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So where were we? Right yes okay... lost job, got dumped, turned 30, got drunk, almost died, left LA. Cool. Now that we are all caught up with that let's move onto brighter and sunnier things!
I was meant to be jumping on a flight to London from LA but had to detour to Spain due to spastic dyslexic vet messing up the dates on my dog's pet passport.
In brief, England has very strict rules for bringing pets into the country so you need to make sure the animal is vaccinated and up to date. However, my Wanker of a vet messed up the dates of my dog's vaccinations. So the day before I was set to leave, all packed up and ready to brace the cold and rain in London I was told I could not in fact leave the bloody country! Well, not with my dog anyway. That was clearly not an option being that my dog Pikachu (don't judge, what else are you meant to name a mini cockapoo?) was currently the best thing in my life. There was no way in hell I was about to leave her behind! So, after an hour of crying, sweating and begging at doggie immigration, they told me that she was able to travel to Spain, have a vaccination and wait there for 6 months before being allowed into the UK. Well, luckily for me, my Mum lives in Spain so yey! It was off to Espana for me and Pikachu. I changed my flight, wished I hadn't already shipped my summer clothes to London as would now be arriving in a very hot Spain dressed for skiing. Shitzer.
So, 24 hours or so later there I was, in Spain, dressed for a hurricane, dog in tow and no other possessions to my name. All my actual belongings were currently on route via ship to England. I would have to catch them up later.
Now, I hadn't planned to spend an entire 6 months in Spain with my Mother and dog. That was definitely not on the agenda so I decided I would spend the summer there, getting healthy and fit, getting over my broken heart and then fly to England, leaving Pikachu with my Mum until she was allowed to join me in the UK.
Actually, it wasn't so bad. Lovely sunny days, no rain, morning walks by the beach, long wine fuelled lunches with fresh fish and beautiful scenery. Not too shabby at all and just what I needed to get my head together after my big life change of leaving La La land for good.
It happened to be the summer time and in Marbella, Spain in the summer it is a massive party fest. Think spring break type thing. Every night is a drinking, dancing crazy night out, and every lunch takes about three hours while consuming your body weight in wine or sangria. I started to finally feel like me again. Whopee!
Then something happened....
I arrive back at my Mum's place one glorious Mediterranean afternoon, after an entire day of partying at the beach with some new found friends, slightly tipsy after copious glasses of Rose and my Mum decides to inform me of something...
"Now, don't freak out, but my friend Jill called and her son (who happens to be army boy ex fuckit boyfriend) has just arrived for the week. Whatever you do DO NOT CALL HIM". She says.
Well, that was probably the worst advice she could have given me. She would probably have been better off saying, "Hey I know what would be good for your self esteem, call army boy and maybe go meet him and find out why he left you. Coz THAT will make you feel awesome!"
The challenge of being told "not" to do something, especially when slightly inebriated, was way too much temptation for me and so I did what any crazy girl would do and I called him.
"Hey, been a long time, I hear you're in Spain, wanna get together for a drink and catch up?"
So.. here is how that went..
Me, looking my finest, dressed to the nines, sporting a healthy tan from my nice few weeks in Spain, feeling confident and good about myself. I show up to the bar we are meeting at (still a little tipsy but not too bad at that point). The first few moments are undoubtedly quite awkward, he suggests a couple of tequila shots to break the ice and I, being slightly off guard already, agree to this terrible idea.
Now, let me tell you... WINE + TEQUILA= DISASTER and BLACKOUT.
That is where my night ended. Last thing I remember was drinking the shots and then waking up the following morning with the worst hangover known to man, not remembering a single thing and having no clue as to how I even got home! I decide to text him asking what had happened. This was a bad idea. As I sat, holding my stomach and head, trying not to vomit up my insides I listened quietly as he recalled the previous night to me..
Here is what I learned and here is a list of things one should absolutely NOT do when meeting their ex for the first time since the break up:
1. Arrive tipsy on wine.
2. Agree to drink tequila.
3. Steal his tie and wear it.
4. Tell him you love him and try to kiss him.
5. Scream I hate you in public when he rejects kiss.
6. Punch him.
7. Drag him to an empty nightclub and proceed to give him lap dance.
8. Try and get him to come home with you.
9. Get shoved into cab alone and sent home.
10. Wake up in blackout.
KILL ME NOW. Those are the only words that came to mind at that point. The illusion I had wanted to portray of "Beautiful, tanned, getting it together and so over you woman" I had wanted to project turned into "Absolute carnage train wreck, alcoholic type nut case". Oh dear.
At that point there wasn't much left to do but head straight to the bathroom and spend the next 12 hours with head down the toilet in utter shame and disgust. But hey, you live and learn. The moral of this story? ALWAYS listen to your Mother. She really does know best!
I was meant to be jumping on a flight to London from LA but had to detour to Spain due to spastic dyslexic vet messing up the dates on my dog's pet passport.
In brief, England has very strict rules for bringing pets into the country so you need to make sure the animal is vaccinated and up to date. However, my Wanker of a vet messed up the dates of my dog's vaccinations. So the day before I was set to leave, all packed up and ready to brace the cold and rain in London I was told I could not in fact leave the bloody country! Well, not with my dog anyway. That was clearly not an option being that my dog Pikachu (don't judge, what else are you meant to name a mini cockapoo?) was currently the best thing in my life. There was no way in hell I was about to leave her behind! So, after an hour of crying, sweating and begging at doggie immigration, they told me that she was able to travel to Spain, have a vaccination and wait there for 6 months before being allowed into the UK. Well, luckily for me, my Mum lives in Spain so yey! It was off to Espana for me and Pikachu. I changed my flight, wished I hadn't already shipped my summer clothes to London as would now be arriving in a very hot Spain dressed for skiing. Shitzer.
So, 24 hours or so later there I was, in Spain, dressed for a hurricane, dog in tow and no other possessions to my name. All my actual belongings were currently on route via ship to England. I would have to catch them up later.
Now, I hadn't planned to spend an entire 6 months in Spain with my Mother and dog. That was definitely not on the agenda so I decided I would spend the summer there, getting healthy and fit, getting over my broken heart and then fly to England, leaving Pikachu with my Mum until she was allowed to join me in the UK.
Actually, it wasn't so bad. Lovely sunny days, no rain, morning walks by the beach, long wine fuelled lunches with fresh fish and beautiful scenery. Not too shabby at all and just what I needed to get my head together after my big life change of leaving La La land for good.
It happened to be the summer time and in Marbella, Spain in the summer it is a massive party fest. Think spring break type thing. Every night is a drinking, dancing crazy night out, and every lunch takes about three hours while consuming your body weight in wine or sangria. I started to finally feel like me again. Whopee!
Then something happened....
I arrive back at my Mum's place one glorious Mediterranean afternoon, after an entire day of partying at the beach with some new found friends, slightly tipsy after copious glasses of Rose and my Mum decides to inform me of something...
"Now, don't freak out, but my friend Jill called and her son (who happens to be army boy ex fuckit boyfriend) has just arrived for the week. Whatever you do DO NOT CALL HIM". She says.
Well, that was probably the worst advice she could have given me. She would probably have been better off saying, "Hey I know what would be good for your self esteem, call army boy and maybe go meet him and find out why he left you. Coz THAT will make you feel awesome!"
The challenge of being told "not" to do something, especially when slightly inebriated, was way too much temptation for me and so I did what any crazy girl would do and I called him.
"Hey, been a long time, I hear you're in Spain, wanna get together for a drink and catch up?"
So.. here is how that went..
Me, looking my finest, dressed to the nines, sporting a healthy tan from my nice few weeks in Spain, feeling confident and good about myself. I show up to the bar we are meeting at (still a little tipsy but not too bad at that point). The first few moments are undoubtedly quite awkward, he suggests a couple of tequila shots to break the ice and I, being slightly off guard already, agree to this terrible idea.
Now, let me tell you... WINE + TEQUILA= DISASTER and BLACKOUT.
That is where my night ended. Last thing I remember was drinking the shots and then waking up the following morning with the worst hangover known to man, not remembering a single thing and having no clue as to how I even got home! I decide to text him asking what had happened. This was a bad idea. As I sat, holding my stomach and head, trying not to vomit up my insides I listened quietly as he recalled the previous night to me..
Here is what I learned and here is a list of things one should absolutely NOT do when meeting their ex for the first time since the break up:
1. Arrive tipsy on wine.
2. Agree to drink tequila.
3. Steal his tie and wear it.
4. Tell him you love him and try to kiss him.
5. Scream I hate you in public when he rejects kiss.
6. Punch him.
7. Drag him to an empty nightclub and proceed to give him lap dance.
8. Try and get him to come home with you.
9. Get shoved into cab alone and sent home.
10. Wake up in blackout.
KILL ME NOW. Those are the only words that came to mind at that point. The illusion I had wanted to portray of "Beautiful, tanned, getting it together and so over you woman" I had wanted to project turned into "Absolute carnage train wreck, alcoholic type nut case". Oh dear.
At that point there wasn't much left to do but head straight to the bathroom and spend the next 12 hours with head down the toilet in utter shame and disgust. But hey, you live and learn. The moral of this story? ALWAYS listen to your Mother. She really does know best!
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