Do you, like me dream of sleeping in a bed alone?
I have spent many years infatuated with the thought of having a hotel room to myself.
For one night to do none other than SLEEP. In a bed. ALONE.
When the opportunity arose recently to do just that, I booked myself into my favourite hotel in the City, and then looked forward to that one evening for WEEKS.
Now, the reason I was heading to the city (alone) was because I had been given 2 amazing tickets from Visa Entertainment to see the Keith Urban, Light The Fuse Concert.
So, after one of my offspring made every attempt last Tuesday,to have me looking and feeling like the WORST MOTHER ever to pace the planet, I rustled up the courage to get in my car and head towards the City. This was after I ran through the chook pen searching for previously mentioned offspring, thinking she had ran away.
In my car, I asked Siri to take me to far far away from my mayhem and to my Sleepover Heaven instead…and also to grab me a bit of Keith on the side. Maybe I had chicken shat on my shoes as I clicked my heels together and prayed I wouldn’t get lost. Maybe that was good luck or something.
Amazingly, Siri did take me to my Sleep Over Heaven with absolute EASE. We did have a
minor MAJOR argument about her directions, where I did call her a filthy name. With that I was reminded to get off my high horses. I had chicken crap on my shoe and all. Humble beginnings peeps.
I have since apologised to Siri and promised I will never again bite the hand that leads me 😉
I quickly parked my car and took off to the City for my appointment, with the lovely girls at the Issada City Concept Store. I left that store feeling like the self appointed Princess I had made myself in THIS POST.
Who is this Woman/Princess? I don’t even know her anymore.
Now while getting ready for the Keith Concert, IN ABSOLUTE SILENCE, I raided the mini bar. ( Yes that was a double banger of envy for you .. as in telling you about the silence I lived in for 2 hours and the mini bar I was all over)
Mummy’s don’t do that shit. They’re responsible with their money and their manners and silence makes them hell nervous about the trouble they are about to uncover.
Yeap, not this Mummy. Not this day.
This picture is posed. I would never be such a tart to drink like that.
Eventually Lord Ricey turned up in his spunky black carriage and shuffled me off for dinner prior to Keith. He had a cowboy hat on the back seat, and a smashed wine glass which made me all sorts of confused, but a little like I had found a soul mate for the night. We went for matchy matchy country attire too. Me in my fur vest and pleather pants and Lord Ricey in these cutey butt jeans and blue check top.
This was us almost busting out of our skin to get to Keith. Someone asked if I was attending the concert with Darren Hayes. I can see the resemblance in so many ways…except for the singing.
Then we arrived and discovered we had the best bloody seats. Keith was like just THERE as in just over THERE.
Now, Lord Ricey is like my Sista from another Vagina. I swear. He was hashtagging the ARSE out of our social media posts as we arrived at Keith’s. I was sooo PROUD. Like my fur vest ? Me too! I told Lord Ricey I had hunted it down myself. I lied. I told him I could loan it to him maybe.
Then Keith came on stage. I may of sounded like a seal orgasming.
We danced and we sang and we tried to tell Keith we would change our names to Nicole, (so he wouldn’t have to book into Tattoo Nightmares for amendment)
A follower of this blog Instagrammed me and mentioned she could see us.
HOLY CRAP- BUT COOL.
She stated she wasn’t a stalker. Which I believed, as she didn’t fit the stalker prototype that I seem to attract. I have a stalker you see. No it isn’t Robbie Williams or Keith Urban. Not even my Husband. A real stalker who I worry may print out each selfie I have ever posted,to stick in his man cave or something equally as scary.
To say Lord Ricey and I had a blast is putting it to you mildly. I do note that Lord Ricey refused to sing ‘Kiss A Girl’. But he was making eyes at the lead guitarist and muttered something absolutely deplorable when Keith mentioned this lead guitar man had only gotten married 2 weeks prior.
‘HOW DARE HE GET MARRIED BEFORE HE MET US’ Lord Ricey shrieked. EXPLETIVE. EXPLETIVE. EXPLETIVE.
I had to agree a little. Just to keep Lord Ricey calm mainly.
In like a blink the concert was over and I was tempted to just stay in those seats for the next concert. As in all night and all the next day. I have never ever had such great concert seats, despite spending a hell of a lot of money over the years.
Sadly though, we joined the thousands of other people attempting to get out of the Brisbane Entertainment Centre car park that night. At 11.35 pm, Lord Ricey finally dropped me back to my inner city hotel.
I smirked at myself in the lift mirrors as I headed to my room. I smirked in that screw you universe for all that lack of sleep you hand me, kinda way. Oh I was cocky about it too. For I was about to sleep like I was anaesthetised.
This was not going to be the case unfortunately. Sleep didn’t come easy. So I talked a bit of rubbish on the old Facie with an old friend.
Before I knew it, 2 am arrived and I sighed a deep breath thinking that slow relaxing breathing was all I needed.
Not so 🙁
I tossed and turned. I packed pillows around me. I even attempted laying sideway.
Nigh .. sleep was not to be found.
At 3.15 am, I looked at the time for the last time. 3.15AM PEOPLE.
I have now learnt that sleep is a fickle thing.
It seems that no matter how comfy your bed is. How quiet your room is. Dark even. OR how much darn money you spend on a hotel room, YOU WILL NOT SLEEP without your sleep associations.
My sleep association happens to be a boy. A 3 year old boy. Laying side ways across our queen size bed, his head on his Daddy’s chest. His toes up my nose.
At 6.30am that morning, an SMS arrived from a representative of ABC 612, asking me if I could come in for the Weekly Parenting Panel with Steve Austin as they had a late cancellation.
IN MY SLEEP DEPRIVED STUPOR I SAID YES.
LONG BLACK. IN MY VEINS. NOW.
I just heard you say OOOOO – OHHHHH DIDNT I?
So come on .. tell me, do you dream of a night alone in a hotel? Or do you you just know it is bloody pointless?
NEXT POST : THE DRAMAS OF THE FOLLOWING DAY. YOU MAY NEED A TENS PAD FOR THAT ONE, BECAUSE SLEEP DEPRIVATION CAN BE LIKE A DRUNKEN STUPOR FOR ME.
NB : I was given two tickets to the Keith Urban Concert in Brisbane this week by Visa Entertainment.