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the pirate girl
coeval happenings reading: Moab is my Washpot - Stephen Fry listening to:Napalm & Silly Putty - George Carlin travelling/staying in:SA, NSW & Vic - depending when you catch me
Let's call today: 'Saturday 17 September 2005'
pirategirl
wrote in the notebook:
Honey I'm home! what's up with blogger's photos? i'm uploading the pic's from Mt Buller into an online album for the bandwidth challenged. we'll see how that goes.
So there was no skiing or toboganning for me - i didnt want to ski by myself and the staff were... well... Victorians... meaning they didnt have a very welcoming personality, if any at all. same goes for all the rich tourists. you could so tell Dad and I didnt belong. Well I could. We were personable people that brought their own food and paid by cash not credit card for even small things and thanked people that held doors open for us.
the nicest people i met were:
the girl with the braces who had only been working there for a few days and was very apologetic that she didnt know where everything was yet. dad and i liked her and told her to take her time.
the lady who checked us in - she was from regional South Australia anyway so enough said - hers was the first geniune smile I saw all that first day of travelling.
the man who pulled his two daughters along up the small slope and let them 'ski' down then collected them and did it all again, and again, and again, and again.
So the trip turned into just a rare opportunity for me to take plenty of artsy snow pics. I got some pretty good ones too if I do say so myself :)
I'm all achey cos yesterday and the day before was full of lots of walking, and yesterday I dragged Dad up to the summit. Halfway up we heard the shuttle coming and he asked if we were going to take the bus. I shouted 'I'm not takin the bus yet, I'm gonna conquer this little fucker!'
Lastnite I'm also achey cos no more than 30mins after getting home, wolfing down something to eat, changing my clothes and getting ready, I headed off with basky and basil to The Ed Castle Hotel to watch Cleo Cosmopolitan be her sexy sexy self - next week hopefully there'll be a multimedia spectacular performance by Cleo with help from yours truly - where I had my ass grabbed by a not-quite-as-freaky-as-the-last-one-there lesbian, and Basky and I were caught staring longingly at the 2 sexy sexy sexy gay boys dancing in front of us. I remember saying I wanted to sidle in and dance between them. It was like watching a Babylon scene of Queer As Folk live.
Mmmmmmmmm sexy gay cowboys dancing.....*slap*
Huh? Oh yeah.
Then to Worlds End to mingle with drunk people on a pub crawl where we met Tom the elvin boy and Bernard aka "fabio", amongst others. There was drinking and merriment and some sidelong snogging and some sort of game involving a clothes peg and Bernard's clothes/hair/nose which I couldnt follow properly but Basil seemed to excelling at, and a game of pass the shoe... yes I don't know either, I just passed it along the table as instructed.
At about 2am a girl in the group who I think was german saw me yawning and rubbing my eyes and said I was tired. I agreed and reluctantly told Basil that I needed sleep and if it was ok we should go.
We left a drunken Basky in the custody of Elvin boy and I ruffled both their hair and told them we were off. I had to wave thru the window to some others as we left and then a boy in line for a place across the road waved too and was happy and gave me a thumbs-up when I waved back: There are people more odd than I.
Back in the car Basil told me that she was really Jesus. But I knew that already. Then I dropped her home, crawled into bed, read The Pirate and The Pig that Basky gave me earlier, giggled and passed out exhausted into dreamland.
Whilst in dreamland, Basil invented a special rocket that she called a Sprocket and its steering mechanism was a joystick like those on arcade games, and it was rather Glass Elevatorish in the means that we shot up and then flew over the neighbourhood. The view was very nice. After my ride in the Sprocket I stood on the lawn with her mum while she took off again trying to tell her mum that she had invented something really good but her mum didnt really seem to realise that her daughter HAD INVENTED A ROCKET IN HER BACKYARD!
bah! parents!
Then I woke up and demand that Basil really invent the Sprocket. She somewhat relunctantly agreed.
wrote in the notebook:
