Woke up early-ish. Well. ‘Twas 10:30am before I got as far as putting my feet on my bedroom floor. Had a brilliant night out the night before. Truly brilliant. Even if the band at PMF was truly crap. They were. There was so much tinsel and sparkly bits on the stage it was hard to tell if they were performing or just glittering for the hell of it. I suspect quite strongly that the sparkles were to distract from the fact that they were talentless drones. Not even the drummer appeared to be enjoying himself.
Stayed out a bit later than I should have.
Note to self – when the band stops, the show is over and when the show is over that’s when you go home.
Apparently I need to read my ‘notes to self’.
So yes, hauled backside with some difficulty from bed to kitchen. Coffee. Toast. Got dressed and packed my bag for ‘parking’. My version of parking? To go and find a park and read and write and listen to music and daydream and draw for a few hours. If a bit under the weather at the weekend, I find that exercise helps, as does sunshine and fresh air.
Couldn’t be arsed going all that way to Wendy’s park so found one a bit nearer my house. Rang Susan to ‘debrief’ and had a giggle when she told me that she’d managed to take a photograph of an ex-boyfriend she still has feelings for, and had accidentally made it in to wallpaper on her PC and could not seem to get rid of it. What a metaphor.
Returned book (unread) to Library. Tried to have a squiz at a couple of pages whilst walking to the Library. Um, another note to self. Don’t try to walk and read at the same time across uneven ground.
Felt a bit annoyed that I hadn’t managed to actually read the book at all – especially as it had been recommended to me by another writer and all. The couple of pages I saw before nearly breaking my own ankle were really good. But, on the upside, if had have broken my own ankle, at least I would have had a book to read whilst I waited in A&E.
Wandered a bit further down the hill. Had a beer in a quiet shady (as in in the shade from the sunlight – not the other sort of shady) pub and saw the same guy who has been giving me weird looks the last few times I’ve seen him. He just stares and it’s just a little bit creepy, but I try not to sit facing him, and am quite determined not to make eye contact. He’d tried to sit with me a couple of weeks ago – but I thought that I was fairly direct (yet gentle) and said ‘she’s right mate, sort of doing my own thing here’ and he went away immediately.
Still he stares. Guess I can’t stop him – but at least I can discourage him from talking to me.
Had quite a nice text message relay with a friend of mine that in the end lifted my spirits even more and couldn’t really concentrate on the reading that I had planned to do much beyond the current issue of Time Magazine.
Oh, and the brief-interview thingy in the Good Weekend. Laughed out loud at the comment the interviewee made about the last belly-laugh he’d had – which was when his son said he didn’t feel like going to preschool today because he was feeling a bit ‘fragile’.
Then realised I’d just laughed uproariously on my lonesome, and must be giving everyone else there the impression that am a complete nutbag (impression?) and decided that I should toddle off very shortly.
And anyway, was late for friends birthday drinks – and would be even later if I didn’t really get a wiggle on.
Remembered to go home via supermarket and even without my list remembered everything I needed.
Got home to meet the landlord coming through the gate. Told him about the leaking toilet. Said he’d be up in a minute to fix it.
Stupidly figured I’d have time to throw my sweaty self in the shower before that happened. But, timing being what it is in my world, had only just undressed and hopped under the shower when I heard him calling out ‘Hello? Hello?’.
By the way, in case you’re wondering – he’s an absolute sweetheart of a landlord. Not the creepy hang around the keyhole kind, but will do anything to keep his tenants happy.
Buggeration.
Had to get dressed – still wet – and let him in. Then he went downstairs to get his toolbox, and spent another twenty minutes fixing it. Still, at least the thing is fixed now.
One of my pet hates is lateness – I get really stressed when I run late, so you can imagine by now I’m starting to stress that my friend thinks I’m not coming as I’m by now a full fifteen minutes late.
Then I’m late, and as I’ve been parking I’m a little dreamy and have forgotten to do the mental wardrobe shuffle and pick something to wear so that I wouldn’t’ have that hassle when I got home.
First thing I try on – nope – gives the appearance I’m about 2mths from giving birth. Second. Again, nope. Just isn’t working for me today. Try to decide what to wear as its Cocktails at 4pm – do you go with casual dressed down or halfway between that and a little bit of glamour (bright colours)? Decide to go with the half-way thing. Which is a dressy top, jeans, and black slides.
(In my book it’s half way at least).
This is about spot on just in case we decide to continue on anywhere after cocktails.
Had the loveliest chat during drinks I’ve had in ages. First time I’d properly met friends of friend. They are all lovely people, funny, relaxed, down to earth and what I’d class as real.
By the time we were ready to move our party onwards, my sides were aching from laughing so much. It’s awesome when conversation between a bigger group of people just flows so naturally from the outset.
Personally pretty pleased with my witty response when P asked me how long I’d had that – pointing at my leg – I said – What? My leg? Since I was born? God was generous that day – he even gave me two whole ones all to myself.
Actually P meant my tattoo. Then he asked me where I’d gotten it – have only just remembered ‘In Denial’ in Glebe Point Road. First person who hasn’t asked me what it means. Those in the know know that if not immediately obvious – then it’s probably personal and relevant to the person who has it. Besides, didn’t want to bring down the tone of the evening by revealing why I’d gotten it.
Well, thing is, I think I’m funny – but in all honestly am probably not – have heard the comment once before that something I’d said was about as funny as a fart in an elevator.
Bit mystified whether they meant ‘your pun is BAD’ or ‘you really really aren’t funny, and thinking that you are is a bigger mistake-a to make-a’ or ‘you are funny, but your timing is way off’.
Which is a similar response I got one day when trying to retell the barramundi joke* at work. Not a soul even cracked the tiniest smile. I think that’s a good litmus test personally.
*Barramundi joke:
Man walks in to a fish shop with a fish under his arm and asks the guy behind the counter if they sell fish cakes. Man behind counter says yes they do. Man with fish under his arm says that’s great cause it’s his birthday today.
I guess you can see why no one laughed huh?
So naturally we proceed to the PMF. Stopping along the way to admire very expensive wine glasses in a window display. One of which was priced at more than $120. Which is a fair bit for a wine glass. Still, I reckon that would be a good way to gauge if something was worth getting really mad over. As in, am I angry enough over this to actually smash a $120 wine glass? No? Okay, not mad any more. Yes? Smash wine glass. $120 worth of crankiness out of the way.
Sit inside – being the only smoker (and two amongst us have recently given up) decide it is only fair that we sit inside, rather than in the beer garden.
I sneak out for one about twenty minutes later and am joined by P who has very politely snuck one from my bag. Not that I mind. But I would rather not encourage a recent quitter to keep going. I prefer encouraging co-workers to start – the looks of horror and disgust I get are actually amusing. As if *I* would try and get others to join my team!
We talk about everything, from friends we’ve recently written off, to wardrobes (organising not malfunction), shoes (of course), bad hairdressing moments and what the throat-slitting haka was all about.
Out of the corner of my little eye I spy a band setting up. Excellent. I’d forgotten there was a band on at PMF on Saturday nights as well.
Soon the others decide it's time to be on their way - and friend whose birthday it is we're celebrating decide to stay on and dance the night away for a while at least.
Band is brilliant. Covers band, but they play all of my favourite covers. Each band member is brilliant. No tinsel. Always a plus. Very little equipment too - which is something I found to be a bit different. Very small mixing desk, but it made no difference at all to the quality of their performance.
I absolutely love dancing to live music - I don't care if I look like a dag (I'm convinced I resemble a whacked-out windmill anyway), and I care even less that my taste in music is well, more than a little old school - mainly. I enjoy it, and a good night of dancing helps me get all of the kinks out of my system - apparently a night of dancing is equivalent to a weeks worth of gym workouts. Except doesn't make the slightest bit of difference if you're drinking alchohol at the same time.
**to be continued**
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