28th September 2002
I MADE A QUIZ!! WHHHEEE!
So go do it now, and post your results on your webpage and make me feel special. I realise the images are large, but these are GREAT WORKS OF ART and will add some much needed class to many webpages out there. I will endeavour to make my next quiz results with smaller images.
Wheee!
Which Piece of Modern Art Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla
Guestbook 26th September 2002
Later- The Ballet Trockadero de Monte Carlo is FAB.
You haven't lived until you've seen a 6ft tall, hairy chested man in a tutu do 32 fouettes on pointe.
After the show I did a flower presentation... seven bouquets and a frickin fake but heavy magnum of champagne. All resting on my blood test arm from this afternoon. It's kinda sore now. It also struck me as poetic that this time two months ago more or less I presented flowers to Darcey Bussell.
Earlier- I'm SICK! Again! That sore throat of which I have been complaining to anyone who will listen over the last few weeks is actually symptomatic of something. Who would've thought?
My left tonsil is covered in white pus, and I may have Epstein Barr Syndrome (I've always wanted a syndrome!) which would explain why I have caught everything this winter.
I got to give more blood to QML, but unfortunately I didn't get the bitter old cow whom I love this afternoon... I've had her every other time I've done the blood test thing this year and she's way cool. You could say we have a RAPPORT in fact.
It was so frickin hot this morning. Ugh ugh ugh ugh.
I have bought tickets for the Trocks on Sunday night with Anne, but it turns out I'm actually going to be seeing them tonight and Sat afternoon for work. Oh well... they are so camp backstage.
Sebastien and I are going to have A Big Talk. Damn damn damn fuck shit damn. I'm a silly boy for sending a silly email. I don't know when we are having this Big Talk but am dreading it muchly and being sick doesn't help either. GRAH.
Due to lack of guestbook signage, stay tuned for some nude photos. Serious.
Guestbook 23rd September 2002
Am feeling very content. Have been called up for jury duty, from which I plan to be excused, and reading NY Times...
EXCITEMENT PLUS- CHEST HAIR IS BACK IN FASHION!!!
Whhhhheeee!
According to the NY Times "snake hipped rent boys and dolphin-smooth himbos" are very much out and a more 'natural' body is in. This has been reinforced by the master of male style, Tom Ford of Gucci, and the new ads for Yves Saint Laurent's newest fragrance M7 which features full frontal male nudity of a guy with not only a chest, but not "cheese grater abs" either.
There's a theory that this is a response to recent world events- and that the groomed up leisure and luxury loving pretty boy has quickly been shattered and replaced by 'real' men such as firefighters, soldiers etc etc...
I dunno. But it does mean I no longer need to worry about my chest hair!
Wheeee!
But wtf is with Six Feet Under missing out on all but one Emmy? I mean honestly... and how the fuck did Everybody Loves Raymond win three acting awards? Sheesh.
NY Times Article Hirsute Guestbookery 21st September 2002
WHAT DOES A MAN HAVE TO DO TO GET SOME GUESTBOOK SIGNAGE AROUND HERE?
Probably some hits would help.
Sigh....
I mean, not only did I do the brilliant research piece on PLUSHIE-NECROPHILIA, I also did an unbearably CRAP POINTLESS PLAY.
Evidently, the LIVEJOURNAL and BLOG SNOBS can't be bothered with Tripod, because I have better things to do than tool around and constantly update LG or BLOG or join their silly little internet journalling cliques.
Whilst I'm on a bitter rant, I am SICK of people looking for "discrete" encounters. Not so much the principle, but the horrible spelling error. "Discrete" means a defined value, as opposed to "discreet" which is what they intend. Honestly. AND IT'S SPELT RAPPORT.
I did some internet quizzes, but there was nothing of any particular interest, except I found out which Mel Brooks Movie Am I (Spaceballs) and which Batman Villian Am I (The Joker). Quite frankly, I can't be fucked adding them as a picture because it's NOT AS IF ANYONE CARES.
If I don't get some Guestbook Signage soon (and Anne SO does not count) I'm going to post naked photos of myself. And trust me, you don't want to see that.
Sebastien left an odd voicemail msg on my phone. Am awaiting to find out what exactly he said. Thought you should know, NOT THAT ANYONE CARES.
Sign the damn thing! IT'S NOT THAT FRICKIN' HARD. 20th September 2002
The PLUSHOPHILIA RESEARCH PIECE is below, as part of the 19th.
A Pointless Little Play Guestbook 19th September 2002
Cooked tonight... Steamed Chicken with Rocket Sauce (BLAST OFF) follwed by Chocolate and Hazelnut Semi-Freddo. Yay me. Also posted 25 Butterfly invites with pretty logo and fancy paper. Day was oddly filled but don't really feel like I did anything of note... so...
Tonight, children, for something completely different we are going to talk about Plushies.
And, a message to tripod people, if this crosses in to that 'porn' area by all means let me know and it shall be swiftly removed.
I was first inspired to learn more about the world of Plushophilia through JSP's rather interesting post this evening- http://www.sixsixfive.com/469.html. It seems that Plushophilia is the fetish du jour, as it seems to popping up in columns all over the place.
Out of sheer boredom, and I assure there is absolutely no sexual curiousity in this at all (yer, right), I decided to roam the internet for more information on Plushophilia. And let me tell you, that there is a veritable mine of information out there! I'm not going to link any of it as I believe Tripod takes a dim view of linking to adult sites, but leave the joys of searching for yourself. If nothing else, it will leave some interesting things in your history folder for your siblings/parents/co-workers to find.
One newsgroup has a highly informative FAQ section. I discovered that not all Plushophiles are in to having sex with their plushie pals, but may just love them or 'even venerate them'. However, for those who do with to engage in sexual activity with their plushies (and it is considered insulting to the plushies to call them 'stuffed animals' or 'stuffed toys') this can consist of a rubbing action or with certain modifications, such as a SPA or a SPH (strategically placed appendage/hole). Which are somewhat too awful to contemplate.
This of course, leads on to the natural question of "How do I clean my plushie?". There is a substantial entry on this in the FAQ (the longest answer by far)... and I quote "be sure to comb the fur thoroughly right after sex, and untangle all the stuck together plush". Charming, no?
Now it's time to discuss the Plush Code. Just like gay men have their GWM, ASL, LTR etc etc terms... Plushies have their shorthand too (and why not?)... another website provides a comprehensive list...
AQU = aquatics in general
MUR = murids (mice, rats)... there are like 100 different species codes...
These can then be defined with the code F for Fursuit (when Plushies dress up aka Theme Park Characters in Costume) such as F(Mur) means "I have worn a Murid Fursuit". By putting a > in front of it, you mean that you haven't worn it yet, but would sure like to! B stands for Bedtime and can be combined with a number of things to indicate what your preferences where Plushies and Bed are concerned. Plushies can also have different adjectives such as BDSM or 'spooged' (and that one folks, can be left to your imagination). The most disturbing is Infantilized, ie a plushie dressed as a baby.
In the most comprehensive Plushie survey on the net (I imagine) it reveals that the biggest number of respondants (65) liked their plushie pictures to show Plushie/Human Sex. 1 Person was in to Plushie Necrophilia (WTF? Isn't one weird fetish enough for some people? And how can a plushie be dead? Or is the plushie having sex with a dead person?? WTF?). 52 (biggest group) respondants target the crotch area of their plushies with... well you figure it out. The most popular answer for "Would you allow pictures of you engaging in sex with your plushie on the internet?" was "yes, if I was anonymous". It appears that most Plushophiles are male.
Isn't this fun?
Some Plushophiles however take this very odd interest down a whole new offramp on the highway of weirdness by not only being attracted to their Plushies, but believing they have an animal soul. One very unintentionally entertaining gentleman has an adamant belief he has a platypus soul... and I quote...
"I'm a furry lifestyler means that deep down beneath the layers of humanity there is a core of myself and that core isn't human"
The same gentleman also has an essay devoted to "Why Perverts Are Good For the Soul", but I'm saving that one for another time.
Maybe Plushophilia is a reaction to the dramatically changin world apparently for the worse... Plushophiles retreat back to their Plushies in the sexual equivalent of running back to your mum when you're afraid of something...
I'm quite open minded with fetishes- I'm of the opinion that if it doesn't hurt anyone, everyone's consented and it's safe then go for it! But Plushophilia in its extreme form is deeply odd. But maybe I'm being prudish and backward? Perhaps we'll see a Plushophilia explosion in the fetish world like the growth of the Leather Culture (it's capitalised, so you know it's genuine) in the 70's? Perhaps Plushophilia is the Leather Scene of the 21st Century!
Eek.
The Softest, Cuddliest, Non-Spooged Guestbook Ever 18th September 2002
Later- Had a terrible and ok lesson today with Brophy. He was in a foul mood when we started, being particularly monosyllabic and then crucified my oboe quartet (admittedly it was pretty crap) in his quiet destructive way. Then there was a bit of "slow down cos you're writing crap" rant. I don't particularly hold it against him because it had to be said and to be honest I've been thinking much of the same thing recently. But still it doesn't mean I really want to hear it from someone else. It also came at a bad time when I'm feeling kind of over the whole university thing and considering in that half-serious way whether I'm doing the wrong thing. Not composing, cos I could never stop that, but maybe I need to get out of the self contained world of the Con for a bit.
Hmmm. Two weeks of holidays will hopefully give me some time to sort shit out, that is when I'm not finishing my orchestral piece for orch wkshop, working on Butterfly or doing one of my three time consuming holiday assignments.
Earlier-
The Now Obligatory Cake Rant.
I too want cake.
I've found my bit of cake. It's perfect and wonderful and everything you could want in the cake. And if I started eating this cake not only would my self esteem dramatically improve but also it would probably be quite slimming and a regular source of exercise. Yet for some reason this perfect cake is missing icing? I know it's had icing before, but it's not something I've investigated. I'm worried I may start obsessing over this cake, and then it may be eaten by someone else before I get a chance. I've never got this close to cake before and I'm so going to miss out again as the it appears that the cake did want to be eaten but is now ready to go back to the cake shop. Who thought you could find such perfect cake online?
But maybe I'm the cake for the cake, if you know what I mean. That would be uber cool, and I'd deeply like to be cake. Especially if it involved being cream filled (thank you to Anon for that lovely metaphor).
But perhaps I should just resign myself to the fact that I won't be icing for the perfect cake (hopefully I'll get to be icing ONE day) but instead just be a bit of cake on the shelf next door.In which case I'll be so blinded by the perfect cake, I'll probably be oblivious to any other cakes which come along.
Stupid cake.
Guestbook Cake. 17th September 2002
Pilgrim's Progress tonight... it was excellently performed but it's a bit of a crap opera to be honest. The Vanity Fair scene which opens Act II is a costume designer's dream... they did it as some kind of Studio 54 glamma club with lots of leather and sequins and such. My favourite was the guy shirtless in cowboy chaps, black leather hot pants underneath, a black feather boa and a white cowboy hat. I Want That Costume. As long as I could have a toy pistol. During the horrifically boring next few scenes I thought it would be fun to have a fetish party one day where everyone could dress up. Possibilities are endless. I immediately envisaged Anne as a schoolgirl with pigtails, white socks, black shoes and a short plaid skirt which amused me during the boring bits. Sarah could come as a naughty nurse. It would be fab, but would also require my friends dressing up and letting go of inhibitions pre alcohol, not one of their strong points.
Though the sight of Stuart or Andy in leather chaps and a harness is enough to reduce me to involuntary hysterics.
Claire could just come as herself.
Maybe I could bring Jedda?
Ew ew ew ew.
Had a fab fab fab production meeting this morning for Butterfly. One one had I feel energised and psyched but on the other hand it's also very very daunting and scary. Eeek.
Guestbookoloso 16th September 2002
Well fuck. Six Feet Under is over for the year. Dammit. It wasn't tooooo traumatic until the end, when Nate, knocked out for the op, had the dream about THE BUS. THE BUS which killed his father in the first episode. SHIT.
On a more serious note, I'm deeply concnerned about Iraq, thanks to the IHT this morning.
I don't know why it hadn't crossed my mind before. Iraq has the biggest oil reserves after Saudi Arabia. The US of course is not allowed to touch Iraqi oil under Saddam. Bush and Vice President Cheney come from oil families and made their millions with oil. By changing the regime in Iraq, the US can get to Iraqi Oil. Hence, oil deals made by the current Iraq with Russia, France etc will be void. Leaving a lot of oil for the US.
Oh dear.
Guestbook-a-bitchin' 15th September 2002
10:30pm- Moby has a blog! I was really impressed. It's actually really cute and even though I'm not a particularly a big Moby fan (if I hear Porcelain just one more time) I find that I am completely agreeing with him on things like Iraq and stuff... am most impressed. Go to moby.com and there's a pretty clear link.
If I wasn't a woman- I'd be a drag queen (Dolly Parton)
5:30pm- Just got home from working at Slava's Snowshow... hhmm interesting but happy I'm not working it again. The actual snowstorm, when millions upon millions of pieces of paper were pumped in to the Lyric Theatre was very very impressive, as were the gigantic inflated balls at the end. The clowns, after interval, wandered over the seating and kidnapped small children, hiding them somewhere backstage. I'm sure they'll turn up eventually. But really, there is only so much quirkiness and theatrical wizardry one can stand.
Last night was fab (and yes, it even deserved colour)... so here, for your pleasure, is the...
The Adventures of a Fag, his Hag, a Model and a Lesbian.
The evening at the Roma St Parklands for Sticky, a towering mound of sticky tape and fireworks and a girl dressed as a butterfly flying very high, suspended by a crane. There was much ooohing and aaaahing and all in all it was quite fine for a free event.
Off immediately to the Qld Art Gallery for PASIFIKA DIVAS which was pretty fanfuckintastic. There was free food, champagne, lei making for all and cross dressing Samoans. Claire, of course, knew every second person. Sebastien made many new friends, most notably the boy with the mascara in the food queue. In fact, Sebastien turned quite a few heads so it was much cool to be with him. I need more of these hot friends, methinks. However his university qualifications in structrual engineering rendered him hopeless in lei making.
Then, tally ho (wearing our lei and all) to Domino's where we took posession of one (1) pizza and returned to Anne's house for Back to Future, a movie which, to Sebastien & Anne's horrific shock, I had not seen. I can't say that my life is any richer having seen it.
Sebastien, the Gosford Park Hater, has redeemed my faith in his taste in movie by revealing that he loved Clue. How we celebrated! In fact, we celebrated loud enough to wake up Claire, who had been happily dozing. I can foresee a happy Clue night in the future.
Then we retired for the evening across various parts of Anne's furniture, and Rosie only walked over me once, which is an improvement. Whereupon Anne's family returned home early and The Adventure was over.
Until next time, compadres.
This is where I usually put the guestbook. However, Bravenet seems to be having a breakdown as I can't access my guestbook and my homepage counter seems to have gone on a holiday.
11th September 2002
I was originally not going to post tonight to avoid having to say anything about what happened a year ago. But, against all my better instincts, I switched on the freakyass documentary filmed the day by the French brothers. It's pretty intense... and fuck.
So that is my elegant, eloquent summation of Sep 11.
Oh fuck.
Hmm. Don't want to sound like everyone else who is talking about the disaster. Because I think it's all been said before. But fuck fuck fuck. (more of that famous eloquence). Those firefighters and ambos and cops were heroes.
It's still weirding me out that those buildings have just ceased to exist. I remember that suddenly striking me the following day during Impro & Movement, that the buildings which had been there for 20 years or so had just ceased to exist. Two 110 storey buildings just no longer existed. In under three hours they just ceased to exist. The fireman on the doco just said the biggest bit of office equipment he found was half a telephone keybad. Well fuck.
The other thing which freaked me out was the people jumping 100 floors. It makes me feel like hurling my guts to think that it was so desperately hopeless they chose to take their chances on a jump they couldn't possible survive.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck, and more fuck.
One photo I saw soon after but haven't seen since was the restaurant of the Hilton near the WTC... and all these half empty coffee caps and half eaten croissants and chairs pushed out at an angle. Risa told me that on the 11th, friends living in Brooklyn found office papers in their backyard.
Whatever happened to Osama? I thought he was the baddie, but evidently we now have to believe it was Saddam. Hm. Because whoever was responsible has fucked everyone over. How understating and inadequate.
Fuck.
Guestbook 8th September 2002
Am still alive. Yay! But I did get sent home at interval so I lost my 6hrs of Sunday pay. Bummer. But I did get to wear an earpiece and talk into my collar, be a door bitch and hang with the plain clothes policemen, many of whom were scary and seemed to be missing a neck. One actually complimented me, which consisted of giving me a small, sternfaced nod and telling me I was doing a good job.
Feeling kinda anticlimatic.
Guest(and it's not anticlimatic)book 7th September 2002
What a morbid post last night! I will now put exclamation marks at the end of everything to sound upbeat and perky! When in fact I was woken up this morning by a Ball phone call! And am already drowning in stage plans for the Ball! So to dispel the doom and gloom, here are some colourful quiz results by the bucketload! WHHHEEEEE! I LOVE ME!
take the non-offensive quiz.
and go to mewing.net. laura = great.
take the cher test.
and go to mewing.net. because laura isn't cher.
take the death quiz.
and go to mewing.net. laura = great.
what's your battle cry? |
mewing.net | merchandise!
 Guestbook! Whhheee! Puppies And Rainbows and Kitties! WHHHHEEEE! I LOVE ME!XXX OOO XXX! :) 6th September 2002
Ball Meeting... hmmm... somewhat nightmarish. I can see why Mum is frighteningly tense. Dear me...
So to amuse myself... A GLUT OF QUIZ RESULTS!!
And I was doing so well in my "the rest of the world is so not interested what kind of house brick you are" mentality...
11pm Just got home from work. Had an awful icky moment in the middle of Mamma Mia (as if it wasn't bad enough) about Sunday. On Sunday night, the Israel Philharmonic Orchestra are opening the Brisbane Festival at QPAC. I'm working that night and it's 6 hours on a Sunday so I'll make my fortune.
I was quite looking forward to it, due to the general weirdness of the situation thanks to the intense security. The last show of Mamma Mia was cancelled to get the building clear (well there's a plus at least) so forth so forth.
Tonight I got my security briefing, and sitting in one of Mamma Mia's more boring scenes I let my mind wander which is a dangerous, dangerous thing. And a revelation struck me: The Reason We Are Having Such Intense Security That Night Is Because There Is A Possibility We May Get Blown To Bits By A Crazy Anti-Israel Terrorist.
It's quite a sobering thought to think that by this time on Sunday night I could be buried under mounds of twisted concrete and metal.
I know the possibility of anything ACTUALLY happening is soooo tiny but what is quite disturbing is that QPAC has ALREADY received bomb threats and misc scary phone calls apparently. So at the very least we'll probably have an evacuation (and considering the cheapest tickets for this concert were $80 I wouldn't buy one cos I'd be up and down, inside outside, evacuating, watching all night).
How weird must it be to come from such a hated nation? Poor Israelis. They do have the nasty habit of starting wars with their Muslim neighbours every few years, which is hardly an endearing trait admittedly, but still all the ordinary people really don't deserve their bucket of shit. Personally, if I was omnipotent I'd scrap the Middle East and start again.
But I digress.
So I was sitting in the theatre with all these morbid thoughts about a possible (minutely possible but possible all the same) death on Sunday night. I actually broke out in a bit of a clammy, cold sweat. I'm fully aware that the risk is so, so, so tiny. And I know it all sounds silly and stupid, but that fact is I had a very real, frightening moment at work tonight. So of course, as soon as I tell anyone about it they find it fucking amusing. Not impressed with that. At all. Because obviously it's just fucking HILARIOUS that I had a moment of numbing panic and obviously my insecurities and immature, unfounded fears are just so fucking COMICAL. How silly and prudish of me not to throw my head back and laugh merrily with them. Hell, I'm basically splitting my sides already.
Of course I'll forgive these people by morning but I'm angry at the moment all the same.
So if I'm horribly killed on Sunday night, and it's highly unlikely and I'll probably come on here on Sun nite and look at this post and become highly embarassed and we'll all have a redfaced laugh about it, I want to ensure that no one, absolutely no one gets up and says "He was such a good person." Cos I don't think I am.... I'd much prefer "He was a very ordinary person who had a lot of flaws but tried very hard to be nice to everybody". That's much nicer. This is also to be used if I get hit by a bus on my way to the ball tomorrow, or have a heart attack next month or die of old age at 97. Because they're all more likely than being blown up.
I think it's the stress that made me go so irrational and weird and freaked out. The Ball is a nightmare, and I only just got onboard. How has Mum coped over these months??? Then there's the theatre piece, and I've almost given up on Fiona to actually return any of my messages about the sets (cos hell, it's only a month and a half until we open so surely we don't need any designs... why panic!) not to mention that there is still mountains to be done.
Anyway, enough irrating prattling about morbid curiousity daydreaming in the middle of stupid Mamma Mia. To the people who thought it funny, I'm angry at the moment but all will be forgotten, forgiven and never spoken of again come Saturday morning. Because repression is our friend.
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Guest(that was a disappointing online quiz)book 5th September 2002
I cooked more today (what is with this?)... Cumin Chicken and Chilli Pilaf followed by Individual Passionfruit Cheesecakes... which were fab but the chicken needed a cucumber raita I think to go with it... but I did excellent rice, for the first time ever.
Am most vexed by our Lord Mayor, the Hon (my ass) Jim Soorley. For those who don't know him, he is a lapsed leftie (and, being a moderate leftie myself I guess, I use the term here as an insult) priest who then gave up the frock to live with a woman in decadent sin (whose stepdaughter, coincidentally, I work with and is an absolute doll and I love her to bits) and became our Lord Mayor and has been so forever. Well he's gone insane. He has announced that he will not be standing for re-election and hence is doing whatever he wants because who cares, he doesn't need the electorate anymore anyhow. Just when he couldn't stoop any lower than saying that firemen were wasting their time and too busy getting muscly for calendars to do routine work (personally, if I had to be carried from a burning building I'd much prefer a firemen who is all fit and buff for a calendar than one who has been patrolling the streets... but I digress) he becomes a COMPLETE moron and builds an Anti-Bush website.
Now I hate Bush. I really do not like the man. But I do not think it is appropriate for an elected senior official to create a severe Anti-Bush website, link it off a council server (but at least it wasn't funded by ratepayers) and make the front page a montage of those Bush As A Chimpanzee photos which have been going round attached to emails forever.
I'm not even going to provide the website, lest it actually gets some traffic from my site. But if you think this is too absurb to be true, check out Page 2 of the Courier Mail today.
Whilst Soorley is of course entitled to his two cents about the whole War on Iraq thing like everyone else is (and god knows he'd have a strong opinion on it one way or another), this is just really, really blatantly inappropriate.
And ooooooh it gets better. Soorley's response to an understandably irate US Embassy? I don't have the EXACT words right but it was "Well sue me. Bush doesn't need me to look like an idiot". Everyone with half a brain thinks this anyway, but I do not like the figurehead of my city, an elected official broadcasting it to the world.
What kind of dick does this? Honestly.
Now that I've got that rather bitter digression of my chest (GRRRR)... my mother is very very very stressed to the point of not sleeping about the BBC (my old school) Centenary Ball on Sat nite. So I gallantly stepped in to help, it being Project Week and I have nothing to do and all, and I love nothing more than being able to carry a clipboard and boss people around legitimately. Especially if they're my old music teachers.
SO HURRAH! I am now managing all the BBC musicians at the Convention Centre this Saturday night, and it looks like complete chaos as not only is every single space being used in the building by various functions, THERE IS ALSO A DARREN HAYES concert on downstairs! So, mingling amongst the billions of teen poppettes, will be boys in kilts and boaters. And me, with my clipboard trying to find them to get them to P3 or the Ballroom Concourse or wherever. It shall be grand!! I have been given a timesheet, which tells me that at 7:32pm (and this is absolutely true) there shall be two pipers on stage. The choir will begin singing at 8:23pm. The headline act at 9:35pm. And so forth. I can't wait!! It does, however, involve me being awake early tomorrow to attend an 8:30am meeting (dear god). But I then get to talk some sense in to music staff and slap them around. That I'm looking forward to.
Guest(Soorley Is A Dick)book 3rd September 2002
Called in to work tonight. My problems with the incompetent manager are getting so severe that just being in the same room as him makes me angry and tense. I need to work out a way to deal with this cos he sure ain't going anywhere.
Anne came over today! And she helped me make my icecream (though technically it's a choc chip semi freddo)... it's weird but as soon as someone else comes in the kitchen I feel like a dick. But when Mum's teaching and I'm just doing dinner I seem to cope... hmmm... maybe it's time to give up illusions of being a brilliantly casual cook? This was followed by a long walk to Chelmer and exhausting poor Jedda who is still recovering.
There was something else I wanted to write about... hmmmmmm
Oh yes, it was a gorgeous day today and it's very much Spring, which seems quite sudden. It's warm enough to keep the windows open all day and such. Love it.
Guestbooyah 2nd September 2002
Well how now brown cow.
Read Aug 31 for some drunken ramblings from the NIGHT O' RIVERFIRE.
In traditional dot point essay form:
- The night began with a scenic tour of the backstreets of Bardon as we (Anne, Gherkin, Spencer, Lindsay and I) tried to navigate the Volvo up to Mt Cootha. This then led to an exotic parking adventure and the eventual finding of Andy and Cat. The voyage up the mountain was also interjected by Sebastien calling and telling me he was coming too, much to everyone's great surprise and delight.
- The setting up of picnic rugs on concrete, with an assortment of bread, Oreos, Milky Ways, soft drinks and chips (a disturbingly large amount). Soon followed one of the more memorable quotes of the evening from Andy- "My pants are wet and I didn't spill my drink..."
- Andy then crushing a chip packet down the back of my shirt. Should you have taken a bite from my back that evening you would've have found me nicely seasoned.
- The somewhat anticlimatic event of the actual fireworks (sorry, Suncorp Riverfire) which just went on and on and on and were a little too like spurts of premature ejaculation in the middle. The finale, chopping & changing the last movement of Beethoven 9, offended my music student sensibilities but was quite pretty. More excitement by the rebel set of fireworks, which I later discovered were belonging to the Jindalee State School Fete (which, by logic, could be known as the Jindalee Schoolfire).
- An exciting five car convoy adventure to a dangerous park in Bardon which provided much larrikinism for us. This convy was quite remarkable and didn't break up once!
- The McDonalds adventure. This included illicit playground use until we were asked to get off by the nice Maccas girl due to the unfortunate problem of people age passing out in the helicopter and being a real bitch to drag out. Incidentally, it is quite amusing that she assumed we were drunk at this point when none of us had had a drop to drink. Yet.
- Convoy then continued on to a bottle shop where there was purchasing and Sebastien witnessed the rare event of me fogging up a car in the Woolworths carpark. My side of the car was completely opaque with fog, whereas his side of the car was crystal clear. You could even see the division down the middle of the windscreen. Frighty. I maintain it is the doing of my warmhearted, vivacious personality.
- Much, much, much drunkeness Chez Anne. This included psycho uno, drunken canines and loud noise. Somehow, Anne's family were not woken. I have no idea how. We broke Anne's bed, several times and much, much alcohol was consumed.
- There was random yelling of Ralph Wiggum quotes at each other, and some of them I don't think he actually said but was funny anyway.
- Sebastien had an interesting theory involving doorknobs and 'doodles'. I think it's best left to your imagination however.
- Andy's seedy silhouette looking much like Sharon Osbourne and when I pointed this out to him you'd think he'd find it richly amusing and would laugh heartily. Well you would be wrong.
- To be honest, I can't remember much more of the evening due to excessive exhaustion. Two hours of sleep (with Sebastien passed out beside me- I always imagined the first time I slept with a model would be different somehow) were had until I was woken by Sebastien rolling over me (not an entirely unpleasant experience) and Anne's Demon Dog From Hell walking over my face.
In other news, I am to avoid Coronation Drive. However I have to go along it today to hand in Rossini assignment (it's Project Week so no classes! HURRAH! Last Project Week involved me sitting at home and creating this website). On Friday there was the hideous car crash with possible dead person (see August) and on Saturday there was another hideous crash involving multiple sirens, lights, ambulances, fire engines, cops, four or five cars on the footpath and a bunch of distressed people. Dear me.
It has been duly noted that last night was quite summery and warm.
Anne's Report Suncorp Guestbookfire  |
