So my friend Ass and I have decided to find each other a partner. In fact, there's a wager going on as to who will find the other a partner first. It didn't start well when she jokingly tried to construct a personals ad for me, calling me a mathematician.
For the record, the personal I would write for myself would be:
"Low maintenance, non-smoking, eco-friendly girl seeks male version for gigs, card games and adventures on foot."
ANYWAY, I don't know what it is about me or my body language that doesn't quite communicate the fact that I understand when someone is joking and often return the joke, but the return joke isn't accepted as being evidence that I understood the original joke.
So Ass has her mathematician joke.
I return with: "I'm not sure I want in on this any more, I don't think you'll accurately represent me."
A genuine protest: "I'm joking!"
Now, Ass and I have been friends for more than 12 years. In the absence of a need to have a best friend, she would be one of the closest relationships to a best friend I have. You would think by now she would know when I understand a joke and turn it back.
Is it because I played it serious? Is that the cause of confusion? But surely someone who knows me well would know my deadpan mode. Or am I really just not as well known or understood by my friends as I at first thought? Maybe I'm not such an open book.
Showing posts with label boys. Show all posts
Showing posts with label boys. Show all posts
24 March, 2009
30 March, 2008
Recovery
In Which Dr Witmol Starts With A Champagne, Argues About Nachos, Eats At Krispy Kreme, Shoots a Jager Bomb And Wakes Up In A Pool Of Giraffe Saliva.
Said goodbye to my editor who moves on to greener pastures with no hard feelings. Drank lots. Ate food that I shouldn't have. Ripped open my hand on the zipper of my boot (this was quite surprising to me at the time - all I could do was watch the blood drip onto the footpath with a strange sense of amazement).
Went to Gla's birthday/end of exams gathering at The Royal George (the downmarket version of The Ivy) and met a bunch of accounting types. Between bars we stopped at Krispy Kreme, the fount of all that's evil in the world, and vaguely remember losing my bag of cinnamon fun bun (their sugary version of an Easter bun) between the counter and the ice cream fridge. Rescued by Gla's friend, who I later repaid by destroying his cigarettes. I like to think of it as saving his life.
Bar 333 was loud so instead of yelling at each other we just had Jager bombs and started dancing. At some point, Bun Rescuer's friend took a photo of me and later asked me for my number, of which I gave him, and he asked me out yesterday so I mustn't have looked as trashed as I felt. Then five of us went to karaoke at Echo Point and then I used my last $20 to get a taxi home.
Not long after I fell asleep I had to wake up again because I'd been invited to a behind-the-scenes of the zoo (one of Skippy's friends works there) and had to walk to Neutral Bay to catch a bus. It was awesome!
Keeper does tours in the Australian mammals section so we started at the education centre patting snakes and lizards, then moved into the nocturnal section where we saw the zoo kitchen; the funniest part was seeing Keeper take out a plastic container full of frozen baby mice and then waving around a frozen rat. We fed the bilbies and the potoroos and then headed out to take a look at a koala, pat an echidna and a quokka. The quokka was especially adorable (right).
Then Keeper managed to get us into the Giraffe Encounters later in the afternoon but then had to start her shift. We had some time to wander around so saw the bird show (finally managed to see my condor in action) and then I split from the group to go and see the condor habitat and wander around on my own. Due to lack of sleep I kept finding all these areas devoid of animals and seriously slowed down quite a bit as the afternoon became drowsier.
By the time I arrived at the giraffe enclosure for my Encounter I was practically crawling up the hill. But after I handed over my ticket and fed the four of them carrots, I perked up significantly. There's nothing quite like having your hands covered in giraffe saliva to make you more alert. One of the giraffes, who I think went by the name of Safara (below), kept lolling her tongue around and slobbering everywhere. It was quite endearing.
Nothing else quite as interesting happened for the rest of the weekend (I turned off all the electricity in my apartment during Earth Hour, then promptly fell asleep in the couch) so that's where I'll leave you.
Said goodbye to my editor who moves on to greener pastures with no hard feelings. Drank lots. Ate food that I shouldn't have. Ripped open my hand on the zipper of my boot (this was quite surprising to me at the time - all I could do was watch the blood drip onto the footpath with a strange sense of amazement).
Went to Gla's birthday/end of exams gathering at The Royal George (the downmarket version of The Ivy) and met a bunch of accounting types. Between bars we stopped at Krispy Kreme, the fount of all that's evil in the world, and vaguely remember losing my bag of cinnamon fun bun (their sugary version of an Easter bun) between the counter and the ice cream fridge. Rescued by Gla's friend, who I later repaid by destroying his cigarettes. I like to think of it as saving his life.
Bar 333 was loud so instead of yelling at each other we just had Jager bombs and started dancing. At some point, Bun Rescuer's friend took a photo of me and later asked me for my number, of which I gave him, and he asked me out yesterday so I mustn't have looked as trashed as I felt. Then five of us went to karaoke at Echo Point and then I used my last $20 to get a taxi home.
Not long after I fell asleep I had to wake up again because I'd been invited to a behind-the-scenes of the zoo (one of Skippy's friends works there) and had to walk to Neutral Bay to catch a bus. It was awesome!
Keeper does tours in the Australian mammals section so we started at the education centre patting snakes and lizards, then moved into the nocturnal section where we saw the zoo kitchen; the funniest part was seeing Keeper take out a plastic container full of frozen baby mice and then waving around a frozen rat. We fed the bilbies and the potoroos and then headed out to take a look at a koala, pat an echidna and a quokka. The quokka was especially adorable (right).Then Keeper managed to get us into the Giraffe Encounters later in the afternoon but then had to start her shift. We had some time to wander around so saw the bird show (finally managed to see my condor in action) and then I split from the group to go and see the condor habitat and wander around on my own. Due to lack of sleep I kept finding all these areas devoid of animals and seriously slowed down quite a bit as the afternoon became drowsier.
By the time I arrived at the giraffe enclosure for my Encounter I was practically crawling up the hill. But after I handed over my ticket and fed the four of them carrots, I perked up significantly. There's nothing quite like having your hands covered in giraffe saliva to make you more alert. One of the giraffes, who I think went by the name of Safara (below), kept lolling her tongue around and slobbering everywhere. It was quite endearing.
Nothing else quite as interesting happened for the rest of the weekend (I turned off all the electricity in my apartment during Earth Hour, then promptly fell asleep in the couch) so that's where I'll leave you.
20 October, 2007
Into, Out of, The Blue
Well, my previous entry was all about young writers at the TINA festival. I had fun but the social side was a bit sad. I just don't think I'm cut out to hang out with avant garde wordsmiths because I'm just not cool enough.
The opposite happened last week when I went to a conference in Hobart. Not only did men outnumber women 4 to 1 (that's my guesstimate, it might have been more), most of them were quite a bit older than me so I was considered somewhat exotic.
As a result, I had an excellent time down south and, believe it or not, cannot wait for next year's conference! It also meant that I could observe my readership at close range and gather ideas for the next few issues.
The surprise element was getting to know one guy (who I've met before) on a more personal level. I shall call him Fry for reasons only known to my esoteric brain. Prior to the conference I never really appreciated Fry's work talents or social quirks and then suddenly there he was, this brand new person to whom I'd never opened my eyes.
I then spent the evening meeting with a couple of guys on the bow of the pre-dinner cruise ship, fighting the cold wind together. One was from Townsville, thus unaccustomed to the low temperature, and the other one was from Melbourne so perfectly at home with it.
Unfortunately, neither were on my table at the dinner but there was a spot of eye candy sitting across from me, very clean cut, classically handsome and beautifully dressed (I later learned he was one of the keynote speakers for the next day) - ooh caliente!
The next day I ran into Mr Melbourne at the last keynote speech and we exchanged business cards, which was more of a formality than a particular wish to see him again (on my part, anyway) as I was cut by the news that not only did Fry have a girlfriend, she was travelling with him at the conference.
However, waiting at Hobart airport, I ran into Mr Melbourne again. He seemed keen to talk to me (I should add that there were no direct flights back to Sydney; my itinerary read Hobart-Melbourne, Melbourne-Sydney) but we found out we weren't sitting anywhere near each other. I was down the back so I said he should wait until the plane loaded up because there might be seats near me.
The plane took off and then I saw him looking around for me. There was a seat next to me but it took me about five minutes to decide whether I wanted him to come up. As most people who know me personally know, I have a tendency to attract all sorts of freaks on all sorts of transport (did I ever tell you the one about the Elder and Sister of the Latter Day Saints on a plane to NZ?).
Anyway, I figured, it was only an hour's flight so I waved to him and he came up and I chatted to him for an hour. It was nice. Sure, he invited me to go skinny dipping in his front yard the next time I happened to be in Melbourne but apart from that it was all very pleasant and I actually wouldn't mind seeing him again. Too bad about the great distance between us.
Okay then, so just this week gone I spoke to Fry over the phone trying to get some info for the mag from him (a legit call, I was not trying to manufacture anything though the fact that I'm being defensive says something, doesn't it?) and I mentioned that I heard that his girlfriend was the person going around taking all the photos of everyone at the dinner and said that I thought they were just as good as the professional photos. He then said that it wasn't his girlfriend, it was his ex-girlfriend and they were just travelling together.
What am I supposed to think now? I really like him but he's technically a client and I don't know enough about him to know whether I should pursue something or just let things grow organically (or not, as it were). I have, to my misfortune, reached a point of fascination and it has all come out of the blue.
[P.S: I had a feeling that by the end of this entry I would resort to calling myself either hormonal or boy crazy but I've surprisingly been quite measured this last week, so measured, in fact, that I didn't throw myself at Felix Riebl when I went to his sustainability session. Just as well - I found out he has a girlfriend. I like Ryan, anyway.]
The opposite happened last week when I went to a conference in Hobart. Not only did men outnumber women 4 to 1 (that's my guesstimate, it might have been more), most of them were quite a bit older than me so I was considered somewhat exotic.
As a result, I had an excellent time down south and, believe it or not, cannot wait for next year's conference! It also meant that I could observe my readership at close range and gather ideas for the next few issues.
The surprise element was getting to know one guy (who I've met before) on a more personal level. I shall call him Fry for reasons only known to my esoteric brain. Prior to the conference I never really appreciated Fry's work talents or social quirks and then suddenly there he was, this brand new person to whom I'd never opened my eyes.
I then spent the evening meeting with a couple of guys on the bow of the pre-dinner cruise ship, fighting the cold wind together. One was from Townsville, thus unaccustomed to the low temperature, and the other one was from Melbourne so perfectly at home with it.
Unfortunately, neither were on my table at the dinner but there was a spot of eye candy sitting across from me, very clean cut, classically handsome and beautifully dressed (I later learned he was one of the keynote speakers for the next day) - ooh caliente!
The next day I ran into Mr Melbourne at the last keynote speech and we exchanged business cards, which was more of a formality than a particular wish to see him again (on my part, anyway) as I was cut by the news that not only did Fry have a girlfriend, she was travelling with him at the conference.
However, waiting at Hobart airport, I ran into Mr Melbourne again. He seemed keen to talk to me (I should add that there were no direct flights back to Sydney; my itinerary read Hobart-Melbourne, Melbourne-Sydney) but we found out we weren't sitting anywhere near each other. I was down the back so I said he should wait until the plane loaded up because there might be seats near me.
The plane took off and then I saw him looking around for me. There was a seat next to me but it took me about five minutes to decide whether I wanted him to come up. As most people who know me personally know, I have a tendency to attract all sorts of freaks on all sorts of transport (did I ever tell you the one about the Elder and Sister of the Latter Day Saints on a plane to NZ?).
Anyway, I figured, it was only an hour's flight so I waved to him and he came up and I chatted to him for an hour. It was nice. Sure, he invited me to go skinny dipping in his front yard the next time I happened to be in Melbourne but apart from that it was all very pleasant and I actually wouldn't mind seeing him again. Too bad about the great distance between us.
Okay then, so just this week gone I spoke to Fry over the phone trying to get some info for the mag from him (a legit call, I was not trying to manufacture anything though the fact that I'm being defensive says something, doesn't it?) and I mentioned that I heard that his girlfriend was the person going around taking all the photos of everyone at the dinner and said that I thought they were just as good as the professional photos. He then said that it wasn't his girlfriend, it was his ex-girlfriend and they were just travelling together.
What am I supposed to think now? I really like him but he's technically a client and I don't know enough about him to know whether I should pursue something or just let things grow organically (or not, as it were). I have, to my misfortune, reached a point of fascination and it has all come out of the blue.
[P.S: I had a feeling that by the end of this entry I would resort to calling myself either hormonal or boy crazy but I've surprisingly been quite measured this last week, so measured, in fact, that I didn't throw myself at Felix Riebl when I went to his sustainability session. Just as well - I found out he has a girlfriend. I like Ryan, anyway.]
03 January, 2007
Tiger
Tiger turned 20 on Monday, so he's no longer a teenager and I'm no longer subject to those ubiquitous cradle snatcher jokes. I've been thinking about him a lot lately for no particular reason, except maybe he was the last person who was happy to take me as I was. I never tried to impress him and he never tried to impress me - we accepted each other pretty much unconditionally.
Except that's not true either, because I ended it knowing that we could never grow into anything more. And then relapsed because it was too easy to be with someone who wanted to be with me. Who doesn't want to be wanted sometimes? But now it has been a while and I am still thinking of him and I haven't moved on either. Did we split for nothing, then?
Trying to resist calling him. Must be strong.
Except that's not true either, because I ended it knowing that we could never grow into anything more. And then relapsed because it was too easy to be with someone who wanted to be with me. Who doesn't want to be wanted sometimes? But now it has been a while and I am still thinking of him and I haven't moved on either. Did we split for nothing, then?
Trying to resist calling him. Must be strong.
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