Wednesday, 7 October 2009

On the road runway

Do you know that icky advert for Taft hairspray? Featuring that kitschy blonde with big mouth and big hair? It goes like Morning, Someplace, sunny, your hair looks plasticky all over; Midday, Anytown, windy, your hair holds and holds its excellent plasticky look; Evening, Podunk, sleet, your hair looks the same fugly all over.

Erm, here's one of them. There was a whole series of adverts on TV, all along the same lines. I hated them all. Karma kicked me in the shins so apparently, I live in one nowadays.

Yesterday morning, Larnaka, sunny, 25 degrees dipped in the sea, getting more sun rash to have a nice memory of holidays. Pissed and over-tanned.
Yesterday evening, Vienna, something like rain. Landed in the airport hotel, in a 200 euros room (comfy bed, admittedly, and I damn needed one. And feather pillows). View of a parking house and if I tried hard, of the Terminal 1 and a railway station. Could be 150 trashbins, admittedly.

Today morning, Vienna, there was some weather but I forgot to notice, pissed.
Today noon, Stockholm, changeable, rather cold, pissed and sleep-deprived. I seem to hate travelling.

Two days of near-panic state. I'm tired by all that travelling and there's always that damn social phobia. I apparently have an issue with the North. I look like a native. So, people expect that I'm Swedish or something like that. Which is why I don't speak Swedish. Speaking silly furriner Italian is fun, as a silly furriner, I'm always doing rather well. Silly furriner Swedish when I look like a Swede? Not fun. I should learn a handful of Finnishisms or something to feel better about it. Or I'll stick to English.


  1. Funnily (and appropriately enough, rer: Taft images which I recall excellently too) the Greek saying on that situation is (roughly translated): "Your hair is washed with what you fear", aka You get whatever you're scared of getting.

  2. Late to my own party.
    Too bad that the point of social phobia is that I'm scared of people. That Greek saying was probably aimed at plain chickenshits, not at sociophobic chickenshits.