That “dance like nobody’s watching, … Sing like nobody’s listening” quote is a pretty sounding piece of crap advice. I’m pretty sure that’s how the Harlem Shake meme came about. Because, if anybody was watching, they probably would have told them to stop. That’s some BAAAD dancing. On Saturday night, as promised, however, I did sing like nobody was listening. The next day, I was still Livin’ On a Prayer … to make it through the day… Dead or Alive. If you’re under 18, I suggest you stop reading now in case some of the alcohol in my system has seeped from my fingers into the words on this page and is right at this moment intoxicating you by osmosis …
Paid babysitting. So much pressure. You pretty much need to start doing high-kicks the second you close your front door just to make the most of your night out. Pressure aside though, it was awesome. I MISS MY FRIENDS so much and it’s so great to hang out properly. And the Brumbies did me the big huge favour of winning against the Waratahs, to make me extra happy. After a couple of cheeky ciders at the pub, we went for Japanese in Neutral Bay, where the food is fabulous and the decor, unique.
Yum, yum, yummity-yum. I think I should become a food writer, so expressive am I. We ate sashimi, and gyoza, and ‘yummy as soybean babies’, and tempura, ‘a mouth water explosation of prawns, fish vegetable’. It was as exciting as it sounds. Truly an explosation.
There was also wine, of course. One bottle or two, or three, or four. Who can be sure? What is certain though, is that by the conclusion of the meal we were in a karaoke state of mind. The Pickled Possum was our destination. This place? It’s a Sydney institution of STRANGE. But by god it is FUN. Beers come by esky, mixers by home brand bottles lined up behind the bar due to the lack of postmix. But if you’re arriving sober and quibbly about such things, you should probably go elsewhere. It’s friendly and everyone sings along with everyone else. The guy who runs it likes to sing every second song, however, so be prepared for a wait!
I think my ‘Living on a Prayer’ went ok. There was no falling face first off the stage (because, you know, that would be predictable ;), there was fist pumping (mine), and there was even some back patting and ‘You’ll go a long way. You were great’, from some nice old dude who looked upset when I cynically came back with ‘Thank you! But yep – all the way back home to my kids.’ You can take the cynical bitch out of the girl, but… actually, nope. You can’t take the cynical bitch out anywhere, really.
At one point a couple of hot girls (I can say that can’t I? Not sure what else to call them in this context) got up on stage and dragged a practically comatose but good-looking guy up with them, and I was wondering what on earth they were going to do with him. He had those half-mast eyes and dopey dazed smile, obviously hoping he could grin his way out of any trouble because he had no idea what he was doing. Definitely in no state to sing, and in NO state for back-up dancing. The strains of Carly Simon’s ‘You’re So Vain’ started up, and they make him the focal point for their ridicule. It. Was. Hilarious. He took it with good humour – ‘who me?’
I’m modifiying the aforementioned ‘dance like nobody’ quote to include “drink like there will be children jumping on your bed at 7 the following morning, and know it will always hurt”. No regrets though. I woke refreshed in spirit, (despite being embalmed from the inside out), having spent more than 2 hours in adult company. I felt like a whole person again, without labels attached. And with bonus mystery bruises. Game on!