An artistic aftermath
A brief 'what I've been up to' entry is in order methinks!
Had a fantabulous birthday drinks affair: was graced with the presence of some wonderful people, big hugs to miss_porcelain (LOVE you girl) and suit_dude (I am unreservedly a true fan); was supported by some fine tunes spun not only by my very favourite further_ahem but another groover going by the name of Dopamine; was showered with gifts (thanks again J & D for the diary ... ‘twas really a stroke of insight and I have already started scribbling); and basically remembered why I love the people I call friends so much!
Friday night was a little bizarre. It began in a harmless enough fashion ... birthday BBQ at
further_ahem 's brother's place with the fam ... it ended in my being forced to play charades with the rel's and some people I'd just met. Now, I'm not an exhibitionist and HATE being the centre of attention, so charades is really not my deal. If I'd had a few drinks perhaps I would have been better off, but as I was the devastated driver for the evening I had to contend with performing completely sober.
Everyone had to write down two ideas and throw them in a bowl. There were two teams and your team had to guess what you were trying to portray (I'm sure you know the deal with charades). I am obviously NOT in the running for thespian of the year, for, while M's mother SUCCESSFULLY acted out: song - "Afternoon of a Sexually Aroused Gasmask" (courtesy of sniggering son M) I failed dismally at trying to do: show -"Mr Bean". I went from pointing at the blokes to pretending to eat small things and farting ... suffice to say the family thought it was hilarious and I decided I needed to escape and chug down a cigarette (which ostensibly I have quit, except when at the pub). Groan. I don't ever want to play charades again. Give me banal dinner conversation with MY family any day! At least my family works on the ‘let’s get plastered, yabber about shit and forget what we said in the morning’ approach. Works for me!
Today we were supposed to be joined by the little fella, Z, but were informed he was running a temperature, so lolled about trying to work out what to do. Most of our Saturdays are filled with doing kid-friendly stuff and I was all revved up to go to Featherdale Park (laugh if you will but the bairn would dig it!). The day was glorious, so HAD to do something.
We ended up going into the city for fish’ n ’chips by the Quay and to see the “Over My Dead Body” exhibition at the MCA … can’t think of the artist’s name now, Mona something. It wasn’t bad, not mind-blowing though. There were two installations that rocked my world… well, were above average interesting anyway. The museum meanderings were accentuated by a family of excited children with their parents who were trying to explain the meaning behind some of the works. As further_ahem noted, and I must agree, ‘Who gives a fuck what it’s supposed to mean? If it’s a good picture, or an interesting thing, that’s cool with me’. Sometimes the whole wank of ‘it represents the subjugation of the woman in an industrial society’ crap is just crap. Apologies to art buffs who like that kind of thing. Eeek?!
After, we wandered a while then headed to Oxford St to go to Ariel (bookshop), made some purchases, had a beer in the Three Weeds and came home. I currently am experiencing wondrous olfactory stimulation courtesy of a roast my boy is cooking up (and strange sounds of Kylie coming from the lounge room?!)
I am looking forward to a girl’s evening of pink champagne and Andrew Lloyd Webber … don’t ask … tomorrow night … All is good in my world!!
Had a fantabulous birthday drinks affair: was graced with the presence of some wonderful people, big hugs to miss_porcelain (LOVE you girl) and suit_dude (I am unreservedly a true fan); was supported by some fine tunes spun not only by my very favourite further_ahem but another groover going by the name of Dopamine; was showered with gifts (thanks again J & D for the diary ... ‘twas really a stroke of insight and I have already started scribbling); and basically remembered why I love the people I call friends so much!
Friday night was a little bizarre. It began in a harmless enough fashion ... birthday BBQ at
further_ahem 's brother's place with the fam ... it ended in my being forced to play charades with the rel's and some people I'd just met. Now, I'm not an exhibitionist and HATE being the centre of attention, so charades is really not my deal. If I'd had a few drinks perhaps I would have been better off, but as I was the devastated driver for the evening I had to contend with performing completely sober.
Everyone had to write down two ideas and throw them in a bowl. There were two teams and your team had to guess what you were trying to portray (I'm sure you know the deal with charades). I am obviously NOT in the running for thespian of the year, for, while M's mother SUCCESSFULLY acted out: song - "Afternoon of a Sexually Aroused Gasmask" (courtesy of sniggering son M) I failed dismally at trying to do: show -"Mr Bean". I went from pointing at the blokes to pretending to eat small things and farting ... suffice to say the family thought it was hilarious and I decided I needed to escape and chug down a cigarette (which ostensibly I have quit, except when at the pub). Groan. I don't ever want to play charades again. Give me banal dinner conversation with MY family any day! At least my family works on the ‘let’s get plastered, yabber about shit and forget what we said in the morning’ approach. Works for me!
Today we were supposed to be joined by the little fella, Z, but were informed he was running a temperature, so lolled about trying to work out what to do. Most of our Saturdays are filled with doing kid-friendly stuff and I was all revved up to go to Featherdale Park (laugh if you will but the bairn would dig it!). The day was glorious, so HAD to do something.
We ended up going into the city for fish’ n ’chips by the Quay and to see the “Over My Dead Body” exhibition at the MCA … can’t think of the artist’s name now, Mona something. It wasn’t bad, not mind-blowing though. There were two installations that rocked my world… well, were above average interesting anyway. The museum meanderings were accentuated by a family of excited children with their parents who were trying to explain the meaning behind some of the works. As further_ahem noted, and I must agree, ‘Who gives a fuck what it’s supposed to mean? If it’s a good picture, or an interesting thing, that’s cool with me’. Sometimes the whole wank of ‘it represents the subjugation of the woman in an industrial society’ crap is just crap. Apologies to art buffs who like that kind of thing. Eeek?!
After, we wandered a while then headed to Oxford St to go to Ariel (bookshop), made some purchases, had a beer in the Three Weeds and came home. I currently am experiencing wondrous olfactory stimulation courtesy of a roast my boy is cooking up (and strange sounds of Kylie coming from the lounge room?!)
I am looking forward to a girl’s evening of pink champagne and Andrew Lloyd Webber … don’t ask … tomorrow night … All is good in my world!!