Do you know where Bali is? I do coz I’m here now, shame.
Anyway, it’s safe to say I can class myself as a professional holiday maker. I am very good at doing nothing and basing my days around meal times. Rather than expertly wasting my time at home putting cello-tape on the cats paws, I am in beautiful foreign lands, lounging, eating, drinking, sleeping and getting massages.
I have literally just arrived back into bed after a Balinese massage held inside my hotel and only a few doors down from my room. Perfect.
This was most probably likely the best massage I have ever had. It was incredibly extensive and her little muscular tropical fingers were magical. She massaged every part of my body minus my growler and boobs. My ears, eyes, fingers and toes. She even flipped me over and massaged my stomach, I was hoping she would unfurl my belly button to hop inside and give my organs a wee rub down. Needless to say I was well oiled, relaxed and in that moment I knew I was a professional holiday person.
(I fell asleep before I finished writing this, that just shows you the extent of my relaxation)
Last night I dreamt about patting tigers and lions and riding elephants off into the sunset, I was awake at 4am with intense excitement stomach cramps because guess what, that’s the kind of activity a pro holiday maker would do, so it’s happening today ya dummies and you can be jealous of my awesome life after I write a shitty blog about it.
Watch this space….
Do you know where Bali is? I do coz I’m here now, shame.
I don’t know about you other sweet toothed people but sometimes I think I have a serious chocolate problem.
Boys are probably thinking “oh yeah, all girls say this coz they bleed like a freshly shot mule every month and need the sugar intake”
While that is indeed true, my sweet sugary needs are more daily rather than monthly. My body even takes over sometimes and does things to ingest chocolate without my knowledge. This is the most concerning part….
Several times now, I have got up in the middle of the night to “go wees” which actually ends up being an eat-anything-sweet-I-can-get-my-hands-on-in-the-dark kinda thing. Then get back into bed only to wake up in the morning with a mouth that tastes like I have been popping pills and eating car parts. Not to mention my brown stained face from where I have just jammed it in hoping for a hole in one.
This morning my surprise was a box of cookies in my bed, one thousand crumbs all up in my linen/stuck to my body, and the taste of midnight shame and regret in my mouth.
I now know that if I do not fill my chocolate hole during the day, a sleep walking sweet mission is on the menu that night. Sounds simple right?
Lets just hope the mini bar in my Bali hotel room is fully stocked otherwise I may get arrested for being naked in a foreign public place….
It is officially T minus 9 days until I will be pants free for 15 days in Bali. This is impending doom slash so exciting it gives me intense tummy cramps just thinking about it.
Impending doom because it means a one way ticket to bikini city which is nerve wracking for most of us. I’m no sperm protein shake swilling-carbless bar eating-10 pack o’ ab’s-gym bunny kinda girl and I wasn’t born with a body like Kate Moss, I work far too much and enjoy eating as a general pastime. Squeezing these E cup fun bags into a little Lycra number is a task in its own. I’m fine down the bottom half, size 8 off the shelf, no ass, wee chorizo legs, boom! I am good to go. But finding a bikini top is so much harder and takes longer than separating Hundreds&Thousands sprinkles into their colour groups.
None of this frilly triangle string bikini bullshit, I need some support up in here if I don’t want my neck to get skinned from the sheer weight of these fat all natural mammaries. I haven’t squashed myself into a bikini since last summer, but I did find my perfect underwire-puppy strapping apparatus and you best believe I cleaned the store out and bought the bikini in every colour I could get my hands on.
So with all my two bikinis and awkward little body, I am going to do 1,000 sit ups (approx) the day before I get on that plane and get a really good spray tan. Coz brown fat looks better than white fat right?
I was feeling a little wild this morning so I didn’t order eggs but an intensely sweaty and sweet stack of French toast with crispy bacon and sloppy bananas instead.
On my way to do my all important errands for the day, I did 3 crimes all at the same time and Snapchatted it (cool, I know).
I went and had a Chinese massage which surprisingly included an extensive ass massage (pants on). It was good.
I then went back to the car and witnessed an incredible scene where two fat dudes with bags of McDonalds in their hands, climbed and squeezed their rolly polly pudding and pie bodies into the small Toyota Corolla windows of the driver and passenger seats because the doors obviously didn’t work. I made no effort to hide the fact I was laughing at them hysterically.
But Karma was swift – on my drive home, I sneezed so hard I smashed my head on the steering wheel.
Today was a good day…
Studies show if you eat 1,200 cheeseburgers by the age of 27 u will not look like Carmen Electra on your Bali holiday #thatswhereiwentwrong
Sitting at the doctor and some little fat headed shit bag keeps coughing and spluttering. He then sneezes managing to spray snot and thousands of child size diseases all over the show and all over me. I don’t give a shit if your poor excuse for a child is sick, can I elbow him in the face and shove that toy train in his mouth so it doesn’t happen again? I’m sick too bitch.