'Bad Manners', Music, and Motorcycles

Thursday and Friday I was in denial. That, "No way am I getting sick" denial. Where you're sniffling a bit, your head is hurting, you feel a little too warm and your throat's got that annoying dry thing happening and no matter how much you clear your throat, the cottonball feeling remains. But I wasn't feeling horrible, just weird. Pre-sick. And in denial.

I was determined to go out and hear some music though, so I went straight to Spi Bar after work. I knew if my butt touched my bed or couch for even 30 seconds, I would be in for the night. So I went and George St. was so packed, it took me a half hour to get from Haymarket to Bridge St. I should have walked. Old ladies were passing us. As I was about to get off, I look out the window and spot a young guy in a powersuit and think, "Is that Rocky?" So I ring him and say, "Rocky, are you on George St?" and he says, "Yes, I am! Where are you?" He was going to see Chad @ Spi Bar as well.

Small world! Rocky was there for 30 seconds, and then he had to run. I enjoyed Professor Groove & the Booty Affair and it was good to see Chad keeping them in line. Great set for relaxing into the weekend. Oh, and I got to taste the delicious "Honey Soy Chicken" chips. They are heavenly! I know they sound disgusting, but they're awesome. Chad and I went through 2 bags of those so quickly.

Just as I was about to leave and head off to Sydney Uni, Paulo arrived, scaring the crap out of me cause he just appeared out of nowhere. Poor guy got there too late to see Chad. So, we marveled at Chad being able to get all his gear in his little new trolley - it was very impressive. I was just going to take a bus to Sydney Uni and meet Gavin there. Paulo insists on driving me to Wynyard. I tell him not to be silly. It would take me like 3 minutes tops to walk to Wynyard and wait for a bus. But Paulo being the uber-gentleman insists that he must take me to Wynyard.

That's when I realise he's on his motorcycle. Okay, Mom and Dad, you might want to skip over this part. I start protesting. "Oh, um, actually, I've never been on a motorcycle before - I can walk, I swear." Paulo hands me a helmet. "So, you've never been in an accident before, right," I venture. Paulo says he hasn't, so I put on the helmet, but it won't go on cause my hair bun is huge. I took it out and made it into a pony tail. I'm sure I looked ridiculous, but who cares? So I got on and Paulo said, "You can either hold on to the back of the bike, or put your arms around me." I was like, "Um, sorry, but I'm going to be holding on to you!" I'm sorry, I just don't know how people can feel safe holding on to the back of the bike! I warned Paulo that I might scream. Hell, I didn't know! He said to me gently, "You might get the urge to turn me when we turn a corner...please don't." Whatever you say, Captain.

So I held on to Paulo very gently and off we went. HOLY COW! Okay, it is a little scary, but geez that was fun! I can totally understand why people adore their motorcycles. I can see that being very addictive. It totally feels like you're flying. And we only went three blocks. ;-)

Anyway, I suddenly realised I'd had a couple of drinks on a relatively empty stomach (no dinner yet) and I needed to eat something quick, filling, and cheap as it was the end of the month, which means Lori is poor. Sigh. There was only one thing that would do the trick on a price I could afford: a quarter pounder with cheese. So I headed to McDonalds and Gavin rang.

"Where are you?"
"I'm at McDonalds. Dinner!"

Gavin laughed at me. He said he could pick me up. I wasn't going to argue with that. I asked him where I should meet him and I thought he said on George St. where the monorail is. I said okay...I mean, I thought that's what he said, but my mobile is useless and I was just guessing. So we hang up, I get my burger, walk outside and devour it. I may be the slowest eater in the world, but I can eat quickly. It is possible. I was basically walking along the sidewalk inhaling it when this car of young 20-something boys slow down and yell at me, "Woo-hoo! Go BIG MAC!" I put my burger down long enough to yell back, "Go Quarter POUNDER!" They laughed and yelled, "WITH CHEESE? YEAH, BABY!" And thankfully, they took off down the street. I do meet all the winners.

So, I'm where I think Gavin told me to be and realise it's a one-way street. He can't get here. So I call him and he says, "No, keep going down Market Street, over the Pyrmont Bridge." Oh. Doh. "So you want me to walk to your place?" Okay. So I walk...and it shouldn't have taken me THAT long, but I kept stopping to try to use a toilet at Darling Harbour and they were all locked. *POUT* Gavin calls to make sure I haven't been kidnapped. Then Damian calls. "I can't hear the bands," he says. I say, "Yeah, that's because I'm not at Sydney Uni yet....I'm actually, uhhhhh, in Pyrmont.." Silence. "But we'll be there very soon!" Damian says okay, he'll meet us there.

So I finally get my slow butt to Gavin's and we drive to the Manning Bar. I was going to check out Dap.pled Cit.ies. Fly cause I promised to go, but I wasn't particularly impressed. I mean, they were fine, but absolutely no big whoop whatsoever. Gavin and I entertained ourselves by pointing out things that our non-existent band would never do, that these guys were doing. "Gavin, see that? See that stupid thing he just did with the milk crates? How he made them talk? Our imaginary band would never do that." "Damn, straight, Lori!"

One of the problems, in my humble opinion, was that one of the singers/guitar players thought he was a comedian. Granted, he was funnier than Habib, but that's not saying much. What amazed me, though, much like Habib, was that the audience went wild even when they did dumb things. So, maybe I've become an old fart or something because even though Dap.pled Cit.ies didn't blow my hair back, the kids at Sydney Uni loved them. Either that or they were drunk and/or friends of the band...to be continued...I'll throw in the Bad Manners bit tomorrow!