Tuesday, 18 April 2006

D is for deluded

Hippity hoppity non sequitur risers. Well, that’s it for Peter Cottontail, H.C. buns, the cross and the rock, sounds like a good blockbuster, eh, and chocolate eggs for 2006.

So did you have a good time, yeah? Orright!! hit high hat cymbal. Ahem, sorry some residual inanity from last Tuesday. Now where was I? Ah yes, me, natch, will adopt more sober and usual decorous tone.

True to plan my Easter was a relatively quiet break, well that is when I wasn’t stilettoed, spaghetti strapped and feathered and stompin' to the Gees Gees at Royal Randwick Raceourse to frolic and stumble with the other Easter Carnival hippodrome “Princesses”, swill Bacardi breezers and be blown about in the wind; rubbing shoulders with those who want to be, sexy but intellectual crowd, arent they, the Sydney social set, at Sydney’s hot night spots such as Ruby Rabbit, in keeping with the Easter theme; or catching troubadour about town, Russell Crowe at the Royal Easter Show(e).

Yes, so apart from mixing with the fashioniste and the wannabes, and hurling myself at the feet of the papparazzi and Russ, a relatively quiet time was had. Finished one book, ditched the second, characters and story just too odious and stomach churning, and recommenced the third.

Still when you live in a "sexed up " metropolis such as Sydney, transformed from bustling country town to world class international city in 15 years, you can never completely rest now can you.

Why even stepping out to the 24/711 for a litre of milk and a newspaper is fraught with anxiety for a gel about town like me. You just never know when the Street Style photographer for the Sunday papers' social pages will suddenly appear and take a random photo of your goodself, forcing you to pose uncomfortably on the steps of the shops or in the street's gutter, capturing the awkward "photo look" suffusing your face, as you vainly suck in your cheeks and frantically itemise the origin of every article of clothing that you are sporting.

So like i said departing from one's digs for the triflest of errands can be a nervewracking experience as one fusses with one's ensemble in paranoiac anticipation of encounter with Street Photographer. So today i'm sporting feathers from Paddy's "flea" markets, a frock from Supre, Bonds control pant, shoes by Clarks and these earrings, why i picked them up in Paris, yeah from a gutter in the 20th arrondissement. Chic boho eclectica or what.


boy said...

Any particular reason why you chose not to itemise the paisley headband and toe rings?

tom said...

Today's inspirational word verification is sobch.

The girl, recently arrived in Paris from the Ukrain, learns that her internet boyfriend is a nasty pimp.
"Lyle you sobch" she sobches, dropping the gift earings neatly into the gutter.

Mistress Bel said...

Oh you are a tsnepe, i mean caution!