Showing posts with label 1990's. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 1990's. Show all posts

Wednesday 2 April 2014

Party Like It's 1999!

Far back in the mists of ancient time, in the great and glorious days of the former galactic empire, life was wild, rich and on the whole, child free...

Okay, I may have stolen that line from Douglas Adams' Hitch Hikers Guide To The Galaxy (except for the child free bit). I only did it to reassure myself that I least I learnt and retained something from 13 years of school. I can't remember anything remotely useful from my years at school. For example, correct grammar. That might have come in handy for the purposes of this blog thereby preventing you from wishing to poke your own eyes out or open a vein as you read this. I do apologise.  My brain has only retained those lines from one book that I read more than 25 years ago. Nothing else. Not a thing I can do it about it. Except maybe return to school again. As I've mentioned before I'm sure I could still rock the whole uniform and pig tails thing. It wouldn't be weird AT ALL if I tried to just blend in with Mr 5's class, right?

Anyway, I think I have a point that I'm getting to. Actually no, not really. This whole blog is kind of pointless, really. Sigh. Oh well. It could be worse. My whole life could be pointless. Instead it is filled with meaning and purpose.  And cake. A lot of cake.  Way too much cake.

But getting back to the 'child free' bit. In those days before I had my boys I had such an exciting, thriving and interesting social life. Endless travelling (Dubbo counts as travelling. Shut up. Attending red carpet film premieres (totally imaginary but DETAILS) and parties, parties, parties!

Every other weekend it seemed like there was another one! The invitations just kept on coming! I was SO popular! It was awesome! I flitted from one party to another like the fun-loving social butterfly I always am!  Okay, I think I'm done with the exclamation points.

I most certainly was partying like it was 1999. Because it was 1999.  Or 1995 or 1990 something. That was the period of my life when I was a party animal. I couldn't get enough.

It all started with Nutrimetics. Shut up. They ARE parties. Okay, party plans, then. Hmph. Bloody details. I was searching for somebody to do my professional wedding make up. An acquaintance (I can't remember who) recommended a Nutrimetics consultant. Before you know it the round of 'parties' started. You know the kind. Where you sit around with a bunch of friends, family and your next door neighbour eating too much finger food and cakies,  while the consultant attempts to convince you that you couldn't possibly LIVE for a second longer without their amazing products. Inevitably you order some over priced item that you may or may not end up using. We've all been there.

I have to say that this Nutrimetics lady did end up doing a pretty good job of the wedding make up. Thankfully I do have photographic evidence that I looked okay a hundred million  years ago. Sigh. It was also through the Nutrimetics consultant type lady that I learnt about corrective green concealer to reduce redness I was prone to. Information that would have been helpful ten years earlier when I walked around looking like I had just been slapped hard on both cheeks or had a really bad sunburn. It was just my natural 'glow' or Rosacea which I believe is the medical term. I have to admit that when the Nutrimetics lady originally suggested that I had I thought she was making it up just to sell me another product. Turns out it is a real thing and I did have it. On the plus side I've saved a lot of money on rouge. I've never worn it ever in my life.

When it was time to have my bridal shower/kitchen tea thingy I ended up having an Undercover Wear party, which is lingerie and clothes for the uninitiated.  Some years later another round of Undercover Wear parties surfaced and proliferated through my circle of friends. After a while, if a social occasion came up, usually a wedding, since this was also the decade of weddings amongst my friends, frantic phone calls were necessary to ensure that we weren't going to turn up in the same frock or outfit.

In addition to Nutrimetics and  Undercover Wear there was also the obligatory round of Tupperware parties. Tupperware seems to be one of those things that you either love or you don't. I've known people who obsessively collect it, including the retro stuff, and others, like my mother, who are scathingly dismissive of it as over priced and unnecessary. I'm somewhere in between. I do have a bit of Tupperware in my cupboards, but never became obsessed. Although, I've got to admit, those Shape O things are great for the little ones. I still have one floating around here somewhere that I bought when Mr 12 was little, as well as his first sippy cup and plate, which were Winnie The Pooh themed Tupperware.

Somehow, over the years, the round of 'parties' dissipated as our priorities changed and we all had children and/or mortgages and consequently not as much money to burn. Let's face it, you're always going to buy something at these things even if the host insists you don't have to. Last year I was invited to my first Lorraine Lea linen party for the first time by a neighbour. I spent 70 bucks on two pillows thinking that maybe they are one of those things where you get what pay for, having spent ages searching for that elusive perfect pillow. They turned out to be as pathetic as the 10 dollar ones from Big W. Clearly this is not a sponsored post. I don't think I'd be very good at them somehow. Ahem.


I'm pretty sure my 'partying' days are over. No wait. I STILL like to party like it's 1999. When I wasn't at Tupperware/Nutrimetics/Undercover Wear parties I'd do something really wild and CRAZY called staying home and reading books. I've always been cutting edge.

Linking up with Tegan at Musings Of The Misguided for The Lounge.



                                                       How do you like to 'party'?

Saturday 6 April 2013

2000- A Bogan Odyssey

Before we get to the year 2000,let me take you back even further. Far back, to a time and place where men were real men, women were real women and clueless, tragic bogans from Boganville were real clueless, tragic bogans from Boganville. The early 1990's. 1993 to be exact. The announcement was about to be made about which city would be hosting the 2000 Olympics as I headed out to a bush dance, where I actually sat in the corner and didn't dance at all, being the wild and crazy party animal that I am. But clearly I looked stunning, sporting a poodle perm, way too much make-up and wearing a gorgeous combo of dark purple jeans and floral body suit. Yep, stunning. I'm absolutely postitive that look stunned people.

1993 Ness
Later that night, the announcement that (almost) everyone had been waiting for came.

The winner is - Sydeney!!

I recall my friends being gleeful at the news, excited that the Olympics would be in their city in seven years time. Meanwhile, I stifled a yawn. You see. sport bores the bejesus out of me. The Olympics = Yawnfest. I honestly couldn't have cared less. In fact the most exciting event of 1993 for me wasn't the announcement of the Olympics coming in 2000, at all,  but the release of a biography about the Carpenters entitled The Carpenters: The Untold Story. I still remember my trembling fingers reaching for it from the shelf at Dymocks and triumphantly purchasing it. I was temping at the Taxation Office in the city. Rushing back from my lunch hour I breathlessly lifted my book out to show several bewildered colleagues.

"Look what I got!" I exclaimed, eyes shining. They looked up, surprised to remember that I was even there, as I rarely spoke. Spotting the book, their surprised looks turned to ones of dumbfounded incredulity. "Oh, isn't that nice?" mumbled one person in the same insincere and dubious tone one would reserve for a lunatic as they slowly backed away and out the door, before fleeing for their life. My excitement dissipated. I sheepishly shoved the book back into the bag. You can imagine the joy it is to be me and feel so well liked and have so much in common with other people. NOT.

Fast forward 7 years and I was now a sophisticated and mature married woman, having swapped the poodle perm for an elegant, short bowl hair cut. Style icon extraordinaire. That's me. Don't even try to emulate me. You'll never pull it off. I'm unique.

It was New Year's Eve 1999. So naturally, Micky Blue Eyes and I were about to party like it was 1999. Because it was 1999. Until midnight. When it would become the year 2000. The 21st century. So futuristic. I expected we would all be wearing those jump suits they wear on Star Trek before the year was out. Such a shame that didn't happen, isn't it? Just like that Y2K virus thingy that everyone was freaking out about. It was reported on 60 Minutes after all, so how could it not be true? *gasp*

Bogans partying like it's 1999,
until midnight..when it was 2000
The count down to the Olympics began. Not that I cared. At all. While the city buzzed with Olympic fever, I remained as impervious as ever. Micky Blue Eyes wanted to attend some events. I didn't. So he got tickets. I stayed home.

Then we also heard that the Olympic torch would be coming through Boganville at Stupid O' Clock in the morning. People actually planned to get up at such a time to see it. Meanwhile, the only way I would have woken up for it is if they had literally jogged into my bedroom and set my arse on fire with it. No thanks.

Micky Blue Eyes attended several events and took some photos.


I think it's soccer. Is soccer even in the Olympics? Meh, who knows. Or cares. Okay, millions of people do. Clearly I'm not human. Who knows what species I am. Some sort of curious Carpenters loving,bogan creature from the planet Zorg. Or something.

We also possess some 2000 Olympics memorabilia, including cans of beer that are still in the cupboard unopened. Yummo, 13 year old beer. As if it isn't disgusting enough, when it's fresh. Then we also have an alcohol flask, a commemorative plate and mug, in addition to wine glasses. All unused and proudly on display in a cupboard. Micky Blue Eyes out did himself. He is still unnerved by my alarming lack of interest in all things Olympic and sporty.

 That is just the way I roll. I'm apathetic and disinterested cutting edge and different. Deal with it.

Linking up with Cathy from The Camera Chronicles for Flashback Friday.


Do you get Olympic fever? Or is all sport a cure for insomnia for you? Ahem.

Tuesday 19 June 2012

My Tragic Life as a Nerd Girl circa 1992

I remember when I used to live a tragic life. You know you have a tragic life when you're sitting at home on a Friday night, at age 21, watching Willy Wonka and The Chocolate Factory, thinking "Something isn't right here."

It may have a been around this time that I went out with a person who was nicknamed Walrus. Because he looked like one. Using the term 'went out' rather loosely, in the sense of spending an entertaining evening passive smoking in his vicinity at a local night club. And I really, really hate night clubs.

My desperation sunk even lower however, when on one shopping trip, I was trying on clothes. There may have been lycra involvement and body suits.(I know, I can't believe that I wore that stuff. Or more to the point that I was thin enough to wear it 20 years ago. Sigh)  The sales girl was rather chatty and somehow the conversation veered to discussing that it was hard to meet anyone decent these days in the fast paced 90's (or the 'olden days' as my boys now refer to them). 

Next thing you know the sales girl whose name was Faye, if I remember correctly, ( and I only remember that because it is my middle name) said she knew some decent guys and could fix me up if I was interested.  Showing how utterly desperate I was I agreed and gave a complete  stranger, albiet, a seemingly nice, friendly stranger but nevertheless, a stranger, my phone number and permission to play cupid.
                                                                               
The following day she rang.  "Okay, I've got two guys," she began "now, they're not exactly Tom Cruises, but we're no Nicole Kidman's are we?"
"No, of course not." I concurred, secretly wondering why nobody ever seemed to notice my striking resemblance to Ms Kidman. I mean, I had the red hair and the erm...well okay, just the red hair, but that's a resemblance, right?

Obviously the resemblance is uncanny
It transpired that she had two possible guys for me, one had just come out of a break up, the other had never had a girlfriend before as he was very shy and quiet, according to Faye. "Like you." she added.  However, the only boyfriend I'd ever had at that point had been a complete wanker who'd been obsessed with a previous girlfriend so the latter guy actually sounded more appealing.

So it was all set.  We were going on a double date with Faye and her partner.  When we arrived to pick him up, he wasn't there. Not a particularly promising start. His Mum informed us he was at the Gym.  "Oh well, at least you know he works out." Faye reassured me brightly, trying to put a positive spin on it, as we headed to Penrith Panthers Leagues Club to wait for him to meet us there.

About an hour or so later a very reluctant looking young man arrived, staring at the floor, as if he was willing it to open up and swallow him.  After mumbling hello, he then proceeded to steadfastly stare at the floor for the entire night, not once making eye contact.  To make matters worse, neither one of us uttered a single word to each other, but sat there in excruciating silence, while Faye tried to make polite chat chat to diffuse the situation.  It was beyond awful.

The only thing more awful was yet another blind date I went on, this time arranged by some friends of the family.  We went to the Burning Log Theatre Restaurant, and made it through dinner and the show okay, but things disintegrated quickly when we ended up on the dance floor.  This guy obviously fancied himself as some sort of super suave and sexy cross between John Travolta and Patrick Swayze and began gyrating in front of me, urging me to "Move your body!"  Instead I just began to laugh at him helplessy.  Oddly enough, this did not seem to impress him.

On the way home he abruptly pulled the car over around the corner from my house, lunged over and stuck his tongue down my throat.  I remained completely unmoved by this display of passion. 

Needless to say, I never saw either 'date' again.  And I am very glad those tragic days are over. There was a very happy ending of course.  I met an enigmatic, brooding Mr Darcy type and went off into the sunset to live in splendour in a luxurious estate. Um, wait,  no...actually I've just been reading too much Jane Austen. 

I mean, I met Micky Blue Eyes and we ended up here in Boganville.  Stay tuned for the whole touching love story. Coming Soon.
 
Linking up with Kirsty from My Home Truths for I  Must Confess
 
 
Did you ever have any dating disasters? Tell all...