A night at the pub

Just a thought: It may not have been the best of ideas to go out for dinner at the [insert-name-of ever-so-slightly-bogan-suburb] Pub (which, being in [insert-name-of ever-so-slightly-bogan-suburb] and, being a pub is ... ever-so-slightly-bogan and also a pub), after going to see Bran Nue Dae.

The songs are very catchy and, after a beer, my Dad (who'se grandma was Aboriginal), and I just couldn't stop singing "There's nothing I would rather be than to be an Aborigine".

Oh, and then my husband ordered "sparkling wine". And then got into a mini-argument with the bartender who said they didn't have sparkling wine, but they had champagne (the Bear is a bit of a stickler, and Champagne is really only Champagne if it is from Champagne. Apparently).

And then I asked if there was anything on the menu that was vegetarian.

There was not. And I suspect the waitress' eyes may also have been moonlighting as the pub's deep fryer, because I felt like a slightly over-cooked potato chip after a couple of seconds in their searing glare.

There is a semi-famous movie from the '70s, called Deliverance. I'm not saying this was anything like that movie.

But I did feel a bit like, if any of us had ordered dessert, I may just have heard a rifle being loaded somewhere close by.

Or, at the very least, a banjo being tuned ...

Everyone is having a party upstairs ...

... and I am downstairs.

I would very much like to be upstairs. There is champagne there. And also chips.

On the upside, I could cause all sorts of mayhem down here on my own.

Not sure what yet. But it may or may not involve that very big stack of Elizabeth Gilberts over there ...

... and possibly a catapult.

And I might also EAT AT THE COUNTER.

The anarchy!

Balinese bicycle bells ...

... are not (as advertised), the sound of paradise.

Or, if they are, may I please request now a ticket to Hell?

The only funny thing: the looks on people's faces when they try them out. 

The unfunny thing: The look on my face when people try them out.

The hardest part of it all is knowing that, if I don't sell them, they will stay here.

And it is my responsibility to sell them.

And every time they ding I yell bad stuff.

So they probably won't sell.

And I will be stuck with them forever.

And I will go, slowly, mad.

Twihards v Sooks

I think there is a vampire war going on in the bookynook.This WAS our Twilight section this morning (middle shelf). Sometime between ten and eleven ... something ... happened.