The mob appears to be getting restless in the comments, so I shall oblige. Australia Day weekend, always a winner:
-Friday I went to a big BBQ at a friend’s house in Cheltenham (1.5 hours to get there, 2.5 hours to get back, hey ho). We feasted on snags, pork ribs, swordfish, a plethora of salads and champagne. My mate’s partner rang from Iraq (we talked, he listened, as he’s not allowed to say much about what he’s doing), which was exciting.
-When I came home I discovered my housemate had brought home this adorable ball o’ madness:
-Saturday up bright and early for my olde lady beauty treatment in South Melbourne. Rang A-Zee for hijinks, who joined me for brekker, then off to Brighton to see the truly crapulous Marie Antoinette. What the??! One of the most fascinating and bloodthirsty periods of French history reduced to frocks, shoes and ironic 80s soundtracks. Even the font was crappy. Boo says hiss.
-Afterwards we went for a stroll around Church St, all the while getting the strong feeling we were about to be lynched by outraged Bayside people for a) wearing trackie dacks b) not having ironed hair or c) not walking ridiculously large or small dogs with diamante studded collars.
-After bailing up a young fellow at the fine food store with our tales of woe, we consented to be talked into buying fine wine, fine cheese and some very fine crackers.
-This we consumed in front of How To Get Ahead in Advertising, a film about a man with a writer’s block who grows an evil capitalist boil on the side of his neck, who grows into Richard E. Grant with a dodgy moustache. Bizarre and hilarious.
-As we had not had quite enough of the lovely man (who I might add here as a point of reference has once touched my arm), we switched on Withnail and I, a film that has the side effect of making the viewer want to drink heavily, despite the vomiting, hangovers and general treachery that occurs throughout.
-Ho for the bottle shop!
-Ho for Antique bar in Elsternwick! Events become a bit hazy after this, but we eventually dragged ourselves away from the various seedy characters within and stumbled home about 3.
-Sunday, in bed all day with ickle kitty.
You can see her tiny toeses here. This cat is so small, that I picked up her, a book and a pencil in one hand.
In this one she has an aura. It is blue.
I like this one because she looks like a striking cobra. Her teeth are so puny it feels like tickling.
And here she proudly wears the dust on her head that she found under my bed.
Puss hasn’t got a name yet – we keep throwing ideas around, but my housemate’s suggestions of ‘Xena’ and ‘Butch’ seem tiredly predictable for lassies of a certain persuasion. Other ideas include ‘Yellow’ (huh?), Esmerelda (pfft), ‘Sooty’ and ‘Blackie’. Yawn. Any ideas out there for this spawn of Satan? I’m quite sold on ‘Beastie’ at the moment.