Sunday, January 10, 2010


thanks to sion barry, i've now received various inquiries as to why, specifically, my mom and i did not have a good trip in wales last spring.

let me clarify: we didn't have a good trip. period.

it wasn't wales, per se, it was the whole of the united kingdom.

my mom just hates great britain. end of story. i don't know why. i don't even think SHE knows why! she just does. i love it. she hates it. that's all there is to it. no rhyme. no reason. just an instant, inexplicable, visceral reaction to the place.

now, true story . . . i did have one very bad night in cardiff during that infamous trip, which has forced me to sort of loathe the place.

here's what happened . . .

my mom had fallen asleep at like 6pm because she thinks wales is shit and there was no good reason to walk about because there was nothing really good to see (her opinion, not mine). so, at around 9pm, bored nearly to the point of insanity, i dressed up and went out for a stroll, alone.

at one point during my walk, i was standing across the street from the seaside of cardiff castle on a tiny piece of bridge overlooking what i think was millennium stadium (not sure, it was very dark and close to midnight).

then, two groups of twenty-something (about 10 and 10 each), highly inebriated boys dressed in roman outfits (no, i'm serious), loudly crooning rugby songs came walking towards me.

i stayed on the bridge, looking towards the sea, not really paying them any attention.

as the first group approached, they stopped singing their rugby tunes and started singing this little diddy, "JUMP, JUMP FAT CUNT! JUMP, JUMP FAT CUNT!" (it's all the rage in underground clubs, i hear.)

yeah, i know, right?

not even i could make this kind of shit up.

i looked around to see if i could spot the fat cunt that was apparently on the verge of committing suicide, so that i could talk her out of it, but didn't see her anywhere.

look to the left. no.
look to the right. no.
behind me. no.

OHHHHHHH, wait, the fat cunt to whom the stupid cunts were referring was ME!

but before i could muster my best go-fuck-yourself look-of-death, the boys had already passed by me.

fortunately, i was to get a second chance when the second group of twats came nearer to me and, having heard the first groups of boys singing the cool, new song, likewise joined in for a chorus.


this batch, though, was sweet enough, courteous enough to ask me if i'd like some assistance over the bridge.

i graciously declined.

yeah, you know, if there hadn't been 20 of them and just one of me, i'd have fucked some people up.

and yes, i may be fat, but 20+ years of martial arts have not gone completely to waste. and while they'd have gotten the upper hand, i, ms. banana, would have gone down in a blaze of glory.

what did i actually do, though, throughout the ordeal?


i stood there and said nothing.

then, shaking, i hailed a cab, even though i was just down the street at the hilton, and cried.

so, yeah, suffice it to say i have a bit of a sour taste in my mouth when it comes to cardiff.

BUT . . .

for the record, i love wales. and i love the welsh, save those fuckers on the bridge that night. and i love the welsh language. and i'll keep loving wales and telling people about all of the great times i've had there. because it's true. the good times i've had in wales far outweigh the bad . . . and what more can you ask?

cymru am byth and all that jazz.


Pearl said...

Aw, honey, what a bunch of shitheads you ran into. For all we know, it's some drunken punchline to a Welsh joke that everyone knows, kinda like Americans saying that everything "tastes like chicken", you know?

And for all my big words and bluster, I think I'd have done the same thing: hailed a cab and cried.


powdergirl said...

What a bunch of twats, I wish you'd had a good old American handgun on you. You know, just to wave around while you were yelling I might be fat you cunts, but you're fucking dead cause I'm crazy too.

Wouldn't it be fun to watch them shit thier pants, while they ran away? Hell we could make a song about that.

Sorry for your luck, that sucks hard.
I'll be burning the husbands rugby boots in your honor.

Lana Banana said...

pearl: i hailed a cab and cried because no-one i knew was there to witness. IF someone i'd known had been there, we'd have had us a ruckus. 'cause my brothers may be NASA engineers and my best friends may have MAs and doctorates, but we ghetto.

when i told my brother, joe, he was so sweet. he said, "i'd have killed those mother fuckers!" but i know what REALLY would've happened. we'd BOTH gotten our asses kicked and tossed over the bridge into cardiff bay.

i'm crazy, not stupid.

powder: god, i just KNEW i loved you.

i mean, i haven't ever read your blog (not 'cause i don't want to, but rather 'cause i can't. i have yet to receive my invitation to hang with the wizard of oz), but dognabbit, i like your style, woman!

i never laughed so hard . . . wait, that's not true, de campo's jockstrap on the outside of his pants was pretty hilarious . . .

Hogday said...

Poor Ms B, you encountered some of Britains `finest` and, believe me when i tell you this as a perfect stranger, I'd have given anything for you not to have experienced that, even in Wales, where men are men and sheep are worried. There is also the fact that Cardiff is a `university city`, so a higher proportion of dickheads goes with the territory.

Of course you know that we're not all like that and what you saw was probably a minority...but...with nearly 70 million of us desperados crammed into a space the size of a Las Vegas Wal-Mart, one does tend to encounter these sadfuck muppets more frequently. Thats my reasoned answer and apology on behalf of those `fellow cuntrymen`. My revenge would have been terrible to behold. Say Hi to your Mum from me :)

Pearl said...

p.s. Havwe added you to my blogroll. :-)

De Campo said...

Worry not, Powdergirl and I will hunt these vile swine down.

Before they draw their last breathes I will torture them into admitting that football is really soccer.

Anonymous said...

What a horrible experience. I hope each of them got their butts kicked for treating you that way. I don't understand what possesses people to belhave like that.

Lana Banana said...

pearl: you so made my day!!! :)

mr. de campo, sir: you sure have A LOT of ass-kicking to do. i mean, aren't you already busy beating some ass on pearl's behalf? and now my welsh dudes, too?

you sure you've got the stamina for that?

suzicate: yeah, ok, was pretty horrible at the time, BUT does make for some good blog fodder.

and as for kicking their asses, i think de campo is on it.

Cheryl said...

Wow, I sure hope De Campo's been practicing his dumbass/faux Roman hunting skills. But being dumbasses, they'll probably be really easy to catch. Dumbasses.

Lana Banana said...

hog day: mama says, "que tal, hombre? como te va?" well, no, not really. but she would . . .

would've been nice, i think, to have had you and de campo and powdergirl around . . . then again, i have a feeling the four of us would have been swimming in cardiff bay in pretty short order.

cheryl: lol. de campo doesn't need to practice those skills, he was born with them. just like he was born with the innate ability to leap tall buildings at a single bound, cook 30 minute brownies in just 6 minutes and perform the jedi mind trick using not his mind, but his nipples (so i've heard. i can neither confirm nor deny).

Hogday said...

Respeto a su madre