Big lights will inspire you.

What a difference a year makes!

Last year, I flew to San Diego to go to Blogher. The dude at the customs desk crossed out the word Blogger on my exit documents and wrote Housewife. What an asshole! But not this morning. Blogging has come of age my friends, according to Mick, the extremely chipper customs man. It is a legit occupation.

Validated by a stranger? I will take that, thank you very much.

In other news, it seems that yesterdays threats to Qantas pilots* to perform a lap dance for them in return for granting me an upgrade was taken seriously.  And now I am sitting up in the Business Class lounge with Business Class Betty drinking orange juice and feeling sorry for all these blokes in suits.  When travelling, I always find that clothing with a certain amount of stretch helps with the comfort factor. And this bloke sitting next to me is in a full corporate suit WITH A TIE ON. What is with that?

Yesterday I had a moment of complete clarity. It latest for about a minute to be honest. It came bang out of the blue. I was having a bit of a frazzled day, trying to get organised, checking things off lists and creating more work for myself by doing things such as deciding RIGHT THEN RIGHT NOW was a really good time to do an audit of all the bag fluff in all of my handbags, and the like.  I jumped in the car to go and pick up Jack from school. The sun was shining (it did not about ten minus yesterday) and the song Empire State of Mind by Alicia Keys was on the radio.

There’s nothing you can’t do,
Now you’re in New York
These streets will make you feel brand new,
Big lights will inspire you.

And that is when my muddled brains unscrambled itself until all that was left was the word INSPIRE. Sitting in my brain like the answer to a question you might ask a Magic 8 Ball.

That is what I want to get out of the next two weeks. I want to be inspired. I want to trip the shit of of this trip. 

So come along y’all! Thank you to Garnier Australia, who sponsored this non-beauty blogger to go and get inspired. Thank you from the bottom of my epidermis. The bottom layer of my epidermis in fact. The epidermis on my bottom. You know what I am trying to say. I have been up since 5am. And thank you to you Mr Woog. That tap on my butt and rustle of my hair as I got into the cab this morning was most appreciated. x

* Just a shout out to the 2 female pilots who emailed me overnight. No, I do not discriminate when it comes to gender and my lap dancing services. Every pilot should be equally horrified at the prospect.