Friday, March 6, 2009

Loren: Twisting my head to look back

Here is what happened on Saturday...

Miss Flawless (my housemate now.) and I decided to check out the Reggae Festival that was being held somewhere around Brunswick. Yeah, I know. The thought of me brushing shoulders with rasta farrians with colorful beanies and smelly dreadlocks is....well, hard to imagine. But hey, I figured I might as well get an eyeful before setting my prejudices and snobbery into stone. 

The two of us were going to spend the day together, alone, as Brother Dick and SIL were preparing Lackey's house and car for his return on sunday. Of course I mentally/emotionally braced myself. But here I am, despite Tilly's protests, trying to be a 'better person' by learning to get along with people who twang merrily on my nerves. 

Typically me, I didn't know what to wear to a reggae festival. Flowery, frilly stuff were out of the picture, but I'd be damned if I sacrifice my heels. In the end I wore my Milk fed denim overalls (though they are far from ordinary overalls), over my yellow/white striped semi frilled Zara blouse, grey striped socks, blue Chloe oxford heels and (hahahaha) a blue knitted baker boy cap twisted askew on my head. I don't think I have ever looked quite so punk? rock? street? Yes. Street. (I can hear Tilly's peals of laughter here.)

Anyway, at 5 p.m (she woke up late) we took the only tram outside our place to Brunswick street, foolishly banking on our directional senses to lead us to the festival, neatly forgetting that I don't really have any directional sense.  6 pm. at Brunswick street, we window shopped our way down the street, pressing our noses against the glasses to ooh and aah at the many things in the closed stores (Melb stores close early.) and still did not see/hear any Reggae Festival activities. I don't know what she expected to see, but I kind of expected my nose to follow the familiar smell of *cough* weed *cough* to the festivals. Sorry, stereotyping here.

Famished, we tried to enter Bimbo's, which is one of my favourite places to nosh at, popular for their cheap, individually sized pizzas and flavour infused vodkas. However, it was too noisy for Miss Flawless, so at my reassurance that we could always return to Bimbos another day, we decided to eat somewhere else. 

Oh, a funny thing happened when we were standing outside Bimbos. This French sounding man (creepy looking, sorry to disappoint) came up behind us, apparently he had been chasing us down the street, and asked us if we were Japanese. Despite finding out that we were both Singaporeans, he proceeded to wave a dodgy looking business card in front of us, and chatter on about how he is one of the photographers for the japanese street style magazie Fruits (which does exists, fyi) and how he wanted to take our photographs. Or help us make a modelling portfolio. I slid a look at Miss Flawless, who seemed to be leaning on my answer, and politely refused him. 

Don't groan at me here.

Hello. Being a person who hates having her photo taken by friends, you think I would have a complete stranger take my photo? Especially one that seems suspicious? 

When Miss Flawless and I walked away, discussing it, we both agreed that saying no was the right thing to do although, she did ask me if she had said yes, would I have agreed as well? I laughed, and said no, although I would accompany her to make sure he didn't do anything weird. I think she wanted to have her photo taken....which is only normal. Except that it, um, kind of felt that the man was after my photo, and not hers. She even said so. Okay, I hate to say that, but ok. Vain moment over.

We ate at another one of my favourite places, Joe's Garage, great for their shoe string fries. After our lunch/dinner, we folowed the waitress's direction, and ended up travelling out of Brunswick and towards the direction of home. It was getting dark then, and with the sense of self-reservation, we got off the tram at some random stop. Unfortunately, it turned out that the stop in the middle of no where, smelled like pee and fart. 

Its in situations like these, where you get a sense of what the person is like as a companion. Naturally, I found our continuous 'getting lost' streak hilarious, and laughed at the hopelessness at it all, and thankfully (and somewhat surprisingly) Miss Flawless was able to laugh at it as well. (I say that its surprising, because she has shown an incredibly capacity to complain about everything in life. Even the stuff that doesn't involve her.) We started playing the game of "It Could be Worse", which didn't last very long, because we were already lost, in a dark place, that stank, and we had a limited amount of money, and I didn't bring my phone.

We took the tram back towards the city, planning to take another tram from there, and after a phonecall from Patrick (one of Miss Flawless's friends whom I have gotten to know on a few occasions), we found out that if we had continued on the tram we had been on, we would have been able to get to the reggae festival. We looked at each other, horrified, then laughed. By then it was two hours before the festival closed (11 p.m), so we decided to just catch a movie in the city.

After a few minor incidents, we went to Crown Casino to catch Zach and Miri make a Porno, which was all right. When the movie finished (12 a.m.), we found out that coincidentally, Patrick and co. were in Crown Casino as well. I was remarking to her about how it seemed like anything we planned to do/get/eat/see that day was foiled, and wondering what the cosmos was steering us towards. I predicted something evil awaiting us, and she predicted something evil would have befallen us if our original plans had stuck.

Not hard to see who is the optimist and who is the pessimist here.

We met the guys in the club Fusion, and Miss Flawless proceeded to drink pretty fast. Her alcohol tolerance is pretty high, judging from the number of alcohol bottles belonging to her at home. It was amusing to note how she was worried that I would get drunk, considering that the only time we went drinking together was on her birthday, and she got wasted off her ass and all I got was high. I know that my alcohol tolerance has gone down since I stopped drinking/eating regularly, but I am sober enough to know when to stop drinking shots.

We danced the night away till 5 a.m., and since I wasn't in the company of people whose opinion matters, I danced without care. Which was fun. Miss Flawless (semi-accusingly) told me that I can dance pretty well, which made me laugh because I tend to embarrass the people I dance with. Some stuff happened. Like a really nice guy bought drinks for me and the others, a couple of guys tried to hit on me to which I just said, "Thank you." before scooting off, my butt got smacked and I figured out that I hate drinking cheapass alcohol.

Then we went to get supper at Chinatown. We assumed that we get the NightRider bus, but unfortunately as the day continued to thwart our plans, we found out that we missed the last bus at 5.30 a.m. At six a.m., there were no trams, or trains. The guys offered to wait with us, but we shooed them off because they had a girl with them (a neighbour). We sat around waiting for the next tram, which was an hour and a half away when Miss Flawless remembered that the trains ran earlier than trams. We trekked over to the train station....only to find out that we had to wait at least two hours for the trains to run. I burst out into hopeless giggles, and she opted for taking a taxi, just hoping that the taxi driver wouldn't get lost on the way.

So, that's how, at 7 a.m, I reached home after a night out. Its been ages, since I have been out the whole night...but it was pretty fun. Memorable, even.

Okay, I know that this entry is long, draggy, pointless, and a lot of stuff is "You have to be there to get it", but give me a break. I haven't been writing for a while...need to stretch my brain before getting into the good stuff. 

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