I attempt to stick my entire fist in my mouth. Not long after, it will be my foot.

Oh, shit.

I’m not perfect, right? I’ve never pretended otherwise. Next week I’m devoting an entire post to WTF was going on with my hair in Scotland. I can’t even give the semblance of normality for one-tenth of a second. I am a tragically flawed and neurotic person, and I’ve been lucky enough in life to have found someone who finds my many shortcomings to be charming.

Thank god, because they seem to scare the bejeesus out of everyone else. (more…)

I’m am licking some wounds.

Not literally, of course. Though I sometimes bite the sides of my fingers.

But my feelings have been hurt. I’ve been slighted by a few people in the “travel blogging industry.” I suppose it’s not a big deal, and I suppose it shouldn’t matter. Perhaps the funniest thing of all is that I didn’t really reach out to them. I was just kind of minding my own business and our paths crossed, and they made it clear: “You sit over there, little girl, while the big kids play over here.”

One woman was introduced to me by a mutual friend. The friend thought we’d have much to talk about, but her friend in turn said, in so many words: I am too busy to bother meeting with novices.

Another blogger got snippy with me. She made one of those dismissive comments that I usually get about my age – but now that I’m getting older, it was about something else – something so ridiculously personal, I don’t know what possessed her to write it. And it hurt me so profoundly that I’m still trying to figure out what to do about it. Besides unfollow her on Twitter, which I did immediately. (more…)

One the Monday before Thanksgiving, I was upgraded to first class for my Alaska Airlines flight down to San Diego.

I’ve just reached MVP status on Alaska, and it’s the first time I’ve had status on any airline, so up until now, first class has been pretty much a pipe dream for me. I didn’t even know I could request it. On the flight down, they automatically upgraded me at the gate, and I actually asked why.

“Well,” the woman explained, “it’s what we do for MVPs when there’s space available.”

Naturally, I was quite excited (though I wished I had worn nicer shoes. My keens looked a little haggard). I ended up sitting in the first row by the window, and for a while didn’t take much notice of the other passengers. They seemed like nice people, particularly the two gentleman who quickly helped me store my rather heavy suitcase in the overhead compartment. The flight attendant (flight crew member?) assigned to our section was seemed friendly and funny. He was a bald guy in his 40s, and I could hear him chatting with the other passengers, but I had my nose in my Swedish thriller, so I wasn’t really paying attention to what they were saying. (more…)

I really wanted to write a Dick Move! post about the crazy gal we encountered in NYC’s Meat-Packing District, but in the end I just wanted to toss a sweater over her shoulders, tell her that she was better than this, and threaten to call her mother.

Rand and I were wandering around the west side, trying to stay dry in the torrential rain. Fortunately, even while hiding under the shelter of awnings, there’s stuff to see. That’s the nature of New York.

I don't know what this means, but I like it.

- (more…)

Sigh. So, as you might remember from yesterday’s post (because I not only pretend I have readers – I pretend I have loyal ones), we stayed at the Grims Grenka hotel in Oslo. Or, as I like to call it, Torvald’s House of Design and Mystery. While we were there, we experienced a Dick Move, followed, over email, by an Awesome Move. Since this has never, ever happened before in the history of time, I am unsure of what to do. Here’s what went down:

Norway, as I mentioned, costs a bloody fortune. This is because everyone in the country gets a share of oil revenue, plus they have free healthcare (someone please, remind me why Socialism is evil again). Their currency, the kroner, never dropped, being that it had oil behind it, so a once very expensive country is now a mortgage-your-house or trade-in-your-firstborn-child-to-pay-for-lunch country. This might be a problem, because I’m pretty sure we already traded in our firstborn to skip the security line at Sea-Tac a couple of weeks ago. (more…)

The lamest hotel in Ashland: I couldn't be bothered to take a better picture than this.

I’ll confess – I’m beginning to worry that roughly a quarter of all my posts are Dick Moves. Am I growing impatient with humanity? Is it impossible to avoid frustration and Dick Moves! while traveling? Are we too stressed as a society to be nice to one another?

I’m not really sure. My husband rarely loses his patience with anyone. I once told him that if everyone on the planet lived like he did, the world would be a better place. I know there are those that disagree with me, and they can go f*ck themselves (a sentiment which, upon expressing, makes me realize how different Rand and I are).

The point is, I ocassionally try to be a better person, and when I do, it’s all because of Rand. And I really honestly tried to be good with the Stratford Inn. But everyone has their limits. Especially hot-tempered girls who are only pretending to be nice. So when I say this did not begin as a Dick Move, I mean it. But after a while, even Rand agreed with me. Dick Move, Stratford Inn. (more…)

Dude.

Duuuuuuuude.

Seriously, I’m so effing angry/shocked/bemused, I’m having trouble writing this post. But I will write it. I MUST write it. Because, gentle reader(s), you must know about this Dick Move. Especially if you take road trips. Or go anywhere in your car.

Remember how I said never to leave anything in your trunk? How I’ve mentioned it repeatedly – here, and also here? Well, just to make sure the message sticks: NEVER LEAVE ANYTHING IN YOUR TRUNK. Ever. I don’t care if it’s for five minutes. And you’ve parked across the street from your destination. And it’s three in the afternoon on a sunny afternoon and there are frequent cops driving past. Don’t do it.  (more…)

I’ve noticed how easy it is to find material for “Dick Move!” posts, and it has me slightly worried. Are people just universally dicks? Does travel bring out the worst in people? Am I hyper-sensitive because I try really hard to be nice and don’t understand why old ladies are ALWAYS TELLING ME OFF? It’s probably d.) all of the above, which is hardly comforting. (more…)

Okay, so first off, apologies for a dick move on my part: I realize that postings have been rather slow as of late, and I’m truly sorry if I’ve disappointed either of my readers (Hi, guys!). I’ve been rather busy, and totally blocked (seriously, I tried posting about my friends’ wedding roughly 4 times with no luck. That post has taken longer than Britney’s Vegas marriage.)

Fortunately, today gave me the sort of gem that I just had to write about. (more…)

A few months ago, we flew back from Boston (and boy were our arms tired! No … seriously. My bag was kinda heavy). During the flight, I noticed the woman in the window seat across the aisle from us looking frantically for something after the crew had come to pick up trash. She was upset, picking things up and looking around. At this point, I hadn’t realized what she had lost, but she enlisted the crew in helping her, who starting going through piles and piles of trash, looking for her lost item. (more…)