Red. It makes me all manner of self-conscious. Hence the face shot. Why not feel the full force of the discomfort? Yeah. Red was for a celebration…
Tonight, a dinner to celebrate my cousin-in-law becoming an Australian citizen at a nice enough place in Paddington. As we were wrapping things up, a hum-dinger.
Male (as he threw an item of clothing at Female, and then proceeded to stomp down the stairs): “You’re a F###IN’ MOLE! SUCK MY D###!”
Female: “But Mick–!”
Male (coming back up the stairs to deliver the line): “Get away from me, B####!” (Erhm… None of us felt brave enough to point out at this juncture that he was the one who had come back… so shouldn’t he have been the one to heed the “get away” demand?)
I suppose you couldn’t really get more Aussie than that. Well, maybe you could. He could’ve thrown a meat pie instead of a jacket.
(And yes, in case you had noticed, I am indeed wearing the top.)