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Night of the Weirdos.
Antony got home from work. We walked back across town to meet up with a couple of his mates from work down on the seafront. By the time we got there, one of his friends was already chatting with a woman at the bar. I assumed this was his rather attractive girlfriend. Wrong! It turned out to be a deeply psychotic weirdo, someone he had started talking to at the bar while waiting for us to arrive. Her name was ‘Nelly’ and everything she said, probably including the name, was a ridiculous lie! She was a truly weird and bizarre creature. She was always an expert in every subject that came up and was working in that area, too. One minute she’s an expert on food, then a counselor, then a business person setting up a new business. She shimmered from one thing to another in the most incoherent manner imaginable. We’re eating and she’s ordering oysters, Jameson’s and is rambling chaotic orders to the Chef! She forgets what she said five minutes earlier. Miss health/balance person from five minutes ago goes off and spends $18 on a pack of cigarettes! (!!!!)
Off we go
to the casino where the circus of her personalities continues to shift around. Antony and his friends are teasing her and, of course, she doesn’t even realize. I just can’t stand her - what a completely empty, fake, waste of space. Eventually she disappears - not a moment too soon - just as Antony and I are leaving and Brett and Marick are settling into some gambling.
When we get back to Antony’s apartment we discover that neither of us have the key! Marvelous! Midnight, locked out, no way to get in, and I have just discovered that my Cape Grim Steak, whilst undoubtedly the best steak in Oz is also sliding through me like a radioactive slug. Antony and I play a brief episode of the Blame game, stomp around for a while, then both separately manage to penetrate the outer defenses of the apartment - we meet on the fifth floor landing - Antony is just exiting the elevator just as I am attempting a plan B. The House manager doesn’t exist - his name is John, I find his apartment but there is no answer. The only windows that we might break into have a fifty
foot drop attached to them. Meanwhile, the burbling in my stomach grows volcanically. Muscles clench and unclench. Spasm. I’m looking over the balcony at the swimming pool….
The woman from the apartment underneath Antony’s comes out to figure out what is going on. At first we think she is a cute and friendly person. Wrong! Soon she is mumbling and cursing in the same utterly incoherent manner as Nelly. Has there been an outbreak that no one told us about? Some sort of zombie crazed drug thing that’s only transforming Ozzie woman into crazy wild beasts? Why wasn’t it in the news?
Just then Antony finds the way out. It’s a woman to the rescue - but not some psychotically deranged barfly fashionista. He calls his cleaning lady. That’s right: his maid! She sends over her boyfriend with the key! Within a mere thirty minutes, I am safely ensconced on the toilet explosively and voluminously ejecting the liquefied version of Oz’s best steak, and all is well with the world.
The moral to the story is Neil Young’s: Every man needs a maid. If it hadn’t been for the maid I would have made a mess that
could have potentially altered everyone’s pool plans for the day!
See you on the flypaper…
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deleted_20337
deleted_20337
maybe...
just maybe....Nelly might make a better maid than a social companion? You could use a maid, right? ;) I think there is something "magnetic" about you - you attract the weirdos! (trust me, so do I, unfortunately). Sounds like an interesting evening. Except the part about the liquefied steak. Ummm....ick.