Facebook follies

My oft-mentioned friend asked me to check her facebook profile the other day, so I did. And noticed her status said “D* is thanking her lucky stars she has such an awsome boyfriend! If he was half as good as he is she would still be getting spoilt!” (* Not her real name!). Two things struck me. Firstly, that it looked like something her boyfriend would write, and secondly, that if it was, he can’t spell awEsome. But I digress.

D and I had a giggle and then she asked me to check it again.. which I did. And this time it read “D suggests her boyfriend consider investigating precisely what an ‘awsome boyfriend’ may constitute, prior to next updating her profile status for her!!!!” Which I thought was humourous, succinct and to the point.

Later, she made a further update: “D thinks her boyfriend’s definitions may well be turbid – there’s nothing in the dictionary under awesome relating to he, and she knows not of being spoilt!”. Again, I was laughing.. until she removed it completely. When I questioned her on it, she said, she had had a few messages asking somethig along the lines of “trouble in paradise?”

So people were checking her profile, or seeing her status updates, and thinking the worst? That was even funnier. It was tongue-in-cheek people! I found it all mildly amusing. But mainly because of my own experiences on facebook (mentioned in previous emails – when my loser ex decided to tell all of our mutual friends (and in doing so, me at the same time) that he was now single – when he begged me back as his friend, I politely declined).

I think there is a lesson in this for all of us, don’t you? Facebook is like a washing line, where all of your neighbours, and the world, can see.  Dirty laundry, humourous or not, get seen by all!

It’s all happening at the zoo..

… I do believe it. I do believe it’s true. (It’s a  Simon and Garfunkel song people! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NGykXOamGqE& - Azza G – check it out!). So spent a Saturday night in Sydders with the fabuloose Azza – a very good friend who never fails to amaze me with his acts of randomness.. and this weekend was no exception – but was it the fact that he was watching some farked up movie about incest, murder and other wierdness, or was it that he announced that he had purchased a year long pass to the Taronga Zoo. Only you darls. Only you.

So we traipsed to the zoo on the Sunday. The weather was amazing and Sydney turned it on! We were walking around, taking in the sights (the animals AND the harbour) and enjoying the sunshine. It was gorgeous! We also (Az made us) watched the bird show, we tried to get to the seal show (a few times – who knew it was so popular), and we rode the cable car. Was hilarious.

But most hilarious of all was the two of us, well-rested and unburdened, watching the streams of parents carrying screaming toddlers, wiping snotty-nosed children, begging their darlings to please eat what they were given instead of what they had decided they wanted and arguing with each other over who was pushing the pram/carrying the bags of necessary child-paraphenalia/buying the drinks/carrying the baby. It was kinda fun. Rock on school holidays!

Work drinks with the boys!!

Have got so many tales of adventure and mischief that I don’t even know when to start.. Here is a good place though.. After two weeks of almost solid conference calls (why do people like them so much? Personally, I just don’t get the attraction), the boys (or boizzzz) decided that we all needed a good ole’ heels up. Actually, a couple of the boys were leaving our little gang for greener pastures so they were having one of their “boys nights”. I actually don’t ever get invited to boys night. The boys are generally not from Melbourne so their wives and girlfriends are usually interstate or overseas – you can probably guess the sort of places they go to and can probably also guess why I only find out about the nights out after the fact. Anyway. A few demands to be invited out.. et voila! I got a guernsey to the night.

And we started the evening in a salubrious establishment, which let’s face it was just a restaurant and nowhere near as exciting as the place we went to next.. Kittens. And no, it wasn’t a pet store specialising in bundles of fluffy goodness. It was a strip club. And not a very nice one at that. But the boys liked it. Because apparently, in Kittens, you can actually touch. (In my opinion, in Kittens, I don’t know why you would want to.) At first, I was worried that I may have been holding the boys back, but a few beers into the night, and slowly, one by one, my beloved work colleagues, made their way into “the back room”. A dark, and dingy looking place, with bouncers minding the door, so nosey people (or me in this case) couldn’t even peek in.

One of the highlights (if we use that word loosely), was the oldest, chubbiest stripper i have ever seen, or imagined, doing a kind of gyration as she was perched on the edge of the stage. Behind her was the most athletic, acrobatic, amazingly-figured woman (whom the men deemed “too masculine”) doing splits on the roof, spinning around the pole like there was no tomorrow and other earth-defying feats. And you know who got a dance with one of my lovely boys – yup, you guessed it – the old,chubber. Well done Tom! She wasn’t even wearing a nice bikini!

But I digress. So the talk of the next day was the champagne show – wow! And a good night had by all.  Lots of fun with my boys. Big love to them all and thanks for taking this little worker bee out!