HOTELS!

I hate hotels. I hate the buildings, the lavish lobbies, the receptionists who seem to think they could really make a career out of being behind the counter all day and all night, the smells of freshly vacuumed dust which probably settles into the carpets again the minute the vacuuming is done. I hate hotel rooms, I hate their beds, their white stark silly sheets which are so boring, I hate the mini bar, the en suite. I hate it all. And I can never understand why a weekend break is something which other people look forward to. I also can never understand why winning a weekend break is considered to be also a lucky break. What is lucky about living in a hotel for 2 days and nights? Nothing. And yet I'm going on a weekend break myself just because it's the Mister's birthday and we don't seem to have the same opinions regarding hotels, and perhaps I have convinced myself that I could perhaps budge an inch to make him smile. The deal is though, I'll still be going home twice a day to check on my cats and dogs. Otherwise I would have stayed put. How the hell am I going to sleep in a blank bed without trying to find space myself since my royal cats will not budge an inch every night? A bed to my own? That's disgusting. And what about the en suite? How will I manage that for two days and two nights? I want my bath in there. I just hope the bath in there will be big enough to fit my royal highness. So many questions. Why do my colleagues sport a silly grin together with a sleazy wink when I tell them I'm off for a weekend break? What do they think I'm going to be doing? And why are hotels so constantly wrongly confused with libidos rising? Pardon? Do I want to have sex in a bed which isn't mine, a bed perhaps used previously by someone riddled with head lice and crabs and chlamydia and God knows what else, a bed which perhaps saw the death of some old women who rotted for some 24 hours before being discovered? Do I want to lie down and imagine that I could be laying down my royal body on repeated spunk leaks which have dried up and gone unnoticed by the chambermaid? No, definitely not. I am not into that kind of sex. At the slightest mention of hotels my libido takes a serious dive downwards. And yet people go for a bikini wax before proceeding to a weekend break. Some go as far as to bear the pain of a Brazilian. But then the fact that some women like silly pain doesn't come as flash news to me. Silly silly women. I like wax, but I like a totally different kind of wax. And perhaps I understand the pleasure of pain, but only when it becomes sexy. A wax pot isn't sexy. What about privacy? What if your hotel neighbour has decided to bonk themselves silly and be so vocal about it that you think the wall in between is made of paper? Hotel walls can be thin. Well, of course you can just tell a bonking couple like that to shut the fuck up, but even brazen me once had a problem, until I knocked politely and told them if they could lower the volume of their TV set. Morons said their TV wasn't on. Of course it wasn't, I was talking in Morse Code! I had to finally get the concierge to shut the couple up. All of this shit, and yet I'm venturing out of my happy space. The things you do for love.....

Gaydar

So it is true, life keeps teaching me new things, but perhaps it's because I want to learn. Now I consider myself to be a fairly open minded girl what with having gay queens all over the place... my place. But there is a new in-word. The Gaydar. I like this word, lovely word, it looks almost like a password to me, and indeed it does have password tendencies (Pun not intended). I am a total novice at this. Melita Cable doesn't supply me with it, and my guess is neither does Go or Vodafone. I will just have to start practising, of course as part of my ever ongoing research....

The talk

I do not think that two people can talk for a long four hours without even having a stall in the conversation. But I am very wrong. They can. They've done so for the last four hours, with one of the duo being yours truly. And I usually think that I am the most reserved, not outgoing person living on land. Not this time. So why is this complete change of heart in personality? It is all about bond-making. Because sometimes the fastest of bonds are complete at an age when we don't even realise we're doing it (ok not that kind of doing it). And then we do it and a lot of other things and matters which do not matter, and yet still unearth the special bond. Why is it that I can talk so much, so freely, to a girl whom I haven't seen in 15 years? !5 years is a long time, and yet they have evaporated quicker than ether. And... I could have gone on talking. It's so intriguing, and interesting. And best of all, the friendship. So I didn't do it all horribly wrong. And no sex this time. Just the sheer cosiness, warmth and a ton of cigarettes all this bond provides. And it makes me one happy girl.