tooth soup

I am now the proud owner of a navy blue, size 11 pair of Chuck Taylor’s Hi-Tops. They are both comfortable and canvas, which proves the ancient adage that everything with attributes starting with ‘c’ is awesome. I also bought a pair of very comfortable pants from Colorado and a shirt to match (which, ohmegosh, wasn’t black) so that I could resemble someone who would actually ‘fit’ inside the Governor General’s Gardens which for some reason Louise managed to wangle free tickets to visit Australia day eve as part of some sort of weird singing and dancing Australia-themed festival…thing. On the night I rolled up all kitted out and was informed that Louise’s mates Pam and Megan were having serious second thoughts about actually going to the festival, which after a series of phone calls and messages turned out to be serious thoughts about staying home and drinking at Pam’s place.
At this point Louise and I exchanged knowing glances and decided to go to the movies instead, then head out to Fremantle for dinner (as was the original plan before the tickets cropped up). Since Louise had chosen The Producers to see a couple nights before, I had free reign to choose Underworld: Evolution as the movie of the night. This ended up being a pretty good choice, lots of action, lots of blood and lots of camera shots of Kate Beckinsale’s arse. In leather. It was almost embarassing the amount of crop shots they managed to squeeze in there, and the token sex-under-stress scene was a bit too long for what it was. But watching hybrid werewolf demons ripping off the jaws of other justplainwerewolves was fun and certainly left me pondering a few of the tenures of the life that we hold so dear. For example, what would happen if you had to choose between becoming a vampire or becoming a werewolf? Or maybe the dilemma that I know we’ve all faced of having to rebuild your body after being impaled three times by the son of the grand master immortal from which the lifespring of unending life is passed? There’s important issues there underneath all the blood and gore.
So we finished that and headed into Freo to see if we could grab a bite to eat. Initially we sort of wandered down the cafe strip but nothing caught our fancy so we decided to head off and try and find a place on the shore (Joe’s Fish Shack, etc). This ended up with us getting lost on a jetty where a remarkable amount of other people were also present, maybe a secret cult of worshippers to the Holy Armament of the Iron Fish. It’s a thought.
A three-point turn and confessions of getting lost in Fremantle a lot strumming from vocal cords, we headed off on a different approach, but ended up on a vector that would eventually lead us back to Perth had we continued. Fortunately the Left Bank Hotel was situated right along this path, so we decided to have dinner there, with assurances from Louise that had we asked Pam she would have said to go there (Pam being the Freo resident). Unfortunately they had stopped serving dinner about ten minutes earlier. The barmaid suggested we go back to the cafe strip so we did that but had a quick stop at the shore-side restaurants first to see if they were still serving but they had closed their doors as well. So, last chance for redemption lay in the doors of the cafe strip which – true to its name – only has cafes. No dinners being served past nine sorry guys. So, two hours of walking later, we still hadn’t had anything to eat (I hadn’t eaten anything that entire day) so the only thing left to do was to go to Pam’s and eat all her cheese. So we did. Pam was an ever gracious host, made even more so for the fact that she was about to go to bed when we called over to see what was happening. We literally did eat all her cheese, before heading back to my house (Louise’s gait a little more wobbly) to crash.

At this point I’d like to mention the fact that I am tired, but multiple persons have bugged me rather pointedly to update, so I shall continue.

The following day was inhabited by Aussie day celebrations. I dropped off Louise at her place in the morning before comepletely failing to receive a call from Pete to bring the shirts that Cian sent over to Andrew’s place, where I was headed for a BBQ and general chit-chat. It was good to get together and have a yarn over some meat and good old potato salad with what was essentially the old ‘krew’. From there it was back over to Louise’s for an evening barbeque. I now know the Manning Road route to her place so well that I’ve started nicknaming some of the potholes – Ol’ Shakey for example about halfway between the Curtin turnoff and the next set of lights, you’ll know which one I’m talking about when your molars meet your eyeballs. The evening was pretty pleasant, I got ridiculously drunk and followed through on my warning that when I’m in that I get hug-ey and accent-ey. We played Circle of Death well into the night and apart from a few hiccoughs, it went well. Pamela and I had D&M’s over at Megan’s place and I learned a lot more about Linda and her course over in Melbourne (enough to know that yes, the chemistry department here is teaching us the right stuff but yes, they are being pricks about it) so all up it was a pretty good night.

Enough event recollection, how am I you ask? Well I suppose everything’s going fairly well. Actually fuck ‘suppose’ – I know everything’s going good. I’m feeling more confident in my everyday life, not afraid to do things like ask attendants where things are in a store (yes, I used to be anxious over this). My job is, I realised, not really that bad and I have a beautiful girlfriend who makes me smile. Yeap, I’m on a pretty good run at the moment and I’m not afraid to say it.

…and I have a pair of fucking high tops, damnit!
Phill

style="text-decoration:none;" color="#ffffff">if I have to sin to see you again then I’m gunna lie, lie, lie

No related posts.