Men Never Make Passes
at Women Who Drink Bottomless Glasses*
While in the shitty I took the time to get some more details about the venue I mentioned the other day that was offering bottomless glasses of wine to ladies.
I got it slightly wrong- Wednesdays not Mondays.
You pay 5 bucks and then you go for broke.
It's a place called Zulu lounge on Bourke near the corner of Exhibition, just up from Mary Martin's bookshop.
Looks like a classy place... (ehrm.)
I shall be taking up residence as of next Wednesday evening.
*luckily the women drinking the bottomless glasses do not care.
Just went into town to pick up the ring Petite gave me for my birthday (I had to get it adjusted.) I put it on right away. It is so beautiful that I had to struggle not to wave it in the face of the lunchtime traffic and say "Behold the wonderous beauty of my sister's gift."
Recently I read an article where the journalist said that she never wore rings because she had ugly hands. I, too, have very plain hands- broad palms, squat little fingers ("they look like fish fingers" the Left Foot once told me) and double-jointed thumbs. Not attractive.
But I kind of like them anyway. And as I admired my new jewel adorning my index finger I thought that this lucky digit was rather like the fat kid in a ballet concert who is up on the stage wearing the tutu she's always dreamed about wearing but never thought she would.
So I don't care if my hands are ugly.
I love the ring.
And fat kids should all get a chance to wear a tutu if they want to.
A number of people at work have had the task of creating a character for an animation. It has been amusing to see the subtle, but noticeable changes that this process has wrought on the way the boy looks. Each person has somehow managed to make the character look ever so slightly like themselves. The funny thing is that they all deny it vehemently.
These are small changes, of course- slight shifts in facial arrangements or the way the head sits on the neck. It has made me realise just how much of what you look like is to do with these tiny nuances- the lift of an eyebrow, the tilt of a face.
Currently, the character is with Waigo, and I think of all the people who have worked on it, he has made it look most like himself.
He tried to deny it at first.
Me: Waigo, it looks exactly like you!
Wagio: How can it? I traced it exactly from the line drawings that were given to me. I haven't done anything like it.
Me: It's those eyebrows.
Waigo: Well, yeah, I added the eyebrows. You have to have eyebrows.
Me: And that first mouth- that is such a you expression.
Waigo:yes, I did actually have to pull that face to draw the mouth.
(we then went off on a tangent as I tried to convince him that he and Keks should have quads and call them names that start with CMY and K. I'm not entirely sure of the rationale, but Waigo ran with it, as they say.)
I am quite concerned. Two Melbourne ladies have emailed demanding to know the whereabouts of the cafe offering bottomless glasses of wine to ladies.
I'm not entirely sure that I should disclose the information.
I walked through the city last night on my way to meet friends for dinner at The Blue Train and noted all the times I would have pressed the 'blog this' button if I had one somehow attached to my person.
-the couple shoving an enormous futon mattress into their station wagon in Smith Street
-the businessman squatting down to examine the playmate of the year barbie in the window of a shop In Bourke St
-the sign on a cafe that said "bottomless glass of wine for the ladies Monday nights" (classy)
-the teenage girl playing an elaborate game of "I'm going to stalk off and you have to come after me"with her boyfriend, which back-fired terribly when he shrugged his shoulders and started walking away. This meant the girl had to do a quick about-face and go scrambling off after him, cracking her gum furiously, her movements seriously impeded by the flapping of her oversized trousers.
But of course, I have no 'blog this' button in my brain so I had to pull out a post it note from my bag and write it on that, which I guess, in someways, is just as good.
I haven't really written much today.
I've been busy...
I have gone in to Blogger a couple of times and fiddled with a couple of little bits and pieces. And I've been thinking, just not writing. I've found myself wishing that I could install a "blog this" button in my brain so I didn't have to actually type the thoughts up- it's seems that you lose so much detail in the transfer process (as happens generally when you move something from one medium to another, I guess).
Often by the time I get in to Blogger I've forgotten what it was I wanted to say. I do write things on little yellow post-it notes and stick them on my computer, but then I forget what they mean.
My current batch of post it notes lists these topics:
encyclopaedias in taxis
email last panel of strip to those who ask?
a fake and kidding pie (vegetarian suggestion by Waigo)
make a twitching eye rollover
Agnes Varga interview- link
technology as the workplace scapegoat (computer ate my homework etc)
why we bullet points are comforting
making crop circles in your backyard by hanging off the washing line
They all sound utterly fascinating but I have no idea what I intended to write about them. I think the problem is that I feel 'safe' once they are on the post it note and then I just remove them from my brain entirely.
No time to blog this morning- in a frenzy to get my Kris Kringle present organised for the work Christmas party on Friday.
Do I take these things too seriously? Would anyone else get anxious about an anonymous, under $10 present? It's reminding me of how, earlier this year when I was doing volunteer adult-literacy work I was come home feeling that I wasn't a very good volunteer. Ridiculous.
Got a letter from the Melbourne International Film Festival last night (who I also did some volunteer work for this year). It made me laugh- a letter telling me that I wouldn't be receiving a Christmas card as they had donated the card budget to Amnesty International. I think that's great, good on them, but it was rather like being told, quite formally, that I was not going to be invited to a party.
They need to embrace the e-card, then they could make the Conservation Foundation happy too.
JW wrote to me about this post, saying that he had received a similar letter from his bank. However, the letter was decoratively embossed and he felt that really, the only differences between this and an actual card was the thickness of the paper stock and the fact that the letter told him that it wasn't a card.
(yes yes This is not a card and all that.)
Ah, it amused me.
Stealth blogging I love this post by Mark- it made me laugh. I like how he describes the sensation of finding that blogs have been updated while you sleep- it does sometimes feel like an almost magical transformation. It made me think that despite the fact that the web is designed to be easily updated it is really only weblogs that change frequently.
I'm also interested to hear that Melbourne is now the hippest place in Australia. I wonder what the criteria was?
The Plan So here's the plan for the next couple of months:
1.go to Adelaide with Thieu for Christmas, coming back on New Years Eve
2.go back to work on Jan 2 to cut the promo video thingie which has to be done before the schools go back
3.get my proposal all written up and ready to be approved before...
4....I go to Cambodia for a month on Jan 25.
I think it's going to be a fairly hectic lead up to the departure date, especially as I'm really determined to get my proposal done by then. My supervisor, RB, is in town at the moment and I really should try to get a draft ready to show her.
I did sit down at my computer last night to start writing it up, but I became distracted by eating cherries. Well, not so much by the eating but by the counting of the stones afterwards to find out what kind of man I'm going to marry. The first time through I ended up with a sailor, but clearly, that is never going to work out. He'd be away most of the time and I'd be concerned about his fidelity. So I ate a few more (it's cheating to count them out before hand to fix the result, by the way) and ended up with a tailor. Hmmm. There would be good things about marrying a tailor, especiallly considering that I always have to get pants taken up , but I think I'd feel like he was judging me if I slopped around in bad clothes sometimes.
So then I ate some more cherries and ended up with a tinker. I'm not entirely sure what a tinker is but I think it's a kind of a gypsy and while the idea of travelling around in a caravan pulled by a horse certainly does have its appeal I'm just not entirely sure that its the life for me.
By this time it was 10:30 and my page still said OBJECTIVES but there were no excellent points listed below it.
Tonight, I'll work on it tonight.