Dr. who?

No, not him. But another superstar to pre-teens I missed out on growing up with (because I was busy reciting Communist propaganda poems and watching Taiwanese soap operas): Dr. Seuss. I'm not familiar with the exact pre-requisites for superstardom and all, but if years after you sign out someone still bothers to slap your words together with song and dance, and someone else is prepared to fork out the price of a respectable-verging-on-extravagant meal to behold the first-mentioned someone's concoction - then as far as I'm concerned you've made it.

My prior near-perfect ignorance of the guy's life and work notwithstanding, I enjoyed Seussical! as much as any 23yo could, I suppose. But I probably enjoyed hanging out with N, her schoolmate H, and hubby's littlest sister C (Am I allowed to use 'sister-in-law'?) - more. The fact that they're all of that tender age when candy = currency, silly = cool, and any bogus explanation of the plot (to cover up my lack of Seuss know-how) is accepted with enthusiasm minus suspicion - is entirely to blame for my popularity among this demographic.

But what does it say about the current pace of my intellectual advancement, that a major source of nourishment is events attended predominantly by pre-teens? (In my defence on this particular occasion, however, and however unconvincingly: I only went to support / take advantage of hubby's gradual infiltration into the 'musical theatre crowd'.) Not much, obviously. And whatever it does say just goes over my head anyway - my ever shrinking head.

local motion

Well thank fudge that hideous last post no longer tops this page.

Hey kids, momma's back, and we goin' jerk this thang back to life. But Egypt can wait; trash can't. So...

When I agreed to go with xs_nrg (formerly AGE, which I'm scrapping because ... I can) to see "this Kylie [Minogue] impersonator" at the Court, I wasn't expecting much - a drag queen, a few dancers on the Court's regular staff. It turned out to be fabuloso:

• the only drag queens attending were in the audience
• "Kylie" actually looked and sounded like Kylie - maybe a cross between Kylie and one of them blonde chicks from Hi5
• the wardrobe was a decent imitation of the real deal, and even though the gusts messed the feathered headresses about, the multi-directional Marilyn Monroe effect on the rest of the ensemble somehow made up for it
• oh the dancers: I'll be your red blooded woman any day (unless "Kylie" snaps me up first)
• you know you've gone beyond being Fag Hag royalty and started tapping into the Collective Queer Consciousness when even the "obvious" lesbians are dancing/singing along, so care- and angst-free

Like, is it even humanly possible to not like Kylie. xs-nrg, having just seen her in concert, commented that "Kylie" tonight looked more Kylie than Kylie did at the concert (presumably alluding to her health issues). *sighs* Anyway, "Kylie" will be back on NY Eve on the big stage in Nthbridge - check it out if you're around!

Other notable events since arriving in Perth:

Wed

• Pharm end-of-year BBQ at Beaton Park. Said goodbye to my favourite admin ladies *sobs* they were good to me. Brought N, whom the Stalker tried to establish a rapport with... fuckwit. *death glare*
• Took N the hell outta there, onto KP's playground for a bit, easing ourselves back into Sisterly Mode.
• Folks took us to dinner at their fave Chn eatery - this tiny crowded uncomfortable place complete with sticky tables, chipped cutlery, and impolite staff; i.e. the best kinda Chn to be had in Perth! Ahh bless our fishhead-loving souls.

Thu

• Lab end-of-year lunch at Galileo in Shenton Park. Overpriced food and self-imposed drinking ban made for a less than satisfying meal, but the company was worth it. When I leaned in to give the Hard-Boiled Egg a kiss/hug combo greeting, in my cleavage-revealing black top, (neither the greeting nor the cleavage having ever been inflicted upon anyone inside the lab,) I think he had a panic/heart attack; as did PH my supervisor/boss sitting next to him and witnessing the anomaly. Secret Santa (Danish style?) took place. I drew a set of frickin' gift bags. Oh the mocking symbolism: I get the Gift of Giving. *rolls eyes* And as the rose wine went down, so did the filters, and nobody did a terribly stunning job of promoting Careers in Research to the newcomers.
• At times aforementioned top (and other similar attire) make me feel guiltily unfeminist and disconcertingly heterosexual. Because bit-of-alright guys (like the dude selling seafood from a van parked near uni) might say "Are you Thai?" / "Gotta love a powerful woman who loves seafood." / ... ; and I can't help but enjoy the banter whilst grossing out on the inside.

Fri

• Late afternoon BBQ with Lotus and Liis at Coode St jetty. The stunning summer riverside daylight-saved evening triggered "Perth moments" left right and centre. If home is where the heart is, I've been thoroughly Perthified. Brief discussion went on about travelling and/or buying property together in the immediate future. As if I haven't enough on my plate right now. Adulthood blows.

Sat

• Special K had us (Mulan, the Doc, their school friend C) over for lunch. We'll be neighbours soon. It was comforting to know that there'll be at least one place of refuge in unforeseen events :p
• ...

Merry Christmas loves. Next up will probably be yet another alarmist melodramatic rant about how much shit has hit the fan - from which I shall try to refrain until after the festive season.

in between nightmares

I kissed someone last night. It was nice. Except I can't remember whether it really happened or was only a dream. I can't. She was there, and then she wasn't. It was that kind of a night. It's that kind of a relationship. Doesn't matter. If it happens again I'll be more ... alert.

And then I was helping a friend put on her bra. She was hospitalised (before, not after) and couldn't do it herself, so it wasn't like that. But that had to be a dream because next thing, I was picking out a new bra for her at the shops. Now I can't speak for everyone of my disposition, but mentally gauging a friend's cup size is not something I do a lot of while conscious.

What's my brain trying to tell me? Buggered if I know.

Meanwhile, I can't believe that there are still members of the Inner Posse unfamiliar with my marital status. Have I not bragged enough about my sweet caring fabulous husband? Obviously not.

Steaked out with him last night in lieu of slightly belated b'day celebrations. Also there were his HB, brother, housemate the Beautiful Chocolate Man, BCM's gf, and DJ Goddess. I'm getting the hang of this being-the-only-non-Mormon-at-a-social-gathering thing. All part of the package I signed on for, you could say.

Out of the blue he said, in front of everyone, I'll stay home with the kids so she can go out there and make lotsa money. Shocking. I'm not ready for that kind of commitment.

Also ran into someone I'm always-wanting-to-see-until-after-5min-in-her-company. Yes I have issues. <= which sentence is omitted from the end of most of my paragraphs purely to avoid repetition and clutter.

After scamming an extra complimentary b'day mud-cake and all getting lei'ed, we wandered about Nthbridge a bit. A few streets, mainly the Azn-intensive ones, were closed off to traffic for some kind of festival ostensibly dedicated to gymnasts acrobats cheerleaders flame-spitters whip-crackers underage-pole-dancers. It was great! The crowd consisted of:

• confused dispossessed Azns;
• folks normally too scared to come to Nthbridge on a w'end night;
• grumpy grr-stupid-street-closure-we-had-to-walk-5min-in-our-heels-and-non-clothing clubbers; and
• tourists (under which category we fell on this occasion, what with our leis and the boys doggy-backing each other [get your mind outta the gutter, not the other kinda doggy-backing] to see the pole dancers).

weekend again

And I haven't earned it.

My scarce movements this week:

N got her ears pierced on Wednesday. An autonomous decision met with little maternal resistance. I, on the other hand, experienced some distress. Thankfully procedure was by-the-book, no nasty reactions so far. But it wasn't just that - before we know it she'll be asking for a car (or worse, a motorcycle) and her bf to stay over (or worse, her gf). Woah talk about a bad case of vicarious growing pains.

Wednesday night: Indian-themed cook-up at the Albanyan's shared house. She and I have most heartily welcomed each other back into our respective lives. We're so good together (not in an exchanging-bodily-fluids kinda way!) it's a crime to stay apart. Couple of her housemates joined us for the feast in their backyard. A quinessential Australian experience, save for the stimulating conversation. *dodges assaults by the patriots among you*

My thriving match-making career: Bro and HM2, Suga and Foxxy. Not bad huh. All beautiful people who deserve TLC. *breaks into song (what about me, it isn't fair, ...)* - jk!

Hit the shops yesterday morning, to gather bits for a present, which entailed considerable wandering around. Now not just any occasion could force me to confront - let alone so extensively - my great, permanent and indiscriminate loathing of shopping complexes. *wink*

good Good Friday

Despite:
- getting 5 hours' sleep over two days
- doing the boys' washing
- straining to keep mum away from my homo-ies
- nursing a thoroughly wasted Yes

Thursday night a very wound-up Suga Babe came over for a drink, which turned into yet another deep-and-meaningful about the 'complexity of being Asian and gay'. We are very much enjoying each other's company. This surprised me initially because it seemed that apart from the Asianness and the gayness, we couldn't be more different. Turns out that was only my lousy first-impression-forming faculty playing up.

She ended up crashing in my bed (while I took to the sofa, mind you). Her alarm went off at 5.30am (then at 6, 6.30, 7) - the woman never rests! So the D&M continued with us snuggling up on the sofa. At one point she insisted that I examine closely her perfect legs - the woman is Narcissus-reincarnate! Albeit consciously so, which I suppose is a bit less bad not to mention funnier.

Later in the morning, after much pleasure-free contact with men's underwear (see above), I went to see Yes. A rare treat, given that she works 40+ hrs/wk at the Sunflower, on top of full-time uni and traveling by public transport. Breaks my heart.

A wander in KP and a pizza on the curb later, I took Yes home as a surprise for N who, as you know, is thrifty with her affection but makes quite an exception for Yes. For the rest of the afternoon I happily delegated all sisterly duties and played in the kitchen instead.

Dinner was DIY Vietnamese ricepaper rolls. Major success. I invited Bro, in an effort to dispel (or fuel? oh who cares...) the highly elaborate affair between him and me which mother has extrapolated with her mighty imagination. 'Twas as big an Easter gathering as our home has ever seen, with the boys practising their obscenities-around-the-world at one end of the table, N flitting around making rolls for mum and herself, and Bro Yes and I doing our best to be cryptic with uncompromising vulgarity.

After the feed things started to go downhill. Yes passed around the champers she brought. Bro implored me to sing for/with him while he worked his self-taught-virtuoso magic over the keyboard. Unfortunately, my sheet music collection consisted largely of pitiful lamentations of loves unrequited and/or lost. Suffice it to say that some among us gave in to thinking about precisely the wrong things/people. Before long Bro was belting it out with moist eyes while Yes crouched silently in a corner sipping on a red (fast drinker, that one). I did my best to reassure C (19yo friend-of-an-old-friend, visiting from next street up) that not everyone grows up to be a loon like those two, washed up, made dessert, etc., whilst inside I too was going a bit lala. Mine is a seriously disturbed family.

As mum and N prepared to retire for the night, HM2 (Husband Material No. 2; for Bro will forever be No. 1) was summoned to the after-party. [An aside: how incestuous must I appear to the unsuspecting browser-by, all this talk of 'me and my Bro'.] Even though he and Bro would probably bid premature farewell on the path-to-coupledom, I couldn't help but request that they behave themselves in my room - into which mum tends to wander at will - and felt like an enormous prude for doing so. Later HM2, the sweetheart that he was, was given the third degree by my re-emerged mother. Bless him.

That's all folks. The only bits omitted are the hurling and cleaning and nursing which you'll agree are best left that way.