The house that didn't care, post John Candy's bithday.

Let's get you up to date.
Yesterday, my oldest friend tattooed me in the Nicholson building and then we went to an exhibition at Don't Come with me wrapped in glad wrap.
We had drinks at Match.
I went home and wrote.

At around 11:
"Hi, my name is ****. You want a shot of tequila?"
"No, I'm writing."
"Oh, do you live here?"

2am...still writing.
[insert the drunken stampede of heavy heels and sneakers that can no longer sneak]
"Bye ****!"
[Door closes...door opens...five minutes later, the door opens again.]

7am
I walk to the market,but of course it isn't open. It is horsie day.
I go home and exercise till 9:30
Shower
Potter around, replying to emails...

10am
Nek rises and makes coffee. I am wrapped in a towel, and he has a grin from ear to ear. Lute comes out of his room wearing only blue boxers.

Nek: I totally caught you eating a Lamb kebab last night!
Me: Is that why the door kept opening at 2am?
Lute: It is the only time where my kebab craving has been premeditated. At one, I decided, Yep, I am ending this night on a kebab. And I would have gotten away with it if you didn't need condoms.

All: hahahahahha

Lute: Actually, in your words, after coming to my door wrapped only in a white sheet, lots of condoms.
Me: I'm glad you all thought I was asleep.
Nek: You were trying to hide the kebab when I was at you door.
Lute: Totally, I was all, put it on my lap and push into my desk, hide it under my shirt, put it in my drawer, but it was all too late!
Nek: It would have been better if you climbed out of the window to get a kebab rather than using the front door.
Lute: I know...
Me: I'm going to put some clothes on.

10 minutes later

Nek: So, what are you doing today?
Me: I'm going to write.
Other girl: Oh, you're not doing anything for the Melbourne cup?
Me: a story about a horse...
his name is Cuppy. Cuppy the horse.
...
...
and he's friends with two girls.
Nek: STOP!!!
Me: and a bear that gets shaken...
Nek: STOP!!!
Me: this is your doing.


And, after three hours of writing a story that isn't about Cuppy the horse, I'm hungry. I dig in the back of the freezer and find wonderful Asian goodness that I can only translate as Joong (hehehehe). Despite it making me sound like I am incapable of speaking, it is a sticky rice dumpling with mung beans, peanuts, chestnuts and pork wrapped in banana leaves that my parents and I sat around making a month or so ago.

I am not going to post the recipe, because I can't translate most of the ingredients and no one who reads this blog will make them anyways. Today is all about efficiency, coffee, beer and Cuppy the horse.

Now, get back to it, you heathens!

How Much Shame Can You Handle?

I was speaking to my housemate about how embarrassingly addicted to Match I am.

Sure, they are less then ten minutes walk from my house,
sure, I really like the vibe, sure I have a horrendous fondness for their vodka espressos,
sure, I am kind of an alcoholic...but



It really doesn't excuse the fact that I have been going there every day for the past week.

Literally, every day.

The staff know me by face and had tequila shots with me when they said I looked flustered.

They have only been open for something like three weeks.

On the plus side, after a semi-disappointing exhibition at the Carlton Club (Girls, Girls, Girls), I went for a (cue predictability) vodka espresso at Match (ding, ding, ding) and in two hours, I have written a 2000 word essay.

It's actually good.

If anything, go to the exhibition to see the King Pins' video. It is genius wrapped in parody, wrapped in polyester, wrapped in synchronised madness.

Match
249 Little Lonsdale St, Melbourne 3000.
03 9654 6522

Match(es)

Nek told me of a bar he went to with 1928 on Tuesday night and said I'd probably enjoy it. He's right (and not just because 1928 brought to my attention that they serve both Jamon Serrano and Iberico).

This bar is located on the upper level of QV with a 180 degree outside view for the smokers. There is a restaurant and a bar and they're quite good with drink prices. I mean, I got a Hendricks gin and tonic for $9.50, they're good in my books.
It's a little like walking into a large, displaced patch of a Collingwood bar, before it started smelling. It has potential (oh, no that word), and I mean that in a good way. They're very clever with the design of the space, having all the light fittings in clusters being different but arranged in the same way. The lighting also lets you read, but not feel like you're in a doctor's surgery. Think, somewhere in between getting on the verge to rip someone else's clothes off and the back corner of the basement level of the Bailleu library.

They have a manifesto, which I enjoy. They're not pretentious, but they don't serve pints (which I am not too fond of). Also, they only have three beers, but with their selection of spirits, I don't really care.
Their staff seem to know what they're doing and I think that they brought over some from the UK for this branch. Oh, did I mention that they were a chain? They have three bars in London, one in Ibiza and one in Melbourne-town.
Surprise, surprise, but the forumla works. Kind of like the fitted aprons that all their staff wear.
They did seem overstaffed for tonight, but that may just be because they're new. The staff outnumbered the patrons and were all buzzing around the bar, looking attractive. I think they have taken a leaf out of Cookie's book and hired the pretty. Something tells me that they will be receiving the "over-Curtain House" crowd and Cho-Gao crowd, as well as the international students that live in the building. Oh well.

I did spot a few Cookie staff mulling around my side of the bar, and a few pairs of tight pants.

Then it hit me.
The staff.
The tight pants.
They were feature in threethousand today.

Sad face, but it won't stop me going.