I stayed up so late that I was awake through the sobering up process.

From:   'J'
Date:    21 January 2002 02:41AM
To:     'S'
Subject: I'm not very fucking relaxed at all!

 Hey Sis. Finally went to the dentist, expecting to require a good six or seven fillings (I swear, there’s more mercury in my mouth than Ok Tedi) but Oh Happy Day! I only needed one filling. But you know how wussy I am about the dentist, yeah? So I went to the doctor and made him give me some tranquillisers. They’re called Murelax, and he wrote on them “take  ½ to 1  –   IF NECESSARY”, so half an hour before my appointment I broke the little chalk tablet in half, necked it and waited impatiently for the gentle soothing waters of benzodiazepene goodness to wash over me.

10 minutes – still too soon.

15 minutes – should be feeling a twinge of calmness any minute now.

20 minutes – still a little tense.

25 minutes – I’m not very fucking relaxed at ALL!

So I pulled a prairie dog (stood up in my cubicle) and said to the marketing department in general “Oi! Any of you drugged-out losers ever had Murelax?” and Tony, the graphic designer temp said;

“Yeah, I’ve had those for a plane flight.”

“Are they any good?” I asked irritably.

“Ooh yeah,  pretty strong.”

“How many would  you have?”

“Aw, a  half a one should do it, mate.”

“Bollocks to that!”  I scoffed, scoffing the other half of the pill. By now I had to leave for the dentist just down the road. I went in, listed all the drugs I was taking on that form they make you fill out and went in, easing myself warily into the plastic-coated chair. The dentist was actually really nice and I was thrilled about the only-one-filling. He even said that my brushing technique must be the best in town cos I had absolutely no build-up on  my teeth at all, even after 3 or 4 years between visits.  He had a  look at my wisdom teeth too, and said that the bottom ones were OK, but there was this flap of gum over the left one and did he want me to chop it off?   Seeing as how it’s only the drill that scares me witless, I said “Fine”.  He used this sort of hot wire thing to singe it off, and believe me, it makes an unpleasant odour. After he pulled it out I said “Cor, what’s that smell?” and he replied “That is barbequed J.” and I thought Wow, that’s good customer service – he remembered my  name.

So it was all over in about 45 minutes and then as I left I realised that I was feeling a little bit goofy and, just my luck, the Murelax (sounds kinda like a laxative, dunnit?) started to kick in. By the time I walked back to work I was well stoned, and feeling very agreeable, so I WENT BACK TO WORK, even though I’d told everyone I wouldn’t be back (the appointment was at 3.15pm). So I sat at my desk for a bit and then thought, It’s Friday, I should go and see The People, they love me after all. So off I wobble around the two floors with my half-numb stroke-victim face, telling everyone how high I am and showing them the gaping wound in my mouth – god, what a gobshite I am!

The rest of my weekend was kick arse tho. I came home, went for a wobbly walk with Jade then got my hair cut at “Doctor Follicles” in Richmond (he offered me a beer and then shaved my beard as well – all for $20!) and met some friends for dinner at Mexicali Rose in Swan Street where I got even MORE hammered on Sangria. I got a quiff haircut if you’re wondering. It’s not very popular, but I like it.

Saturday Jade, Eli (Jade’s man) and I drove down to Indented Head (past Queenscliff) for Mia’s 30th birthday party at a beach house. The theme was ‘Pretty in Pink’, and I thought about going nude, but I figured that wouldn’t be very pretty, even though it is slightly pink in bits.

We got there early, about 3.00pm and went for a swim. It’s bloody lovely down there – nice small beach, sandy seabed and beautiful clear water. I saw a stingray, but it didn’t freak me out too much. By the time Jade and I went back to the house a few more people had arrived and we started the boozin’. We had a really good time, but there was one chick there who’d just got out of Verpashna.  Have you heard of this? It’s a Buddhist retreat near Lilydale.  You stay for ten days and you’re not allowed to speak AT ALL. If you speak you’re chucked out. It’s like the Trappist monks (you know, the ones who never speak). You wake up at 5am, have a bowl of gruel, meditate for 4 hours, eat an orange, meditate for another 4 hours, take a slow stroll round the garden, meditate again and so on. You have to wear NON-REVEALING loose fitting clothing and they separate the boys and girls. She was a bit over-spiritualised and kept saying how much she loved everything.  I really had to bite my tongue. And there were also two guitars there and a bit of singing went on, mainly by the retreat girl and her brother. I dubbed them the Von Trappists. I made them sing a love song about a transvestite in a fat suit. I’ll see if I can remember some of the lyrics…

My baby wears a fat suit
Just a catsuit
Love her as best I can
She's one hell of a man

My baby married a mobster
Got a taste for lobster
Put on forty pounds
Don't care how that sounds

You might think she's a fatty
But she's my box-hockin' Daddy
Something something something
Something else, something

That’s all I can remember. Thank God everyone was too drunk to care. And best of all, I stayed up so late that I was awake through the sobering up process – it always minimises your hangover. Around 3.00am me and a few others went for a midnight swim, which is always tops.

We left around 2.00pm on Sunday after a giant cook-up brekkie with eggs and spinach and sausages and mushrooms and toast. Got home around 4.00pm, had a shower and went to a pub called, funnily enough, The Retreat, to meet Ash and his new girlfriend, Tally, who was nice, though SIGNIFICANTLY and SCANDALOUSLY older than Andy by about 10 years to my reckoning. She has a sister who works as a hypno-eroticist. What she does, is basically hypnotise men, then tell them get on the floor, bark like a dog, stick a tomato up their bum, and wank! wank! wank!  It’s hilarious, don’t you think? God, I know if I did that for a living, I’d end up getting them to clean my house.

“Hey you, dirt bag – stick a broom up your bum! Now sweep! You are getting sweepy! Sweepy!”

Lisa was at the Retreat too. Her course is over now and she’s just been evicted from her house in Thornbury, AND her parents have GIVEN HER A CAR! I don’t know if I’ve told you, but Lisa’s parents are UNBELIEVABLY tight-arsed. One year, they gave her a schoolbag for Christmas.  I asked Lisa if they were dying or something, but she’s just as mystified about this sudden change of heart as everyone else. So anyway, all this has made her decide to sell the car, buy a bomb and drive around Australia for a year, camping and bush walking and all that.

Well, gotta go, mate.




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