Welcome Home To Your Home Sweet Home

My brain is stuffed with cotton wool. Seriously, it's not funny; which one of you jokers did this? Anything in there of any importance---prime numbers, iambic pentameter, the due date of Jessica Alba---has been pushed out by the dull fuzz of jetlag, which makes my head ache, my temples throb, my mind snap shut at the thought of having to make coherent conversation. My body doesn't know what time it is, or rather it does know what time it is, it's the middle of the night, and all it wants to do is SLEEP SLEEP SLEEP SLEEP SLEEP. I, however, am pushing through and trying to stay awake a little longer, hallucinations be damned. Want a tip? Here's a tip: never go to a country where there's a fifteen hour time difference between where you've been and where you are now. There, you can have that one for free.

My last few days in Singapore were lovely: I did some more eating, some more drinking, some more reading, and some more lying in the sun, and all that was just fine with me. I also had lunch with my brother and his girlfriend at PS Cafe---I'm linking to it in case you have an upcoming trip to Singapore planned, and if you do, you should really order the thing with the portobello mushrooms and poached egg and bacon---and I went to see the Sex and the City movie with my sister; well, my sister and pretty much every other woman in Singapore. Are you a woman in Singapore? Because I probably saw you at the movie theatre if you are. I've never seen so many women in one place in my life.

We also went to McDonalds beforehand, and yes, I know that's gross but please, I live in San Francisco where I eat things like organic flax seed and baby arugula on a regular basis. And besides, one of the great things about having a blog is that you have a public record of when you last went to a McDonalds, and when you're approaching the two-year mark, I'm pretty sure you're home free. (Also, I'm sorry, but it was delicious. You cannot beat the combination of a strawberry milkshake and some salty fries. My friend Josh is never going to speak to me again when he reads that sentence, I know it.)

I left Singapore on Sunday evening and spent eighteen hours in seat 62K---riiiiiiight at the back of the plane near the toilets---watching Definitely Maybe (verdict: a lot better than I thought it would be) and reading the selection of trashy English magazines I picked up on the layover in Hong Kong, during which I had no idea what the exchange rate was anymore and just handed my credit card over willy-nilly. It was strangely freeing at the time, although I now realize that I actually spent about twenty bucks to read about the weddings of footballers' wives I care nothing about, including the top-secret details of how they got in shape for the big day. (Diet and exercise! Who knew?)

When I arrived in San Francisco on Sunday night---after being THOROUGHLY QUESTIONED by a customs officer after I confessed to having some candy in my bag when he asked if I was carrying any food (note for next time: DON'T MENTION THE CANDY, NOT WORTH THE EFFORT)---Sean was there to pick me up, a bottle of Orangina and a bag of fake Cheetos (ahem, Trader Joe's Reduced Fat Cheese Crunchies) on the passenger seat beside him in case I was hungry/thirsty/in need of some artificial flavoring for energy. The house was immaculate, there were yellow tulips on the coffee table, and I thanked whoever's in charge of these things for giving me such a lovely boyfriend.

The Orangina and fake Cheetos came in useful, in fact, at 3am, when I consumed them in the kitchen with a cat on my lap, while poring over the two issues of Us Weekly I'd missed while I was away. (HEIDI: I'M READY TO MARRY SPENCER! REST OF THE WORLD: WE DON'T REALLY GIVE A SHIT.) After falling asleep close to midnight, see, I'd been awoken at 1am by someone having their car broken into right below my bedroom window (aw, a "welcome back!" from the city!) and hadn't been able to fall back asleep for hours, not with the sound of shattered glass echoing in my ears like that. Around three, I called it quits and went into the kitchen to read for a little while, but then was up bright and early again at 6:15am, attacking my work inbox with a vengeance.

All this to say that I worked from home today in my glasses and cat-hair-covered sweatpants, and when I left the house for the first time this evening to run to the post office, I was not looking my best: unbrushed hair, not a scrap of makeup, the pink eyes of a person who still apparently has pinkeye, and, well, a pair of cat-hair-covered sweatpants. Unfortunately for me, I paired this look with a t-shirt my mother had given me as a joke that read "And I'm Smart Too." Sadly, this sort of t-shirt is meant to be worn when one is looking one's best, I fear, and even then perhaps just around the house. I sort of got the feeling that everyone was looking at me with more than a little pity: oh, she's smart and grossly unkempt and infectious! How cute!

(Also, note to the US Postal Service: you might want to consider switching up your marketing tactics a little. While I stood waiting in the interminable post office line, a well-meaning employee would, from time to time, sidle up to random patrons and say "Hey, you! You got a credit card?" The patron would nod warily, and then the employee would jerk his thumb over to the side. "I got a machine for you!" he'd say. "Use my machine for your postage!" Hmm, dude, I get your point, but maybe the pitch needs a little work, eh?)

Aaaaaaaaaand my vision is blurring and my eyes are crossing, so I'm going to admit defeat against the jetlag now and go to bed at....hmmm, 9:41pm. You got me, jetlag, you old pirate hooker. You win, alright? You win.

(There's an elderly Singaporean security guard at my parents' apartment building who says that to my dad every evening when he comes home from work: "welcome home to your home sweet home." My dad thinks there's a touch of irony to it, but I like to think that there isn't.)

Jun 02, 2008

Jet-lagged and you STILL wrote such a fantastic post! Are you super-human? C'mon, you can tell us. We'll keep your secret!

I gotta know what kind of questioning you were put to for that candy.

House of Jules

Camels & Chocolate
Jun 02, 2008

Again, welcome back! San Francisco seems a tinge brighter after allowing Holly Burns back through its threshold.

Also, I saw Sex and the City in your neighborhood last night (7:30 on a Sunday night) and mother of pearl, I've never seen so many women in one place before either. I could feel the estrogen invigorating the room; I fear I might catch my period early from over-exposure to the female species.

Also also, I saw Definitely Maybe and was quite shocked by how not bad it is. Ryan Reynolds is good! Who knew? Now drop ScarJo and go groveling back to Alanis, please.

She Likes Purple
Jun 02, 2008

You know, I am always kind of stunned by how you (at least the "you" I pick up on in your writing) are so checked in to every aspect of life. From time with family to a trip to the post office, and although it's totally not the point of this (very good for being written through exhaustion) post, I want to say it's rather refreshing. You capture the details perfectly, making it seem likely you're good at paying attention to the details. Oh and I saw a Trader Joe's briefly on my business trip to LA this weekend, but there wasn't any time to stop and I was fairly broken up about it! I want some of those Crunchies!

Jun 03, 2008

Aww what a sweet boyfriend!

Also, I usually enjoy movies the most when I have very low expectations. Case in point: I ordered 27 Dresses this past weekend - and didn't hate it. :D

Jun 03, 2008

Welcome back Holly! How you are able to write so beautifully whilst being absolutely jet lagged is beyond belief to me. I can barely remember my name or how to walk the dog when my body doesn't know which time zone it needs to be in. I am in awe of you!

What a nice welcome home for you from Boyfriend Sean - and of course the cats.

Jun 03, 2008

Sex and The City was also a packed house of women for me as well. I felt like I was in college at sorority rush all over again. The downer of my group kept commenting that she was a play writing major in college and thusly immune/disgusted with the whole movie at which point I considered taking my kitten heal and smacking her upside the head with it.

I would like to lick Ryan Reynolds. And while that may be entirely too much information for me to share with you all it is absolutely the only thing I can think of when I hear his name.

Jun 03, 2008

They do that post office thing in the major London train stations as well, and it's scary for a different reason. They always manage to be right behind me (without me being aware) when they yell at the top of their lungs "Debit or Credit Card! Anyone paying with Debit or Credit Card." I normally jump high enough that if I planned my descent properly I could be at my destination without the help of a train - or debit or credit card.

welcome home.

Jun 03, 2008

Welcome home!

I'd say something smarter and/or more profound about what sounds like a marvelous trip and a less-marvelous case of pink eye, but the aliens have eaten my brain. With garlic aioli from Whole Foods. Because the alien population apparently has a fondness for yuppie grocery stores.

Jun 03, 2008

lol, it's great to hear everybody's experience at the Sex and the City movie was identical to mine; overly dressed up women. and ONLY women. I find it amusing that my movie-mate and I also went to McDonald's prior to the showing. Nothing beats a McChicken and a Oreo McFlurry. yum-o.

what did you think of the movie anyway?

Jun 03, 2008

Welcome home! (Your other home, I mean.) Working from home is awesome, isn't it? Pulling down billable hours while still in my nightgown always makes me feel like I'm getting away with something.

Jun 03, 2008

I like caramel sundae with my fries :)
And yes, Singapore Airlines rocks, I can never sleep because of the amazing movies, and games, and series and music and everything.
Of course, I get extra jet lagged, but it's worth it!

Jun 03, 2008

I had to comment half way through reading because OH.MY.GOD.
Never, please never never never eat cheetos (even from Trader Joe's) and any sort of orange drink together. I did that once. Three minutes later, no warning at all, I was puking my guts out.
Even thinking of it makes me nauseated.

Jun 03, 2008

Welcome home.

Ms. Boombastic
Jun 03, 2008

I don't usually comment, but I have been eagerly awaiting your commentary on The Bachelorette. So please catch up quickly!