Who wants to get loose in Lucerne!

Welcome to Switzerland. A country most known for its pristine country side, yummy chocolate, expensive watches and white fluffy snow... no I'm  not talking about cocaine kids!

We arrive into the town of Lucerne as night is falling and the twinkle of the village lights can be seen as we are driving up the hillside to our cute little Swiss hostel. Everyone places their backpacks in their rooms (whilst sussing out who has the beset balcony) and the owner is a barrel of laughs as we sit down to have our dinner in the common room.

On our way into Lucerne, we were discussing what possible things could be on tonight's menu...macaroons? lightly crumbed veal strips? chocolate fondue? cheese?... sadly none of these were in our options. Instead we were given the breathtaking entree of stale bread and then a serve of sloppy cold pasta drenched in a weak tomato based sauce. How Swiss! Then when I politely asked if it was possible to get extra cheese, the waiter simply replied "no!" Well, with that I simply washed down the award winning meal with a warm glass of water (served in a old jam jar) and got a peaceful night's sleep.

The next morning was to be an early one. A group of us were dropped in town and we wandered around the village like lost puppies. We all individually pretended to know where we were going in search of a Lion Monument which commemorated the Swiss Guards who died during the french revolution in 1792.   Instead we got completely lost and walked in the wrong direction for quite some time because I was too busy talking to help the navigators map read, so the poor little things were clueless without my guidance.

One hundred years passed by, we found the monument, propped my camera (on top of a bin covered in cigarette ash) to score the best self timer photo and then went in search of some macaroons afterwards. As we were walking down a little side street, a truck load of band members came pounding down the street playing eerily music that was quite sweet, but had the most freaky face masks on id ever seen. Turns out it wasn't my private welcoming party to Switzerland, but a massive festival that the townspeople held every year at the end of winter to scare away evil winter gods and bring on the happy warmer weather. Everyone is invited to dress up in any costume they like and listen to the diverse range of different music that all the bands are parading too.

Three hours passed, I'd visited a fondue house for lunch and I was now dressed up in bin bags, glue and confetti.

A few of us discovered earlier that cheap beer was sold in cartons at the local supermarkets and we then got on the bandwagon after copious amounts of alcohol and decided that dressing up like one of locals would be fun too. With all the costume shops in town closed or sold out, we opted for a tight dress made out of deep green bin liner bags that even Lady Gaga would've been jealous of, although my haute couture became highly annoying when discovering you needed the sudden use of port-a-loo.

After successfully battling through 14 bottles of beer and seeing an amazing number of talented bands perform, the sun had set on this pumping village and it was now the final hour where the bands would line up and do one final parade down across the famous river bridge of Lucerne. Me and my mates had prime positioning and then disaster struck. As we all know, when Candy drinks beer, it  makes her become best friends with the waiting line in the toilet cue and now her bladder was making a dull roaring noise due to the liquid making its way to the golden gate. I couldn't exactly empty myself into a beer bottle as one of my male friends was happily displaying, so this left me in a moment of shock and paranoia.

I now had to make a drunkenly choice whether to break the parade barrier and run to the nearest pub I could find, push through the crowd behind me and find a bush or stay put and make myself a human fountain. With a category 6 tornado developing in my underwear, my final choice was to bolt like lightening and find a dark corner where no party goers would be standing and let it flow in true bohemian gypsy style. As I was running the streets like a madwoman, I began the process of ripping layers of my bin bag costume off, which left a dramatic trail of debris behind me. I opted to take a staircase down to the deserted, dark riverside and whilst dancing up and down on the spot like a twisted Barbie, i was successfully attempting to pee in peace.

Then as I was relieving myself, a curious little white swan swam up to the riverbank to see what I was up to. After most of my readers experiencing how much the bladder can hold on these drunken occasions, you'll understand when I say that the floodgates had now opened and I couldn't exactly stop for intermission. So now I was battling with
a) not getting wee on my new Nike kicks
b) not being spotted for public urinating by Swiss guards; and
c) not having my claka bitten off by a hungry swan

My business deal was cut short and I ran back to my friends feeling as light as a feather and reaching into my backpack for another beer. After the parade had finished, we spotted an intimate couple displaying doggie style in the parklands which we progressed to blow our whistles to and make loud obscene noises at them (which seemed perfectly mature when your alcohol reading is like a brewery). The male exhibitor enjoyed our cheering and whistles until he saw his female partner looking at us in disgust. He then came after us defending his true love from embarrassment and succeeded in fist punching quite a few of the lads from our friendship group. So the night finished with 1 black eye, a bruised nose, a bitten ear and a clawed chest... but fear not, your Candy was unharmed. Now, who said Lucerne was a boring place?


"Cheers" from Candy xx

To be sure, to be sure

"top of the mornin' to ye"

I welcome you OHA members to the land of leprechauns, beer and a hell of a lot of green moss!

Lets begin with the flight of the ever trusty and reliable RyanAir......so safe that when the plane lands you can hear the horse race bugle fanfare congratulating the pilot on finding ground level and landing everyone safely!?! The bright blue and yellow interior resembles something made out of Lego world and the flight attendants look like they've attacked themselves with a makeup counter and a can of bulk hairspray.

We clear security and leave the airport excited about seeing the mysterious country that is Ireland! The public transport seems quite satisfactory, no complaints there.. but when we check into our hostel, that's where the fun begins.

The hallway looked like were on a ship because every door had a porthole in it the size of a dinner plate and the room we were given had just about the same amount of space as a ship cabin. The shower was on time trials only giving us a limited amount of time with running water so you had to keep shoving the tap back in every 30 seconds and to make the morning times more fun, the hand basin was located at the end of the shower with the toilet seat only inches away.. cosy!

We had a tiny little spiral staircase to take you to the bunks upstairs that was built by Frodo Baggins and his mates, being a perfect size for hobbits, but a little tricky for us travellers who resemble a bit more of Gandalf's height. It was agreed that we didn't want to stay in this rabbit hole for long, so we set out in search of our first pint of Guinness. I was glad to have tasted the traditional Irish beer, but upon completing it, it was more like a roast dinner in a glass with creamy froth on top and one pint was more than enough for me.

One thing i will warn you of if you do travel to Ireland, is the addictive way you start talking like the locals. After four days of being there, we were getting any excuse to talk with a twist at the end of our words like ..
"pohtayyyyyyytoooohh" - potato
"toouu be shhhhuarrrreerrrr" - to be sure
"its nieeeeeyyyyce" - it's nice

and may i also include that this is all pronounced at the highest decibel level in your voice box, just so you can be heard over the loud Irish. Candy didn't do too much damage in Ireland although i will include a little story of her brief time in a town called Cork.

After checking into another hostel that provided oodles of room (almost as much as a pet kennel), all four of us went downstairs to grab a drink and listen to some good tunes on the jukebox. I decided i hadn't been very patriotic listening to American and British pop on my ipod for most the trip, so i wanted to request a strong Irish sound to infuse the fun into this bar and create some fun times for our last night in Ireland.

Instead what i did was create tumbleweeds to blow by as i placed 1 euro in the jukebox and selected song D2 (which was the one and only theme from Michael Flately's Riverdance). Whilst the previous selection of a chilled Bob Marley song was playing, it briefly gave me some time as I walked over to the bar afterwards to get a drink.

As I was waiting for that beverage to arrive, I slowly heard Bob Marley fading away which meant my request was next, but as I turned around to look at the jukebox, I saw that one of my other mates was standing there to make some of his own requests too. The Riverdance song I had selected started slowly with a haunting choirgirl voice and everyone in the bar had facials like they were getting held at gun point to listen to this music. All conversations had come to a halt and now everyone was looking directly over at my mate blaming him for such a tragic song request that the whole pub would now have to endure. As his back was turned, he wasn’t aware of everyone glaring at him and I started to laugh so hard my legs were crossed to prevent any spillages.

May I also remind you that when making a ‘paid’ request on the music machine, it automatically plays it at a louder level so the pub was now blaring with the deep and rich sounds of the tin whistle and bumbling goat skin drums with the added clutter of a 50 person dance troop doing the Irish jig in tap shoes.

The bar chick promptly comes over and in a thick Irish accent says “you had to start the feckin Riverdance didn’t yeh?” and it was at that point I felt that my work in Ireland had been done and that I felt sad but satisfied to be leaving the next morning.

Xxxxx Candy

Amster-DAAAAUUUMM!

Amsterdam

Where the people are high and the ladies are low...

This country starts with a tour of a cheese and clog factory where the owner is high and cant stop giggling throughout his welcoming tour around the factory. We are given a brief history of cheese and then a demo of how a clog is made by a man who was keen to impress by wearing clogs and track pants ….mmmmm.

Upon our group’s departure of this spellbinding place, we were offered to compete in the world record to see how many human bodies could be squeezed in, on top of and surrounding this rather large novelty clog out the front of the factory. Record to date was 38, our attempt was 18. Obviously the tour group before hand was pre-schoolers or from Asian descent because there was no way we were going to get anywhere near that number!

As we pulled up to our charming night stop named ‘Hotel Slotania’, we knew we were far from Kansas on this one. It was almost getting to be exciting to see just how shitty our accommodation could get and there were high prizes claimed for having the most terrible, impractical room in the places we were checking into. The group would run from door to door seeing who really got the jackpot of the dodgy toilet, the broken bed frame or the random sink in the middle of the room. I think everyone had scored well on this stop because they were carrying out renovations as the guests were staying there. The builders didn’t choose to do one section at a time or have any real structure to the demolitions, so there was dust, rubble and old, pervy Netherland tradesmen swarming around everywhere.

After settling into our dog-box of a room, we all freshen up and prepare ourselves to witness a well-known live Amsterdam sex show at the ‘Pink Elephant’. As we take our seats in the quite plush looking theatre, everyone is handed an alcoholic beverage and we can hear the loud club music pumping up to excite the crowd. The curtains roll up and we are greeted with a friendly pair going for it guns blazing right there in front of us on stage !! After I’d had gotten over the initial giggles, I was quite taken by the moves these experienced couples were displaying and it almost looked like they were incorporating a break dance, into a porno move and then crossed with something from Zumba.

We sat through 3 more ‘acts’ until we had half time where a female dancer came out scantily clad with a batman cape and baring all from the belly down. She was flouncing around flapping her cape (and her titties) all over the stage an then she prepared members of the audience that if they heard their name, they were to come up to the stage. I immediately had ill thoughts for the poor soul that had to be up in that pit of a stage and as those humours were running through my head my good friend was called up onstage. I imploded with a strong burst of laughter and egged him on to take his place up on the royal stage of sex! Then there were more names being called which shocked me, thinking that not all are safe, and then yours truly was called to join the rude rotating dance floor up ahead!!

Candy died with shock for .3 of a second and then rapidly joined to meet everyone up there and hoped that she worn her best just in case! The ‘bat woman’ whipped off her cape and asked everyone to separately take turns ‘sexy dancing’ with her and left me till last. I showed her that I wasn’t a wet mop by bending my knees whilst moving from side to side going down to her knees and back up towards her head and taking her hand do give the ole girl a twirl.

Batwoman looked back at me in shock and then progressed to the next section of her audience embarrassment segment.

She told us to stand back up against the wall and asked “do you guys like banana’s” which I excitedly yelled “yes, yes, I do!!”. As I glanced over to my friend (who had previously seen this show) he was shaking his head aggressively at me and I instantly regretting liking bananas.

Batwoman told us to take a bite of her banana which seemed harmless enough, until she progressed to stick it in her private lower region! Candy started to blush and was eager to get the first bite out of way following by running off stage, but no batwoman had other plans. You had to be chosen to take a bit of her fruit offering and there were four people in line ahead of me. As the stage victims were taking bites of the banana it was getting lower and lower and the participant before me made sure there was a mere stub left for my serving.

I lent down to have my share taking a modest ‘peck’ at the fruit, and then she refused to accept it, and grabbed Candy’s head shoving it back to towards her Netherlands to take the last bite. I stood up and laughed my head off meanwhile wanting to skull about 4 beers once I had got back to my seat. With a swift slap on Candy’s butt as she going back to her seat, I think Batwoman was quite happy with the old pot-of-poo that she was stirring.

The crowd involvement progressed (thankfully not with me) and one of the girls was bought up on stage to receive a sweet little lap dance from a male stripper named the ‘Black Pearl’ and then we set through 2 more sex acts which included a 9^th grader smoking cigars out of her little bumblebee.

As the group met outside the sex bar, we could not stop laughing and congratulated the man who had put our names forward to the entertainers before the show started.

He assured us there was a winner for the dance competition and I was in fact Candy Baskitt, chosen by batwoman herself. My well earned prize was a souvenir keyring from the ‘Pink Elephant’ but the icing on the cake was when she had endeavoured to give her number to give to me..?!

Now, after all that excitement, who’s up for a walk to the ‘coffee shop’?

Xxxxxxx Candy ‘Banana’ Baskitt

Wheely Bin Burlesque

Candy was on route to a birthday celebration on a balmy friday night and disaster had struck before she had even got out the driveway. I had given my chaffuer the night off, so my transport of choice was the footloose and fancy free four wheel drive. As the car was reversing back out the garage, the wheel guard caught the end of the whipper snipper that was hanging up on the wall and before I could realise what was happening, the whipper snipper came crashing down on top of the car narrowly missing yours truly and taking out the side mirror. A few choice words flew out of my mouth and around the car (which always seems to help the situation) and then i had to move my booty to go and pick up Celeste. 


As Celeste walked out of her front door, she looked like a little stunner (as is the uniform for the OHA) and we made a beeline to the drive through bottle'o where we discovered Satan worked.


If there was a job position available for a royal asshole..this guy would be the perfect candidate. He asked for my I.D. and i showed him (through the clear case in my wallet)  to which he abruptly said "you'll have to get that out thank you", so i struggled and struggled trying to get the sucker out and it wasn't going anywhere. All my cards and cash had made permanent indentations in the wallet which meant the I.D. was set like concrete in its position. I asked if it was possible to just let it pass, but the cactus he still had lodged up his ass prevented him from saying yes, instead he said "no ID, no alcohol". So with the consideration of having no alcohol, Celeste took the wallet from me and began her handiwork..which resulted in a ripped wallet from being in such a rage! Oh yes, the I.D. was well and truly out in the open, and now it was ripped to pieces. I wasn't angry with Celeste, just disgusted that Satan had been so adamant on getting my identification out and he was now demanding me to look at him, so he could match the picture to my face! I gave a glare that would've singed his eyelashes off and as he gave us our change, he smartly remarked "looks like you needed a new wallet anyway!". 


Being a hot afternoon and being on the receiving end of this man's pms, Celeste and Candy were rope-able, yet it was Celeste who decided to smugly drop the four letter C-Bomb, muttering it under her breath! I was speechless (rare occasion) and if it wasn't for the fact that i was controlling a moving vehicle, i would've pulled over and given her high five! This was a milestone in Celeste history of vocabulary only because she refuses to utter that word unless its a completely necessary moment (as was this). It lifted my spirits, made me laugh and then we were nearly at our destination when i  found an awesome park and manoeuvred the 4wd into it.


Knock Knock.......Knock Knock....ughhhhhh ...what now. I turn around and there is a topless abdomen with a forsaken southern cross tattoo all over it eye level to mine. This hillbilly hick says to me .."Excuse me miss, you'll have to move your car because i need to reverse my truck when I'm done and your car will be in the firing line......" so politely not speaking a word (in fear that there might be a deploy of more C or F-Bombs), I move the car further down, secure the handbrake and get out to possibly see if there is a target painted right across the bonnet ...or my forehead.


The party is pumping with fine tunes and good food and then the digital camera decides to show itself. Many hot shots are taken but with a beautiful sunset in action, we decide to go out the front of the house and take some self timer shots because of such good lighting. It was amazing, you'd swear it was like something out of Vogue...that is until a passenger vehicle comes heading in our direction down the road. Seeing we had already set the timer and it was on a 10 second countdown, the people in the car had front row tickets and had to patiently wait for our shoot to finish before we would let them pass. 


With those duties over, it was time to clear the tables and deck chairs and designate a dance-floor and choose a ripper dance song. Celeste and I had recently seen the movie Burlesque and decided that this was the missing piece from our lives....for us to be world famous Burlesque dancers and showcase talent and skill to other desireables in the world. We plan to head towards the Big Apple in the near future and show our routine in front of talent scouts, but for now, our friends would have to be our critics. Behind us was a rather large retaining wall that was a perfect 2 metre high platform for our leg flicking and finger snap routine which began now!


The crowd was amazed and shocked at the talent that was in front of them at no cost and the Wheelie BIn couldn't believe its luck when i scored a position as  a prop in our stage show. It featured as a alternative to the chair that X-tina taps on in the film clip (see video below) and it worked perfectly., The acoustics were amazing and it demanded attention which nothing could distract you from wanting to look away! ha

Our deed was done, the dance was delivered and it was time for us little performers to retire to our boudoirs because you have to leave the crowd wanting more ;)




xxxxxxx Candy

Plebs at the pub

pleb [plɛb]

n

1) Actually defined as a member of a despised social class, a commoner, a member of the plebs of ancient Rome. Also low-born, undisinguished, vulgar, and my personal favourite: vulgar-looking. 

2) one who's inferior intelligence results in them making a complete titface out of themselves in public


I have come to the time where I feel it necessary to introduce Candy's biggest partner in crime who is otherwise known as Celeste. As all traditional superhero and fantasy stories have been told.... the two powers are stronger when they are closer and that is a shortened version of what people are exposed to when experiencing Candy and Celeste in public.
Celeste does have a memory like an elephant, so she is a great aid in recapping stories and expressing the more finer, classier moments in the OHA chronicles.

So in this particular entry, Candy and Celeste had just finished a champagne brunch with some friends and the weather was glorious! It was a public holiday and the beach side was calling us to be amazing, so we organised to meet more friends and Celeste drove towards the bay where the water would be sparkling and wine was hopefully chilling.

As we were taking a main road to get us to our destination, some pretty blue and red flashing lights were in the distance and no, it wasn't a roadside rave party, it was police conducting alcohol breath testing and we had just been summoned. Celeste's eyeballs were as big as golf balls and the nervous shakes and giggles started straight away when she realised she had a bit of bubbly beforehand. "Hello Ladies" said the man in uniform, "please just gently blow into this and ill tell you when to stop", so Celeste did as she was told to whilst Candy sat and laughed thinking 'i wonder if they do cocktails in lockups?'. After Celeste had stopped blowing, she pulled her lips away leaving bright pink strawberry coloured gloss all over the mouth piece and we waited for the bleeps to give the all clear. Seven seconds later and the policeman remarked "yep, that's fine, have a good day girls" and Celeste was almost amazed she didn't have to hand the keys over and leave the car. Instant relief came over her and then she asked what the reading ended up being... it was 0.00!!! woooooooooo

So with that little detour, we started off again en route to the beach side bar and reached our destination, still astonished at the purity Celeste registered with her breath test. At least an hour into drinks and we had our first contender for public shame and it came in the form of a head full of dreadlocks with a receding hairline. Apparently this guy thought it was fair game and decided he'd pull up a chair and settle in for the afternoon. His flock of sloppy seagulls (mates) followed him and before we knew what was happening, it looked like a we were surrounded by a revival of some bizarre music festival circa 1994. There was tie-dye tops, a guy trying to plug his band by handing out gig leaflets and some random in a bowler hat talking my ear off and heaven help me I could not understand his cuban/french accent, so I just pretended I had a hearing problem.

Before I left the house I had seriously considered the variable straps on my maxi dress and had gone against strapless and chosen to make it a halter neck (which later doubled as a 'safety harness') and thank god i went for that option. My dress was choosing to take the fast lane down with gravity and if it wasnt for the 'safety harness' we would've been hosting a live breast test! haha

After sundown the wine wasn't even getting time to cling to the glass before it flooded down my throat and Celeste was encouraging Candy to believe that her knees also doubled as a seating apparatus. Although it was more like it was manufactured at haggle.com because the seating gave way and Celeste was now hanging off Candy's neck like kids play equipment. Don't fear kids, we made it look like a classy burlesque move, no-one knew the difference and we received applause all round.

The final display of the classy evening was when i went to talk to a friend who was clearly struggling with a table full of plebs around her and one of the nerds decided he would attempt to try a short, disgusting one liner on yours truly. I let him know of this blog address telling him it spotlights freaks of the night like him and in response, he thought it would be a great idea to break my safety strap and expose Candy's milk tops which landed him a quick backhand across the face. The only thing that could take my embarrassment away was the golden arches that resided underneath the beach bar establishment and Mr Ronald Mcdonald's cheeseburger was my night cap

Stay classy kids

xx Candy