Weekend shenanigans!
m0rgasm once again outdid herself with amazing documentative photos of our weekend together. Click here.
My parents were away for the weekend, and if it weren't for Morgan picking me up at 3pm on Saturday I most likely would have spent the next 48 hours sinking into the couch and watching an innumerable number of TV shows and daytime films.
Like a super hero, Morgan pulled up in her midget mobile, and I hopped in. I was the damsel in distress hopping onto a mighty steed to escape the villain otherwise known as LISTLESSNESS.
We drove around in circles for a while, not knowing where to go or what to do. Then, in a moment of vanity, I typed Hannah st into the Navigator, and we were on our way!
Hannah st was dissapointingly short, but unexpectedly immaculate and endearing. Inhabitants of my street, it seems, enjoy geometrically shaped shrubbery, and small miniature trees. The street was lined mostly with 70s kitsch-esque homes; the only signs of commercial business were an old plumbers yard at the end of the street, and a large sign displaying three business names next to one another, "PLUMBING, REFRIDGERATORS & LIFESTYLE REHAB" - really, all one needs in life, a place to go to the toilet, a place to retrieve food for your gullet, and a rehabilitation center where you can ask all those important philosophical questions about life and try to better yourself as a human being.
After leaving my mark on MY street. We were off once more. Morgan decided we would visit the giant grave yard known as Necropolis. She wanted to see if she could find the grave of her great, great grandfather. When we arrived I saw that 'giant graveyard' did not do the actual size of the place any justice. It was a city - a city of the dead! (Cue some mysterious, ghostly music here).
After a long time spent scrummaging through wirey, wild weeds, and stumbling past mounds of grave dirt and unexpected grave stones, Morgan gave up on trying to find the resting place of James Henry Williams. So we decided to nosey around other strangers' graves. The most interesting graves to spy on were the Greek and Macedonian Orthodox graves, as they feature photos of those buried, as well as small glass boxes which act like little windows into the persons' personality. The small boxes would be filled with material objects that the person would have enjoyed when living. For example, many boxes for the men's graves held glasses of whisky or bottles of beer. We found one woman's grave which accurately alluded to the fact that she loved her pets more than anything else. Her glass box had pictures of her cats, and her grave-head photograph showed her holding a bird.
After sufficiently acquainting ourselves with the citizens of the Necropolis city, we hopped back into the midget mobile and headed back to mine. I took my dogs for a walk and Morgan surfed the internet to find an interesting place to eat dinner at. We both came to the conclusion that we'd like nothing more than to eat tacky RSL food. So we went to the Petersham RSL. For some reason, as I walked into the RSL club I felt bizarrely anxious. Perhaps because I stood out like a sore thumb around the sports fanatics and aged veterans. Morgan and I tried to contain our giggle fits as we tip toed around the pokie machines drinking our pink lemonades. We ate dinners doused in gravy and steamed vegetables (steamed beyond the threshold of taste and logic), whilst listening to the night's 'entertainment'; two women singing lyrics off of books against elevator-like background music. We enjoyed watching an elderly couple dance, and began to feel sad over the loss of proper dance forms.
After the keno game ended (marked by a grumpy old lady exclaiming, "Fucking shit game of keno"), we tried to claw some chocolate bars at the pick-up machine, whilst a man came along and tried his own luck at trying to pick-up on us. But we have no time for mindless chatter with RSL members, we had much more important things to do!
Like watching Pay TV at my place! We watched lots of tv, and surfed lots of internets. Alex came home and at about 3am we all decided we wanted to do some silly prank phone calls like during the good old days. We failed at our prank calls, because no one picks up their phones at 3am in the morning. We did manage to have a successful conversation with one particularly funny man, and he seemed to enjoy talking to use for a good 20 minutes. We talked about how difficult it was being big girls who weighed 180 kilograms, he believed us.
Then, at 3:30am, we called up a talk-show on late night radio. We waited in a phone queue as other insomniacs (mostly elderly people) called up Frank (radio guy) to talk about issues like: the Israeli/Palestinian conflict, or Ned Kelly being likened to Robin Hood. When it was my turn I talked to Frank about tourism and it's detrimental effect on the mystery and beauty of the world. I sounded like a grumpy 80 year old. Then, I passed the phone onto Alex, who talked about being on the news twice. Once when he was caught in a flash flood in Cairns, and the second time, more recently, when he was attacked by a crocodile! All in all, it was way fun. If you can't sleep one night, I highly reccommend talking on the radio. You feel somewhat constructive!
4am = much needed sleep.
Sunday afternoon, after waking, I bought some orange juice and fruit loops, and plunged some coffee. We all munched happily at our breakfasts.
Morgan and I then bought some chocolate cake mix, smarties, chocolate chips and other things necessary for cake making. I had heard you could bake a cake in a rice cooker. We mixed up the batter and poured it into the rice cooker. It failed; the cooker refused to cook the entire cake! We transferred the uncooked batter to an actual cake tin and baked it. But the rice cooker had baked some of it, so we ate those bits. They were so moist and pudding like. It was amazing. If only the cooker had baked the entire batter like that!
We iced the cake as a 5 year old would. And decorated with generous sprinkles and patterned smartie and fruit loop arrangements. It was beautiful-ugly, if you know what I mean.
THE END.
What a fun weekend!
My parents were away for the weekend, and if it weren't for Morgan picking me up at 3pm on Saturday I most likely would have spent the next 48 hours sinking into the couch and watching an innumerable number of TV shows and daytime films.
Like a super hero, Morgan pulled up in her midget mobile, and I hopped in. I was the damsel in distress hopping onto a mighty steed to escape the villain otherwise known as LISTLESSNESS.
We drove around in circles for a while, not knowing where to go or what to do. Then, in a moment of vanity, I typed Hannah st into the Navigator, and we were on our way!
Hannah st was dissapointingly short, but unexpectedly immaculate and endearing. Inhabitants of my street, it seems, enjoy geometrically shaped shrubbery, and small miniature trees. The street was lined mostly with 70s kitsch-esque homes; the only signs of commercial business were an old plumbers yard at the end of the street, and a large sign displaying three business names next to one another, "PLUMBING, REFRIDGERATORS & LIFESTYLE REHAB" - really, all one needs in life, a place to go to the toilet, a place to retrieve food for your gullet, and a rehabilitation center where you can ask all those important philosophical questions about life and try to better yourself as a human being.
After leaving my mark on MY street. We were off once more. Morgan decided we would visit the giant grave yard known as Necropolis. She wanted to see if she could find the grave of her great, great grandfather. When we arrived I saw that 'giant graveyard' did not do the actual size of the place any justice. It was a city - a city of the dead! (Cue some mysterious, ghostly music here).
After a long time spent scrummaging through wirey, wild weeds, and stumbling past mounds of grave dirt and unexpected grave stones, Morgan gave up on trying to find the resting place of James Henry Williams. So we decided to nosey around other strangers' graves. The most interesting graves to spy on were the Greek and Macedonian Orthodox graves, as they feature photos of those buried, as well as small glass boxes which act like little windows into the persons' personality. The small boxes would be filled with material objects that the person would have enjoyed when living. For example, many boxes for the men's graves held glasses of whisky or bottles of beer. We found one woman's grave which accurately alluded to the fact that she loved her pets more than anything else. Her glass box had pictures of her cats, and her grave-head photograph showed her holding a bird.
After sufficiently acquainting ourselves with the citizens of the Necropolis city, we hopped back into the midget mobile and headed back to mine. I took my dogs for a walk and Morgan surfed the internet to find an interesting place to eat dinner at. We both came to the conclusion that we'd like nothing more than to eat tacky RSL food. So we went to the Petersham RSL. For some reason, as I walked into the RSL club I felt bizarrely anxious. Perhaps because I stood out like a sore thumb around the sports fanatics and aged veterans. Morgan and I tried to contain our giggle fits as we tip toed around the pokie machines drinking our pink lemonades. We ate dinners doused in gravy and steamed vegetables (steamed beyond the threshold of taste and logic), whilst listening to the night's 'entertainment'; two women singing lyrics off of books against elevator-like background music. We enjoyed watching an elderly couple dance, and began to feel sad over the loss of proper dance forms.
After the keno game ended (marked by a grumpy old lady exclaiming, "Fucking shit game of keno"), we tried to claw some chocolate bars at the pick-up machine, whilst a man came along and tried his own luck at trying to pick-up on us. But we have no time for mindless chatter with RSL members, we had much more important things to do!
Like watching Pay TV at my place! We watched lots of tv, and surfed lots of internets. Alex came home and at about 3am we all decided we wanted to do some silly prank phone calls like during the good old days. We failed at our prank calls, because no one picks up their phones at 3am in the morning. We did manage to have a successful conversation with one particularly funny man, and he seemed to enjoy talking to use for a good 20 minutes. We talked about how difficult it was being big girls who weighed 180 kilograms, he believed us.
Then, at 3:30am, we called up a talk-show on late night radio. We waited in a phone queue as other insomniacs (mostly elderly people) called up Frank (radio guy) to talk about issues like: the Israeli/Palestinian conflict, or Ned Kelly being likened to Robin Hood. When it was my turn I talked to Frank about tourism and it's detrimental effect on the mystery and beauty of the world. I sounded like a grumpy 80 year old. Then, I passed the phone onto Alex, who talked about being on the news twice. Once when he was caught in a flash flood in Cairns, and the second time, more recently, when he was attacked by a crocodile! All in all, it was way fun. If you can't sleep one night, I highly reccommend talking on the radio. You feel somewhat constructive!
4am = much needed sleep.
Sunday afternoon, after waking, I bought some orange juice and fruit loops, and plunged some coffee. We all munched happily at our breakfasts.
Morgan and I then bought some chocolate cake mix, smarties, chocolate chips and other things necessary for cake making. I had heard you could bake a cake in a rice cooker. We mixed up the batter and poured it into the rice cooker. It failed; the cooker refused to cook the entire cake! We transferred the uncooked batter to an actual cake tin and baked it. But the rice cooker had baked some of it, so we ate those bits. They were so moist and pudding like. It was amazing. If only the cooker had baked the entire batter like that!
We iced the cake as a 5 year old would. And decorated with generous sprinkles and patterned smartie and fruit loop arrangements. It was beautiful-ugly, if you know what I mean.
THE END.
What a fun weekend!