Last night we were sitting on the couch, The Silverback and I, and I was saying that I want to see that new movie with all the nominations. Someone had seen it and said that I would love it. Let’s be clear: this is not a movie review site. I found the movie to be disturbing (why so many guns, America?), superficial (why don’t we actually get to know even one character properly?) and *spoiler alert* it had a shitty cop-out of an ending. I tried to like it, really I did, what with Woody Harrelson and Napoleon Dynamite’s Nanna, but it was insipid. Too sad and too bleak in a pathetic, relentless way. Two wrung-out stars.

But that’s not the point of this blog. The point is something different. Of doing something different.

On Tuesdays when I finish work, dinner is cooked and the kids are in bed. We eat, then sit on the couch together and scroll through the book of faces (that’s true love, right there, no?) and I watch that show with the doctor who does Asperger’s. His voice prickles me like blowing across the top of a pen lid (arghhh), but I do like the dramatic medical events that unfold. It’s good to know that hospital admissions aren’t all strung out meth-heads and people with complications from the stupid amounts of medications they are mixing in their cells. This is proper emergencies from causes other than the stupid.

The medical drama was about to get going, and I was settling in for some good old blood letting, when Nath said, “Why don’t you go then?”

What?

An unplanned movie trip on a school night that starts in six minutes and I haven’t even made popcorn? Surely that can’t work? Or is the plan so simple that it just might?

So before anyone had a chance to call it off, I grabbed a Stella from the fridge, dug out a coat that would be suitable for Antarctica, and ran out.

And I cannot tell you how good it felt. I think twenty years flew off and out onto Sunshine Beach Road between home and the cinema, and when I took my seat (far enough from the weird old guy on the far left wing so that I couldn’t see what he was up to. Nothing, I’m sure he was up to nothing), and close enough to the screen so that I could be encased in the vista without getting a neck extension injury, I’m pretty sure another six years fell into the aisle and rolled to the front like Jaffas. I lost another two when I surreptitiously opened the Stella and it made a little sigh as the house lights went down, when for some reason I was convinced that the man-child usher would come and scold me in front of the pod of teenagers in the back row. (Funny how, even at this advanced age, I wanted to hold up my stubby of bootleg beer and show them I was cooler than them.)

It was nice losing all those years. Nice feeling the responsibility of a school night, and the heaviness of the incomplete To-Do List, shrink to a pinprick as the curtains drew back, and I got lost in someone else’s world.

Going to the movies is better than going on holidays. It’s far easier, it’s more comfortable and if I don’t like it I can leave at any time. Or fall asleep in a hug of red velvet. As long as that weird guy doesn’t come too close.

When the shitty movie ended and the lights came on, everyone hurried to evacuate, but I stayed a moment more. Savouring the smell of freedom that was masquerading as popped corn and fake butter, and the perfume of the last person whose arms rested underneath mine. I breathed in that smell and I breathed in that feeling. And I tried not to breathe it out.

…From The Ashers

I love Surfers Paradise.

I love the buildings that are trying to reach the clouds, and keep the beach a secret.  I love the lurid pink neon, and the noise of traffic and tension.  I love the seedy bars, and Ripley’s Believe It Or Not? and the smell of salt and carbon monoxide mixed together.  I love the tattoos, and the bustling energy, and the women who look twenty-two from behind and sixty-five in the face.

But I don’t love the cafes.  And that’s okay, because I don’t come to the Goldy for fine food and wine, I come for fun, and a taste of something a little wilder, and little bit more edgy than my perfectly arranged seaside town.  I come for a little bit of naughty.

Today I found a little gem that I didn’t expect.  Nestled between restaurants in the Soul Sea Temple complex is a special slice of Melbourne-Up-North.  Complete with a roof of tiles that could be from Flinders Street Station and walls of concrete that could be from the City Square, is Cafe Elston.

Cafe Elston

Industry lights

The staff are so pretty they could have been ripped out of an ad for Beat Magazine, with their carefully coiffed hair and beards and freshly inked forearms.  I could have spent most of the afternoon trying to read their cutely colourful body art, but there were Bennys and cheese boards to be eaten, Espresso Martinis to drink, and cupcakes to gorge on.  Even the beer list was something to savour, with ice cold White Rabbit and My Wife’s Bitter to slake a karaoke croaky throat.

Botanical Benny

It was love at first sight when I saw Cafe Elston, which bloomed into true love when I was presented with the delicate blossoms of dishes created by some arty chef in the kitchen.  I suspected they were constructed by a mincy little pixie but when I glimpsed him a couple of times during my extended stay, the incongruous was almost jarring: tattooed and blokey and more at home at a Nirvana concert than making fiddly floral food art.

Cheese Board

Butterscotch Cupcakes

Thanks Cafe Elston.  You have managed walk a fine line between urban and garden, with surprising prettiness and cheeky Surfers fun.  A playful slice of Paradise that has an attitude I want to hang around with.

Perhaps the Gold Coast is shedding some of her slightly tattered glittery clothes and acting her age.  I like it.

Have you been to the Gold Coast lately?

Where is your fave place to hang out on the Goldy?

…From The Ashers xx

It seems a bit trite to cobble together a list of five hits, in a week where I would have preferred to hang out in my bed, listen to the waves or dreary old Smiths songs, and let the days crawl by.  A week where I know I should be feeling grateful to be alive in this time, this place, with these people.  But nonetheless a week where I didn’t want to force a smile or glibly pretend that everything is fine and everything is fine and all manner of things will be fine.

Helen Razer wrote a book once, called “Everything’s Fine” but it came with a sticker that you could stick on the cover and obscure the ‘fine’ with a ‘fucked’.  I would have kinda liked that sticker this week.  Not for the entire week of course, for there were many moments of joy to grasp onto, but to have it available on and off, then on again.

So in this week of weeks, what I’d mainly like to do is to give thanks.

Thanks to Friend for tweeting Q and A with me on Monday night.  I can’t imagine what you handle, and I don’t want to, but you still make me laugh and I’m in awe of your strength.  Hayls chose well mate, she was a clever cookie that one (and I WILL win that dinner someday; I will get a tweet on Q and A yet).

Thanks for all the sweet comments on Blog’s birthday.  She liked your style.

Thanks to Suze for the gift of bold colour.  I love that we didn’t need any words, but that you knew that something bright would be good for my heart.

Thanks to my long suffering Husband.  Man you put up with some moody shit Nath.  I don’t know how, or some days even why, but I guess I must be a bit like Hayls: I chose well.  I might even give you one of my beers as a reward (see below).

Thanks to both of my beer delivery ladies.  Undeserved as they were, they shall be savoured with great satisfaction, come the weekend. Mwah.

So there you have it, no hits, but lots of thanks.  And don’t worry, this isn’t going to turn into some kind of Facey thing with lists of gratitude every day.  I wrote this lot to remind me that I am very lucky.  That yes, I can be sad, it is allowed, but that I do have much to be happy about, once the clouds have shed their tears.

Okay, come on, just this once, tell me what you need to give thanks for.

…From The Ashers xx

Today the following things occurred:

I did a presentation.  The computer and the projector did not communicate.  So that was fun.

I did a presentation.  For free.  From the goodness of my heart.  And I got trolled, IRL, by a dude from Deliverance (Or possibly regional Queensland.  Same-same.  Apologies to regional Queensland readers, but if you are reading this, I am not referring to you, because: computers and READING.)  So that was “fun”.  I might tell you about it someday.

I did a presentation.  AT 8am ON A SUNDAY.  If this doesn’t put me closer to someone’s god, then I give up.

Then:

I sat in as the support person, with Coco as the patient, for four hours whilst would-be paediatricians poked and prodded her, trying to figure out what the hell this rare and usual thing she has, is.  Hint: read my blog MoFos.  This is our fifth time in the hot seat.  I can’t wait for the day when I have a book called ‘One in Four’ on the best-seller list, and they can just waltz in, recognise us from the INTERWEBZ  and stop saying weird-ass shit like; “I think she her liver measures within normal limits” or “her bruising is pathological” (she just learnt to ride a two-wheeler bike MoFos) or “her dentition is normal”.*

And lastly: I have just found out that Elementary is not on tonight.  I do not know what sorcery has created this travesty, but I fear I shall be forced to go and watch that 50 Shades of Shit trailer…again.

Oh no, Sweet Baby Cheeses, I just switched over to some crap channel and I saw precocious children singing duets.  Synapses: seared.

But, because the world can only exist when there is a balance of negative and positive (Is this true?  Or an AlisonFact?**) these things also happened:

NAPOLEON DYNAMITE IS ON THE TELLY RIGHT NOW.  Forget Pretty In Pink or St Elmo’s Boring, this is the movie of EVERY generation.  (Also: I love you Channel 11.)

Also:

Flowers. Sooooo glad they are Gerbys. They might be SO 1995, but THEYDON’TSTINK

I found this cashola in a secret spot in my handbag whilst looking for a lippy. 4 pineapples and a slice of lettuce? Yes thank you.

Dunno what it is, but I’ll say YES (x4). So I might be a bit wobbly whilst writing this post. Hence, all of the boldz.

Also: The Silverback has done the food shopping for the week, AND is now doing the ironing, whilst I swill away. Schwiiiinggg!

So there you go: It’s a Sunday Night Shutdown here at The Asher’s Joint.  (Thanks for the advice Mrs Woogie).  The Evil Geniuses were allowed to stay up 47 minutes past curfew,  til 7.30pm, with a pinky swear that they would not emerge from their bedrooms until 6.30am or later.  So we shall see.  Could be a sweet deal.

Hope your weekend was a ripper, and deserving of a true Sundyniteshutdown.

Over and out.

*Sorry if you are one of those docs.  I know you were nervous.  But: normal dentition???  She has seven good teeth.

**Alison means “Little Truthful One”, so QED

….From The Ashers xxx

Here it is, the moment you’ve all been waiting for, the hits of the week:

1.  My new stubby holder.  I don’t mind a cleansing ale on the odd occasion, but I do NOT like drinking them nude.  This baby has everything I want in a stubby holder: pretty colour: check, skinny, so it can fit in a Corona without slipping out: check, some kind of advertising from some shit tourist attraction: check, and most of all, it has my name on it.  The line “This drink has my name on it” will be trotted out for years to come.  My Friend said it has Nathan’s name on it too, but I’m ignoring that joke.  I won’t be out-joked when it comes to my drinking accessories.

 2. And whilst we are on the subject of beer, I think “My Wife’s Bitter” deserves a mention. Delicious, and yes, another hilarious joke name.  If Nathan had’ve purchased it, the “Cats of Australia” might have come out, but seeing as I did, it was funny.  And mine.

A perfect accompaniment to our lazy Tuesday dinner of beef burritos (no beans) from Taco Boy at Noosa Junction. Mmmmmm.

3.  Okay, so it appears there is an alcohol theme going on here, I blame Friday night and being forced to watch Better Homes and Gardens whilst I wait for my dinner to be delivered to the table.  But check OUT this Cosmo.  Served up to me sitting on the deck at Angourie Rainforest Retreat after a gruelling week.  What more could a lady such as myself want?

4.  Tim.  I don’t know why, but this bugger Tim just makes me laugh.

5.  Home.  Glad to be back.

Do you go all “Cats of Australia” if your husband shits you?  

“The Cats of Australia have made their choice.. Snappy Tom, Snappy To-om”

PS And WHAT ABOUT the movie Jaws 2?  It’s on the telly right now, and my GOD that shark is relentless. Kids are copping it all over the place.  I may never swim in the open water again.