So I'm tagging along with BFF on a wee vacay to London. It's official. Purchased the tickets yesterday for the 2nd to the 10th of January. Couldn't be more pleased.
This ticket purchase and consequent trip got me thinking about what Fergie's song means. "How come every time you come around my London, London Bridge wanna go down?" That doesn't make sense. Is she talking about her mouth? Her pants? I just don't get it. Stay far away from Fergie. She can't be trusted.
Pulled out the old passport this morning because I wanted to check on the expiration. Just so happens it expired in March of '97 so it is of absolutely no use to me now. That picture? Man. If only I had a scanner to capture the beauty I was at the age of 15. My hair was god-forsaken, people. It actually looks frizzy yet windblown. I think I tried to straighten out my perm that day. I don't think it's the same Ogilvie home perm my aunt gave me in her trailer one summer but it's just as bad. May have even shed a tear or two before the photo was taken because I knew how terrible I looked. Hoooo, Doggie.
During the summer of 1992, over 14 years ago, I took a three week bus tour along the east coast of Australia. Swam in the Great Barrier Reef, went to the Sydney Opera House, had a BBQ in the Outback. Plus it was three weeks away from my whole family! How glorious. That's the only place that passport ever went. Maybe I can fill this next one up. Weeeee!
Just got my damn passport. $200! Can you believe that? Expedited because otherwise that bitch wouldn't get to me on time. Damn. Oh and my picture? Gorgeous yet again. I look like a prepubescent boy. Gotta love it.