I got the lazy blood and bones.

I'm sorry for the hiatus. Looks like I'm gonna win title of Sporadic Blogger of 2012. I must apologise for my last post quoting Haddaway's classic "What is love". It's a story I can't explain and it was moment of silliness with friends. On a side note, that song was one of my favourites when I was a kid. It'd put it on full blast when I was home alone and dance around the living room.

Although considering I was only like 8 at the time I doubt I was actually on my own and the whole playing it full blast was probably a figment of my childhood imagination.

Other songs that featured were 'Black or White' by Michael Jackson, 'Crocodile Rock' by Elton John, 'Scatman' by, um Scatman? And every Spice Girls song.

The plan over the next week is to update you of all my happenings since my last real blog post on 3rd Dec, which is a lot. So it'll probably take a while.

But with out further ado... I present :

Los Angeles: 

Part One - Discovering Venice.

I was so excited to go to LA. I watch TV, LA is amazing right? And it's just like 90210, right?

It's all good, I'll rock up and hang out at Offshore, run into Silver and the crew and we'll have a whale of a time.

Nope. Wrong. I spent the majority of time in LA feeling a little bit lost, freaked out or scared. Or a combo of the three. By the end of my three day stay I was fearing for my life, but we'll get to that later.

I feel the need to put a disclaimer out there, I'm not saying LA is a terrible place. I just didn't have the best of experiences. I'm sure if I'd gone in different circumstances, more prepared and with more time and money, I'd probably have loved it.

Oh, and I really didn't expect LA to be like the movies/90210. I'm not THAT naive. 

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I hopped off the plane at LAX with a dream and my cardigan. It was a sunny December morning. My plan was to get the bus to the hostel in the Venice. When I booked the hostel I thought it had an airport shuttle. I was wrong. That was my first mistake. So public transit it was then! Simple right? Nope. Not at all. Managing to get off the bus at the right stop to get onto the next bus was lucky and fancy guess work. I was getting some really strange looks on the bus as well, I guess people don't often get on a bus from the airport with luggage. When I got off my second bus the driver asked me if I had just been kicked out. I wasn't sure whether to laugh or to be offended...? I offered a polite laugh. He asked sympathetically whether I had a place to stay that night.  I told him I was on holiday and I was on the way to my hostel. He laughed and wished me a pleasant stay in LA.

Yeah, Welcome to LA. You may well have just got off a 12 hour flight but we all think you're a hobo with that backpack.

After twenty minutes of looking for the hostel I finally found it and discovered I'd walked past the entrance at least four times. Why the hostel doesn't invest in a sign I don't know. Once I've settled in and let the Facebook world know that I'm somewhere marginally cooler than wherever they are, I set off to explore the famous Venice Beach.

Venice Beach is one of those places you just recognise from movies. The place is mental. There's street performers everywhere. Some good, some not so good. Guy who can jump over seven people? Good. Old man in tiny shorts, dancing on glass? Not so good. I started my stroll towards the skateboard park. This guy starts talking to me about the weather. He notices my accent and starts telling me all the local places that have appeared in movies. He then offers to take me to a bar which appeared in some film. I decline telling him I've already got plans. The real reason for me declining was that he was waaay creepy and I'm pretty sure he was older than my dad.

I think the dude I saw in a gold thong with masses of ghetto gold chains around his neck really summed up the Venice Beach crowd. Unfortunately I was not brave enough to steal a picture. But it doesn't matter, that image unfortunately is ingrained on my retina. No escaping it.

After walking the length of Venice Beach and declining every marijuana salesman, I decided that I needed a change of scenery.  So I hopped on a bus to Santa Monica. I alighted at the Main Street as it looked pretty busy and Christmassy. I forgot that it was winter in LA (despite it being warm) and well, it gets dark pretty early which kind of put a dampener of the sightseeing but no biggie, it made it oh so more Christmassy.

There was some kinda special event going on as there were so many carolers about and every shop was giving customers food and drinks. Pretty nice. America goes hard out on the Christmas decorations and there were tress every where. One even made out of shopping trolleys. I loved the carolers that were dressed in Victorian costumes!

Other activities in Santa Monica included checking the famous Santa Monica Pier out. It's the pier which features in Forrest Gump and is home the Bubba Gump restaurant and also the fair ground Pacific Park.

After consoling my map I headed to the shopping centre and got lost in Bloomingdales ("My mom calls it Bloomy's!") and got half bullied into buying a Benefit foundation. I also went on the hunt for a pair of Spanx, which is, if you didn't already know, a vital piece of underwear for bridesmaids. I don't mind telling you this piece of information as it's kinda integral to the story. Got chatting to the sales woman, I was the first customer she had ever served as it was only her second day. This may also seem like useless information, but again integral to the story.

After browsing in many shops and wishing I could buy everything, it was getting late and time to head back to the hostel. Boarded the bus with the crazy driver (is there any other type). Half way  through the journey the driver did a sharp brake and all my stuff went flying down the bus. The woman sat in front of me helps pick my stuff up, looks at me and says  announces rather loudly to the whole bus "HEY I SOLD YOU A PAIR OF SPANX!!". Um, yes you did, thanks for the discretion. Got chatting to the girl and she was actually really lovely. She lived near the hostel so was able to help me find the stop and it's always good to have a comrade during life threatening bus journeys.

And that was the end of day one.

P.S. I had to stop myself quoting more Miley Cyrus than that one line. It's a party in the USA afterall...

What is love?

Oh baby, don't hurt me.

Don't hurt me no more.

Whoa whoa whoa, oooh oooh.

I'll be back soon. I promise.

As you can probably tell, I've taken an unintentional break from the blog.

There's no particular reason for this other than that I haven't had the time and I haven't had the motivation to put the effort in. I haven't really pushed myself to do it because I want blogging to be something I do because I enjoy it and not because I feel like I have to do it.

Also I can't find my memory card reader, so I have no photos to illustrate my tales with.

Here a couple of things I want to say to you though:

1. I'm home!
2. Merry Christmas!
3. Happy New Year!
4. One week until I go back to New Zealand!

And here is a present for you:

See you soon.

Thank you Sarah.

Sarah is probably the only person in the world I speak to about my blog outside of the internet. And I do realise that it must be pretty boring, sozzard Sarah. I tell her about the jokes I've thought about writing and as I say, I think I'm hilarious. Other people beg to differ.

Anyway, Sarah obviously felt that my blog was so brilliant it needed more exposure and as she now works in Marketing, it's only natural she should appoint herself as my advertising campaign manager. 

This arrived in the post today. Pretty cool, ay?

Thank you for my present Sarah, I love it!!!

I got horrendously burnt on my face yesterday. My lips are so raw, it really hurts! (I know what you're thinking mother, but they are raw from the sunburn, not from kissing boys. Eww.) 

With my sunglasses tan line I resemble a raccoon. I'll tell you now it's not a good look. Oh and I leave New Zealand today. The burn better fade by Tuesday or all my ambitions of looking good when I arrive home and at the wedding are absolutely ruined.

I may be being a bit dramatic. I may not be. I'll let you be the judge of that. Presenting the sunburn, along with no make up and newly washed hair. Just look how white those arms are!

Today I'm grateful for music. And hair.

Happy Turkey day. Remember peoples, attitude of gratitude. 

I should probably rename my blog 'Things I've found on the internet today'. I'm sorry for this shift in blog subject matter but at the moment my life consists of myself and the internet.

There's plenty of other things I should probably be doing, like packing or reading or preparing my Relief Society lesson. Unfortunately the lure of novelty websites are too much to resist.

Today I'm sharing a website that accompanies me through my web surfing. 8tracks.com is basically the same as Pandora Radio, but works outside the US. I was pretty disappointed when I realised that Spotify didn't work over in this part of the world. But never fear, 8tracks has been providing me with multitudes mixes over the last couple of weeks. The mystery of what songs are on these mixes is all part of the fun of it.

This is the mix I've been listening to while writing this. Enjoy the jams while you skim read my blog post for any interesting details, of which there are none. You might want to stop reading now.

 

So you're probably wondering why, when I have less than two weeks left in NZ, am I spending so much time at home on the internet. The answer is simple. Procrastination and work. These last couple of weeks I feel like I've been working non-stop, it's been busy. But I enjoy my job and it doesn't really feel like work thankfully. When I get a decent chunk of time off I do manage to take myself away for some me time. 

For example, last Saturday between Phoebe's birthday party and babysitting duties I slinked off for a hair cut. Whenever I get a haircut, I usually leave the salon feeling like I've just paid a buttload of money for the hairdresser to go scissor happy on my hair creating a cut that I don't even like. 

"I don't know, it just feels a bit flat. It's too straight" is what I said when the hairdresser finished. She asked me if I wanted her to put a bit of movement in it. Yes I would like a bit of movement I answered and went back to my mag. When she finished I looked up and entered a state of shock. I looked like I'd been sat in rollers all day. My mother would have loved it. But it really wasn't me. It was probably me thirty years from now.

My answer this time was "I never like my hair when I get it cut." I then proceeded to dig myself a deep, deep grave trying to convince the hairdresser I wasn't being offensive. 

I'd planned on going to check out a festival going on at a local park after the hair cut. Instead I walked for 5 minutes, looking at my reflection in every shop window, before I decided my only real option with this hair was to head home and hideout for the rest of the day.

When I finally got round to washing it myself I realised what was wrong with the haircut. It's exactly the same as it was before I got it cut.

This time I'd paid a buttload of money for the hairdresser to waft a pair of scissors around my head and then style my hair in a style that  was last popular in the 70s.

So that's the story of how I got my hair cut without it actually looking like I got it cut. Oh well, at least I have hair. I am thankful for hair.

I think I'm the only person on this planet who could write 6 paragraphs about a haircut. And that's the short story. Why are you even still reading? I'm boring myself. Ciao.

Barbra Streisand.

You know what they say, small things amuse small minds. Well, I've just spending the last whoknowshowlong creating my own versions of Duck Sauce's Barbra Streisand.

Check out GoBarbra.com. You will not regret it.

Here's one I created earlier.

I think I find myself too funny sometimes.

This is a lesson in procrastination.

I'm beginning to stress a little bit about going home. 

And by stress I mean procrastinate. I seriously can not be bothered to pack. Too many decisions about what to take home, what to leave and what to throw out. It's like April all over again.

In my procrastinating state of mind, I somehow ended up playing with the premium features on Picnik. After several politically incorrect edits, I began playing with the facial hair tool.

Here's my tribute to Movember.

I hope you like it as much as I do. It may become a permanent feature.