unbreakable me

My TWEET from the other day

And it got me to thinking

Do I REALLY break something on EVERY tour?

Am I actually that much of a clumsy fuck?

So I’ve been going back over the last couple of years tours

Trying to remember what, if anything, I broke

I’ve come to the conclusion that I am, indeed, quite the clusterfuck

When out on tour

I don’t think I really break much when I’m at home & not touring

Except for maybe the kid’s hearts

When I tell them that I ate the last chocolate/no they can’t have another dog/yes, I am the only Mum they get

But on tour, WOW, I’m a fucking wrecking ball

Couches – I dropped my suitcase on it

Beds – I knocked the legs off one trying to hold onto it doing sit ups

Curtains – I was trying to OPEN them

Fridges – From trying to break the padlock on the mini bar (that I put on there myself, to tell myself to back-the-fuck-off) to try and get to the chocolate

Lamps – which are usually ugly as shit anyway, so I think I did the hotels a favour there

You name it

I’ve totally smashed the shit out of it

And I’m not a violent person either

Well, if you don’t count that time in Bali when I might have had too much to drink and some futher mucker at the bar wouldn’t take no for an answer and when I left he tried to follow me back to my hotel and I thought I was tough little fucker ’cause I’d done one & half kick boxing classes and the heel of my six inch stiletto may have got caught in his face and I had to pull it out myself but I don’t think he knew because he was laying in the gutter having a nap or maybe he was dead but either way, there was blood on my new shoe and it was his fault

But other than that, I’m not violent at all

I mean I’ve smashed things

On purpose

But only when it’s life or death

Like the time that I was in Paris with my Mum because Dad was touring the UK and Mum & I thought we were world travelers and took a little flight over there for the day only to find that everyone thought we were from England and treated us like shit until we put our (ugly) Koala broaches on to show that we were in fact Australian so the bastards would be nicer to us, which they were at the cafe where we had  lunch consisting of water and donuts ’cause that’s all we understood from the froggy menu but the donuts were grody and made my guts ache and I had to use a bathroom up the street at the bottom of a spiral staircase that was so narrow & steep I could only open the door of the toilet a smidge & had to squeeze in there and then shut the door which, after my bodily contents left me, I couldn’t get open and I started to freak ’cause there wasn’t mobile phones back then and I learned the hard way that I am a LOT claustrophobic when I am breathing in my own stench 3 floors below ground in a toilet coffin with a stuck door that I ended up kicking off the hinges in my complete panicked state only days later realising that that was pretty Wonder Woman of me and I went on to make enquiries about customising my own superhero costume in case I was faced with another near death experience as a tourist in Paris

(who knew that when I googled ‘trapped hot claustrophobic blonde in french thunder box’ that I would find this bitch acting out my nightmare?)

So THAT was totally not my fault either

I just think maybe they don’t make hotels like they used to

But today’s one seems to be fine

I haven’t broken anything

Except for when I accidently punched the housekeeping lady in the nose this morning when I was helping her make my bed because I am lovely

Which TOTALLY doesn’t count, because I didn’t actually BREAK her nose

It just bled a little

So really, I’m improving