Rahm-SHTINE!!!

Sorry, another text-heavy/photo-light entry. The characters you meet in Brisbane, I tell you people...

Kirk and I were invited to the wedding of Christie and Andy (fellow Pandemic-ites, Christie in fact runs the whole operation). Lovely wedding, formal dress at the Stamford Hotel for which I busted out my mauve Rick Owens getup and Alexander MacQueen medieval hunting bag and a pair of suede heels that I had bought as wishful thinking back when I was heavily pregnant and had not yet had occassion to wear. Kirk rocked his Prada wedding suit (our things had arrived on a slow boat from Vancouver just the previous day) and we packed up The Bun and all his accoutrements for an overnighter at Kylie and Dylan’s. Kylie had been kind enough to offer up her family (mum, dad and brother) to watch Kai as well as their baby, Cole. Excited at the prospect of our first night out without The Bun since he was five weeks old, we over-indulged in the drinks (Kirk was seen with pastry on his head at one point but you all know he doesn’t need drink for that to happen) and all four of us wobbled into a cab for a quick ride back to Dylan and Kylie’s as the night waned.

Kylie gets in next to the cabbie in front while Kirk, Dylan and I climb into the back. Kirk immediately launches into a drunken impression of The Jerky Boys, going on and on about his GASSSSS. The cabbie, not amused, advises (in heavily accented English):

cabbie: Hey, I am not kidding if you have a problem man it is a HEALTH ISSUE go see a fucking doctor man get the hell out I don’t need this trouble...

Dylan: Are you kidding me? Are you fucking kidding me? We’re CUSTOMERS.

cabbie (still doing 40 kph): I don’t care man I don’t need the fare get the fuck out I don’t know where you going anyway.

Kylie (calmly): We’re going to Newman Street in Gaythorne (sidebar: that’s Newman Street in Gaythorne in Queensland...another ongoing thing).

Me (whispering): Is this (general hand gesture in the air, sign for what are we listening to on the audio system?)...Rammstein?

Kirk: RAMM-STEEN? Is this RAMM-STEEN??

cabbie: Rahm-SHTINE!!!!

Sound of four pairs of hands immediately clapped over four mouths and various pitches of “PFFFFHHHHTTTTT!!!“ stifled laughter.

Dylan: Did you hear the cover of that Depeche Mode song they did?

cabbie: No.

Dylan: No?

cabbie: No. I am not the gay.

[SIDEBAR: Gentle reader, may I direct your attention to the lyrics of track number six from the Rammstein classic, “Sehnsucht”, a dreamy little ditty entitled “Büch dich” (English translation: BEND OVER):

............................................................
Bend over, I command you
turn your visage away from me
I don't care about your face
bend over

A two-legged being on all fours
I take him for a walk
ambling along the corridor
I am disappointed

Now he comes backwards towards me
Honey stays stuck on the garter
I am disappointed, totally disappointed

Bend over
your face doesn't interest me

The two-legged one has bent over
and moved into a good light
I show him what you can do
and I start to cry

The biped stammers a prayer
because he's scared I'm feeling even worse
he tries to bend over even more
tears run up his back

Bend over

Bend over, I command you
turn your visage away from me
I don't care about your face
bend over once more

Bend over
............................................................

Ummmm...Mr. Cabbie? Care to comment? Or maybe you’d like the one written from the POV of a HERMAPHRODITE. And have you SEEN this CD cover art (above)??? END SIDEBAR]

OK, know what? I’ve been sitting on this half-assed blog entry since October so I’m posting it anyway finally. Couldn’t find a nice coda to end it on. Blah. I’m a hack.