Monday, July 25, 2011


In a Queensland child's life, the State of Origin stands out, whether or not their family is into football, or even owns a tv. I can remember it back for years.

Wednesday the 6th of July was a big one for Queenslanders and ex-pats alike. The third Origin simply rolled up into the climax of the season - Lockyer's last origin, and a true decider at that. We won and I was proud and happy... in a red wine haze of football and Skypes with Queensland work buddies. Nothing like a good game of NRL to bring a state together.

On Thursday, after work, it was Erin time again. We met on Chapel and made our way to the tacky IGA just down from my office. A bottle of red wine and a satay chicken dish later, we were deep in conversations about family trees, christmas and relationships. Deep. We sat for hours - a leisurely dinner - and afterwards made our way to San Churros for melted milk chocolate goodness. It was Erin's introduction and first time and her eyes were opened. Needless to say, San Churros is not a place you should frequent more than once a month. It's just really hard not too.

After work on Friday I found myself on the Frankston Express, headed swiftly for the Penince. This time I had to catch the bus from the station because the boys had already started drinking. Fortunately for me, the bus stop isn't too far from Brent's street, and I was able to make my way there without becoming frozen like a slushy. A couple of rounds of beer pong later, we were off to Main Street for a loose night - Mornington style. Brent was sad because he couldn't find his blue beanie anywhere, and I was amused because Brent's hair without a beanie can look silly.

God's Kitchen came first... we sat around and got boozed in a big old place that used to be a church. I bought Brent way too many goodbye beers. I don't know what I was thinking. I remember clicking my heels with Skinner as we skipped down the street towards Noodlebox. I vaguely remember inhaling a six inch Subway. Karl and Sam were there for a bit, and we danced a lot. I got into a domestic with a taxi rank officer who made me cry, Brent retrieved me delicately from the smallest, most seedy alley in Mornington and brushed away my tears (whilst assuring me that the taxi man thought he had false power and was the biggest bully on the planet), and then we went home and had hot milo and went to bed.

The next morning Brent, Skinner and myself had Big Breakfasts with sides of hollandaise and massive chocolate milkshakes, at Kate Mac's work. It was great. We found Brent's beanie in the dryer, then he and I road-tripped back into the city whilst nursing Gatorades and headaches, and singing. I will miss those trips.

You might think here: Hmm... Bronni's already had a pretty big weekend. It's Saturday afternoon and she's already been drunk almost every night of this week, she's played beer pong, she's smoked too much and she's probably going to have a shower, hop into bed, catch up on her blog and take it easy - because she has to work on Sunday.

Well you'd be incorrect.

I did have a shower, but it was only a five minute one - because we'd dillydallied much too long and I was super late. I had to throw on some clothes, quickly toss everything I needed for the next 24 hours into a bag and tear down the hill in a mad rush to catch the train. I was off to Miss Winter's house, to get ready for the Ball!

The Flight Centre ball was like nothing I've ever been to. It was very lavish; there was a red carpet and rows upon rows of waiters with trays of cocktails waiting on us in the foyer. There were ice queens on stilts, big blow-up candy cane people and haggard old dressed-up men wandering about, leering and making jokes. It was a christmas theme, and the little group from Student Flights in Prahran gazed at each other with gleaming eyes, grabbed two cocktails each, and proceded to become one of the very loosest bunch of colleagues at that ball...

Oh yes, that's us. All I need to reveal from that night is that: we danced, we drank, and Lizzie tipped a jug of milk all over Emma in her delicious black velvet dress. And we got a lift home in the Topdeck car.

When we got home to Emma's, we gobbled down some of her amazing potato and leek soup with grain bread and a big cup of water. I slept on the couch under the bear rug and with a silk mask. On Sunday, I woke up freakishly healthy (again), and off I skipped to work. That night I finally managed to get hold of my favourite cousin in Brisbane, Harvey, and we talked for hours and everything was very chill.

Monday 12 was the last opportunity I had to spend with my darling friend Ju, before she retreated back to New Zealand for a month to visit family. This time was not wasted. Well actually, we were very wasted, but that's a rather alternative concept... anyway, we found ourselves, quite late, at O'briens' Irish Pub on Southbank (as we quite often do, should we not frequent Ponyfish Island). We were five pints in, no dinner down, singing wildly to the boisterous Irish duo on stage and calling each other every Irish name we could think of. We settled on Bronni O'brien and Julia O'reilly. I got halfway to work the next morning before I realised I had potato and gravy from KFC all down the back of my coat and bag. Don't know how we managed that.

On Tuesday Shaggy, Brent and I assembled at the boys house after work for a lesson in the art of baking. The results spoke for themselves. Well, we didn't really speak that much, but those brownies were definitely good.

We ate pizza, watched Geordie Shore, trekked to Sevs Elevs, ate more brownie and chilled on the couch. For hours.

On Wednesday the 14th of July I went to the gym for the very first time since moving to Melbourne. I also made three bookings that day! Plenty of firsts, which is good. On Thursday I vegged at home, did the washing and started preparing for the weekend... again.

I had Friday off... which was happy and sad. It was the last official Brent and Bronni day we had together before he needed to leave for Amsterdam. It was hilarious.

We drove around like maniacs trying to navigate to the nearest Vic Roads so I could change my licence over to a Victorian one... only to find it packed and to totally give up and storm out right away. Then we went to Chadstone so Brent could buy Jess's 21st present and lots of other unnecessary things. After that we went home, finished the brownie, watched Cool Runnings (again), ate Thai, talked like Indians and Darren Lockyer for about an hour and a half and spent about $25 at Sevs Elevs, as part of the wildest spree yet (Chocky Milk)! Bakedous Maximous.

I slept really well that night, and the best part was that I didn't have to start work til 10 on Saturday morning. Which was lucky, because that sleep set me up for the weekend. After work on Saturday I hailed a cab and met Brent at my house, where I quickly got ready for Jess's and he smashed some beers. I then drove us all to the Tennisons, and on to the birthday venue. All you need to know about the venue is that it had an open bar. Thats all I know! The rest of that night is a blur of cousins, wine and drunk aunties and uncles on the dance floor. And facebook hacking and drunken dirty phone calls to workmates and friends. You get the picture.

Happy birthday Jess! Love from, Us xx (your special cousins)

I left when they turned the lights on - I don't remember it, I just know I was out of there. I was on the street and I got in a cab and I somehow managed to get home. Unfortunately in that space of time I also managed to vomit on myself and out the door of the cab, take the cabbie's handkerchief, use it and ungratefully toss it out the window. Needless to say, all those times I've woken up freakishly healthily after the largest of nights? They descended upon me at once, like a sack of bricks, and I did not have my last yak until 4 on Sunday afternoon. Class.

I think that's enough for now. B.

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