Category Archives: Holiday

Sex Toys Are Designed Resemble the Human Sex

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Holiday Precautions

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You may have heard in some news or seen in the television about natural calamaties that occured to some tourist destinations in the world. The Boxing Day Tsunami, hurricanes that struck the Gulf of Mexico, or the tsunami in Phuket, Thailand, to name a few. When traveling, you need make sure about the safety of your vacation by taking all necessary precautions. Some of the things you need to do is check the weather forecasts, get a proper insurance, and make sure that the hotel you’re going to check in has proper emergency evacuation plans. Make sure also that you and your family understands the emergency procedures completely.

First off, get a good and reliable insurance policy. You can ask your travel agent about the policy that you should need to buy or if they have some policies offered. Make sure that your policy specifically cover your costs in case of a natural disaster occurence. When a bad weather is reported in time for your holiday trip, ask your travel agent for a refund because she can work better on it for you. As much as possible, get the hotel, airline, and even car rental payments reimbursed.

Holiday Arguments

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Relationships have a point that all sane men fear: The annual holiday with the girlfriend. It goes without saying; The minute she (or her friends – whatever comes first) regard you two as a couple, demands for a fortnight for two away somewhere hot are guaranteed. And don’t even think of agreeing then putting it off somewhere down the line – she’ll be a fucking nightmare for the rest of the year. You HAVE to go on holiday.

BEFORE YOU GO

Time to make the booking. Your mates’ have all told you what an excellent time they had with their girlfriends in a villa on some Greek island. “Excellent” you think. Cheap booze and peace & quiet. However, she’s just read Cosmopolitan magazine and has other ideas. Kenya, for two weeks. In August. “In the name of Christ you fucking idiot” you implore. “Al Qaeda will skin us alive and feed us to hyenas. And it’s 65 fucking degrees and raining”. Her face twists until it resembles a dog’s arse. “You can stop bitching, ‘cos I’ve already made the booking. With your credit card”. Christ.

SATURDAY

7am: Wake Up: As far as this goes, this is prime time for blazing rows. Rows so big they can split the earth open. Predictably, she’s on blob week. “so no funny business like last time you filthy animal”. Sadly, this is just the beginning.

9am: Packing: Her tongue is sharpening by the minute. You’re taking 3 pairs of socks, 3 of pants, 1 pair of shorts and 6 t-shirts. “Six shirts?” she rants. “So I suppose I can’t take anything can I?” She flips the suitcase over in anger and storms up to the bathroom, crying. You take out 3 t-shirts & repack, to include her hairdryer, 10 pairs of identical shoes, and all the make up she’s ever bought.

10am: To The Airport: “We’re late, we’re late, we’re fucking laaate” She’s only just remembered you’re meant to be boarding at 9am, but she won’t check the tickets “In case it’s true”. You breathe deeply and count to 10. She’s never learned to drive because she can’t be bothered and she doesn’t read maps to get you to the airport quicker. You harbour images of her being sucked out the plane toilet at 20,000 feet.

11am: Airport: You arrive. Six fucking hours early. She’s still worried you’ll miss the flight. At check-in you bundle the 5 bags you’re carrying to the woman, stow away the parking tickets and keys, hold the bag full of women’s mags and her travel pillow, call your mate who’s feeding the cat, check the car booking for when you arrive, and notify the hotel in advance. All she’s got to look after are the passports. “Oh, I though you were doing it”. She glares at you. She knows she’s wrong but she’s not budging. Back home in the car, return to the airport with the documents. Still 3 hours to go.

6pm: On The Plane: “I’m not eating this shit. There’s no legroom. Can’t you move up a bit? Wish I could smoke. Those hostesses are fucking rude. This bloke behind me is winding me up”. All the things that were annoying you, now annoy you double, because she’s moaning about them. You can’t take it, “Look, for fuck’s sake. Just shut up will you? Please?” The high altitude leads to more tears. The pilot comes over & informs you that you’ll be arrested at the airport if you raise your voice again, while she quivers like you’ve just smacked shit out of her.

11:30pm: At The Hotel: Her eyes are red like a baboons arse, and she’s getting pricklier by the minute. She spies a cobweb in the room and screams. “There’s no fucking spiders, love” you try to calm her with. She shakes, “G-e-e-t m-e-ee o-u-u-ut of h-e-e-ere NOW!!!!” Downstairs, you spend an hour explaining that you’re saddled with a mad bitch and require alternative accommodation.