No waiting around this year. Spring rolled up and announced itself, loud and proud, on September 1st. We'd had a little warm weather prior, but nothing unusual for this time of year. Nevertheless, yesterday the sun was out, the air turned warm, the skies cleared, and it was beach weather.
Well, for Tasmania, anyhow.
I had a pretty good Father's Day, for all that it was a confused affair starting on Saturday with kids too impatient and eager to wait. The best bit was the evening. We had Scream, Blacula, Scream! and the original 1958 The Blob all cued up, ready to go. I made a huge pot of nasi goreng, and the Baggins girls showed up, as well as one of the Branch lads, and we hung out watching exceptionally dire cinema, and playing games of Bell-Bottomed Bad-Asses on the Mean Streets of Funk.
Apparently, I haven't actually matured a great deal since share-housing days at university. Oh, sure, I've acquired a certain patina of responsibility and all that good shit, but left to myself, what do I do for fun? Neck a couple of beers, watch trashy movies and play ludicrous games with friends.
And it was a great night, thank you very much. Bell-bottomed etc is a card game; part of a series of card games from Z-Man Games in which you try to build a particularly crappy, generic movie while simultaneously preventing everybody else from putting their film together. Bell-bottom etc reflects the '70s exploitation flicks, making it particularly appropriate for an evening involving one of the Blacula movies. However, I suspect my favourite from the series is Kung Fu Samurai on Giant Robot Island, and we also one Scurvy Musketeers of the Spanish Main.
I managed to win the first round. The title we had to work with was "Sweet Lead Death: The Return of Lethal Sex". (You generate movie titles at the start of the game, using the cards. It's not complicated. But it is silly.) My winning film turned out to be about a Fence (the criminal type) who made a big score and fled to a moon-base, where he waited pensively and alone, hallucinating that there were people chasing him. (I think it must have been one of those fucking awful French experimental flicks from the early 70s).
The films didn't work all that well. We made it through The Blob, although the DVD player started acting up, but Scream, Blacula, Scream simply wouldn't play all the way through, no matter what magic I tried. It's possible I may never know exactly what happens between the new Voodoo priestess and Prince Mamuwalde, the accursed Blacula. Nor will I be likely to discover why Blacula was supposed to be screaming so much. To be fair, I'm okay with not knowing. It was more fun watching the film and trying to identify characters and situations that are portrayed in Bell-bottom, etc.
I managed to dodge the almost-inevitable Father's Day Breakfast In Bed. I hauled myself out of the bed at 0830, a full hour and a half after my usual time of arising, but the late night had slowed the boys up considerably. I came down the stairs to discover Genghis in the process of making me some toast. He scolded me for getting up before my B.I.B, but went on to present me with a kind of conceptual Father's Day Breakfast: a single piece of toast with the words "Happy Father's Day" written on it in squeezeable vanilla icing from a tube. I wasn't expected to eat it: just appreciate it.
I love that kid's sense of humour, so I duly appreciated my conceptual breakfast. Then I had a banana and some avocado on toast.
Which looks a little scant, doesn't it? But that's as it should be. I have negotiated a promise with Nat: if I get down to 100kg, I can find myself a really groovy Long Coat.
I do want myself a decent coat. Ergo: banana and some avocado for breakfast. And this post is by way of reminder to myself...
...right. That's about it. I have work to do.
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