I am a 25 year old butcheyfemme queer with rubbish on my mind and sparkles everywhere else
I was more than a bit apprehensive as we were sitting at the gate awaiting our plane as I looked around and noticed that we didn´t have any of the items that looked pretty much customary for everyone else heading Ibiza-ward. We did have a ghetto blaster although it was concealed within our luggage but we definitely did not sport the mullet, nor did we wear ponchos or espadrilles and our hand lugage was in no way contaned within one of those Head bags everyone favoured at school and which come in a variety of colours from pinks to browns. Truly vile.
So despite feeling completely out of place with all these clubbers young and old I just about managed to get through the flight without getting a smack for commenting too loudly on the stupid haircuts and tracksuits worn by so many. Of course I should have expected this going to the land of clubs and shags really.
This feeling wasn´t quashed as we drove transfer to our hotel, stopping in the westend to drop the less fortunate off on the way. The first thing I saw was a total British wank in a mini skirt with his bollocks flapping in the wind. Here we go I thought.
Our hotel appeared to be in the middle of nowhere. Three perspiring beasts in one room with no air conditioning and a ponchant for farting was just asking for trouble. Especially when, awoken by an anonymous mucky fart, we realised that the pitter patter of someone´s wind was in fact the bang bang of someone´s hammer. We were making proper eye contact with about 40 Spanish builders who were getting more than an eye-full of one hairy arse and 4 ultra white boobs. Smart. Drama over and we moved room for a fabulous sea view and a balcony which I find it very hard to move from once my clammy ass gets hold of the plastic seats.
I think I´m coping remarkably well in this sweltering heat and have polished off 2 books already. I would absolutely recommed the Ropemaker´s Daughter by the way. I do perhaps look a little odd on the beach, dripping sweat but wearing a tshirt and 3/4 length trousers while everyone else is in very little. I even managed to take myself and my entire wardrobe into the sea (looking a bit too special in my mega inflatable ring) for the first time in years. Felt all kinds of good.
It´s been surprisingly hard to get drunk I find. No amounts of red bull and vodka by the pint seems to do it which is good and fabulous for my spew count but not so good for anything else. Except for that night when we did get totally tanked up (after about 6 hours of drinking I finally got there) and we shook our gay little asses to the likes of Tiffany and Bonnie Tyler and thought of the absent J Bo. We literally had to roll the unsteady Beast home and were careful not to later roll him off the balcony.
I´m watching the meter ticking down and feel I have rabbled enough rot and in my remaining minutes I will try and visit all your blogs for a quick hello. Thank you all for the good holiday wishes... try not to conjure up any imagery of Fee languishing in her own body juices. Please. It´s just not good for the mind. Adios.
9/01/2004 11:32:00 AM
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