Wednesday, 26 January 2011

Jens Hair Studio

I'm not a big fan of blogging about every single thing I do - for a few reasons.

Firstly, I don't have time and can't be bothered. Secondly, I don't actually think people care about all the mundane details of my days.

However, this is one mundane experience that everyone experiences and that I feel compelled to write about....because it involves my hair. It's my crowning glory and without it, I'd be like Samson - powerless without it.

I find haircuts traumatic. Honestly, I do. I have a very close friend who goes into slight mourning every time she celebrates a birthday....well that's me about my hair. I don't think it grows overly quickly and I love it long, so every time I have to have a chop-chop, I really dislike it.

After my favourite hairdresser changed jobs and stopped cutting, I had to find another place. Good old Jena was also in need of a new stylist, so she did some super research and found us a place. The Aussie girl there promptly butchered her hair and after a heated complaint, she had it fixed by a lovely Moroccan stylist at the same salon. I've also visited and was rather impressed with her talents......until she cut my hair.

She's a far better colourist than she is a cutter - unless you're a fan of straight across the bottom, where no damage can really be done. I have super thick hair and usually need it thinned out. I wouldn't really call what happened ''thinning out'', but rather ''removing a huge chunk in the name of thinning and hoping Lauren won't notice it''.

Lauren did indeed notice it when she was straightening her hair 2 days later. Safely tucked away towards the back on each side was a chunk of hair no longer than 12cm. Yes that's right, 12cm!! The rest of my hair hangs almost halfway down my back, so 12cm locks were a BIG deal. Horrified, I went back when I next was due for a cut and asked what the missing chunk was all about.

She giggled in an I-don't-really-know-what-you're-asking-me-because-we've-got-a-slight-language-barrier way and brushed it off as ''thinning''.

I promptly decided never to return and set about finding a new place to have my baby-trims. I was so traumatised I then waited for almost 6 months and am pleased to announce my missing chunk has grown a little longer.

I will happily say that my new place of hairdressing is Jens Hair Studio (without an apostrophe, I know), in the White Crown building on Sh Zayed Road. My hairdresser is a funky young Sri Lankan girl and she did a fantastic cut and super-straight blow dry/straightener combo.

They also do super cheap manicures AND they use OPI, my super-fave polish range.

Speaking of OPI, they've released a new line - and they're sparkle-tastic. LITERALLY!! If you happen to find yourself in the USA (particularly the Galleria Mall in Houston), head straight to an OPI stockist and check out ''Bring on the bling'' and ''Show it and glow it''.

They're beyond fantastic - Jena and I have both blinged up our nails in honour of Australia Day today and are giggling like school girls who've discovered sparkle polish for the first time.

AT $8.50 a pop (plus tax, naturally), they're a nice way to recapture one's youth without actually having to be a painful 16 again....!!

Saturday, 1 January 2011

Pink Poodle meets Brandon Dalais

I went to a fab New Years party last night, hosted by my super gorgeous friend Daniel. It was at a crew building down near the marina and it had all the essentials - great food, lots of booze, sparkly banners and balloons and streamers AND cute guys. Everywhere I looked, there were gorgeous men!!

The night was a little bit spesh, because I got to meet a particularly gorgeous young man called Brandon. Brandon's crew with us and is a long-time blog reader. He found my blog through Dan's and managed to read three years worth of adventures in a week!

We've been attempting to meet a few times last year, but it never seemed to work out. Luckily, the planets lined up last night and saw us both end up at the same party.

Brandon lives across the road from me, so I spy a new friend!

Our long-awaited meeting was wonderful and we caught up on some juicy goss, and kind of just stared at each other. He's real!!

Saturday, 16 October 2010

Let's talk about love....

To say I've had a strange year would be a gross understatement. In order to save you all from an emotional vomit, let's just say....this year has been crap, tumultuous, confusing, scary...and ultimately liberating, uplifting and beautiful.

At the beginning of the year, I fell spectacularly in love. Like a little seed, things blossomed. Like all things that are living, we died. I'm a firm believer that nothing is a waste of time - that the people that come into our lives aren't just coincidences or cosmic screw-ups - they come to us to teach us something. With every great loss, something is gained.

I've been lucky enough to meet not just one, but three men this year who have absolutely transformed my life and the way I think about love, family, relationships and ultimately - myself.

Each has given me a new perspective and for that I will be eternally grateful. Just as their ages and nationalities have varied, so too have the types of relationships we've had. They have shown me how to laugh, live and love.

We must never mourn a broken heart, but process and understand what we have lost, let that go and then celebrate what we have gained. The other day, a new friend told me something he believes - something so beautiful I can't forget and must share it: ''Love is never lost, not even in death''.

My beautiful grandfather passed away in August, and while the family and community are mourning the loss, we are also celebrating. Pop, as he was affectionately known to everyone, was one of our home town's last surviving World War 2 veterans. A proud family man, he was the father of 8, grandfather of 14 and great-grandfather of 1. As the eldest female grandchild, it was an honour to speak at his funeral and I was touched (and terrified!) when I got up to speak and saw that there wasn't a spare seat in the church.

While funerals are sad occasions, they are also a wonderful chance for families to come together and catch up. Our family has spread out to different parts of Australia and the world and we very rarely find ourselves together all at once. It was fantastic to see all of my cousins again and we have a very special picture of almost all of us - something we haven't had in about 10 years.

So indeed, love is never lost, not even in death.

Guess who's back, back again...

I plonked myself down in a chair in the briefing room for my London trip last week and was slightly startled when the blonde Irishman next to me turned and asked ''do you have a blog?'' It was about 1 in the morning, I hadn't slept, badly needed a coffee and momentarily forgot that yes, I DO have a blog!

It's been forever since I've posted and I felt myself blush when he asked why I'd not written in so long. Completely pre-occupied with my crazy love life, which has reached a certain level that can only be described as chaotically bizarre over the last 2 months, I just didn't have it in me. It was nice to know that someone apart from my beautiful flatmate/sister-from-another-mister Jena actually reads what I ramble on about.

During the flight we had a giggle in the galley about some of the past crazy things I've written about and it made me realise I really miss writing.

So thank you, Killian from Ireland - YOU are squarely responsible for kick-starting my creativeness again.

Big kisses to my favourite Leprechaun! xxx

Friday, 3 September 2010

Long time, no see!!

Greetings Earthlings!!

I know, I's been a LONG time. About 6 months if we're counting. Just a short post to let you know (if anyone's still out there) that Pink Poodle will be returning very very soon with some awesome new stories.

Stay tuned! xo


The contents of this website are soley my own opinions, thoughts, feelings, observations, stories and travels. Photographs are mostly but not always my own, and those that are not are most likely borrowed from Wikipedia, Google Images or someone who had a better camera than I did on the day in question. They do not in any way correlate or represent the company I work for, nor does the company endorse or have any association with this website.

Stories and people mentioned here are real. Some names, places and dates may have been changed. This website takes no responsibility for any actions or injuries resulting from reading this blog.

Thursday, 4 March 2010

Day 2 of Curry Heaven....

We were disappointed that Day 2 of our Curry Heaven didn't provide us with as much of a buffet of bizarre people watching. The local guy wearing only a dirty, scruffy loincloth that he frequently adjusted and made us fear we'd see far too much of his tackle really was the grossest thing we saw topped that today.

We did however see another pack of boar piglets, far more mangy dogs and even befriended a not so dirty dog who cosied up to us INSIDE a beachside restaurant. This one has been nicknamed as Garlic and after enduring his cute puppy-eyed stare, I finally gave in and was patting it and got told off by the waiter. Jena was feeding it scraps of buttery naan bread and was trying to work out how to feed it rice without getting too much negative attention when we decided we should head back to our beach beds before we got banned from the restaurant.

It appears that there is a massive trade in local jewellery and sarongs and henna tattoos and stickers and fake dvds and just about any portable, shitty, tacky, revolting holiday trinkets you can imagine. We were offered all of these today and found it rather hard to politely say we just weren't interested. Our disinterest was taken for coyness, wanting better prices or just to be offered more stuff. The trick is to not make eye contact and don't engage in ANY conversation.

We were set upon the minute we sat on our beach beds by two ladies with an extraordinary ability to hit you right where you couldn't say no. Firstly they complimented us on our smiles, skin colour and our hair - making us feel bad that we had nice hair, fair skin and teeth that weren't rotting right out of our heads. Next, when we attempted to stop the polite, yet strained conversation, the older lady said ''why you no speak to me, you think I'm just a worthless girl, a piece of rubbish?''. Of course I felt a need to defend myself, when I really just wanted to lie back in the sun, let my 15+ sunscreen do it's work and pop my ipod in and pump some John Butler Trio. Finally when they decided that they'd set up a portable shop on the end of my bed did we had to pretty much tell them to bugger off. With slightly withering glances and the ''oh but I have 2 children to support'' comment, they set their sights on some girls just a few metres away and we were free to lie back and ingest some yummy Kingfisher beer. Those tactics must work on some tourists, but not us!

Once we got peckish, we engaged in our 4th curry meal in 2 days and I must say...I'm not tiring of this odd diet yet. I had palak paneer, a yummy spinach and cottage cheese dish. It was the colour of Kermit the Frog and was quite nice until it got cold. I'm loving the curry but am seriously hanging out for a MASSIVE plate of banana and nutella pancakes. Perhaps after some yoga in the morning I'll treat myself to a calorific breakfast on the beach!!

One thing I detest about the public beaches in Dubai is that on the weekends it's like migration day - there are hordes and flocks of Indian and Pakistani men who wander along the beach in jeans and totally-not-beach-clothes, taking photos of the girls in their bikinis. I hate to think what kind of websites they end up on. This is illegal, even in Dubai, and the police are supposed to be policing such activities, but it's really a case of snarl and bear it. We were warned by a friend that there might be lurkers hiding behind trees on the beach in Goa taking happy snaps, but today as we walked down to the water a group of 5 men approaching us all had their cameras and camera phones out and were snapping like crazy paparazzi! Deciding I wasn't having any of that today, I thought about how to approach such a situation. In any other part of the world, we'd just give them the finger or shout or scream or tell them off or even steal their cameras and throw them in the water. In Dubai, giving someone the finger is illegal and the punishment is deportation - I know, I know - CRAZY right?! Well, here in Goa, it's totally legal and I decided to rock it out. One guy had the good grace to lower his phone and look away but it seemed to encourage another even more!

Seriously, anything goes in Goa....and it's not all good!