I’ve been wooting it up lately. By wooting it up I mean going into Northbridge and watching people having a good time. Or joining up with some of the Perth Twitter élite; eating, drinking and being a-tweeting. Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow you may diet and all that stuff. #TapasPTUB at Harry’s Bar was a success, as was #ItsAllAboutThePieTUB (thanks @MrsMacs, @dragonflyspark & @freocookster for the #TexMex pies – scrumptious!) It’s fun having a lemon, lime & bitters while watching people get drunk. Honestly.
Coming attractions – non-Twitter related – is the Pride “Homecoming” Parade; Perth’s biggest social event. No, really. More people watch the parade than the Christmas Pageant (take that, you breeders!) Bigger than any equivalent Festival in the world, bar the Sydney Gay & Lesbian Mardi Gras. So if you’re near Perth (a relative term), come and see the real thing come and see. Saturday 31 October 2009. 20 years of solidarity for one night of freedom and one helluva party afterwards. Good luck getting tickets to the Party, Ladies and Gents and Inbetweeners. But for everyone else, make sure you get in early along the route (that’s pronounced “root” here in Australia, for my American and Canadian friends) along William Street and James Street in Northbridge.
I myself will be attending a pre-march drinks party (Champers and GnT, or rather LLBs for me) before wandering across to watch the wonder that is the Dykes on Bikes and the Perth Marching Boys doing their stuff.
In other news: spring has sprung. We had a corker of a few days maxing out near 40°C (104°F for those that are Metric challenged). The natives are in full bloom and there is a danger that manufacturers of tissue paper will make huge profits as they drive the price of their prissy boxes up to cater for the sudden load of hay fever and the subsequent flying snot. Not being a hay fever person, it amuses me to see such a preponderance of proboscises snorting and sneezing their way through the day, it makes me glad of three things. That I don’t have hay fever, I’m immunised against Influenza A Pandemic H1N1, and it won’t be long before the long, hot days and insanely hot nights are here. Well, hopefully none of the latter as the Freo Doctor should sort that out. And with that means by day the beach, and by night the beer garden of some pub – with a tasty lemon, lime and bitters – watching my mates turn into a drunken mess. Oh the fun times of being a tee-totaler.
Speaking of fun times, I thoroughly recommend couch-surfing. Honestly. It means I get to pay for not being homeless for the time being. But don’t worry, as soon as I find a suitable home, I’ll be grabbing it with both hands and making it mine. That could be some time as the Western Australian economy is popping champagne corks again and speculators run amok in the stock exchange buying up anything that can be dug up, pumped, sucked, compressed or distilled and sent in ships bigger than an intact “Exxon Valdez” to China. It’s good in a way; the Aussie Dollar is at record highs, almost at parity with the US dollar, and making every Aussie’s dream of a cheap flight to Bali a reality. The bad news is that anything that is exported, due the the crap value of the US Dollar, doesn’t make the books look that amazing. What arse-head decided that contracts for exports should be decided in US Dollars? Why should we negotiate in a nation’s currency when that nation has become a byword for sub-prime? Maybe we should do what the Chinese government has been doing for ages – devalue the currency, but in our favour! What a fiendishly fabulous plan. We would have to put off the next plan to fly to Bali to buy cheap, pirated DVDs. However in these uncertain economic times we need to tighten our belts *cough-bullshit*. Sorry, hay fever.
The good news is my footy membership renewal pack arrived yesterday. The really, really good news is that I have a chance to win a holiday in Mauritius before it disappears under the globally warmed Indian Ocean. Global warming caused mainly from all that stuff that’s been dug up, pumped, sucked, compressed or distilled being converted into trillions of tonnes of carbon dioxide gas. Still it’s good to know that I have a chance to visit the place, speak some creole of French and English, and leave with a few good memories and photos so that I can tell the children of the “whatever” generation I have proof the place existed. On second thoughts, that’s just wrong. The “whatever” generation have become so lazy “whatever” is now simply a “meh”, if one is lucky to get anything at all.