I am unreliable, but I will make you an apology cake

Today is my big-little brother's birthday. It is also Mother's Day - Jdack has the mis/fortune to have been born on the 8th of May, which means that every few years he has to share the day with our sainted mother, something neither of them seems worried about. I would not be as mature about it. There would be tantrums if I had to share.

It being a Special Day for both of them, Jo and I offered to do a big cooked breakfast with fresh chocolate  croissants plucked from the baker's at dawn. It did not work out that way. We were out last night, didn't set our alarm, and slept until 9:30 - which I never, ever do, I am not a sleeper-inner - and by the time we surfaced my mum and my brother had already been to the shops and started cooking. Which was nice for us, but I do feel just a tiny bit guilty. Which is why I'm making an awesome cake for Jdack today - will let you know how it turns out. 

But the reason we were out late last night was not due to extreme drunkenness, as it was on Friday, though there was a small amount of overpriced beer involved. Last night we went and saw Smoke and Mirrors, a sort of cabaret/musical/vaudeville/who knows what. It was mostly wonderful, though there were a few moments of HSC Drama-style bathos with people walking around slowly and looking slightly off into the distance in a VERY SERIOUS way, and a bit of a Marge Simpson as Blanche DuBois-style freak out with lots of gnashing of teeth and wailing that didn't quite do it for me. It was very much along the lines of the thing we went to for New Year's in London, though a lot less slick and with far fewer performers. But it was for the most part very good and we enjoyed it. iOTA is amazing; like a nightmare clown, with a stage presence that is creepy and vulnerable and dirtily suggestive when it isn't just plain dirty, though there could have been far less of the slow-walk-distant-gaze there too. Overall I give it a B+, and it definitely left me wanting to investigate the whole burlesque and cabaret scene. More corsets and fishnets stockings, more men in swimming trunks on trapezes! More glitter! More innuendo*, more I say!

So all in all, it's been a really nice weekend, what with all the culture I've been  exposed to; on Friday I also went to see a photography exhibition which was jolly good (ich bin ein chardonny set, though I don't yet do air kisses and call everyone darling), but I don't really have anything interesting to say about it other than it's well worth a look if you're in Sydney.

What else? Oh yes, Little Lord Frenchelroy was round yesterday to insult my taste in wine again, but more fool him - he left the fancy cheese here that he'd bought for a dinner party he was going to that he didn't invite us to, so who's laughing now, eh? As if  scoring some free fancy cheese wasn't enough it's a stunner of a day; the sun is shining, the birds are singing, and I am rocking out to Fela Kuti as I eat leftover chocolate croissants for lunch. The black mood that I had been in for the last few weeks seems to have lifted, with only minimal chemical assistance, and all is well. And it's not over yet. Tonight it Jdack's birthday dinner at a semi-swanky Japanese restaurant in Manly, which I am looking forward to immensely because, as everyone knows, gyoza is the single best food on the face of the planet and tonight I intend to go on a gyoza bender. It's going to get pretty wild.

Check in again later for cake updates. 

*The correct response to this is 'in your end-o'.

New Year's

I generally hate New Year's Eve. So much anticipation, and then you're either thaving too much fun to notice that midnight has come and gone, or else you make it to midnight and then start to wonder how long before you can respectably go home. Last year we ended up deciding not to bother with it at all, and had a nice steak, a good bottle of wine and a movie. We managed to stay awake til midnight, then went to bed before the fireworks on TV had even finished. 

I enjoyed that so much that this year I was quietly hoping that we might end up on the couch with my aunts and uncle where it is warm and where there would be sure to have been plentiful prosecco and snacks. But then Jo’s friend, the lovely Lindsay, mentioned that she was going to La Soiree with some friends. It sounded intriguing; a saucy cabernet show in a big top on Southbank. After the show there would be dancing until 2am, and the chance to watch the fireworks from an enclosed area outside. Luckily, there were still tickets available. 

And it was amazing. Dancing, sexy men doing gymnastics, comedy, singing. Hula hoops. Naked ladies doing magic tricks. More sexy men doing other kinds of gymnastics. Everything you could wish for. Oh, and the outdoor area had a nice big fence between us and the plebs who'd come down to watch the fireworks from the riverbank. We waved our champagne in their faces, naturally, and taunted then about the fact that we had easy access to toilets and more champagne. There was a minor riot, but it was worth it to feel superior for a while. Good times. I enjoyed myself so much that I might even consider trying to be sociable again next New Year's Eve.