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Cootie Girl: 6 days and counting ....
9.23.2004
That's right kids, 6 days and counting until I have a real vacation. But can I really call it that when I haven't even booked it yet? I mean I love to make a big deal for my birthday and I had so many great plans but I never followed up on any of them. I am taking off from work from 9/30 - 10/7 one whole week for me just me. I was thinking of going to visit some friends ... then I thought I wanted to go to a NEW place ... now I want to go for a SPA retreat weekend getaway.
In the beginning of summer the plan was a 2 city tour (Toronto & Boston) but then I got thinking since there is no Hockey I moved Toronto to my #1 place for NYE. Then I was thinking I'll just go to Boston since I have never been there. But it seems some of the peeps from Boston are no longer in Boston or will not be there next weekend. Now the plan is to do nothing for 4 days besides sit by a pool and get a message and be surrounded by trees and nature. I really need to get away from this concert jungle.
So it looks like the retreat will be at the Scottsdale Resort & Conference Center in Arizona but if I had loads of money to spend it would be at the spa at The Fairmont Banff Springs in Alberta Canada. Maybe I'll win lotto this weekend. A girl can dream can't she?
I best get to bed ... I'm still not feeling 100%. The sinus pain/pressure and clogging have gone but I still have this nagging cough and phlem. I must be well for my R&R. you know I can't stop thinking of the Young Ones. Especially that episode "Sick":
[OPENING SCENE: The four boys are in their respective beds. They let out with a chorus of groans, in tune to the "Twist and Shout" background music. All of their tongues are a dark green color.]
VYVYAN:[coughs, spits up, looks in a mirror removed from the side of his car] Feeling better, you bastard?!
[takes a swig from a bottle of vodka, blows his nose on his blanket]
RICK: Will you stop making that revolting noise, Vyvyan?! You know I'm ill, you're only doing it to make me feel worse!
NEIL: You're ill?! I'm the one who's ill. Listen! [coughs pathetically] Nobody feels worse than me. And your shouting's not helping at all, Rick!
RICK: Oh, stop whining, Neil! God, you're practically brain-dead as it is! I don't see how a pathetic little cold's going to make much difference! You're probably not even ill anyway. You're probably just lying to try and impress us!
NEIL: Oh, yeah?! Well, how come I'm all hot and sweaty then?
RICK: Well, I think most of us would rather not go into that!
VYVYAN: Will you two shut up? I'm trying to be ill! [looks through a pile of used tissues] Oh, God! There's nothing left to wipe my nose on. Even SPG's all covered in snot.
[Vyvyan's hamster is a revolting shade of green]
SPG: Ah, too true.
[Vyvyan rips off the sleeve of his pajamas, blows his nose]
NEIL: Vyvyan, will you shut up?! You're giving me tunnel vision!
RICK: Stop shouting, Neil!
NEIL: Stop shouting yourself!
RICK: I am not shouting!!
NEIL: Yes, you are!!
RICK: I bloody well am not!! If you want to hear shouting, matey, this is it!! [Starts screaming like a two-year old]
VYVYAN: [takes part of his sleeve, sticks it in the top of the vodka bottle] It's funny, but being ill makes me lose my usual tolerant and easy-going approach to communal living.
[lights the Molotov cocktail, throws it across the hall, where it explodes]
[The wall between Neil and Rick is mostly gone. Vyvyan walks in.]
RICK: Oh, well, how ruddy considerate, Vyvyan. Thank you very much!
NEIL: Yeah, thanks, Vyv. That petrol bomb's really cleared my sinuses.
VYVYAN: Why aren't you dead?
RICK: I'm not prepared to discuss it with you, Vyvyan. You will be hearing from my solicitors in the morning. I'm going to write to my MP.
[takes out paper and pencil]
NEIL: You haven't got an MP, Rick. You're an anarchist.
RICK: Oh. Well, then I shall write to the lead singer of Echo and the Bunnymen!
[Mike comes in, carrying a fish]
MIKE: What's this?
VYVYAN: It's a fish, Mike.
MIKE: Oh, thanks. [leaves]
RICK: [writing] Dear Mr. Echo....
VYVYAN: Why'd I do that?
RICK: Ah, Vyvyan, beginning to regret it now, are you?
VYVYAN: Of course I'm beginning to regret it. That was nearly a full bottle of vodka! That's £7.99 you owe me, ploppy pants.
RICK: Oh, stop being so blinking bourgousie! All property is theft, Vyvyan.
VYVYAN: All right, then. Where's your girlie purse?
MIKE: [knocks, comes back in with the fish] All right, I didn't finish my sentence. I meant to say, what's this fish doing in my bed?
VYVYAN: It's not in your bed, Mike.
MIKE: Oh, yeah. Right. Thanks, Vyv. [leaves]
VYVYAN: [takes Rick's coin purse, removes some money] Ha ha! Found it!
RICK: You put that back! That's my personal property!
NEIL: You just said all property is theft, Rick.
RICK: Well, yes, it is.
VYVYAN: Yeah, so I'm nicking it.
RICK: Stop! Thief! Thief!
NEIL: Thieves rush in where angels fear to tread.
RICK: No, it's fools, Neil. Fools.
NEIL: Thieves rush in where fools fear to tread.
RICK: Yeah! Andy Williams said that!
VYVYAN: Alexander Pope!
RICK: Oh, well, you're a little snob, aren't you, Vyvyan?
VYVYAN: Wimp! Pervert! Knob-end!
RICK: Oh, Vyvyan, what repartee! Sticks and stones my break my bones!
VYVYAN: That's the first sensible thing you've said all day.
[picks up a loose board, crushes Rick over the head with it]
MIKE: [knocks on the door, comes in, empty-handed] OK, so go ahead now. What's this fish doing in my bed?
RICK, VYVYAN, NEIL: [together] What fish?
MIKE: Oh, yeah. Sorry. [leaves]
