Me Talk Pretty One Day, Pt. VIII*

The only thing better than making a bizarre but inexplicably funny comment is making it to someone who appreciates the nonsense, and then adds to it. I plan to marry the Lieutenant.

MelWuv

• You have kittens in your underpants. I checked while you were sleeping on Friday.

the Lieutenant

• I don't know how, as I didn't have any on... Now I come to think of it, I don't even own any! The previous owner must have left both his underpants and kittens.

MelWuv

• Does it hurt you to lie to your future wife and mother of your unborn children so callously? You do so have underpants! And kittens. Damnit, YOU HAVE KITTENS IN YOUR UNDERPANTS! You know it, I know it, deal.

At this pt, I thought I had bested him. BUT NO! (This response pretty much clarifies why I'm going to marry him. If he's interested. And stuff...)

the Lieutenant

• Callous, me? Hardly. I am a friend to all kittens everywhere, as long as they don't come within 10 yards of me, or within a mile of the underpants I don't have.
  Too much white wine, I suspect, and you spotted my pet mongoose hiding in a tea cosy.

MelWuv

• That's well nigh impossible - after a pitched but silent battle, I bested your mongoose, and trapped him under a laundry basket. If you've done any washing since Friday, you'll probably be aware of this.
  
  Ricky-Ticky-Tarvy my ass.

the Lieutenant

• That would explain the hole in the floor under the laundry basket. And the kittens on his breath. Damn, well, it's my fault for forgetting to feed him. I guess he dug for freedom, tough little feller he was. You're a better man than I am, Gungha Din...
  

I'm so in love rite now.



* A nod to David Sedaris - he comes up with the genius, I merely steal and degrade it.

I'm Surprised

Apparently, while EVERYONE I KNOW has an electric kettle - and I do mean EVERYONE: seriously, have a think about who you know who has a kitchen/bedsit/room in a share house who DOESN'T have access to a kettle? Is it a long list? No, I thought not - they are not universal. Indeed, Americans seem quite blown away by them, as they're a rarity in kitchens there.

I so just figured out what I'm getting the Obamas for Christmas.

ROAD TRIP - South of the Border, Pt. IIIb

I'm In Love With a Strict Machine... And Magic Tricks

Nothing sets the tone for a Girls' Nite Out like said Girls getting ready together. Not only is the knowledge of the Sexy and How to Look It! exponentially increased, it's bloody good fun. It's like dress-ups, but with a chance of pulling. Ah, lisptick, crass hand gestures and GummiBears - good for the soul.

I feel pretty, oh so pretty! And cSophie looks amazingly, completely beautiful in this picture. Mel has pretty friends - yay!

Nothing makes you feel girlier than a cocktail in a cool glass with a smick garnish - drink with relish and bangles jangling!

Sofie - more delicious than the drink she's holding

Fellas, fellas, listen up: pick up lines are usually thinner than supermodels. Pick up magic tricks are even more retarded. You know who you are; don't do it again.

Trams are magic - they can take you from the pub to Hungry Jack's. AWESOME!

Madame Brussels (Bourke St, up the far end - pack your walking shoes) is charmingly, beautifully strange. Described as having borrowed its decor from Carroll's Alice In Wonderland, the turfed indoor areas, boater'ed and Henly-jacket'ed waiters and smashing cityscapes make it an irridescent drinking locale. The cocktails jugs and stunning stemware add to the slightly removed-from-normal ambience - truly, we'd fallen thru the looking glass.

Sofie makes friends easily. Her usual charm is magnified when said friends are Ukrainian and so communication occurs in a gorgeous Cyrillic/Slavic/English melange. When I start to understand the Russian exchanges, it's time to knock the cocktails on the head.

And then, back to reality. Having finished beeing trendy, finger-on-the-pulse, style-setters-who-drink-cocktails, we ended up at The Barrow (? I question the accuracy of my narrative recount). Live music! Dancing! WE'RE SUCH GOOD DANCERS!

The state of us! And we thought we were gorgeous

Canberra men must be rubbish. In Melbourne, we made many many friends, enjoyed many many drinks, and cheered like absolute loons when Sofie scored herself a hot date. WAY TO GO, BABES!

Now we play 'Strict Machine', and watch the magic happen...

Let me re-iterate the hotness - our new friends were so keen to continue being friendly that we were pursued (in a charming, holiday romance way) back to St Kilda. No names, no court martials, but someone who wasn't Sofie-with-an-'f' or myself even got her mack on. I was not surprised - my friends are very beautiful - just gratified that Melbourne fellas seem far more able to recognise these truths, and are quite ridey to boot.

So, so refreshed

A big THANK YOU! to the gentleman I met in St Kilda at the end of my evening. Having refreshed myself to the point of being dangerous in traffic, Cam (?) helped cSophie to get me home safely. He is a true gentleman - chivalrous, generous, and strong enough to carry me home.

Mille merci!

ROAD TRIP - South of the Border, Pt. IIIa

Oh my God! Michael Jackson's Dead! Oh my God! You're Wearing a Snuggie!

cSophie is tremendously funny in a Snuggie. Hot as, of course, but funny.

It's funny because it's so gay. But have you noticed that she still looks fab? Grrr.

No one really cares that Michael Jackson's dead. Sorry, Mike. Except for Mr Creepy Empathetic on the tram. I'll give you a tragic end to a tragic life.

This tribute was up in LESS THAN 24 HOURS. What is wrong with you ppl? Get a life!

The dumplings are so good, they're worth re-visiting. If this place had accommodation, I would never leave.

Vic Markets: cSophie makes friends there. Otherwise, they're the same as every other markets out there. But with cool sunnies.

Sofie's a pretty, pretty lady.

Some buskers are beautiful, to a point where I don't actually care what, if any, performing skills they actually have. He is the father of my future children - please do not refer to him as that guy!

Mel likey. Inna da pants.

cSophie does the BEST EVER sneeze chains. They're something epic, and provide such amusement for the rest of us. Next time you see her, ask for a demo - it's so worth it.

Shopping quests are magnificent, especially when they come to pleasing fruition! I am now the proud owner of dark blue heels. These are to be my Graduation shoes - if there's a Graduation Ceremony to be had in the next 3 years, these shoes'll be coming out. Damn straight.

We love cake. Cakey cake cake. We also enjoy window shopping in pedestrian-friendly streets. Hello Ackland St, St Kilda! Just FYI, St Kilda's a pretty awesome place to stay - it's wander-accessible :) The beach, however, is Not All That.

Inevitable heart failure never looked so appealling.

Nanna-naps kick arse.

My Seniors' Card Is In The Mail

In high school and my late teens, I drank to save face and keep up with the cool kids.

These days, if I stay on the mineral water, I'm revered as that all-too-rare beast: the Designated Driver.

I'd Trust You As Far As I Could Throw You... And I Have VERY Girly Arms

The Lovely Dave - the man's a modern day philosopher. He makes me think about THINGS, ppl. As in THINGS at a higher lvl of abstraction than, How shall I style my hair today? Shall I have yoghurt or a piece of fruit for afternoon tea? I wonder what the kittens would like in bonnets? (Just FYI, the answer to the last question is, hiLARious). But, focus, he asked the question, what are the reasons to distrust someone? (Find the genius in its original form here).

And I thought about it. Hard.

This was a tricky one - oftentimes, I find that a feeling of distrust towards an individual segues seamlessly into a feeling of loathing towards the b*gger. So I tried to trace it back, and find where such loathing comes from.

I've decided that there's nothing that makes me more, Oh hello, remind me not leave my children/pets/ANYTHING with or near you, than someone attempting to excuse bad behaviour on bullsh*t grounds.

Being drunk is a brilliant reason for singing 'American Pie' and laughing at your socks. It is not a coverall for adultery, cruelty or vomiting on someone else's bed. If you choose to do these things, man the f*ck up. Say, I am an ars*hole, I did the wrong thing. Do not give me, I was too drunk to now be held accountable for my actions. If this is the actual truth, it's time for the AA 12-Step.

And don't ever, every think it's okay say hideous, cruel things because you're 'just being honest'. You're just being a dickhead. But you're lying about being a dickhead, which makes it even worse. You're a liar-y liar d*ckhead. In Hell, LAWYERS will get preferential treatment to you.

I guess what I distrust is a failure to man up. I also hate it in a way that, should you push it too far with me, they will never find your body. Just sayin'.