So John trotted home from the polo with his skin a delightful shade of purple, and I prepared to gloat. Me, with my pasty white Vitamin D-deprived skin and bloated stomach from too many packets of chips, and what I am trying to say here is that obviously I was much better off than John, even if I am not managing it overly successfully. He walked in, sighed contentedly and said, "Today was fantastic. The only thing that could've improved it is you being there."
So. Sucking up, eh? Kissing arse will get you NOWHERE, sonny. You're just trying to make out that you didn't sit in the burning sun on a deckchair and laugh at inane horse jokes. I KNOW YOUR GAME.
"Turns out Malaria Neighbour's got connections," John went on.
The polo invite had come from our nextdoor neighbour, you see, who we thought was dead for quite a while but eventually discovered that he was in Papua New Guinea with malaria, or some such malarkey. John continued:
"Well, it turned out it was the final of the Polo Australian Open, would you believe. We were sat with some chief police commissioner type, and then we all went over to the VIP part and sat with the family of one of Australia's best polo players."
Ok. So maybe it was a bit bigger than I was thinking.
"And then I had a drink with the guy who was doing the entertainment. Guitar bloke. Tom. Tommy something?"
"TOMMY EMMANUEL?!?!?!" I sputtered, my head exploding.
"Yes, that's the one. Nice bloke, really friendly. Very good at guitar..."
Ok, now who was the bright spark who said I shouldn't go to the polo? I have never even managed to stutter hello to a famous musician type, let alone guzzled booze with one. Now I must cry.
I have been given two free tickets to a movie premiere by a co-worker who attracts free stuff like I attract weirdos, and John and I are going to go along and see it tomorrow night. It is an Australian movie called Boytown. Plot: Australian boy band who were big in the 80's decide to reform when they are all old and podgy. COMEDY GOLD. There is a very strong possibility that it will be cheesey and rubbish but hey, who turns down free tickets?
(And also, I am quite secretly in love with Bob Franklin)
So. Sucking up, eh? Kissing arse will get you NOWHERE, sonny. You're just trying to make out that you didn't sit in the burning sun on a deckchair and laugh at inane horse jokes. I KNOW YOUR GAME.
"Turns out Malaria Neighbour's got connections," John went on.
The polo invite had come from our nextdoor neighbour, you see, who we thought was dead for quite a while but eventually discovered that he was in Papua New Guinea with malaria, or some such malarkey. John continued:
"Well, it turned out it was the final of the Polo Australian Open, would you believe. We were sat with some chief police commissioner type, and then we all went over to the VIP part and sat with the family of one of Australia's best polo players."
Ok. So maybe it was a bit bigger than I was thinking.
"And then I had a drink with the guy who was doing the entertainment. Guitar bloke. Tom. Tommy something?"
"TOMMY EMMANUEL?!?!?!" I sputtered, my head exploding.
"Yes, that's the one. Nice bloke, really friendly. Very good at guitar..."
Ok, now who was the bright spark who said I shouldn't go to the polo? I have never even managed to stutter hello to a famous musician type, let alone guzzled booze with one. Now I must cry.
I have been given two free tickets to a movie premiere by a co-worker who attracts free stuff like I attract weirdos, and John and I are going to go along and see it tomorrow night. It is an Australian movie called Boytown. Plot: Australian boy band who were big in the 80's decide to reform when they are all old and podgy. COMEDY GOLD. There is a very strong possibility that it will be cheesey and rubbish but hey, who turns down free tickets?
(And also, I am quite secretly in love with Bob Franklin)
posted by GBE at 6:06 pm
6 Comments:
Possibly you learned your lesson? Sometimes when you turn down something that seems mondane, you miss out on something exciting.
Have fun at the movie. . . even if it reeks!
We're all secretly in love with Bob Franklin. I was always impressed that Jimeoin involved him more and more.
I'm definitely going to see that movie, even if I read on this very website that it blows.
Yeah, another vote for Bob Franklin here.
Tommy Emannuel is possibly the most useless musician ever. The mere fact that he's playing the Australian championships of polo speaks volumes about him.
See I always knew that other people always had the kind of days that other people have... you know the kind of days *you* (as in *I*) never have... you know what I mean :)
And Tom. Oh so casual!
Oh and: Today was fantastic. The only thing that could've improved it is you being there. Awwwwww!! You've got a sweetie there!
Well your boyfriend sounds like a peach.. that's what I'm jealous of.. And I do hope that movie gets to the states. It sounds hilarious.
Aurelius, The Cooking Show on Jimeoin is where I first saw him. I used to very nearly wee my pants every single week.
Abe, you are right. I shouldn't have turned down the invite, because I ended up sitting on my arse and surfing the net all day, which Isn't Social. I am so crap at this socialising business. I will endeavour to leave the house more. Right after I finish reading blogs...
Adam, I had no idea that Bob Franklin was so popular. We should start a Bob Franklin Fan Club and wear badges and sing songs.
Mark, but he can play guitar better than I can, and he's famous despite looking a bit like a hobbit. So it would still have been pretty cool. You know. Maybe.
Dollop, a marquee! This polo biz is dead posh, innit. Apparently there were quite a few people who'd nipped in for a bit of polo viewing in their helicopters. Who on earth owns a helicopter?
Madameboffin, exactly. It is very likely that if I had gone along then it would've been yobbos in singlets sitting in the sun and yelling and I would've hated it and not met anyone famous at all. Murphy's Sodding Law and all that.
Miss Devylish, it most likely will be released there but Aussie films normally perform extremely poorly when it comes to the US box office so it might be tough to find. John says things like that quite often and I usually reply with "stop trying to get in my pants, punk!" and "pfffffft" which I think probably means that I am a terrible girlfriend.
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