Eventful Week

It wasn't really, but you lot are very fickle and I do realise that I am not exactly regular these days. I am advised that my home made muesli will assist with the latter (yes, toilet humour, but more about that later), but I need a headline to help with the former. Short of coming out with

FUR SEAL CUB IN CLUBBING INCIDENT - RECREATIONAL DRUGS SUSPECTED

I need to get your attention somehow. And yes, I do apologise for using that old faithful.

So this week has been interesting. My favourite restaurant was reviewed in the SMH Good Living last week and received a very good rating of 15/20. This is fantastic and very well deserved, although for those of us who actually want to make bookings, it is crap. You will notice that I haven't mentioned the name of the restaurant - selfish reasons, I assure you. It seats about 20-25 at a squeeze. The food is fantastic, service great, it is incredibly reasonably priced, and it is a 5 minute walk from my house. Now it will be booked out 4 weeks in advance, not just 2. I am very happy for Ross, really. Great news.

I also decided this weekend that I am completely disinterested in cricket. It may have something to do with the fact that Australia cant lose a raffle let alone a game at the moment. I did derive some considerable joy when the Poms were thrashed, and still do, just to see the resigned look of inevitability on their burnt pasty faces, but I don't want to watch the game itself. It is like watching a sick horse being bludgeoned to death using a wet newspaper. Not since the Super league fiasco have I had so little interest in an Australian sport. The only thing that could help would be if the Aussie boys played a bit more often, NBA style. we just don't see enough one-sided cricket these days.

I have decided that I need to obtain the entire set of Family Guy on DVD. A magnificent example of intelligent American humour. Yes, you read that right. Check it out NOW. This message is brought to you by Blockbuster.

Back to the toilet humour. I went to the Open Air Cinema (Lady Macquarie's Chair) and saw Kenny on Friday night. Awesome evening. Not only was the crowd pretty happy, what with it being Aussie Day and all, we had a fighter jet light up the afterburner and fly right across the skyline. I don't know whether you have been, but I don't think I have ever seen a more beautiful city skyline than Sydney on a fine summer evening from Lady Macquarie's Chair. Having a fighter jet light it up is like have a fuck-off big sparkler on your birthday cake. Or something like that.

The movie itself was very funny. I didn't expect much, but it is the most quintessential Aus. movie since The Castle. Lot's of toilet gags, but tastefully done (ok, not really, but work with me here), a swag full of Aussie sayings and one liners that could only have been bettered by my recently departed lovely Grandmother, and more portaloos than you could or would want to point, er, anything at. Check it out NOW. This might really be brought to you by Blockbuster. There is a fair chance that they will read this and give me a freeby or two, isn't there? You know, the anonymous blog that gets fewer hits than the English batting line-up...

THANK YOU, THANK YOU. NO REALLY, thank YOU.

Pink Monkey's Balls

Hmm, yes, thought that might get your attention. Was at a friend's place on Saturday night for dinner, in a group of about 8. Friends did a fabo Japanese style dinner, with these awesome salmon rice ball thingies, soba, Swordfish (not entirely sure what they did to it, but I was assured that it was decidedly Japanese in style and it certainly was yummo).

Naturallement there was, er, some consumption of beer and wine, and they even cracked open some sake, which seems to work well with Japanese food (funny that), but which I can best describe as something between weak vodka and something you clean your couch with. In a good way.

What does all this have to do with the genitalia of small brightly coloured primates, I hear you ask (yes, I am even watching you right now - don't look so shocked, you know you are an exhibitionist). OK - it was late-ish in the evening, so in a spirit of sensibility (and having been on the piss for 3 of the 4 preceding nights) I decided to take myself home. I made the subtle announcement (and for once I am serious), as I knew my best chance of making a safe getaway was to make as little fuss as possible.

My friend protested, unsurprisingly as I am the life of the party, because he wanted me to try a new cocktail he had just come up with. I should point out that this friend is the mad professor of mixology (self-appointed) I mentioned in my Educational Experiences post a while back. What this in turn means is that YOU SHOULD NEVER RESPOND IN THE POSITIVE WHEN THIS PERSON WANTS YOU TO 'TRY' HIS NEW COCKTAIL. Instead I recommend volunteering for clinical trials for the newest psychic contraception treatment, it would be much safer.

Anyhoo, I inevitably say yes, so he returns shortly with something in a martini glass and refuses to disclose the contents. As I am not completely drunk yet, I of course realise that I should put it down and walk away. I don't - I drink some. It tastes like... well, let's just say I expanded my sensory experience. Seeing the look on my face, he grins ecstatically. "What is that" I manage to utter. "I call it Pink Monkey's Balls" he replies triumphantly. Confident that he doesn't actually have access to any monkeys of any colour (I never determined whether it was the monkeys or the balls that were meant to be pink, but do you really want to know either? Didn't think so), I ask what is in it.

"Is it too sweet?" He asks concerned. I agree, so he gets some fresh lime juice and squeezes it in. He then looks me in the eye and says:

"Gin [tick, I drink this a lot so we're all good so far]
Campari [Not so much, but is a legitimate cocktail ingredient, so we're still on the same page here]
Pink Grapefruit, except I didn't have any so I put in mango juice [hmmm, this at least explains the sweetness issue and the lime juice to bring it back closer to the pink grapefruit, and might even explain why the monkey has a pigmentation issue]
Absynthe [um, what the fuck]?"

He then goes on the assure me that it is real wormwood in the absynthe, but I am still trying to digest all this information, let alone the drink. If I can be of any assistance to you, dear friends, let me say this: if you are going to do absynthe, do it old skool with the sugar cube and all, cos it sucks the big one when in a cocktail.

Needless to say I didn't have an early night that night. When I saw him in the park the next day he assured me that it is much better with pink grapefruit.

Thanks - take your word for it.

Are you sure Famocide isn't legal?

That old adage that you can choose your friends but not your family has a certain, hmmm, truth about it doesn't it.

Disclaimer: I adore my family - all of them, but there are some, well, issues.

For instance, when one goes to visit one's sister, brother-in-law and nieces for a few days after Christmas, that in no way implies that it is OK to unleash 2 year olds on one at 5.30 every morning. Especially 2 year olds who ask whether one is awake while sitting on one's chest hitting one's forehead. 2 year olds who seem to have been told to seek permission to play with one's puppies (that is not a euphemism you sick bastards, I took the dogs with me) at that ungodly hour. The puppies are wide awake in the backyard after the infant tornado has snaked through the house, I don't care what she does with the puppies that early as long as they are still breathing and have no visible scars.

Problem is, said 2 year old (there is only one, despite the feeling that there was a tag team of the little buggers - there is a 6 year old, but she is waay too clever and is happy to stay in bed while someone else takes the heat) always manage to be so damn cute and excited to see you that it is tricky to stay pissed off at them for waking you up so early on your 'holiday'. So instead you just stay pissed off at the world in general, which has always worked for me.

The following set of statements, made on the 2.5 hour car trip from Canberra to Mollymook with niece, from anyone else would have led to me reliving Rainman as Tom Cruise (and in case you were wondering, I wouldn't want to be Tom Cruise even for the chance to shag Katie Holmes - actually, how quickly could I beam out of Tom's life afterwards?):

"[giggling] Loki is sitting next to me"
"[giggling] Loki is licking my hand"
"[giggling] Loki is having a sleep"
"[giggling] Loki is a good girl - she is a tiny puppy"
"[giggling] Loki is awake"...

You get the idea. Bear in mind that this was an excerpt of about 45 seconds of that trip. Imagine that commentary repeated over 2.5 hours. Mind you, the comments were often mixed around a bit, so I don't know what I am complaining about.

So when one escapes back to one's own bed, with at least a day or 2 before returning to work for catching up on things like sleeping in and drinking, why is it that you even miss the little buggers?