So, I packed the children off to Nanna’s last weekend and went out for my birthday. It was a small shindig, organised a – la Corey Worthington on Facebook, where I mass spammed my friends list to meet me at my local pub, I was REALLY cool about it and specified that there was no need to RSVP or anything, to just rock up if you can.. You know.. as you do when you use Facebook, in case NO ONE RSVP’s then you don’t feel like a dick.
Luckily for me I had friends turn up, heaps of friends in fact, which is something that never fails to surprise me. I think it’s a throw back from my childhood when my parents served meals like goats cheese and spinach pizza with burghal topping for crunch factor when my friends came over, and my dad would cover the walls in canvas’s and suggest we all eat up and then make a collaborative artwork to mark the occasion..caus you know.. in his words, “ It would be gas”, before he went off to the studio to bang a drum kit or a tambourine or whatever the fuck else he did in there.
My school chums would eye each other cautiously as they took really small bites. I could never tell if it was because of the food, or because we had to eat our food at the dining table, under the watchful eye of a massive dick.
It was a huge mixed media, abstract painting, of a faceless guy dipping his massive penis in a tea cup. The teacup was made of all different coloured squares, and the handle was crudely drawn with splashes of black ink. The penis bit though, was done in oils and could have been a fucking black and white portrait for all anyone really knew such was it’s realism.
This fucking thing was so huge it was brought into our house in three pieces before the dining room doors were put on, and my parents made my friends and I eat spinach under it.
So yeah, I am STILL always genuinely chuffed when my friends gather for my social events.
My besties, my siblings, my beautiful rugby girls.
Some of these guys I have known since primary school. It’s the kind of friendship that only happens when you have known each other, since before you even knew who you were. We told tales about when we all built a massive cubby house in the bush behind our local park and then it fell down. Only now we weren’t kids anymore. We bet if we built that cubby now, it wouldn’t fall down. Well,to be honest, there were several carpenters there, so one would hope it wouldn't fall down.
The whole evening was pretty special and I felt pretty special.
My friend Twanga (not her real name) gave me this Wollondilly edition T-shirt.
Words can’t describe how much I love this shirt.
So I drank way too much, and I mixed my drinks, which I always vow I will never do again, EVERY TIME I do it.
Cabbage took the microphone off the live band, stood on the big wooden table out the front and belted his best rendition of ‘You give love, a bad name’ by Bon Jovi.
It was a classy affair.
At some stage after the band got their microphone back, we stumbled back to our house which is a convenient 5 minute walk from the establishment.
We sat on our front veranda, which, just quietly, between you and I, is actually a ramp.. But we don’t call it a ramp, we call it a veranda because “ Come and join us out on the veranda” Sounds much more appealing than, “come out and sit out on the ramp,” unless there are boats involved, which there isn’t.. So we call it a veranda.
We drank and told stories, I gave my reassurances that nothing that was said will end up on this blog..
Someone got emotional on account of the wine and got all teary at one point.. it was totally.. not me… *Shifty eyes.
Then we laughed till the sun came up, then I went to bed because it was my birthday and I am getting too old for this shit.
They are my people, and I love them.
PS- Did you see THIS?
PPS- I’m STILL blogging for 30 days with;