Latisse

I purchased a new prescription drug for eyelashes today. It's basically the drug they use to treat glaucoma. Patients on it reported thicker, fuller, darker eyelashes, so they began to market it for those of us poor unfortunates with pathetic ones. I look like a corpse if I am not wearing mascara and being the lazy thing that I am means that most of the time I go around looking like a freshly exhumed stiffy.

Latisse could be a good solution for my problem of pale, short, stumpy, miserable excuses for eyelashes. It does have some side effects though. I have to make sure I don't get it in my eyes and watch my Iris's VERY carefully as it can make eyes, especially light, eyes darker. That would be bad, having my blue eyes get brown blobs in them.

A before picture of the sad, limp lashes.

Hopefully an after picture will soon appear with luscious, full and darker tipped eyelashes that would make an overmade up drag queen envious.

Happiness is a warm gun

Yesterday I went to a gun shooting range with The Colonel, and a couple of people he knows. I'm a bit of a wuss when it comes to guns and am always scared I will do something ADHD. Basically some kind of thoughtlessness that ends up with me shooting myself. I have two handguns of my own and am trying to get some practice using them to build confidence. Handguns are legal here in the USA and I think they are a great equilizer. God did not make all men equal, guns did.

I have named my guns Sigfreid and Roy. One is an FN, the other a Taurus. Both 38 Calibre and have a bit of a kick, but nothing I can't handle, wimpy as I am.

So I am at the gun range, trying not to be a Miss Polly Prissypants, acting like I am not scared of guns, but couldn't help involuntarily jumping whenever a large calibre weapon was fired. So much for acting 'cool'.

I spent some time talking to the lady who came shooting with us. It was the first time I had met her and all was going well. We were going to a pizza place after the shooting and I happened to say that I only went shooting for the pizza, just trying to be a bit funny. Oh why oh why do I try to be funny when I know it will all end in tears??? After talking to her for a good while, I realised that I had crumbs stuck to my face. I had eaten half a sandwich earlier as a morning tea. Crumbs on my face, making me look like some urchin, hobo, or even worse, some ill-mannered piglet who after stuffing one's face, couldn't even be bothered wiping away all the leftovers.

I managed to pick myself up and recover from this slight contretemps and got through the rest of the day, only to get home and realise that I had been wearing two very different earrings. My hair is back off my ears, 'showcasing' the ill-matched pair, one big brilliant cut, the other smaller, square and old mine cut. Very noticeably contradistinct. So these people I had just met must have thought I was a complete imbecile. Talking about food, covered in crumbs, with un-matched earrings, how embarrasing can things get?

Considerably more embarrasing I would say when one lives life as Countess Chichi. There was this one time in Italy for example, where I went to the bathroom and came out with a long, long line of toilet paper that extended over the top of my jeans and hung down. I had workmen in the street telling me in Italian about it. Did I stop to listen? No, I was thinking that they were 'hitting' on me based on my considerable pulchritude. How deluded I was. I had a friend drive me to Switzerland for some outlet shopping and when I got out of the car HE told me there was something there. I had to remove a long piece of toilet paper on the spot and to be quite honest, was hoping the earth would swallow open and swallow me up right then and there.

It's one embarrasing moment to another.

Hello Kitty

I have started feeding a stray cat. He is lovely looking, a kitten, all black with green eyes. He won't let me near him, but he eats all the food I put out and comes around when I bring his dinner out. Well that is unless the Racoon, Dame Judi Dench comes around first. As much as I think the grand Dame is adorable, I am not quite sure if she is rabid or not. One evening Dame Judi was in the backyard having fights with my cats. I didn't know what to do. I called the Council to get a trapper out and they told me that I could shoot her. What!

.

Bad advice if you ask me. Dame Judi still pops around for some snacks, as evidenced by the filthy dirty water from her dirt digging snout, but she keeps away from the cats. What a class act.

Robert Mugabe eating his dinner.

I call the black kitten Robert Mugabe. The name might be awkward though as the neighbours look at me funny when I go out at night calling...'Robert Mugaaaabe'. Maybe they look at me oddly because I am in my nightie and robe with fluffy slippers and look like an old lush?

Not an image of Dame Judi Dench, but just as cute!

No animals were harmed in the writing of this article, but the kids across the street were slapped around a bit.

It's time to have some fun, if by fun you mean beating up a hobo.

The Colonel is a bit of an action man and has a whole stable of highly unsuitable cars for a woman of refinement like me ;) We looked into buying a new car recently, but have put it off for a bit as we wait to see what the economic downturn brings. I have 'the sky is falling' mentality and think every spare cent should be put towards gold, (in case the currency becomes worthless) preferably gold earrings.

In the meantime I drive around in a Jeep. Not just any Jeep, a Wrangler. A boy's car, no, a bushman's car, Steve Irwin's dream car. That thing is a rough rider. No luxury whatsover. Every bump in the road is like an adventure ride at Disney world.

To Make things worse, The Colonel has it tricked it out with all these blokey accoutrements, like racks and big petrol cans. I have been called Crocodile Dundee by some around these parts. I often get asked, 'Are you going camping?" My idea of camping is a 4 star hotel instead of a 5 star. The indignity of it all!

I once had to 4 wheel drive it, which was very scary but did give me a little frisson of pleasure! I had taken a wrong turn and ended up on an old dirt road, filled with pot holes, unused since the last hurricane. The most recent imbecile to take that wrong turn had to be towed out by a local farmer's tractor. Lucky the Jeep was up to the job. On that same day I tried to buy a Great Dane, which was too big to climb up into the car, (only a 2 door model), too big to sit on the front seat, and it promptly vomited all over the back seat upon getting there. To this day I swear it still smells of Great Dane vomit despite two professional cleanings and a can of air freshner.

The other cars in the Stable include a Vintage

Volvo called Sven, and an old army surplus jeep.

You won't see me riding around in town in that thing, although the winch on the front and shovel attached to the side could come in handy. I can't imagine pulling up to my hair appointment at the Salon at Saks 5th Ave in that. Might shock all the rich old dears into apoplexy.

On the other hand, it might be nice to arrive in the beast and see all their snooty reactions. I could loudly pull up, disembark and yell, Aussie Aussie Aussie....followed up by my own chanting of OI OI OI.

I love Lucy, if by Lucy you mean Morphine.

All is quiet at Palazzo Chichi today. Summer is creeping up and that means unbearable heat and humidity, and that means sweating. In fact it is most unlady like to sweat like a pig everytime one step's outside the front door. The sub-tropics, it's great during winter, but I really don't like it much in the summer. It turns everyone in to a bogan. Shorts and T-shirts and thongs are the uniform here. No matter how posh a restaurant or hotel, people walk around looking like they are holidaying at a caravan park in Ocean Grove. :(

I am very saddened by the news from Italy, that an earthquake has hit and killed over 200 people. Being half Italian, it is a country very close to me. I have been there a few times and I think it's the most amazing country, full of history and culture and great beauty. I'm making a donation to the Red Cross in Italy. I stick to the Red Cross for such donations because whenever a natural disaster like the Italian earthquake occurs, scammers pop up to get online donations from unsuspecting people. The Italian Red Cross seems like the best bet, http://www.cri.it/

My aunt and cousins live at Lake Como, after Melbourne, Australia, Como is my favourite place on earth. There is something almost ethereal about it. At night the moutains are shrouded in darkness except for three things.

1) A cross sits high at the top, made of electric lights, it gives off an almost supernatural floating appearance.
2) An old ruined tower of the Castel Baradello remains standing at the top of one of the hills and at night a spotlight shines on it, to reveal it's ancient glory. It was built in 1192 by a guy called Barbarossa. Very exotic!
3) The lines of the funicular railway that travels up to the town of Brunate are also brightly illuminated.
These combine to make for a spectacular scene

Castel Baradello at night ..>

The last time we were in Como we met the towns most beloved resident, Bobo. One morning while having a breakfast latte at a coffee shop, a woman came by with the biggest labrador I have ever seen. She must keep that dog on steroids. She stopped to talk to a friend at the table next to us, and let down the dog's leash. Bobo took off, nimbly, for a big guy too.

The poor old lady was running along behind him yelling...'Bobo, Bobo...' We could hear her for a good 5 mintues. She came back 20 minutes later, puffing and red in the face with a recalcitrant Bobo who looked rather pleased with himself and his surprising adventure. After that, we ran into the lady and Bobo wherever we went. She told us that 'everyone in Como knows Bobo'. George Clooney has a house there on the Lake, but it would seem that Bobo is even more popular than him.

Italy I miss you!!!

Memories of home

I was thinking about Australia today, how much I miss it there. Since moving away all things Australian, that I once took for granted, have become more precious. Vegemite is worth it's weight in gold, and almost costs as much. Even small grocery items that one thought nothing about back home are precious simply because they are unavailable. They don't know what dessicated coconut is here. I had to order it from an Aussie grocery store online just to make a lemon slice! I want to whip some Anzac biscuits for Anzac day but have no idea what Golden syrup equivalent is over here.

I was ruminating about a trip to I took to Sydney several years ago with my friend, the lovely Teja. She was from Sydney, so we stayed at her parents place and did typical Sydney things, you know like meet with her former drug dealer in Cabramatta. My friend had been clean for many years, so it was a catch up meeting for her. She felt sorry for the guy still stuck in that world. So I am sitting in a KFC, and am told that there are no bathrooms. What? Apparently all the druggies go in to shoot up so you can't eat your fast food and then use the facilities. Nice huh?

The drug dealer guy, with a sweet angelic face, was telling stories of getting robbed by prostitutes and so on, and had to get up during our lunch to go and sell drugs to the crazy looking guy who was banging on the window. It was probably the most scary place I have been.

As we left he walked us to our car. Now I was thinking, how very sweet of him, but at the same time, the cops might come by and drag us all into the back of a divvy van, I am way too pretty to go to prison. Or perhaps some rival dealer might do a drive by. Let's just say I was very happy to get out of Cabramatta. What a dump.

Teja and I headed down to King's Cross the next day because I insisted on seeing the legendary place, the Prostitution center of Sydney. NO, we were not looking for part time jobs, as standing around on a street corner all day is way too much work. I mean, my feet would hurt. Not to mention the looks of the potential clientele around that place. A very gruesome crew indeed.

I was harrassed by several, amorously inclined drunks, and it was only 10 am. We passed a bank and on a post in front of the door was a rather large joint of meat. Huge in fact with flies buzzing around it. We were taken aback by this unusual sight. As we stopped to look I was accousted by a rather malodorous fellow who grabbed a breast as he breathed stale booze smelling breath into my face saying, 'Hello Darling'.

I was calling my friend for help, pushing him away and generally feeling disgusted. She didn't do a thing to help. As she explained later, it's Kings Cross, you get molested by drunks all the time, that's normal, but hey you don't see a huge joint of meat everyday, that was weird.

Oh Sydney, you crazy city.

Chichi in the good old USA

It's been over a year since I left the sunburnt country and moved to Tampa, Florida. It's a nice place but hot like you would not believe. The humidity is something else. One can't leave the house without sweating like a bastard. I hear it's great for the skin and keeps one looking young, if you don't mind being covered in moisture all day long. It's disgusting.

I just got back from a trip to Charleston, South Carolina. Now that place is civilised! It was lovely and cool and just beautiful. I went to a fancy restaurant for dinner and indulged in truffle risotto and other such fancy fare. Too bad I couldn't keep the tasty morsel's down and regurgitated the lot all over myself. Charming indeed. Porcini mushrooms may seem like a good idea going down but the other way round, well it's not pretty that's all I will say.