I was woken at 4am by a very loud Australian girl screaming obscenities at someone in the car park. This was soon followed by some very loud German boys screaming at her to "SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!"
But she didn't get the hint and started shouting even louder "You stole my purse, I want my handbag back, I know where you live ! I'm gonna send the police to your parents house !"
As the balconies around the carpark filled up with irate backpackers screaming at her to "SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!" because "WE HAVE TO WORK IN THE MORNING!!!" then emphasizing their displeasure by adding "BITCH!!!"
Eventually, the screaming died down and the woman seemed to disappear. However some English guys could be heard calling the police. "Yeah it's the backpackers hostel....The youth hostel, no the hostel not the hotel.....". After about 10 minutes of repeated directions the dispatcher seemed to have figured out where to send the car and a mere hour later the police turned up. But of course, by this time all the fuss was over and everyone was asleep.
Naturally, the nights events were all anyone could talk about this morning and news quickly spread that the screaming Australian woman was one of the local prostitutes who had been stabbed in the leg by someone she owed drug money to (or stabbed in the leg by one of the other prostitutes during a vicious catfight depending who was telling the story).
Some of the lads staying in the hostel saw what happened and got her behind the huge security fence into the carpark to keep her safe. So she naturally repaid their kind efforts by shrieking like a banshee and scarpering first chance she got.
Apparently, crack whores don't know how to say "Thanks for saving me from being stabbed to death."
Thursday, 23 February 2006
Tuesday, 21 February 2006
Russell, Russell ?
I over heard this conversation last night.
"I've got to meet this Rus guy."
"You already have"
"No I haven't"
"Yes you have. Rus, Russell"
"Russell ? Russell-Russell?"
"Yeah, Russell-Russell."
"Oh, I didn't know Rus was Russell-Russell."
"Yeah, Rus is Russell, Russell"
"I thought Rus was another Russell."
"No, he's Russell- Russell."
"Oh, right"
"I've got to meet this Rus guy."
"You already have"
"No I haven't"
"Yes you have. Rus, Russell"
"Russell ? Russell-Russell?"
"Yeah, Russell-Russell."
"Oh, I didn't know Rus was Russell-Russell."
"Yeah, Rus is Russell, Russell"
"I thought Rus was another Russell."
"No, he's Russell- Russell."
"Oh, right"
Monday, 20 February 2006
Shampoo girl no more
I didn't work at all last week. The salon has slowed right down and so they haven't needed the extra pair of hands that I was providing. While the lack of income sucks, having time off to spend with Tomato Girl (who had finally arrived from New Zealand) was cool.
Besides, shampooing the hair of the upwardly mobile was getting a bit tedious and the not ever getting any tips was pissing me off. Surely if you can afford to blow $160 on highlights or $65 on a shampoo and blow dry you can afford a couple of dollars for the girl who gave you the really good head massage.
Besides, shampooing the hair of the upwardly mobile was getting a bit tedious and the not ever getting any tips was pissing me off. Surely if you can afford to blow $160 on highlights or $65 on a shampoo and blow dry you can afford a couple of dollars for the girl who gave you the really good head massage.
Sunday, 19 February 2006
conversation with a nekked canadian
Chatted to Nekked Canadian over a glass or two of cheap wine last night.
I was surprised at how likable he is when not shit faced and getting his nob out.
Who'd have guessed.
I was surprised at how likable he is when not shit faced and getting his nob out.
Who'd have guessed.
Saturday, 18 February 2006
germ-a-rama
I sincerely believe that every single backpacker hostel should come equipped with a quarantine room for people with colds.
Not one, not two, but 3 people (including me) have all caught a cold from the Dutch Guy in our room.
The Bastard.
Not one, not two, but 3 people (including me) have all caught a cold from the Dutch Guy in our room.
The Bastard.
Wednesday, 15 February 2006
Passing messages
Valentines day was actually fun this year.
The residents of my hostel descended on mass on the Desperate & Dateless party down the road. The cocktails were flowing, Cupid was distributing messages between party goers and I won a Disco dance-off against our receptionist.
I even got sent a note from Dave in the black shirt. He wanted to know what colour my knickers were.
The residents of my hostel descended on mass on the Desperate & Dateless party down the road. The cocktails were flowing, Cupid was distributing messages between party goers and I won a Disco dance-off against our receptionist.
I even got sent a note from Dave in the black shirt. He wanted to know what colour my knickers were.
Tuesday, 14 February 2006
The return of the Nekked Canadian
The Party people are back in the hostel !!!!
These include 2 of the Scottish alcoholics and the Nekked Canadian (sleeps buck naked and kicks off the bed covers in the middle of the night) who have given up fruit picking in Shepperton in favor of erecting marquees for the Commonwealth Games.
The cute one was quite touchy feely with me in the pub last night to the annoyance of the Spice Girls who couldn't understand why he wasn't paying them any attention.
I fucking hate those hair-toss girly girls, we all do. Four eighteen year old canadians without a clue between them. Back in Vancouver you just know that they were the 'hot girls' in their school and had their pick of the boys. But what they don't realize is, that shit doesn't work in the backpacker world, especially when you are dealing with British guys.
They don't want to socialize with some air head bimbo who expects you to pay for her prissy cocktails all night. They want a girl who can have a laugh and buys her own beer.
I over heard 3 of them in a toilet cubicle. One was in tears and the others were consoling her...
"Forget about him!"
"We're here and we love you. Britny and Tiffany are here for you Cindy, and WE love you !!!"
etc, etc until we banged on the door to get them out - there was a long que forming...
After they left the pub, we had a long and drunken discussion about how much everyone at the hostel hates them and how fucking annoying they are. There just so wrapped up in themselves and their tiny little world that they haven't got a clue about this one.
These include 2 of the Scottish alcoholics and the Nekked Canadian (sleeps buck naked and kicks off the bed covers in the middle of the night) who have given up fruit picking in Shepperton in favor of erecting marquees for the Commonwealth Games.
The cute one was quite touchy feely with me in the pub last night to the annoyance of the Spice Girls who couldn't understand why he wasn't paying them any attention.
I fucking hate those hair-toss girly girls, we all do. Four eighteen year old canadians without a clue between them. Back in Vancouver you just know that they were the 'hot girls' in their school and had their pick of the boys. But what they don't realize is, that shit doesn't work in the backpacker world, especially when you are dealing with British guys.
They don't want to socialize with some air head bimbo who expects you to pay for her prissy cocktails all night. They want a girl who can have a laugh and buys her own beer.
I over heard 3 of them in a toilet cubicle. One was in tears and the others were consoling her...
"Forget about him!"
"We're here and we love you. Britny and Tiffany are here for you Cindy, and WE love you !!!"
etc, etc until we banged on the door to get them out - there was a long que forming...
After they left the pub, we had a long and drunken discussion about how much everyone at the hostel hates them and how fucking annoying they are. There just so wrapped up in themselves and their tiny little world that they haven't got a clue about this one.
Sunday, 12 February 2006
The Amazing Art of nose balancing
While wandering through the Chinese festival at the Crown Casino yesterday I found out that my 2 BBFNs are only 19. 19!!! I feel so old.
But - on the plus side, it does allow me to act a bit more juvenile than usual. So we all made paper hats in the children's craft tent and wore them all evening.
But - on the plus side, it does allow me to act a bit more juvenile than usual. So we all made paper hats in the children's craft tent and wore them all evening.
Oh and we saw the most amazing circus act on the main stage. Her name was Miss Li and she balanced stuff on her nose.
Friday, 10 February 2006
How to get out of Norwegian military service
Wednesday night is wine and cheese night at the hostel. We all love it 'cos it means that
A. We get free food
B. We get free wine
C. It always turns into a bit of a party.
One of the many pissed up conversations had during the night was about National Service - sounds like a shit topic eh? Well it was until the Norwegians chipped in with stories of how their fellow conscripts managed to worm their way out of it and get sent home a few weeks into training - by wetting the bed.
Apparently The Norwegian Army does not like bed wetters and if you can convince your commanding officer that you have chronic nocturnal enuresis you are promptly excused from basic training and sent home to Mummy and your plastic under sheet.
Unfortunately for new recruits the Officers have cottoned on to the fact that the new recruits use bed wetting as an excuse to get out of military service and have devised a number of cunning ways to catch people out.
The story goes that there was once a conscript who determinedly wet the bed every night until he was excused from service and sent home. The Army even bought him an overnight train ticket back to his home in the Far North of Norway. But, unknown to him an Officer was also traveling on the train, with the sole purpose of catching him out. So when in the morning the officer checked the boys bunk and found it bone dry the lad was promptly marched back to camp to complete his training.
This being an effective but somewhat costly and time consuming method of detection the Officers now more commonly administer sleeping pills to the soldier in question, thus determining if he's genuinely loosing bladder control in his sleep or doing it on purpose while awake. However, this does not deter those guys most determined to get out. The answer to this problem I was reliably informed is to get your mate to wee on you in the middle of the night.
Quite frankly if someone is that desperate to avoid military service I think they deserve to be let off.
A. We get free food
B. We get free wine
C. It always turns into a bit of a party.
One of the many pissed up conversations had during the night was about National Service - sounds like a shit topic eh? Well it was until the Norwegians chipped in with stories of how their fellow conscripts managed to worm their way out of it and get sent home a few weeks into training - by wetting the bed.
Apparently The Norwegian Army does not like bed wetters and if you can convince your commanding officer that you have chronic nocturnal enuresis you are promptly excused from basic training and sent home to Mummy and your plastic under sheet.
Unfortunately for new recruits the Officers have cottoned on to the fact that the new recruits use bed wetting as an excuse to get out of military service and have devised a number of cunning ways to catch people out.
The story goes that there was once a conscript who determinedly wet the bed every night until he was excused from service and sent home. The Army even bought him an overnight train ticket back to his home in the Far North of Norway. But, unknown to him an Officer was also traveling on the train, with the sole purpose of catching him out. So when in the morning the officer checked the boys bunk and found it bone dry the lad was promptly marched back to camp to complete his training.
This being an effective but somewhat costly and time consuming method of detection the Officers now more commonly administer sleeping pills to the soldier in question, thus determining if he's genuinely loosing bladder control in his sleep or doing it on purpose while awake. However, this does not deter those guys most determined to get out. The answer to this problem I was reliably informed is to get your mate to wee on you in the middle of the night.
Quite frankly if someone is that desperate to avoid military service I think they deserve to be let off.
Tuesday, 7 February 2006
One girl, seven guys and a dorm room
Once again I am the only female in my dorm room - but this time I'm not complaining.
Unlike the skanky, smelly British boys of 2 weeks ago, these boys look fucking awesome in just their boxers and when I wake up in the mornings the room doesn't smell like a teenage boys discarded underwear.
But the reason I like my new Swedish room mates the most is because they always offer me a bottle beer when I get back from work.
Generosity is a very desirable character in a roommate, especially when it comes to beer.
Unlike the skanky, smelly British boys of 2 weeks ago, these boys look fucking awesome in just their boxers and when I wake up in the mornings the room doesn't smell like a teenage boys discarded underwear.
But the reason I like my new Swedish room mates the most is because they always offer me a bottle beer when I get back from work.
Generosity is a very desirable character in a roommate, especially when it comes to beer.
Monday, 6 February 2006
je parle le Français des arbres
While walking to the pub the other night we managed to loose 3 people and ended up loitering in the bottom of a stairwell waiting for them to find us. Matt the drunk Canadian decided to ask some passing girls for the time and when he was ignored decided to make up a song about it - in French.
It went like this:
les belles filles sont àbeau pour me dire le temps
(the beautiful girls are too beautiful to tell me the time).
It went like this:
les belles filles sont àbeau pour me dire le temps
(the beautiful girls are too beautiful to tell me the time).
Sunday, 5 February 2006
Baked Brie makes girls horny
Today I'd like to introduce Matt the drunk Canadian.
He's fucking hilarious.
A few days ago we all chipped in and had a barbecue at the hostel. We were sitting around afterwards discussing how good the grilled fetta cheese was when Matt chipped in with "If you think that's good you should try baked brie, it makes girls horny."
He's fucking hilarious.
A few days ago we all chipped in and had a barbecue at the hostel. We were sitting around afterwards discussing how good the grilled fetta cheese was when Matt chipped in with "If you think that's good you should try baked brie, it makes girls horny."
Wednesday, 1 February 2006
Shampoo girl
I have finaly got myself a job - as a shampoo girl in a posh hair salon.
Yes, I know its a job for fifteen year olds, but I'm broke so I can't be fussy.
Anyway, it's actualy kinda fun.
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