Sunday, September 17, 2006
BOOOOOOOZE FEST:
I know y'all have been hanging by, waiting for tales from my trip to Cairns last weekend. I myself am waiting to see if my liver comes back home, after I pissed it off real, real good over the weekend. He said something about "domestic abuse" and muttered the word "Jagermeister" as he slinked away, shaking his head, with a broomstick and bandana hobo suitcase over his shoulder. I'm hoping for at least a visit over Christmas so that I can indulge in the drink during my trip to the States, but I haven't even received a postcard. He's probably sitting in a bar drinking whiskey and.....OH, he better not have taken up smoking! I bet he's smoking, damnit! Enough about my poor liver and his adventures. Back to Cairns.
So I fly off of site on Thursday evening, getting to Townsville just in time to take a taxi to the pub to meet some mates for a drink. I jumped in the taxi and the driver about shit when I said, "To the Brewery, please". The cabbie was a complete hoon, ripping through the streets like he was driving in a rally...Fast and Furious in a Toyota Corolla! So I get to the pub and dump my bags right by the table and get my first drink. Ned's Red microbrew...damn fine liquid, that one. It was Scotty J, Ben, Spotty, Paula (who moved to Singapore the next day and is best mates with a female friend of mine), and me. We polished off a few drinks apiece and Paula pissed off for her hotel, as she had to fly out the next morning for her career move (hope all is going well, Paula). It was then off to a little Irish pub with live music...the one man band was tripping balls, but played a decent guitar. Pretty good vocalist as well. Add 4 more or so drinks while listening to tunes and being cracked upon by middle-aged women and some beligerent troll who was dry-humping the stage. Nobody would go near the girl, she was that ferral. She approached us and tried to have a "conversation", which consisted of her babbling something incoherently, then me responding in kind in a mix of Chinese and Klingon. I think she made something of the nothing I was blabbering, and might have gotten a bit offended because she luckily pissed off. The forty-something nurse was still rubbing up against my back at a regular interval, and I tried to ignore her as much as possible. She, too, tried to talk to us but we did not willingly oblige. So, we called it a night about 1:30 or so. We had to road-trip the next day, and we needed our beauty rest for the big weekend coming.
Friday morning, I rose at 6am....friggin' mine and my messed-up Cicadian cycle. I got a bit more rest~8am, at which time I stirred a bit and proceeded to make a bit of conversation with Scotty-J's flatmate, Emily. We had met before and I was getting an update on her mini-dramas. After Scotty stirred, we went for brekkie and then to go shopping for my race clothes, which would become a drama in and of itself.
PLAYTIME:
We stroll through Flinder's Market, heading to a joint that specialises in menswear, Playtime Menswear. I'm set on a shirt and trousers....I end up with a shirt, trousers, socks, shoes, a tie, and a belt. The look that I was going for changed from urban sheik to urban geek, then back to metro mismatch. The only piece I really like of the whole bunch is the shirt, which is stained right now from 17 hours of drinking, dancing (more later), and sunscreen....oh to have a little scrub brush and some Dawn dishwashing liquid. I will take a picture of the outfit, laid nicely on my bed at camp. There aren't any full-length pictures of the "race around crew", so I'll have to make due so that you may better understand later statements.
There was a friendly salesgirl in Playtime, who I worked to death! She was trying really hard to push some larger ticket items, and I was trying really hard to put together an outfit that would be both FABULOUS and affordable. I was deadset against a suit, as I am in this semi-permanent state of transit (I haven't been in my own room since July), and it was supposed to be a bit warm and mondo sunny. So, I go after the first piece...shirt. Any outfit can be built around a great shirt. I find it after a trial of 3....not a hard decision. Next, trousers. Light to charcoal grey, vertical pinstripe....nothing. Okay, there goes urban sheik. Ooooh, light grey plaid...hello urban geek! Not really working for me. They look more like the ones I have purchased for $5 at the Salvation Army for a fancy dress party. My charming sales girl walks up with a pair of dark charcoal (almost black) trousers with dark blue cross hatching....interesting. Slip in...comfy (but snug in the posterior-more later). Full length mirror.....not too shabby. At this point, the guys were getting impatient, and my sales girl was trying not to ignore the indecisive prick(me)in the first changing stall. Screw it, I am already mixing 2 patterns: checks and vertical stripes, I might as well go for 3. I read somewhere that you can safely pull off 3 as long as you use a bit of texture and different orientations of pattern. This is when I settle upon metro mismatch. Off to find just the right tie. Now mind you, I have a rack of ties back in Kalgoorlie that would impress most suit owners. In fact, I have about 3 ties that would work perfectly with this outfit. But, I have to pick one here, now. I finally settle on a diagonal stripe blue number...time to grab some shoes and get the hell out of there....we got some road-trippin' to do to Cairns.
The shoe selection is questionable at best. I see nothing that really screams "race day" at me. Some might argue that my shoe selection was less than spectacular. I thought people would like them.....the jury is still out, so please give me some feedback.
SWEET KICKS
So now I have made a dent in my EFTPOS card to the tune of about $450. The sales girl sucked me in with the pants, which were a whopping $160...the most expensive pair of pants I own to date....not counting the ones with my Hilfinger suit that is.....oh if I would have had my Hilfinger. Now off to find a pair of big, rude sunglasses....to the chemists! Ben opted for a pair of silver and black aviators with 100% reflective silver lenses. I went for the amber lenses and gold frames ala 1970's porn director. Now lets hit the road.
I know y'all have been hanging by, waiting for tales from my trip to Cairns last weekend. I myself am waiting to see if my liver comes back home, after I pissed it off real, real good over the weekend. He said something about "domestic abuse" and muttered the word "Jagermeister" as he slinked away, shaking his head, with a broomstick and bandana hobo suitcase over his shoulder. I'm hoping for at least a visit over Christmas so that I can indulge in the drink during my trip to the States, but I haven't even received a postcard. He's probably sitting in a bar drinking whiskey and.....OH, he better not have taken up smoking! I bet he's smoking, damnit! Enough about my poor liver and his adventures. Back to Cairns.
So I fly off of site on Thursday evening, getting to Townsville just in time to take a taxi to the pub to meet some mates for a drink. I jumped in the taxi and the driver about shit when I said, "To the Brewery, please". The cabbie was a complete hoon, ripping through the streets like he was driving in a rally...Fast and Furious in a Toyota Corolla! So I get to the pub and dump my bags right by the table and get my first drink. Ned's Red microbrew...damn fine liquid, that one. It was Scotty J, Ben, Spotty, Paula (who moved to Singapore the next day and is best mates with a female friend of mine), and me. We polished off a few drinks apiece and Paula pissed off for her hotel, as she had to fly out the next morning for her career move (hope all is going well, Paula). It was then off to a little Irish pub with live music...the one man band was tripping balls, but played a decent guitar. Pretty good vocalist as well. Add 4 more or so drinks while listening to tunes and being cracked upon by middle-aged women and some beligerent troll who was dry-humping the stage. Nobody would go near the girl, she was that ferral. She approached us and tried to have a "conversation", which consisted of her babbling something incoherently, then me responding in kind in a mix of Chinese and Klingon. I think she made something of the nothing I was blabbering, and might have gotten a bit offended because she luckily pissed off. The forty-something nurse was still rubbing up against my back at a regular interval, and I tried to ignore her as much as possible. She, too, tried to talk to us but we did not willingly oblige. So, we called it a night about 1:30 or so. We had to road-trip the next day, and we needed our beauty rest for the big weekend coming.
Friday morning, I rose at 6am....friggin' mine and my messed-up Cicadian cycle. I got a bit more rest~8am, at which time I stirred a bit and proceeded to make a bit of conversation with Scotty-J's flatmate, Emily. We had met before and I was getting an update on her mini-dramas. After Scotty stirred, we went for brekkie and then to go shopping for my race clothes, which would become a drama in and of itself.
PLAYTIME:
We stroll through Flinder's Market, heading to a joint that specialises in menswear, Playtime Menswear. I'm set on a shirt and trousers....I end up with a shirt, trousers, socks, shoes, a tie, and a belt. The look that I was going for changed from urban sheik to urban geek, then back to metro mismatch. The only piece I really like of the whole bunch is the shirt, which is stained right now from 17 hours of drinking, dancing (more later), and sunscreen....oh to have a little scrub brush and some Dawn dishwashing liquid. I will take a picture of the outfit, laid nicely on my bed at camp. There aren't any full-length pictures of the "race around crew", so I'll have to make due so that you may better understand later statements.
There was a friendly salesgirl in Playtime, who I worked to death! She was trying really hard to push some larger ticket items, and I was trying really hard to put together an outfit that would be both FABULOUS and affordable. I was deadset against a suit, as I am in this semi-permanent state of transit (I haven't been in my own room since July), and it was supposed to be a bit warm and mondo sunny. So, I go after the first piece...shirt. Any outfit can be built around a great shirt. I find it after a trial of 3....not a hard decision. Next, trousers. Light to charcoal grey, vertical pinstripe....nothing. Okay, there goes urban sheik. Ooooh, light grey plaid...hello urban geek! Not really working for me. They look more like the ones I have purchased for $5 at the Salvation Army for a fancy dress party. My charming sales girl walks up with a pair of dark charcoal (almost black) trousers with dark blue cross hatching....interesting. Slip in...comfy (but snug in the posterior-more later). Full length mirror.....not too shabby. At this point, the guys were getting impatient, and my sales girl was trying not to ignore the indecisive prick(me)in the first changing stall. Screw it, I am already mixing 2 patterns: checks and vertical stripes, I might as well go for 3. I read somewhere that you can safely pull off 3 as long as you use a bit of texture and different orientations of pattern. This is when I settle upon metro mismatch. Off to find just the right tie. Now mind you, I have a rack of ties back in Kalgoorlie that would impress most suit owners. In fact, I have about 3 ties that would work perfectly with this outfit. But, I have to pick one here, now. I finally settle on a diagonal stripe blue number...time to grab some shoes and get the hell out of there....we got some road-trippin' to do to Cairns.
The shoe selection is questionable at best. I see nothing that really screams "race day" at me. Some might argue that my shoe selection was less than spectacular. I thought people would like them.....the jury is still out, so please give me some feedback.
SWEET KICKS
So now I have made a dent in my EFTPOS card to the tune of about $450. The sales girl sucked me in with the pants, which were a whopping $160...the most expensive pair of pants I own to date....not counting the ones with my Hilfinger suit that is.....oh if I would have had my Hilfinger. Now off to find a pair of big, rude sunglasses....to the chemists! Ben opted for a pair of silver and black aviators with 100% reflective silver lenses. I went for the amber lenses and gold frames ala 1970's porn director. Now lets hit the road.
# posted by K-Fleet-13 @ 1:01 AM 
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