I was originally going to make this a Dick Move! post, but honestly, if I did that every single time I felt the inclination, that’s all this site would be (and I’m pretty sure I can’t get the domain dickmove.com, and if I did, I would probably get a lot of misdirected traffic). But I digress. Besides, sometimes potential Dick Moves allow me to learn something useful that I can pass on to you, faithful reader.

This week’s lesson? If you’re catching a sightseeing bus tour in Scotland, you have to act like you want. I mean, really, really want it. Make a banner saying, “PLEASE STOP!” or “NAUGHTY CATHOLIC GIRL TRYING TO UPSET HER PARENTS” or “FREE WHISKEY” or something to that effect. Show some leg, and possibly some other body part. Jump up and down like a moron. Anything to get the driver to stop.

Otherwise, that tour bus will pass you right by.

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I figured I couldn’t take the piss out of my brother yesterday without taking a few moments to talk about what it means to be a gracious host. Because yes, opening up your home to someone is a wonderful and generous thing to do, but if you leave them so emotionally scarred that the cost of future therapy sessions will far outweigh what they would have spent on a hotel, it’s not at all worth it.

Here are my ten rules for making sure that your guests have a lovely vacation (and if it isn’t lovely, these rules will make sure they can’t blame you):

1. Give them clean sheets. Not everyone has a spare bed (or spare bedroom). But even if someone has to sleep on the couch, a nice pristine sheet can make all the difference. Our host’s once graciously gave up their own bed for us, but after we climbed in, we realized the sheets had not been changed. I spent 2 hours the next day trying to wash someone else’s B.O. out of my hair. (Shudder).
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2. Clean up communal areas. While no one expects your house to be spotless (it’s where you live, after all), take some care in cleaning up a bit before your guests arrive. Remove embarassing ointments and fungal creams from the dining room table. Secure whips and chains in the hall closet. Kindly ask your husband to put on pants. You know, that sort of thing.
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I’m still kicking the last of my cold, and while I’m completely exhausted, I’ve discovered that even 2 nights of taking NyQuil is enough to create dependency. As such, I couldn’t sleep last night, trying to figure out if one could become a meth-addict just by taking too much Sudafed. While I have no definitive proof of it, I’m pretty sure the answer is “yes.”

Still, I’m grateful that this cold hit me now, while we’re at home, rather than sometime in the next few weeks, when Rand and I will visit London, Glasgow, New Orleans, San Diego, and a few places in between. Because while being sick sucks, it’s far better to have it happen at home than one the road. When Pinguina and I last went to Italy, we both got crazy sick  (Pinguina was actually on antibiotics for whatever decided to take up residence in her throat) and lugging our huge suitcases across the country was not fun (p.s. to Italian men: if you are going to be sexist assholes, at least have the decency to be chivalrous, and help us with our bags).

Don't let the adorability of this photo fool you: Pinguina and I almost passed out on this trail roughly 20 minutes later.

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When it comes to picking travel companions, I’ve been lucky. Save for a totally useless kid I dated in college who was a walking disaster both at home and on the one trip we took together, I’ve managed to find people who are fun, adventurous, and not-at-all embarassing to come along with me on trips (or, more appropos, who let me join them while they go on trips). Of course, most of these said people are my husband. And Pinguina. But they’re both so awesome that they should count as more than one person each.

That’s not to say that I haven’t heard horror stories: from a friend of mine who nearly got arrested because of a didn’t-know-when-to-shut-up travel buddy, to another who got sued because the girls he traveled with wanted him to pay for the entirety of their hotel (he won the case, and the girls were found guilty of being lame). With all the things that can go wrong on a trip (losing luggage, having a crazy naked dude attack you, seeing the pants of the guy sitting next to you erupt into flames), a crazy travel companion is not something you want to add to that list. (more…)

I don’t have kids. I won’t insult anyone who does have children by pretending I understand what it’s like to have a child. I can only assume that it’s unbearable. Not that it isn’t wonderful and amazing and all, but just that loving someone so entirely and completely must be kind of exhausting and all-consuming and kind of difficult to stand.

I say this because I spent about a week with my cousin’s kids, and I swear, my heart couldn’t take much more than that. When you kneel down next to someone and ask them what they want for Christmas, what would make them happier than anything else, and they reply in a raspy little voice, “a choo-choo train” … Christ. I just can’t take it. It feels like my heart will implode.

We totally bought him a choo-choo. I'd have gotten him a real damn train if he had asked.

I don’t understand how people have children. (more…)

During my last visit to California, there were inevitably a lot of questions from my family members about my life.

Or rather, there was one question, but it was asked roughly 400 times.

“When are you having kids?”

I swear to holy god, next time someone asks me that, I am going to punch them in the esophagus. As long as you’re asking questions that are none of your goddamn business, why not be more graphic about it? How about, “When are you going to allow fertilization of one or more of your eggs by your hubby’s sperm?” Personally, I can’t understand why questions about when we’re going to have kids are acceptable, but questions about someone’s sexual mechanics aren’t. It’s the same damn thing.

Besides, my husband clearly hates children:

See? They're killing him. It's awful.

This is my husband and my godson. And no, it does not make my heart hurt. Not one bit. Nooo ...

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Dear, dear, well-meaning friends,

I assume many of you will be traveling this holiday season, off to see older relatives and parents who are part of a generation that, due to fear of war, famine, or Commie takeover, have decided to never thrown anything away.

While you are visiting these relatives, cautiously maneuvering through their medicine cabinets, pantries, and refrigerators, careful not to consume or ingest products that should have been thrown out years ago, you might be taken over by an insane notion.

“I could,” you will think, in the height of your delusion, “clean out their medicine cabinet/pantry/fridge for them. They will be so appreciative.”

And that, dear friends, I will tell you now, is a terrible idea. They will not be appreciative. They will not even say thank-you. Instead, they will fight you tooth and nail, giving crazy excuses for why such items should be kept, excuses that, if you try and dissect and understand them, will make your head implode.

It’s true. I’s seen it. (more…)

You probably know what I’m about to tell you already. It’s painfully obvious. But it’s so damn important, I figure it needs to be said.

Take lots of photos.

I know, I know – this isn’t news, you’re thinking. She must be really hard up for something to write about, you’re thinking (and okay, you wouldn’t exactly be wrong about that. I’ve been home for the last three weeks, and my cup isn’t exactly runneth-ing over). But as I’m going through my numerous Flickr sets, I’m beginning to realize something.

Travel is all about the memories. And the memories are all in the photos.

Ugh. Sorry. That was a bit of a Hallmark moment there. I try and stay away from those. The thing is, no one returns from a trip thinking, I should have taken fewer pictures. Souvenirs are well and good, but photos … well, photos are kind of everything. And so many people I know take far too few of them. (more…)

Touristy spots, as annoying and overcrowded as they may be, are touristy for a reason. They’re part of what makes a city unique and interesting, and more often than not, they’re worth seeing. Imagine going to Paris and not seeing the Eiffel Tower, or going to Lake Como and not trying to sneak into George Clooney’s villa, restraining order be damned. It would just be … weird.

That being said, touristy restaurants are another matter. They are popular solely due to geographic location. Since there’s rarely ever any repeat business (just a lot of hungry travelers, looking for a bite now) there’s no reason to provide food or service that would have you dying to come back. They’re going to make money, regardless of quality, as long as no one sues. Cuisine needs to be “just above litigiously bad.” (more…)

It took me like 2 hours to make this graphic. I'm such a lamewad.

There may be something wrong with me. I’ve accepted this (and if you’re still reading my blog, you should have, too, by now). I just went through every lip balm I own, analyzing, scrutinizing, and testing them. Fortunately, my neurosis is your gain! Here are my suggestions/cautionary tales for balms, whether you have a have long dry flight ahead of you, or plans to kiss Valentino by a crystal blue Italian stream. (more…)