Mama Takes a Trip

I rarely go to the western suburbs. You hear of suburbs bantered around...sunshine, broadmeadows, craigieburn....and it always makes me think of beaten up old cars on bricks sitting outside houses, oh and boys that wear footy shorts, listen to Nickelback and have girlfriends called Donna. I think my private schooling combined with a blue collar upbringing has me snorting with snobbery, although I prefer to think about it as a perceptive social commentary on assorted tiers on the urbane cake of life. Yeah. So as we travelled into the night (Brent, Dean and I) on our car trip, destination "sydenham", I watched various suburbs whiz by the windows that I did not recognise as we plunged further into the darkness. In fact sheer darkness as we got lost and faced a sea of black as all known civilisation and street lights had faded behind us. An hour later we were in a miniature Vegas. There was a Bunnings the size of a planet, huge shopping malls, massive 3 storey Tabarets and then we found Cairo in the form of the "Luxor" reception centre. Well I tells ya, if this gal ever gets married, I think I would treat my guests to a little "cleopatra-themed" nuptials, if not just for the sheer novelty. Provided I got fed grapes, and bathed in milk.
There was even a church that had a vegas like crucifix that flashed in neon lights like in Romeo & Juliet. Extraordinary. Who would have thought this place existed?? Mind you my Thursday nights are not usually this entertaining, but our purpose was to bid farewell to our Turkish Delight who is off to her homeland to get married. I still think she is keeping us from meeting her groom in fear of the critical inquisition Brent and I would normally reserve for her partners. Either that or she REALLY didn't want me to be a bridesmaid. I will miss her. Anyway...enough soppy emotion.
Last night was certainly an education. Once at her place, I courted the attention of a very spritely 8 year old boy who reignited my maternal instinct that some people question I have. I DO like kids. Just well behaved, clean ones. I mean I know I have an eye for the young of late, but 8 is really scraping the barrel. Though I was really impressed that he seemed to be attentive, laughed at my jokes and catered to my needs. He even went to fetch me his pair of moccassins to keep my feet warm (as I had to discard my heels in that weird tradition, at the door). Finding the whole thing most amusing, Brent captured this moment on camera as it will be the only time I would ever be seen in moccassins. I guess when in Rome...or should that be...the western suburbs?? I might be smiling in the photo, but my eyes are saying "you arsehole Brent".Subservient men is something I could really embrace. Maybe it's that affinity with Cleopatra and The Luxor. Oh yeah. I lectured the poor child on how he needs to treat women well and with respect when he grows up as otherwise they end up bitter and jaded like me and then I caught myself and thought...oh god...I've become that psychotic that I'm actually preaching "how men should act" to an 8 year old that doesn't even like girls and was starting to look wide eyed and scared the more I gestured and got angrier. Speaking of children, I have just come from the National career expo attending our stand and am quite frazzled. Busloads of kids came trawling in and grabbing every freebie they could lay their hands on. There were models on stage having trial hair do's done who were pelted with hackey sacks, plastic bottles and anything the evil little monsters could lay their hands on. Children are ANARCHISTS. How could generation Y have been allowed to run riot and have such little respect. I had an incident with one precocious little bitch who asked for one of our novelty pens. I said we can't give out anymore and she whined that she saw someone else with one. I replied "well they probably STOLE IT" and she kept on going "but it was in a plastic package" and I replied "well she probably stole it in its package. SORRY". She scrunched up her face and strutted off. Evil little mole or to quote my fave line from Big Brother "Game on Mole". The kids of today....
So on my way back to the office I happened to see the evil "Mr Big" englishman dodging the rain and making his way across an inner city street. I always have a crazy vision of visualising someone that has done me wrong and accelerating in my car to knock them and run them over like a speed hump, and then reverse. Then the opportunity presented itself. I assume he was probably returning from a lunch with some other poor unassuming candidate that he wooed into submission. Prick. I let him live...but only because I'm not ready to be as willing as Michelle Rodriguez to embrace a jail cell. Although I'm sure I'd work wonders with the prison uniform and make it look good.