Round Up Pt 2

Friday

Friday bought with it the realisation that since I was no longer defined by my job, I no longer felt the need to escape any memory of it at every oppurtunity. Thus, rather than feeling an overwhelming sense of fear and/or dread as 5pm approached I was instead toying with a night of happy low-keyness, just excessive red wine and ditzy videos in a Friday night catch up with Hotness.

My mobile, however, seemed to have other plans for me and thus I found myself in a yelling, swirling scrum of free-wine necking artists and associated hangers-on (clearly me) at some new gallery above Flinders Lane. It was a good space and some of the art work was compelling but the net effect of the newly-painted walls, the bright light and the large number of people meant that by about 7 we were all prepared to cut the cord and depart to the darker surrounds of Misty for a celebatory drink in honour of C's birthday.

Hotness rocked up and we decided to leave C and JZ to their impending platter of empanadas and grilled things and head to the dingy dim darkness of the Napier.

There is something miraculous about finding a place on a Friday night that is not over-crowded, is not over-darkened and is full of people just slightly further along the glassy-eyed, stumble-weary spectrum than yourself. After gulping the better part of a bottle of wine and discussing such things as boring "phone it in" sex and why Hotness still appears to be sending out the Fruit Toast Vibe (conclusion - none) we decided that the time for people watching was upon us.

Kent St had nothing to offer us, only boring emo-esque kids and uncomfy sofas.

Panama Dining Room on the other hand... By this stage I was feeling a little cross-eyed and Hotness was fretting about the possibility of a tragic bike+handlebars+momentum = road-front teeth equation on her trip home but we overcame such petty concerns in order to sit back, sip vodka and observe:
Perma-tanned girls looking glum into tall glasses
Man shaped freakishly akin to a ten pin bowling pin striding around the pool table like he owned it and who gazed out as if the whole room was about to rush him demanding sexual favours, right now, immediately.
Slippy-slidey girl playing pool with 10pin who seemed happy to suck face with him between shots and then equally happy to turn around and pour herself into the waiting lap of her friend nearby. Why? How?
No one smoking, ahhh....