rack ’em up, bartender…..

by Zoë on May 31, 2008

Earlier this week, I got a free pass from DishPig and booked me and my partner in crime, Leah, a night out at the flicks. The aim was to see the new Sex and The City, get dressed up for it, have a chick flick night out, be home in time for the 11pm baby-feed.

I’m not sure why I like SATC so much. Well the writing is sharp and funny, and the wardrobe department ought to be sainted I suppose. Perhaps its because I will never be able to relate directly to these women. I will never be a career chick, I had 3 kids at 28, and have just celebrated my 6th wedding anniversary, and have been with DishPig for a decade this Halloween. 4 distinct lifestyles I will never realise. And I’m not sure I’d want to anyways, but I don’t mind imagining walking in someone else’s Blahniks.

Yah. So, as I was saying….

right, movies.

Leah’s co-workers spent all day yesterday telling her that the film wasn’t releasing till next week. Nope, Leah was certain that despite me being a tired mother of 3, I was on top of it and would know the right night.

I got frocked up, went to pick up Leah at the tail end of peak hour, we made it to Fox Studios with loads of time to spare, so we did some window shopping and headed up to the theatre to collect the tickets (pre-booked online, just to be sure.)

As I got the tickets out of the spotty-skinned lad’s greasy paws he asked me “Would you like an envelope?” puzzled, I said cockily “Nope. We’ll just go straight in. “But those tickets are for next week.” “No look, it says Friday, today is Friday.”  “No, the movie is released next  Thursday, these tickets are for next Friday.”

I swore the lens zoomed in on me and there was amplified canned laughter and cackling from the 2 people in the line behind me.

Well, deciding to make the most of it we decided to go back to my place, drop the car off and cab in back into Newtown for some cocktails, maybe a little people-watching and have a stab and pretending we weren’t desperately tired mothers.

The bar was dark, professional and full of teenage Uni students. We scored a booth right next to the bar, and settled in to enjoy. We drank Red Carpet Martinis, chomped on a bag of chicken chips (all class mate!) and assessed the carnage.

Yes, carnage. I don’t know if we are on the wrong side of 20, or if people are really are getting sillier with clothing. Firstly, people, business shirts do not make cute dresses. I don’t care who designed them or what pattern the fabric is, it doesn’t look good. Especially when worn with fishnets and pvc black stilettos , or a cowboy hat.

Furthermore, I personally feel it is inappropriate to wear boy leg shorts. Full Stop. Male, Female, Donkey, no boy leg shorts. And the thing involving white denim mini skirts? Not all of your social circle at once.

And if you must wear a dark shirt and suit to the pub, perhaps reconsider on the white tie and sneakers. And the spikey hair gel. It just reminds me of the little fat kid from Hey Dad.

And do you know what? I went to a lot of trouble to not look like someone’s mother tonight, so no, I won’t be minding your coat while you go for a fag on the porch.

We knew it was time to go when the two promo blondes in ill-prescribed yellow playsuits (on behalf of Bundy Rum) by-passed us with their free drinks vouchers.

Yep, we are so 29.

I’m going to enjoy the movie. When its finally released.

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