Friends

It was YB's birthday on Tuesday and, to celebrate, we went to Luna Park on Saturday. As it is her last year in her twenties, she decided it was fitting to go to an amusement park and act like kids, going on silly rides and stuff. I'm not one for rides but Luna Park is such a good opportunity for pictures.

The highlight of the trip was Coney Island; DB pondered that we were old skool... but how can you beat silly mirrors and slippery slides. As we entered the building I raced ahead to take happy snaps of the girls on the various rides and a random guy came up to me, thinking the girls were some kind of celebrities or something, and asked me if I was a professional photographer. No I'm not and no the girls were just having fun. DB and I decided to try out the big kids slide, which is crazy high, as we were about to slide down we questioned what the hell we were doing up there but, after the first go we were immediately back up the stairs for a second go. Fun. Later a group of us tried the Wheel of Joy, where you sat on top of a spinning cone and tried to stay on the longest. I slid off fairly early but DB was challenging for a win when she stacked it and did a full forward roll over her tiara and got a couple of bruises. Awesome!

None of the other rides at Luna Park quite matched Coney Island, except maybe the Dodge 'ems, which is classic. YB decided it was more fun to try to avoid being bumped, which only just made her even more of an appealing target! We also tried some of the games. The first was a sort-of race where you tried to roll balls into holes, each hole makes your chariot fish go a certain distance. Three Bangarra dancers had a go and we got third-last, second-last and last positions. We have shamed our company. Later on JS and I tried the Clowns; I initially thought that high scores are good and felt dejected half way through when I was only on four when we found out that we should actually aim to get a LOW score. Consequently I did pretty well and got a Cat In The Hat, which I gave to JPB. He loved it...

Wikipedia

Does it mean that you're famous when you have your very own entry in Wikipedia? That you didn't create yourself? Meanwhile, I didn't realise that she was Latina; fancy that, and after having lived with her for all that time!

How exciting!

tags: Angie Diaz, Wikipedia.

If it IS the same girl, then Angie Diaz (actual name Angelyn) is an actress, dancer, and choreographer who's done a lot of work beside Jhuny-Boy Borja... If it's not the same girl, then she's either dead or she's a RE/MAX agent selling homes in Kissimmee, Florida. There are apparently no other Angie Diaz's worth mentioning, according to Google.

I happened across this Rangerboard (as in Power Rangers) link while perusing my site referrals. Its so exciting to hear that people are curious about a good friend of mine and it's funny to read about all the generally good-natured speculation about her. It's also funny to see that Feeding Time picture again, and in such a different context.

Hehe this is so cool. Angie is playing the character of Vida, the Pink Ranger, in the Mystic Forces season. I just found a video clip of her character as well:

Tags: Power Rangers, Mystic Forces, Vida, Angie Diaz.

But I really do love the place, it's the best location I've lived in... EVER. I love how it can be so crazy one minute and calm the next, extreme mood-swings, LIKE ME! I love the constant activity, I love the convenience, I love seeing two guys holding hands down the street like it's nobody's business, and I loved the thought that it was all happening in MY backyard. Oh well... Hopefully it's not good bye forever...

Previous: Traditions part two.

The agent rang up early this morning explaining that I needed to wipe down the blinds in the study but, apart from that, the rest of the apartment was sufficiently clean. Not something I wanted to do, returning to Burton Street so quickly, but the agent promised me that he would release the bond if this was done. Upon arriving at Darlinghurst, a loud bunch of presumably straight guys were yelling taunts at all the poofters, something I don't remember ever happening in my time in poofter-land. Met up with the ex-housemate and it was as if we had only seen each other five minutes ago though walking into that empty apartment felt like I'd never lived there at all. The place looked small, hard to believe that we fit three people in here. And it was spotless, I could have moved back in in a second.

Those damn blinds were so hard to clean, they had somehow acquired a greasiness that made it extremely difficult to remove the dust. There was nothing remarkable about the reunion chat with the ex, no fanfare, just a tiredness. From the move? From having to return to this place? Anyway, we finished cleaning the blinds as best as we could and parted unremarkably, again no fanfare, like we're going to see each other again in the next five minutes. I wandered around Oxford Street, it still felt like my own backyard.

Two days away from this place and my memory is already patchy.

3. Omelette and juice at Truck

This was a relatively new tradition for me. Truck happened to be the first cafe I went to when I first moved into Darlinghurst but, being mildly unimpressed by the soy latte, stopped going. It wasn’t until a couple of months I got back from America last year to find my then housemate had started to drink soy milk and was going to Truck for brekkie when I decided to give it a go.

I’ve only ever had one thing to eat at Truck: an omelette with ham, chorizo and tomato. I’ve never bothered to try anything else but, then again, I never got the chance. And, besides, it’s very good. (except for that one time…) In reality it’s less of an omelette and more scrambled eggs loosely held together by other bits of food. But it’s big. And yummy. And you can’t have one without a fresh juice. And, yes, I have only ever ordered one juice: an orange-beetroot-ginger.

So that Sunday I decided to treat myself to a breakfast as a reward for moving all those boxes in the van all by myself. Most of the hard work was done, except the cleaning, which I figured shouldn’t take much time ‘cos the place was pretty clean anyway. Truck was extremely busy, though, and I think they lost my order somewhere and, having not eaten a decent dinner the night before, it seemed like forever before they brought out my food. In reality it took over forty minutes so I was quite justified in being a bit cranky but they made up for it BIG TIME with an omelette almost covering my plate and extra bacon YAY after a few bites I was very happy indeed.

Tags: moving, omelette, Truck.

Previous: Traditions

I've unpacked most of my boxes and the truth has become apparent - this place is huge. You can move any wall in the living room by a metre and there will still be more than enough room. No wonder it's cold in here. I'm in desperate need of furniture to fill the space. Time to get a sofa!

2. Laksa at s.Thada

The big move on Friday night left me free to get a fridge and with TB offering to lend a hand the opportunity was too good to pass up. Picked TB up from Redfern station, flew past Bing Lee in Alexandria to get the already-purchased white good and dumped it at the new place, with TB nattering the entire way about his tooth that had fallen out that night. He also commented on the lovely floorboards and the space and was especially impressed by the gas stove. It seemed appropriate, too, to take TB to a Thai place for a post-moving-stuff afternoon lunch seeing as though he loves the food and could even greet the staff in Thai as well...

s.Thada makes eating so easy 'cos it's so bloody cheap. And it's pretty good too, possibly the best Laksa on Victoria Street, there's so much going on in it. Best of all, the place was just around the corner. On Friday and Saturday nights people pretty much have to pile up on each other to fit and the simple act of ordering take-away requires strategic planning to avoid wait staff and random legs jutting out into the aisles, only to wait OUTSIDE ‘cos there’s simply no room anywhere inside to stand still.

Anyway, I just had to have my regular. TB got some soupy thing with mushrooms and prawns, I forget what it’s called, which made me feel guilty for not trying out much of the other stuff on the menu. When I find something I like I generally stick with it, although I’m also partial to the red curry that they do, especially with duck (thanks to DS for putting me onto that one!). TB hadn’t stopped talking since Redfern and my mind was distracted, thinking about the rest of the things I had to move. At the very least all the big stuff that required more than one person to move it had been done but there were still a lot of boxes of my crap left.

Tags: moving, Laksa.

We stumbled out of the cafe into the warm sunshine. Mid-morning on Monday, we had just handed in our keys to the agent, I was almost an hour late for work. Despite being so close to the city, the street was calm. It always seemed so odd to me, the fact that Burton Street can be so quiet and peaceful and yet so close to the heart of the Sydney gay nightlife. So odd and yet so convenient, I could pick and choose which speed I wanted simply by walking a hundred metres. We had reached the end; the end of living together, the end of having Burton Street as our address, the end of twenty-four hour convenience in walking distance, the end of other people having to live with my abrupt moodswings. Time for me to start afresh, on my own, in a completely different part of the city, to find my own new traditions.

But before that happened, I went out and celebrated a few of my favourite Darlinghurst traditions...

1. Dinner at Dov

I had stolen the van from work and was driving ST and DB home. The news of Heath filming on Forbes Street on the weekend had me anxious about the move and ST suggested we do the move now, on Friday night, to avoid Heath. A good idea, and ST had a few more of those that night during the move, it just meant that I was leaving Darlinghurst a day earlier than expected. Besides, ST was planning a huge night out that Friday, he probably just wanted to not have to help me out hungover.

Thursday night was the last night I would spend at Burton Street and I didn't even know that it would be. It's like that event needed to be celebrated somehow and the opportunity to do that was taken from me. But the rationale couldn't be argued with; moving on Friday night was a good idea. I had enlisted ST and the van for my heavy-duty stuff, the stuff that I couldn't possibly do on my own and, with the help of DB to open doors, it went rather quickly. Luckily for me I'm now living on the ground floor (elevated slightly) so there were no large stairwells to deal with. ST and DB, upon seeing my new place for the first time, reacted quite favourably and commented on the lovely floorboards, the large amount of space that I have, and my new *Bohemian Lifestyle*, whatever that means. Good to hear that, I felt reassured and less anxious about the move.

We headed back to Burton Street to have dinner on me, as planned by me (albeit a day early) and unbeknownst to my *Tactical Response Group*. And besides, I think I owed it to DB to have dinner there with her and not abandon her a few hours later at a club. I think I also owed it to myself to keep a good fish in my stomach and not throw it up later on. I had tried the Marlin, which was delicious, big and meaty, and I wanted a proper go instead of snatching small bites off someone else's. ST ordered the same thing and enjoyed it too. DB chose a chicken schnitzel instead of her usual lamb. We also had a nice tasty chardonnay which DB enjoyed despite admitting to not usually liking the stuff (she's more of a Merlot kind of girl)

Dov is such a familiar comfortable place for me now. The exposed stone walls are so beautiful and the lights are usually set at a very comfortable dimness yet still able to discern your grub and your company. The food is pretty good and they have the best soy latte that I've had in Sydney. Most of the staff are familiar to me as well, which is nice. It's going to be hard to find another cafe like that at my new place.

Tags: Moving, Cafe, Food.