoever. I did note that in all instances it was a male that emailed me back. Coincidence? I think not. I think that’s a well established fact that men will never ask for directions. So of course it would stand to reason that they wouldn’t know how to answer a question ABOUT directions. Where’s a woman when you need one? Anyways, the bus does go to a town close by, where you can catch a regular bus into Glastonbury. Sounds okay right? Not so fast. The National Express bus gets in there AFTER the last bus for Glastonbury leaves for the night. At this point I think I was alternating between screaming and moaning, whilst pulling my hair and eerily rocking back and forth in my chair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And another glitch since I am on a roll….after some perusing around a site I found that one of the tours we wanted to go on is already sold out for the days that we are going to be there. In a panic I booked one of the other tours we wanted to go to in this town though there was only one night left and it screws up our schedule. So I spent the next few hours staring at our schedule like a deer caught in the headlights trying to figure out how we are going to work this out. In the end we discussed renting a car for this leg of the trip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I don’t own a car and I can’t remember the last time that I drove. So that’s a small issue right there. But on the one hand I think, steering wheel on the other side of the car, driving on the left hand side of the road…shouldn’t be a big deal right? It’s just driving. On the other hand I am afraid that some part of my brain will be listening to my puckered ass and screaming, “YOU’RE DRIVING ON THE WRONG SIDE OF THE ROAD YOU FUCKING MORON!” In the end Trish said she’ll drive, as she drives all the time anyways,(just not with the steering wheel in the wrong place nor on the wrong side of the road, but who’s keeping track?) Another plus is I am an excellent navigator, so we’ll make a good team and there should be nothing to worry about right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well not so fast, maybe there is! I bought a “French for Travelers” CD complete with a follow along book to learn some French for fun, since we are going to be spending some time there. Now curiously in one chapter they teach you how to say “I would like a lawyer”. WTF?! All kinds of vivid scenarios began playing through my frightened mind wherein we would actually have need of a lawyer. I then frantically began rifling through the book to see if there was a chapter where they taught you things like, “I would like to request my own cell”, and “I get the top bunk”, and hey may as well learn to say, “I am NOT your bitch!” while I’m at it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow I could go on and on but time to go. I’ll add in here though my “weigh in” that I owe and am behind on. I am thrilled to say that I have lost a totally of 2 inches off my waist and 2 off my hips! My goal was 3 for both so am almost there and I can’t say how happy I am that. I am starting to love my body again and feel more in shape and stronger every day. Yay me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1732443482500916138-462510141124778401?l=fatal-beauty.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/feeds/462510141124778401/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1732443482500916138&amp;postID=462510141124778401' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/462510141124778401'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/462510141124778401'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/2008/06/trip-planning-trial-and-tribulations.html' title='Trip Planning Trial and Tribulations'/><author><name>Bella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10697442591785473699</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SCc_9sosgrI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ibFvrN82s7E/S220/scream.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1732443482500916138.post-4644224884056206450</id><published>2008-06-07T19:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-07T19:52:31.264-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Channeling Elizabeth</title><content type='html'>Help! I’ve started shopping and I can’t stop! Yes me. Normally I dislike shopping. All that searching through racks of clothing, then trying on a ton of stuff only to find that none of it fits right, leaving me to feel like some sort of freak of nature. It would seem that I mysteriously fall in between sizes, the one being too big and the other being too small, like I’ve fallen in some sort of fashion size purgatory.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyway this all started when my sister came down last Saturday. We literally shopped almost non stop, only pausing to eat, drink and sleep. Oh and drive from store to store too. Park Royal Village, the Quay and Little India here, then the outlet mall across the border and finally Seattle. Gasp. We spent money like Elizabeth Taylor…she would be so proud. Now my sister left on Wednesday, but today I had to go and buy the new couch that I had spotted while we were shopping on Sunday. And YES I need a new one….BADLY! The one I have now is old, as in 15 years old and has seen the raising of three dogs and a boyfriend. NOT pretty! I’ll secretly admit that I love sleeping on it and only just recently forced myself back into my bed after two years away from it. See if I sleep in my bed I tend to roll onto my tummy which since my back injury is bad…very bad. On the couch I can put my feet up over the back and also can’t roll over onto my tummy which does wonders for my lower back, I actually wake up without pain. (Yes I have gotten to that age where even sleeping hurts) So I am having a small case of separation anxiety from my old couch friend but my new couch is so spiffy! Here it is but you have to picture it in sage green  &lt;a href=http://www.stylussofas.com/stylegallery_details.php?styleid=348&amp;categoryid=1 target=blank&gt;click here&lt;/A&gt;   Now the pic makes it look small, but it’s actually about twice the size that you may be thinking. My sister and I fit in it together nicely. So cool huh? This is the great thing about being on your own without kids, you can buy funky things like this. Oh and the fabric is oh so soft. I can hardly wait to squirm my naked body all over it! Giddyup!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I digress. As I was going to get the couch I noticed a sale of one of my fav lines of clothes and got totally sucked in. But at least I bought all things that I needed. Honest I did. But the shopping must come to an end as I have that little trip to save up for...that's in three months and YES I am starting to stress! But more on that another time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister and I also had dinner with my buddy Jon again and had a great time. Went to Iver’s and the food was awesome! We had a lot of fun and I don’t think we terrorized him too too much. The next day we went to Kell’s which is close to Pike Place Market. It’s an Irish pub and if you’ve been keeping notes you’ll remember I had gone to the one in Portland. The food there is amazing and the owner, an incredibly charming older woman with the thick Irish brogue even came and chatted with us. Told us her soda bread recipe was from her grandmother who used to bake it at a road house she owned in Ireland. That bread was to die for! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So my sister gone and my livingroom is strewn with all my new purchases and baggage which I have yet to put away. But…it’s not going anywhere. (Unlike this fresh bottle of Lemon Hart over-proof rum –winks-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1732443482500916138-4644224884056206450?l=fatal-beauty.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/feeds/4644224884056206450/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1732443482500916138&amp;postID=4644224884056206450' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/4644224884056206450'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/4644224884056206450'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/2008/06/channeling-elizabeth.html' title='Channeling Elizabeth'/><author><name>Bella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10697442591785473699</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SCc_9sosgrI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ibFvrN82s7E/S220/scream.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1732443482500916138.post-4274626566593627489</id><published>2008-05-31T11:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-31T11:26:30.295-07:00</updated><title type='text'>“the whirligig of time…”</title><content type='html'>The whirligig of time, Twelfth Night, Shakespeare…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw this play last night at the &lt;a href="http://www.bardonthebeach.org/"&gt;Bard on the Beach &lt;/a&gt;festival that happens every year here in Vancouver. I go every year, and love love love it! They have it on the beach, obviously, in a huge tent near downtown. We froze our asses off but had a great time and the play was hilarious! Bonus is, I get to see it again in a few weeks with my friend when she comes to visit me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyways, thus the title of this post, time seems to be racing along and I am having a hard time keeping up. Geez I have been busy! Trying to still do some planning for our trip which seems to be coming up quick! Gah! And not one but two guests coming to visit me this month. Still purging some odds and ends I happen to find and cleaning my apartment in preparation for my sister’s arrival later today. We haven’t seen each other in a year and a half! I can’t believe it’s been that long, probably the longest ever. We will be taking a bit of a trip, down to the outlet mall across the border then down to Seattle for a couple days. I am excited! I love road trips and the ability to buy my favourite rum in it’s over-proof form.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other than cleaning, we had a huge event put on by my work. It was a lot of work and stress and I put in extra hours for that, but it’s all good. And omg I had a migraine in my eye this week! I never heard of such a thing before and man was it painful. How does my body think this shit up anyways?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also saw Diane on Tuesday. She does your astrology chart, reads tarot cards, is psychic I guess the word is and believe it or not she can also communicate with the dead if they happen to be around. My mother came through for the first time ever! Apparently she’s all giddy with excitement for my trip to Europe in the fall. My mom loved traveling but certainly never got to travel as much as she liked in her lifetime. Diane said that mom was saying that I am getting to do what she has always wanted to do. For you skeptics out there she also said that she is up there with Elizabeth…Betty…and my mom’s mom’s name was Elizabeth but everyone called her Betty. Diane also said that there’s a small child with mom, someone who passed in the womb. My sister in law had a miscarriage before my mom passed away, and was pregnant with a second that my mom never made it to see. Mom always wanted grandchildren so bad….she even had Diane tell me that there’s still time for me. Geez mom, the eggs have surely started to rot by now. Besides that I am sure my tubes have tied themselves, tighter each time I hear a screaming, misbehaving spawn of someone...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways I could go on and on about my session with Diane, and perhaps I will another time. It’s was all very exciting. But for now I got a ton of things to do, so until next time…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1732443482500916138-4274626566593627489?l=fatal-beauty.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/feeds/4274626566593627489/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1732443482500916138&amp;postID=4274626566593627489' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/4274626566593627489'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/4274626566593627489'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/2008/05/whirligig-of-time.html' title='“the whirligig of time…”'/><author><name>Bella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10697442591785473699</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SCc_9sosgrI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ibFvrN82s7E/S220/scream.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1732443482500916138.post-8203852445695335018</id><published>2008-05-19T00:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-19T00:32:50.847-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Wanted, one good man....(sad to say I know....)</title><content type='html'>Mood=positive&lt;br /&gt;Playing=Taking My Life Away, Default&lt;br /&gt;Alcohol units=2 (so far…hey it’s the long weekend)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The purging continues but that’ll be going for a while now. It’s weird the shit I find. Do I need phone bills from 2001? I don’t think so…..But I found a investment I forgot I had so I am pondering cashing it in and paying off a card and buying a new couch cuz god fricken knows I need one. This one has seen WAY too many CornNuts and dribbles of rum, tea and wine…..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could have used a rent-a-husband this weekend. See, I had a bit of a tiff with my ex, whom I would normally sweet talk to do shit for me, and this weekend I really had some things that needed to be done and certainly missed his handiness. I bought a large blind for my dining room window where the sun streams in, during the afternoon and when it’s 29 fricken degrees Celsius that’s just not pretty. It always amazes me how just sitting on the couch and staring off into space in a vegetative state can cause me to break out in a profusive sweat…but YES! It’s that hot in my apartment!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyways I buy this blind and managed to get it on the crowded bus without bashing TOO many heads with it…(I’m sorry only goes so far) Then of course when I get off the bus I had to lug it another 5 blocks IN THE SWELTERING HEAT only to get home, take it out of the box and find a part missing. –seethes-   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now after this tiff with my ex I really don’t have anyone to call and say hey can I use you unashamedly to take me back to the store so I can do an exchange? I also don’t have anyone to call and say hey can you come over and drill a few pilot holes so I can put this blind up and while you’re at it you may as well just do the whole damn thing for me. And I also don’t have anyone to come over and fix the god forsaken bedroom ceiling fan which picks the hottest day of the year to fricken break. And let’s not forget my overly large desk that I have wanted to get rid of for the past 6 months, but everyone that says they are gonna do it for me never steps up. Seriously 20 minutes…get it out of my apartment and take it down to the Sally Ann! I’ll pay you! –pulls hair-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pride myself on being independent, I’ve even fixed my own toilet, but my skills only go so far, and I think it’s best to stay way from any electrical work fixing the ceiling fan may elicit. So yeah any men out there wanting to make good money on the side? Rent-a-husband….do it, you’ll be rich in no time and think of all the single women you’ll get to meet!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow this was so not where I intended my blog to go today….lol&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1732443482500916138-8203852445695335018?l=fatal-beauty.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/feeds/8203852445695335018/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1732443482500916138&amp;postID=8203852445695335018' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/8203852445695335018'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/8203852445695335018'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/2008/05/wanted-one-good-mansad-to-say-i-know.html' title='Wanted, one good man....(sad to say I know....)'/><author><name>Bella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10697442591785473699</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SCc_9sosgrI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ibFvrN82s7E/S220/scream.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1732443482500916138.post-130090780072746911</id><published>2008-05-09T18:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-09T18:33:40.940-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Cleansing Continues…</title><content type='html'>Now that I have cleaned the inside I am now cleaning my outside...my apartment that is. I have  the urge to purge! Funny enough I used to be the worst packrat and my apartment is always messy. I really do LOVE a clean apartment, but I just have such a hard time keeping it that way. –frumps- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I got a book called Clearing the Clutter and learned exactly how wonderful doing just that really is. Basically, you cannot expect anything new to come into your life until you get rid of the old. Also the Feng Shui ramifications and clutter blocking the energy flow and all that jazz. It was about this time that I had been on a Nibs binge whist sitting on my couch and my mind wandered to thinking of my mom. She LOVED Nibs, got hooked on them when she quit smoking before I was born. Plus mom was a packrat in the worst sense…she kept EVERYTHING. When we cleared out the house some years back it was amazing what we found. And she also liked to keep boxes for some reason…empty ones. Don’t ask my why, we had the same house from a year or so before I was born until a few years ago, a good 38 years maybe?…lol.  So here I was sitting on the couch, binging on strawberry flavoured Nibs and thinking about my storage space chalk full of empty boxes. I had turned into my mother! lol…which really isn’t bad she was a great woman, but I didn’t need that kind of clutter. So anyways I started purging a couple years ago and it felt so good I go through spurts where I just look for shit to throw out. I am now addicted to throwing things out. When I heard that my best friend still had boxes of notes from high school I have been literally jonesing to get over to her place to throw shit out. Like that TV show of which I cannot remember the name, but where they force people to throw shit out and get organized. See I could SO host that show.  I have gone from one extreme to another…but I’d rather be clutter free, then drowning in it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Course my place is still always messy, but I think it’s much better than it was. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I owe a monthly weight in…or measure in for that matter. I am proud to say I lost an inch off my waist but nothing off my hips. The cleanse did an amazing job of ridding me of a lot of bulk. I seriously look like I lost at least 5 pounds. I lost a lot where I don’t measure…lol…I lost on my bum and thighs, especially in between where I measure and probably everywhere else too. I knew it would make a difference but not that big. Everyone has been saying how great I look and so that makes me feel really good. I haven’t done a cleanse in about 3-4 years, so that was probably a lot of it. But, tummy is a bit back….it HAD gotten really flat during the cleanse and for the week after…but my stupid tummy and its stupid problems. It just does not like food! I’ve quit drinking tea during the week…yeah I KNOW! I’ll have to change the name of my blog. But I wanted to cut back on sugar. Plus I haven’t been eating much carbs (and no booze during the week) and been eating in tiny bits every 3 hours or so…but still the tummy’s been creeping in and so I don’t know what’s up. I know it’s bloating and not fat…ugh…I want a new tummy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I have been doing great with working out and am hopeful that I can still keep losing and get the toned body I really really want!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1732443482500916138-130090780072746911?l=fatal-beauty.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/feeds/130090780072746911/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1732443482500916138&amp;postID=130090780072746911' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/130090780072746911'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/130090780072746911'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/2008/05/cleansing-continues.html' title='The Cleansing Continues…'/><author><name>Bella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10697442591785473699</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SCc_9sosgrI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ibFvrN82s7E/S220/scream.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1732443482500916138.post-7086577842283567538</id><published>2008-04-29T20:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-29T20:16:00.315-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Spring Cleaning</title><content type='html'>I just finished doing a cleanse, as in an inner type deep physical cleansing. What it basically involves is spending about 3 days “gearing down”…taking meat and protein out of your diet the first day, then the next breads and grains, then strictly veggies the third, then fasting for three days. After that you would spend 3 days slowly gearing back up. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a juicer so I juice fast. I used to do this every year but haven’t in about 3. I always feel so good after and it’s nice to know that you may have gotten rid of a few things that just shouldn’t be in there. I have to say though that it’s tough. Friday when I went to work the first thing a coworker did was shove an enormous plate of chocolate chip cookies in my face, offering me one with a sunny smile that I immediately longed to see being fed my fist. I spent the rest of that day AND the next day enduring a massive headache caused by the sudden lack of caffeine surging through my tea stained veins. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ugh. By the second day of the actual fast I was sitting at my computer fantasizing about eating when out of the corner of my eye I saw a CornNut on the floor. One single tiny little CornNut. It lay there in all its wondrous glory, its beige outer shell gleaming in all its salty goodness, its satisfying crunchiness beckoning me. And I have to say by this point I was seriously considering the ramifications of shoving a loaded burger and a side of fries into my juicer. Then my ex phoned and invited me over for potato pancakes and yes I called him a f*cking asshole much to his total confusion…lol…but could a person take anymore? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, I DID IT! I am on steamed veggies today and man were they good. Unfortunately I, with my department, went to celebrate a coworker’s birthday at this chocolate café. All of them shared a chocolate fondue, and drank various chocolaty drinks. I endured with sipping my Pellegrino and sneaking apple pieces from my bag…-a not so enthusiastic and very sarcastic yay- But I feel great and I want to keep the diet (good food, no crap) going for a bit and lose this little bit of extra weight, so I WILL to continue to be good! Even if it means resisting mean coworkers baring fat laden cookies and evil little CornNuts lurking in the farthest reaches of my livingroom!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1732443482500916138-7086577842283567538?l=fatal-beauty.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/feeds/7086577842283567538/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1732443482500916138&amp;postID=7086577842283567538' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/7086577842283567538'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/7086577842283567538'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/2008/04/spring-cleaning.html' title='Spring Cleaning'/><author><name>Bella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10697442591785473699</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SCc_9sosgrI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ibFvrN82s7E/S220/scream.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1732443482500916138.post-6576747794273370322</id><published>2008-04-27T16:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-27T16:51:37.653-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Final Chapter - finally!</title><content type='html'>Lesson 4) don’t forget to pack hair gel or you’ll look like a drowned rat all day…meh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the next day after a lot of cursing at my hair, we went to OMSI, Portland’s science center. Yes, we are geeks. We did the planetarium show about black holes, and went on a submarine tour, then hung out looking at all the “sciency” stuff. It was cool, lots of screaming kids though. –shudders- The submarine was actually a lot roomier than the Russian one I had been on, guess Americans are bigger…lol…Oh and all this was after having a quick boo at the big weekend market. Lots of homemade crap, as always, and some lady gave me a sticker of the American flag. I…ummm…didn’t keep it. –shifty eyes-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We did have breakfast at Kell’s, an Irish pub, that is supposedly haunted as well. And OMG they had the drink of my dreams…my two favourite things rum and apricot brandy, together with orange, lime and sour mix. Damn tasty! I’ll be making those at home…lol…Anyways, apparently there had been a fire in the basement, that had traveled through the tunnels where it originated in the warehouse across the street. There are tables in the basement and that’s where their smoking section is. I took a quick boo down there, on my way back from the washroom. It was creepy, no one was down there and at the far end I could smell a smoky charred wood smell, it was very strong. One of the waitresses came down to get something and she chatted with me a bit, she was cool didn’t mind that I was looking about for ghosts…lol…but said as long as I wasn’t down there by myself cuz strange things do happen. She told me that the fire marshal had died over where I smelled the charred wood. She also told me that sometimes the piano plays all by itself. I made Jeff go back with me later that night for a couple drinks, armed with the camera. I took some shots, tried different exposures, but nothing showed up in the pics and no ghostly piano player saw fit to entertain us much to my disappointment. I might add though that neither Jeff nor the waitress could smell the strong odor of charred wood that I could. I took pics, but like I said nothing to see. The back is where you see the foosball table. &lt;a href=http://s293.photobucket.com/albums/mm74/fatal_beauty_blog/Portland0408/Kells/ target=blank&gt;Click here&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We ate dinner at one of the McMenamin’s schools turned hotel and restaurants, &lt;a href=http://www.mcmenamins.com/index.php?loc=57&amp;category=Location%20Homepage target=blank&gt;Kennedy School&lt;/a&gt;. While waiting for our table we had drinks in the small detention room…lol…it maybe sat about 12 people, and had a pot belly fireplace in the centre keeping us all nice and toasty. The whole building was really neat, and the food was good. They also had a drink with two of my favourite things in it, rum and chai tea. See why I love Portland so much? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that about does it for the trip. Ride back was good, and I spent the afternoon bumming around downtown Seattle. One thing about Seattle is there are a lot of crazy people roaming around there, as if one day they had just let everyone outta the nut farm. Another thing I noticed about the US is the lack of recycling options. Here we have recycling containers all over the place, even the garbage cans downtown have a rim along the sides where you can place your bottles. The street people always collect them and they can take them in for money so it’s all good. But in the states? Nothing nowhere notta. It hurt me to throw away my water bottles. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lesson 5) Although made to withstand scalding hot beverages, over proof rum will in fact disintegrate "to go" coffee cups.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I figured why not? A nice refreshing bevey for the bus ride back. Well a little advice if you should think about doing this…drink fast!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lesson 6) If sitting on the back of the bus don't put anything on the floor cuz if some shit for brains spills his sticky drink on the floor it's all gonna run down to the very back of the bus and soak your stuff. (but I caught it in time so HA!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1732443482500916138-6576747794273370322?l=fatal-beauty.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/feeds/6576747794273370322/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1732443482500916138&amp;postID=6576747794273370322' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/6576747794273370322'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/6576747794273370322'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/2008/04/final-chapter-finally.html' title='The Final Chapter - finally!'/><author><name>Bella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10697442591785473699</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SCc_9sosgrI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ibFvrN82s7E/S220/scream.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1732443482500916138.post-5156648454882112489</id><published>2008-04-22T18:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-11T21:56:08.218-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Weekend Getaway and Lessons Learned Part 2</title><content type='html'>Lesson 3) When going on a ghost tour take your camera.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah I didn't, though I thought that most of the tour would be underground, but it wasn't. Portland had/has a huge underground network of tunnels that were supposedly used to transport goods from ships to the many establishments. They are nicknames Shanghi tunnels because, so the story goes, a lot of people were "taken" from here to be forced to work on ships.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Course once you're out to sea there's no escaping right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we started off at &lt;a href=http://www.oldtownpizza.com/target=blank&gt;Old Town Pizza&lt;/a&gt; and had dinner, pizza was fab! The place is in an old building, of course, all the furniture was old and all that and had a good atmosphere to it. The atmosphere felt "full" to me and it's hard to explain but old places like that most often feel that way to me. Oh yeah and it used to be a brothel!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the prearranged time we met our tour guide, Natalie, outside only to find it was just us, so we had our own private tour! Natalie was totally awesome, very knowledgeable and personable and fun. She took us into the basement of the pizza place because apparently there's a ghost there. Although it was creepy I got nothing except several taps on my head. I touched my head each time it happened, and felt nothing. There IS a leaky pipe there but if it was dripping water wouldn't I have felt some wetness? Especially after several drops? Well I didn't so hmmm..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next part of our tour took us about the streets of downtown Portland for a bit, with Natalie pointing out various buildings and telling stories, and us popping into a couple places real quick. She also took us to &lt;a href=http://www.voodoodoughnut.com/target=blank&gt;Voodoo Donuts&lt;/a&gt; and if you are ever in Portland this is MUST! I had a glazed topped with Kaptain Krunch and Jeff had a maple one topped with bacon. Natalie had the house special, a man shaped donut (think gingerbread man). It came with two pretzel sticks with which to practice your own sweet and gooey voodoo. She had us picture someone that we didn't like then went at this poor donut doll with the pretzel AND with surprising vehemence. Soon it's juicy red raspberry filling was oozing out of the massive hole that was once the "dolls" stomach. Was there something more to Natalie, I thought? Should we really be going into creepy places all alone with her? Time would tell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After giving the massacred voodoo donut to a homeless person we were once again off and ghost hunting. Natalie took us to The White Eagle inn and tavern, an old establishment that also use to be a brothel. She took us upstairs where they do have rooms for rent for those brave enough. Stories abound about what took place in this upper part of the brothel, most not so nice. One story is about Rose, who was stabbed by a customer in her room..and apparently died in the hall too overcome with her injuries to make it any farther. There's more stories but I could go on and on about this place. Anyways Natalie chooses to not tell us where in the building anything happened, so as to not get any false positives. So up we went into the "L"shaped hallway.  I first went into the "bottom L" part and was overcome with a very intense feeling. I felt lightheaded, sick, and there was that real gross feeling in the pit of my stomach I get when death is near to me. My hair was standing on end and it was just way to creepily overwhelming. So I left the spot and walked down the hall bit and the feeling went away. I caught my breath then went back to that spot and was once again overwhelmed by the same feeling. There was one other spot in the hall that made me stop and ponder, but nothing like that first spot. I did some searching when I got back home and found this...a picture of that spot complete with an "orb", borrowed from the Paranormal Research Society site. They say that door there in the pic is/was Rose's room and where the orb is is exactly where she died and exactly where I was standing when that feeling overcame me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i293.photobucket.com/albums/mm74/fatal_beauty_blog/Portland0408/White%20Eagle/orb.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://i293.photobucket.com/albums/mm74/fatal_beauty_blog/Portland0408/White%20Eagle/orb.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;**For other pics of the White Eagle, borrowed from the McMenamin’s site, click &lt;a href=http://s293.photobucket.com/albums/mm74/fatal_beauty_blog/Portland0408/White%20Eagle/ target=blank&gt; here&lt;/a&gt;**&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to admit it was a little hard to sleep that night and unless Jeff was screwing with me something or someone was playing with the bathroom shower curtain. Every time I went into the bathroom it was in a different position. I didn't ask Jeff about it cuz at this point I figured he must think I was batty enough...lol&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Stay tuned for the final chapter in my trip..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1732443482500916138-5156648454882112489?l=fatal-beauty.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/feeds/5156648454882112489/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1732443482500916138&amp;postID=5156648454882112489' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/5156648454882112489'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/5156648454882112489'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/2008/04/weekend-getaway-and-lessons-learned.html' title='Weekend Getaway and Lessons Learned Part 2'/><author><name>Bella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10697442591785473699</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SCc_9sosgrI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ibFvrN82s7E/S220/scream.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1732443482500916138.post-742732293704141196</id><published>2008-04-15T14:11:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-15T21:44:28.792-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Weekend Get-Away – Lessons Learned Part 1</title><content type='html'>1) When you own two pairs of boots that are the same, one pair in brown and one in black, make sure to do your packing in a well lit area so as to avoid packing one brown and one black boot…unless you are feeling ambitious enough to attempt a new fashion trend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes this happened and I realized, at work, two hours before my bus was leaving. &gt;.&lt; At least I work in an office of all women who believe that life, health and wellness comes before work, and my boss was the one that ordered me to leave work and go home to make the change. (I can’t EVER see this happening with a male boss…lol) A frantic bus ride home then taxi ride BACK downtown to the station and all was well on that front…whew.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) When the extremely ill humoured and unfriendly US border guard asks what your occupation is, lie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently they find it difficult to believe that you can actually get paid to raise money for a charity and that it really IS your job and will continue to barrage you with inane questions while you try desperately not to roll your eyes and keep a pleasant, yet slightly vacant look on your face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this past weekend I took the bus to Seattle to meet up with my cousin Jeff, and the next morning we would head out to Portland by car. Friday night we spent a pleasant evening at a really nice restaurant, having dinner with an online friend of mine, Jon. Great food, great drinks and great company, it was the perfect evening. It was also great to actually meet someone I’ve only known through the computer, I hope to meet more someday!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next morning we headed on out, going the long way to see Mt. St. Helen’s along the way. Some of the better look-out points were still closed due to ice and snow which in turn was due to our unnaturally cold spring. (TONS of snow…it was piled almost as high as the car in some parts.) But we had some amazing views and I am sharing the pics below. (when I get home and them uploaded later tonight)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) Don’t count on seeing what ya wanna…lol&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I kinda got skunked this trip in a couple ways. I have wanted to see the Carousel museum for literally years and wouldn’t you know it, the weekend I finally get to go it was closed because they are in the process of relocating. I have also wanted to see the Tulip Festival and although it was on, the tulips have yet to bloom due to, once again our unnaturally our cold sprin. (lots of angry tourists abound…lol) But I am anxious to go back to Portland VERY soon and the museum is as good an excuse as any.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the way we ate a lunch in Olympia, a pleasant enough town, though I learned my debit card does not work at point of sale, only in the ATM’s…oops. The weather was perfect, very warm and sunny, a truly perfect day! We arrived in Portland later that afternoon, checked into our swanky hotel and made our way out for a drink, then to Old Town Pizza where we would enjoy their house special and meet up with our guide for our ghost tour. Again the night was warm and balmy, making it a perfect night to wander about downtown Portland and all its old historical buildings for some ghostly fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;**Stay tuned for part 2, ghostly encounters!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i293.photobucket.com/albums/mm74/fatal_beauty_blog/Portland0408/IMG_0001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://i293.photobucket.com/albums/mm74/fatal_beauty_blog/Portland0408/IMG_0001.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;For more pics click &lt;a href=http://s293.photobucket.com/albums/mm74/fatal_beauty_blog/Portland0408/ target=blank&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1732443482500916138-742732293704141196?l=fatal-beauty.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/feeds/742732293704141196/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1732443482500916138&amp;postID=742732293704141196' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/742732293704141196'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/742732293704141196'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/2008/04/weekend-get-away-lessons-learned-part-1.html' title='Weekend Get-Away – Lessons Learned Part 1'/><author><name>Bella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10697442591785473699</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SCc_9sosgrI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ibFvrN82s7E/S220/scream.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i293.photobucket.com/albums/mm74/fatal_beauty_blog/Portland0408/th_IMG_0001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1732443482500916138.post-7640075520226998063</id><published>2008-04-08T20:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-08T20:22:05.107-07:00</updated><title type='text'>If 40 is the new 30, someone needs to tell my ass!</title><content type='html'>Or my entire body for that matter. What the hell is going on below the chin? Well sure there’s the age thing but when did it develop this complete and total disregard for my feelings? My body despises me, I know it. Secretly it relishes in my scowls each time I happen to pass a mirror which is something I am coming to frequently avoid. (I knew that snickering sound was coming from somewhere.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And to all who know me, yeah yeah, yeah. To be honest I am no more than maybe 10 pounds overweight and even then it’s not really overweight it’s more like 10 pounds more than my totally vain self wants to weigh. That doesn’t bother me as much as the “dimpling” of my thighs and my backside, which by the way is starting to give in to gravity. Dimpling? My ass! And yes it’s on my ass, but call it what it is…cellulite plain and simple. How come men aren’t plagued with this hideously deforming ailment? Probably because they wouldn’t even notice if they did, like they fail to notice when their bellies begin to hang over their belts or their jiggling man-boobs that they so proudly display by going topless in the summer to the detriment of our sensibilities. Gag. And if they didn’t notice then who would be able to sell the multitude of creams and treatments to wage the war on this cottage cheese of the flesh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways the long and the short of it is I want to get back into shape…as much of a shape that I can achieve not being 20 any longer. Toned I guess is what I want…so the old skin maybe doesn’t look so saggy and maybe the dimpling goes back to that special little hell from whence it came. Thing is I don’t weight myself, haven’t in about 20 years. I go by how I look and how my clothes fit. So I decided to start measuring myself, my waist and my hips anyways, where I have the extra stuff I want to shed. I plan on sticking with my work outs, and pray nothing happens as it always does to sideline me…like injuries and strange colds that knock me on my ass for a month. Eating right is another thing, at least during the week and lots of water! I will be “weighing” in monthly here on my blog figuring that will help motivate me. My goal is to lose 3 inches at least.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here we go, the first month…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Waist – 30&lt;br /&gt;Hips – 37&lt;br /&gt;Workouts – 2 full w/o’s - 2x this week (didn't drop dead - bonus)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1732443482500916138-7640075520226998063?l=fatal-beauty.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/feeds/7640075520226998063/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1732443482500916138&amp;postID=7640075520226998063' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/7640075520226998063'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/7640075520226998063'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/2008/04/if-40-is-new-30-someone-needs-to-tell.html' title='If 40 is the new 30, someone needs to tell my ass!'/><author><name>Bella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10697442591785473699</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SCc_9sosgrI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ibFvrN82s7E/S220/scream.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1732443482500916138.post-4495304122400540557</id><published>2008-04-04T19:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-04T19:15:12.066-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bella Bella</title><content type='html'>So people who aren’t my “net” friends keep asking me what’s with the name. Well actually even some of them ask too. My rt name is Bonnie, but my online name is Bella. Not something I woulda chosen for myself, but it basically chose me. Here’s the scoop…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I roleplay online….love love love it! For those that are uninformed, this is where you make up a fictional character and play that character with other people who have made their own characters For the most part this is done in a room such as a chat room…live. You write a post about what your char does and says, then the other person does the same…back and forth it goes. I have always loved writing, and being able to play your char off another person, live, with no knowledge at all of what they are going to post really makes you have to think on your feet and causes some rather interesting situations. My awesome rp partner in crime Donnie has definitely stumped me a time or too…lol…oh the stories we could tell. We die laughing at some of the things our chars have gone through and/or done to one another. I couldn’t ask for a better person to “rp” with. His imagination and creativity simply astound me at times. I swear sometimes I have found myself sitting there, mouth agape at something he’s written. I want to write books with him but he dun wanna…-pouts- Anyways I digress! Must be the wine. ..-snickers- There are a lot of different themed rooms, Medieval, Sci Fi, Horror, Vampire, even Western! It was when I joined a Vampire one some years back that I inadvertently got the name.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Not having played in a Vampire themed room, but wanting to, I found one I thought would be “newbie” friendly. So I chose a room, then chose to play a character that was basically "pre-made" by the owner of the room. There was a basic bio, I only had to apply then elaborate on that bio. She was already named, and her name was Belle. It was after joining this room that I began to make online friends, and most called me by my char’s name, Belle….not unusual since most online people don’t wanna give out their real names. It kinda stuck, but when registering for some other forums that name seemed to be taken so I changed it slightly to Bella and that stuck moreso. So there you have it…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1732443482500916138-4495304122400540557?l=fatal-beauty.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/feeds/4495304122400540557/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1732443482500916138&amp;postID=4495304122400540557' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/4495304122400540557'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/4495304122400540557'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/2008/04/bella-bella.html' title='Bella Bella'/><author><name>Bella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10697442591785473699</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SCc_9sosgrI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ibFvrN82s7E/S220/scream.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1732443482500916138.post-4901634803882285057</id><published>2008-03-30T13:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-04T19:16:36.867-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Top Five (movie) Characters I Wanna Shag</title><content type='html'>This meme is borrowed from Pensive, who borrowed it from ruby. I was saving this for a time when I didn’t have anything to say or anytime to say it, but with the week getting away from me and Worlds Women’s Curling Championship on right now (Canada’s winning YES!) and the hockey game later, I am taking this cop-out now…hehe. I used only movie chars this time, perhaps I will do a TV one and then a book one…why not? There are just way too many shaggable chars out there. So here we go, in no particular order…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Nick Callahan&lt;/strong&gt; (played by Clive Owen) – &lt;strong&gt;Beyond Borders&lt;/strong&gt; – Such incredible passion! –swoons- I love a man with passion and fire…and who looks like Clive Owen…oh yeah giddyup!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Smith&lt;/strong&gt; (played by Clive Owen) – &lt;strong&gt;Shoot ‘Em Up&lt;/strong&gt; - Ya gotta love a man who won’t stop shaggin’ ya just because he’s in the middle of some silly gun fight. That’s always so annoying…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Dr. Larry&lt;/strong&gt; (played by Clive Owen) – &lt;strong&gt;Closer &lt;/strong&gt;- He’s so unashamedly drrty. And bonus! He’s a doctor. Even better, a dermatologist, I could get free lazer treatments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Det. John McClane&lt;/strong&gt; (played by Bruce Willis) – &lt;strong&gt;Die Hard&lt;/strong&gt;- Yippee Kiyay motherfucker! Nuff said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ted&lt;/strong&gt; (played by Michael Keaton) – &lt;strong&gt;The Last Time&lt;/strong&gt; –he did such a great job playing this character, he was just so believable. So I was completely devastated for the guy at the end of the movie and I just wanna snug him all up kiss him and make it all better!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No Hugh Jackman Pensive. I KNOW! He doesn't do it for me like he does for you. So you can have him. :) I'll take Clive, don't tell Hipp....hehe&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1732443482500916138-4901634803882285057?l=fatal-beauty.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/feeds/4901634803882285057/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1732443482500916138&amp;postID=4901634803882285057' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/4901634803882285057'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/4901634803882285057'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/2008/03/top-five-movie-characters-i-wanna-shag.html' title='Top Five (movie) Characters I Wanna Shag'/><author><name>Bella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10697442591785473699</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SCc_9sosgrI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ibFvrN82s7E/S220/scream.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1732443482500916138.post-1900219892641892915</id><published>2008-03-24T10:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-04T19:18:32.001-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Will Wonders Never Cease!</title><content type='html'>Wow. A blog. Mine. Something I always said I would never do. I either thought I'd never have anything to say, least not anything anyone's gonna wanna read...or...at some point I would vent about something and end up pissing people off. Pissing people off is a special talent of which I possess, I certainly don't need a blog to do it. So what the heck, here goes!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am staring at this blank page wondering what witty and profound thing I could possibly fill it with. I suppose I could say it's representational of my life at the moment. Oh that's profound! Then I realize that i could go on typing for days and completely disprove my lack of anything to say theory. And it wouldn't really be all that witty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a nut shell though the last four-ish years of my life have been sheer hell in a handbag. I very large handbag...lets make it a Fendi! After a stupid slip and fall on a patch of ice I found myself unable to work at the job I had been doing all my working life, in constant pain, unable to do the things I enjoyed in life like golfing and surfing. I could not work, didn't know what the hell to do, had no income, and least but not least no hope. If it wasn't for the help of my dad, I would have found myself homeless. (though friends and family woulda stepped in I am sure) So yes I fell into severe depression.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways I have been slowly clawing my way out of this dark dank hole and have found myself having to almost completely re-invent my life. Thus the blank page analogy. Get it? I have a new wonderful job, a career doing something fulfilling for my soul. Online hobbies have replaced some old ones, playing with graphics, roleplaying, writing, though one day I do hope to get out surfing again. I am trying to get back into the shape I was in before the accident, which was GREAT. That's been depressing. And add to that time is not kind to your looks once you hit 40.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here I am trying to fill up the page of my life as I am this blog, and I guess it's going to always be an ongoing process, a work in progress....but while there is tea, there is hope.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1732443482500916138-1900219892641892915?l=fatal-beauty.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/feeds/1900219892641892915/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1732443482500916138&amp;postID=1900219892641892915' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/1900219892641892915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1732443482500916138/posts/default/1900219892641892915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fatal-beauty.blogspot.com/2008/03/wow.html' title='Will Wonders Never Cease!'/><author><name>Bella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10697442591785473699</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_3Hv4pcJ7hiQ/SCc_9sosgrI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ibFvrN82s7E/S220/scream.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
