Dead woman's case thing pt. 4 San Diego

Evenin' all. Had a nice long lie in today, blew off going to the gym (heck, I'll go tomorrow) in order to lie in bed watching re-runs of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and to be appalled that the hairy dog which I had earlier discovered had eased me against the wall and taken over most of my bed (complete with her head on my pillow)was now licking her arse next to my face. Pet ownership really is a misery. Nothing else noteworthy happened today so I'll get straight into the next part of my travel journal.

Monday 20th September 2010 - San Diego: Spent most of last night puking [this is a lovely start to my journal isn't it? You'll soon discover the full extent of my shitty digestion] and being wide awake. My chest feels like it's had a good kicking. I coughed and coughed all night from the reflux I get but felt surprisingly chipper today. Everyone else on the tour is actually very pleasant [take note of this sentence and laugh heartily as my opinion rapidly changes].

Had to be on the bus for 8am - what a godforsaken hour to be setting out when on holiday! Actually, it turned out to be ok and we were taken on a tour of San Diego. Beautiful architecture and interesting. Very Mexican and at the harbour really military. Had photo stops at a giant statue of a sailor kissing a nurse which was inspired by the famous photo taken of V.J. Day and put on the cover of Time magazine. Also loved the Bob Hope entertaining the troops memorial (with sound). As a stand up I felt a lot of warmth for this memorial and could only dream of having such an appreciative audience (oh, and talent no doubt). We also stopped somewhere else but I couldn't see the point of that one, it was just a grassy area near the bay. Mom and I took the piss out of the abundance of joggers running, no, NOT running; staggering along at less than crawling speed and with pained expressions on their stupid faces. I've run in the past - I was forced to by my friend Nigel who was immune to my crying and pretending to be dead whenever he came around, and I can confirm that even in that state I wasn't as ridiculous looking as the joggers I saw during that stop! Mom and I have already got a nickname for an actually very pleasant woman on the trip who's genuinely got no ankles - Cankles. Her husband is Mr Cankles (for calves/ankles). We're wicked bleeders we really are.

Stopped and had some cake and fed all the little sparrows (I bloody love little cheeky sparrows). They must have found the cake a little dry as they all flew to a nearby fountain and drank heartily before coming back for more cake. Gawd bless 'em. At the end of the tour we were given an hour and a half to look around Old San Diego which was really Mexican and, I thought brilliant but Mom didn't care much for any of it so we didn't spend much time in the shops which were full of stuff for the Day of the Dead festival. I figured housemate Steph (the goth) would love some of the stuff but then realised it was a bit too bulky to carry PLUS it was potentially just ebay fodder I'll hang on and see if I can find any thing Steam Punk for her. I know I'm worrying my mother with my inability to eat without puking and I don't want it to be an issue as I know I get good days and bad days. I was able to get a cheese salad for lunch (at a place called O'Hungry's) and kept it all down (thank fuck for that). Felt better once I'd eaten.

My phone is really pissing me off. Been getting loads of Twitter updates and Steph's attempt to stop them failed and now I'm getting phone updates from all 94 people I follow. It's a fucking misery and because I'm abroad it's costing me a fortune! I know it's pissing my mother off. Note to self: Dump Twitter when I get home.

After this tour we were sent on a harbour tour. Sat on top deck and it was really rather pleasant until the boat turned around and sailed into the wind. Bloody Brass Monkey's (for non-UK people that means it was cold enough for 'balls' to drop off). Mom was disappointed that we saw just one....oh I can't think what it's called now - bird with a big beak that hangs down and fills with fish. I've got 'Gannet' or 'Heron' stuck in my head but it's neither of them. Perhaps I'll remember before I finish. We did get to see a bunch of fat seals basking on a platform. That was cool. We hung on in the wind freezing our tits off until the boat turned again but it was still bloody cold so we decided to go below decks. Found a diamond ring on the floor but gave it to the foreign woman with bad teeth and poorly applied lipstick who had been sitting there. She didn't thank me, miserable freak-faced cow. [I'M GOING TO EDIT OUT THE NEXT PART OF THE JOURNAL AS IT MAKES ME LOOK REALLY BAD. MWHAHAHAHAHA!]

Back on shore we were given a couple of hours to explore Seaport Village which was really cute and interesting but there was nothing really to buy. There was a pet shop full of dog costumes (if only Batdog wasn't so old and the Kraken not so mad I've have got the shark costume or the ear of corn one), a Pirate shop run by a bloke dressed as a Pirate (is there much call for Pirate stuff on a daily basis?), a Christmas shop which aims to remain open ALL year and another that just sells wind chimes. All lovely shops but how do they survive? I can't imagine the wind chime shop would get much repeat business as, let's face it, once you've got something dinging in your garden you don't really need something dinging at a slightly different pitch a yard away.

...or is it just me? Have I no imagination or magnificence to my soul?

Did buy a giant chunk of fudge for us both - I had Rocky Road and Mom had Maple and Walnut. Came to nearly $14!!!! Fuck, had I inadvertently walked back into the Pirate shop or even the Daylight Robbery shop? Robbing bastards. Did have the most perfect ice cream in the world though. Cop this for perfection:

Ben & Jerry's (I've got your attention already haven't I?) IMAGINE WHIRLED PEACE in a choc and nut waffle cone. I died and went to heaven until I started to feel sick 'cause it was too big and rich. Like a proper girl though I carried on eating the bugger. Then a really tatty, death's door type pigeon started to hang around. I gave him a bit of cone and where there had previously been NO wildlife for miles, a bunch of other pigeons came down so we just left. My betting is they keep 'Brian' looking sickly and send him out to look pathetic around the tourists. The legend (amongst pigeons) that is 'Brian the Bait' !

Oh yeah, we found Kettner Boulevard. Probably named after yet another sodding rich and unknown to my bit of the family relative. The Fates really do like to yank my chain about how my portion of the ancestry pool did shitly for themselves and therefore left no legacy for me to live off and become arrogant about. I'd LOVE to be rich and arrogant. People say that I wouldn't be the person I am today had I not experienced the shit I've experienced but I say 'who gives a shit?' Who WANTS to be me with my personality. I have to edit down my journal posts so as to hide the fact I'm really rather horrible and judgemental. I might be nice and rich if only my ancestors had got off their arses and worked a bit harder at saving Kings or inventing stuff. Lazy bunch of dead bastards....

Mom gave a homeless guy $5 but he was so out of it he didn't even look up. I think she felt bad for him 'cause I'd pointed out that he'd got a packet of Uncle Ben's dry rice in his shopping cart. Where the bleedin' hell is he going to cook that? He also had a pot of mustard.

For dinner I had linguine in a creamy pesto sauce and was able to keep it down (yay for my digestion!). Heard my mom fart in the night and discovered it was a gentle little whisper of fart. Started to form a theory that when at rest and the 'ring-piece' has no real tension to it, farts are unable to 'rip' themselves out and into the world. Would like to research this but wouldn't know where to start and I don't know who would be interested in the findings.

PELICAN!

It was a Pelican. It's now 5am and I'm wide awake. Can still hear fucking Twitter messages coming through.

The dead woman's case thing pt.3 - Bring Out Your Dead

Hello again. There's quite a bit of death in my travel diary today but I'll get to that in a bit.

....you want it now don't you? You awful lot. What is it with people and their morbid fascination with death? Talking about death (she said with morbid fascination) I had a weird head twinge this afternoon. It wasn't a twinge I was familiar with and so got lost in thought wondering whether I was about to have an embolism and drop dead at work which would be an awful place to breathe your last. My mind wandered to my underwear and I realised with a slight amount of shame that, having been away and not having fully dried my holiday laundry, I was down to the last dregs of my underpants and was in fact wearing some dreadful pink things with a run in them and weird faded patches. I then concluded that perhaps I was internally acidic and wondered how one becomes more alkali. After a while I came out of my reverie and noticed the weird twinge had gone so that was alright then. No death for me today, no siree!

Oh yeah, the work colleague who had the 'arse' with me couldn't keep up the pressure she'd put on herself and broke down to be nice to me. I'm quite upset really, if yer gonna decide you've got some principles then bloody stand by them and give me the evil eye, stand with your back to me, ignore me, just don't give me the cold shoulder for ONE measly day over an issue that really doesn't affect you and which is actually quite funny! Sigh, people nowadays just don't have enough bitterness coursing through their veins, I tell you!

Any way, here's pt. 3 of the travel diary:

Sunday 19th September 2010 - Mom and I were the last people down for the coach to Heathrow. Bleedin' hell! Mom apologised to everyone when we got on board and one person kindly told us we may be last but weren't actually late (phew!). Prior to getting on the bus and after realising the staff were waiting for just us, my Mother went a bit panicky and, well I don't know what she was trying to do, but she seemed to set off walking in a determined fashion to somewhere in the distance. Once stopped, the driver started to laugh and leaned in towards me saying

"Make sure your Mom has a wee before she gets on the plane"

Random. I was kinda glad my haunted case fell over on him now.

Check-In went smoothly and they accepted the passport I never thought I'd get after behaving like a total cretin at the American Embassy (you know I'm a dual national don't you?) and answering simple questions about myself incorrectly and signing my name in a totally different script than my usual signature before laughing like a machine gun in a panicked high pitched voice with wide eyes. During the wait to board we did nothing but run everyone down - people with kids/strollers a bloke in a woollen hat, a snot-faced woman, people stretched out on the seats, people eating like pigs - you point 'em out, we'll insult them quietly to each other. Y'know the film Love Actually? It opens and closes with an airport and talks about all the love which can be found there. Not where I was sitting. The stench of flatulence and burgers was all around, but love? Nah, kids having tantrums and me willing parents to lose it and hit them. THAT was EVERYWHERE around the area we sat. The thing that particularly peeved my Mother was the amount of hand luggage some people had with them. Actual suitcases on wheels in some cases! Who needs to drag so much shit around with them?

So, we got on the flight and I got the window seat which was great. It was next to the wing so I couldn't help but think about William Shatner on that Twighlight Zone episode where the monkey thing pulls chunks off the thing. Still, you don't hear about monkey things on wings very often so I guessed everything would be ok so long as the ailerons and Petot tubes took care of themselves (I really must stop watching Air Crash Investigation). It's ALWAYS the ailerons or the bleedin' Petot Tubes that cause the crashes on that show. They should...well, I don't know what they should do but whatever they should do they SHOULD do it and fortunately, on my flight they DID!

I was excited to find an episode of 'Rev' on my little telly. Despite my atheism (or am I a heathen?) I loved this sit com staring Tom Hollander. He was adorable in the show, bless him (she said slightly ironically). I also watched 'Shrek Ever After', 'How to Train Your Dragon' and 'Nanny McPhee and the Big Bang'.....shit, I just realised I regressed during that 11 hour flight. My vegetarian dinner was shit - they got confused and thought I was vegan. It was a vegetable masala and I HATE spicy food. I had my headphones on so didn't realise how loudly I said

'Well, they can shove that shit up their arses!'

I also sort of accidentally called the fat bloke across from Mom a 'greedy fat bastard' as he'd stuffed 2 desserts down his neck in record time. I think I embarrassed her but to be fair, she did have dinner all down the front of her. We did actually swap dinners and I had my Mom's penne pasta meal. After dinner my mother realised she had forgotten to put her anti-thrombo socks on and so asked for some assistance from me. There wasn't a fat lot of room and unfortunately I almost popped her hip out of it's socket whilst pulling at her leg in order to put the sock on for her. I wonder what we looked like in between the evil laughter, the horrified looks in my direction and the painful acrobatics. Oh yeah, there was a woman sitting just in front who kept turning around to look at us. We got into the pattern where we kept looking at her to see if she was looking at us but then she'd look around catch us staring at her! Mom won't go to the loo now because SHE'S there. I could do with a wee too.

Just to round off I'm going to confess something. One of the things that worried us most about the journey was that we were smuggling bits of 2 dead relatives into the country in my mother's luggage (in ash form). Having an American passport I got through immigration first and so went to collect the baggage. Found mine no problem but my mother's? No where to be seen. I was getting more than a little concerned that we'd caused an international incident and that I would be escorted to a side room where rubber clad, unforgiving fingers would want to explore my special places.

Then I found it.

Left Los Angeles and decanted to hotel in San Diego.

Travelling with a dead woman's suitcase pt. 1 - last day at work

So, I'm just back from a trip to California and the West Coast. As I'm impoverished (awww, bless me), my Mother paid for the whole thing which was bloody nice of her. She'd been taking trips on her own for the past few years and I guess she wanted a bit of company. Way-hey! I'll come and be your sort of Edwardian 'Companion' type person; how 'Room with a View'!

Anyhoo, I'm back at work tomorrow (she reported miserably) and I've already been tipped off that I've somehow got myself into trouble without even being in the same country. Hell, I wasn't even on the same continent or time zone! Y'know, I don't know why I even bother to speak to people, 95% of them take joyous pleasure at dropping you in it. I'd be really happy living the life of a hermit only I don't fancy living in a cave. I'm sure hermitude isn't dependant on cave dwelling but the alternative is finding a hut in the middle of a forest and I guess there would need to be an exchange of money for that and council tax and well, then I'd have to earn money which would defeat the ultimate objective of telling everyone in the world to fuck right off.

...but I digress.

I've kept a journal and I'm gonna start tagging each separate day on the end of my diary posts. Here's Day 1 which was my last day at work:

Friday 17th September 2010 - Went to work and was supposed to finish at midday but didn't get my scary backlog of stuff done in time. You know how I solved that problem? [NEXT LINE EDITED OUT DUE TO THE VERY REAL POSSIBILITY I MIGHT INCRIMINATE MYSELF AND GET IN EVEN *M O R E* TROUBLE AND THIS TIME WITHOUT THE HELP OF ANY SEEMINGLY FRIENDLY WORK COLLEAGUES WHO LOVE TO DROP ME IN IT]. That's bad isn't it? [SEE HOW I LIKE TO TEASE YOU EVEN FURTHER?] Ah well, I couldn't give a shiny shite.

Anyhoo, I got out at 1pm and rocked up to the ferry terminal [I LIVE ON A SMALL OFF-SHORE ISLAND NEAR TO PORTSMOUTH] but found I couldn't get a sodding boat until 3.30pm! Bollocks! Swollen, sweaty ones at that! Ended up having to go home despite the goodbyes I'd said earlier, and had a sanga with housemate Steph. Went back at the right time and got on the stupid boat. Started to make good time - oh yeah, I was on my way to my Mother's house in Birmingham by the way, but then got stuck in rush hour traffic on the A34 around Oxford. Lost over an hour there so was getting a bit pissed off and my hands were becoming a bit claw-like. Got to my Mother's at 7.30pm only to discover I was the chosen driver to take us and a couple of rellies out for a meal. I still don't quite understand how I got lumbered with the driving after having spent so long on the road.

There is inappropriate journal stuff here that I really don't think I can add to a public diary but heck, I could be dangerous and just do it. Am I dangerous? IS Dangerous my middle name? No, it's Leigh.....

...all I will say is that there was someone 'different' to us at a nearby table and my cousin farted in all knowledge that if it stunk then the 'different' type of person to us would inevitably be blamed. There you go, not so much 'Dangerous', more like 'Dange.....' which is my way of saying I'm a bit dangerous. Don't worry though, I am famed for my usual ability to overshare. I am actually quite surprised at my unusual bout of self awareness.