No Regrets

No Regrets

Is it wrong that I have no money and am unemployed yet I still have a cleaner?

I’ve been thinking about this for the past couple hours as the cleaner has been making my flat sparkle.

The last week in March the contract with the television company I was working for ended. So I’ve been unemployed since then. I got my last paycheck just before I left for Rio. Now I was keenly aware that my pay was the very last of my money I had but I went to Brazil anyhow.

So then I went to Rio and spent too much money. Mea Culpa. I could have played it safe and stayed in London. But there was something telling me “Go to Rio.” The thing is, even though I’m unemployed and have relatively little money, I don’t regret going. I don’t regret it at all. I do, however, reserve the right to retract that statement once I’m signing on.

Anyhow, I know this is a sex blog, but I have absolutely nothing to report. No news. No Sex. Just me being unemployed watching episodes of Sex and the City on V.O.D.

The episode “Ex and the City” from season 2 is a particular favorite of mine. In the episode, Big gets engaged to Natasha, AKA, “The idiot stick figure with no soul.”

Samantha: I’ve never been able to be friends with any man. Why would I? Women are for friendships. Men are for fucking.

Carrie: Honey, you have got to learn to form an opinion

Charlotte: Friendship is the bonus of a relationship. If they don’t want a relationship they don’t get me as a friend.

Carrie: So what? If you don’t make it as a couple you withhold your friendship as punishment?

Charlotte: Well you make it sound so bad

Samatha Black widow spiders bite the head off their mates when they’re through with them . I say withholding friendship is letting them off easy

Carrie Hey you imagine you guys instead of the whole breaking up scene, ‘Hey you come here [chomp] and you just bite their head off.’

Miranda: Believe me . I would love to be one of those people who’s all, ‘We loved thank you. You enriched my life. No go. Prosper!’ But I’m much more, ‘We didn’t work out. You need to not exist.’”



Okay, is there a girl alive who cannot relate to any of those statements?

Tunic

Tunic

The view from my hotel room is stunning. A little bit of paradise. I’m sitting out on the balcony with the laptop on a small side table. From here I can see the sea. It’s high tide and the brown murky waves crash over the rocks rhythmically. Behind me there’s a mountain with houses stacked on top of each other like Legos. There’s a road that wraps around the mountain. The sounds of traffic interrupt the waves. Then occasionally you can hear a stray dog barking. I’m blasting Sonic Youth from the speakers of my Powerbook. “Tunic” has got to be one of the best songs ever.

Last night was a bit of a difficult night, but I soldiered through it. It was the first time in 3 three years that I cried myself to sleep. It’s times like these where I need my dog.

I woke feeling like shit. I couldn’t really sleep. The bed, was very comfortable which made not sleeping even more annoying.

Emotionally, I haven’t quite been though the ringer. Yes, I’m okay, but I feel, I dunno. Like I’ve had the wind knocked out of me. When I used to a gymnist there was one time where I was doing a round-off. It’s sort of like cartwheel. Anyhow one day I slipped and landed flat on my back. The landing didn’t hurt but there was this awful feeling bellowed from my gut. It was like being punched really hard. I dunno. It was like a nervous pain.

Anyhow I’ve had this nervous pain all day. Is there a name for this? It can’t be anxiety, can it? I’ve got this really nervous tension in my chest and it’s really fucking me up. I lost my appetite.

OK, just called a friend of mine who’s an expert in these sort of things. He confirmed it’s anxiety. He told me to take .5 of some sort of depressant. Wish I had some valium now. Maybe I’ll go on the hut for some. God, I used to be Straight Edge.

Today was a wasted day. There wasn’t enough sun to go get a tan. It wasn’t hot enough to go swimming. The sky wasn’t clear enough to go up to the mountains. With every fibre of my being I felt like I had to get the hell out of Rio. My efforts to book a flight out of this city were all for naught. The language barrier is difficult. I won’t bore you with the details but I basically have to go to the airport to buy a ticket. I’m trying to get up to Bahia to visit a very sweet, very beautiful yet very flighty friend of mine. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind me saying this but she is away with the fairies! (But she is ever so sweet!)

It’s really hard to characterize my trip here. And for personal reasons there’s some stuff going down that I can’t mention. I’ll just say for now that it’s character-building stuff. Hello Euphemism!

I know everything will be fine in the end. But when you’re in the tick of it, it’s quite hard to get some perspective.

Rio Day 2: Good Behaviour

Rio Day 2: Good Behaviour

It’s hot. Too hot to sleep, The air was thick and hot. I tried sleeping with the air condition on but it was so loud as if I were adjacent to a jet engine. I turned off the A/C but then ended up sweating and feeling congested. I woke up at 5AM local time. It was 9 AM in London.

I got a couple phone calls about potential jobs. It was nothing was overly enthusiastic about but a job is a job. I somehow spent four hours on the internet.

I pulled myself off the internet at 9:30 realizing that I had an appointment to be waxed at 10.

I put on some stylish yet semi-uncomfortable pair of shoes and walked down to the salon where I booked my waxing session.

Although I don’t speak the language, I was able to convey that I wanted my legs, armpits, eyebrows and bikini area waxed. The salon was plain no-frills salon off the main drag in Ipenema. I was led to a tiny backroom. I think I was instructed to take off my clothes except my bra, but I can’t be too sure. I was hoping that the woman servicing me would start with the Brazilian bikini wax. Instead she saved it for last. She waxed my eyebrows, face, underarms, legs and bikini area. It hurt like a mother, but I was left as smooth as a baby’s bottom. After the wax I got manicure and pedicure. In total it cost me £33. That’s a bargain, right?

After the salon I had a small lunch at a quaint Brazilian brasserie. This was followed by a 2-hour tanning session on the beach, then a disco nap at the hotel.

I met up with some British friends for drinks. During the drinks I slipped to the loo and applied some fanny butter.

All I can say is that I'm VERY pleased with the results.

Rio: The Case of the Spray Bidet

Rio: The Case of the Spray Bidet

I just arrived in the lovely city of Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. My hotel is what you would call, ‘Tourist Class.” I don’t mind, but it’s weird to think that just last week I was staying at the Ritz. I’m staying in Ipanema (cue music) and my hotel is supposed to be close to the beach. I need to g out to investigate if this is true.

I’m horny as fuck. It must be the heat. It’s 31 degrees C. What is that in Fahrenheit? Eighty something? The whole cab ride here I kept thinking, I hope there’s a shower-head massager.

As soon as the porter dropped off my bag and left the room, I ripped off my clothes. I just wanted to get myself off. I hurried into the bathroom and was surprised to find that there’s no tub. It’s just a shower. And to make matters worse it’s not even a shower head massager. Fuck!

Now I’m going to have to finger myself to off. That’s just more work than I want to do when I’m on vacation. Upon a second glance in the bathroom I noticed something that looked like a spray gun. Is that to spray your ass with water? A spray bidet? I’m confused. I wonder what other purposes it can be used for?