I had a very special mother and son bonding last night, when I introduced my eleven-year-old to 'The Rocky Horror Show'. It was a televised London stage production, and one of the best I've seen. My absolute brain-crush, Stephen Fry, took the role of the narrator. My son is a very theatrical type who loves music, so I figured he'd enjoy the gaudy and vulgar spectacle. I was not wrong. I dismissed any misgivings I have about my youngster viewing what is a somewhat risque show with the thought he seeks out some questionable material on You Tube when I am otherwise engaged, and I know the parents of some of his friends swear like the Osbournes. He loved it, even though he was unwell and nursing a sick bowl. He was delighted when we discovered the actor playing Dr Frank'n'Furter voices a character in the US version of Thomas the Tank Engine. The actor was delicious and lascivious in the role, and bore a jaw-dropping resemblance to Eartha Kitt in his bold eye make-up, jammy listick, and dark wig. I have promised to take my little boy to see a live production in Sydney or Newcastle just as soon as another production is announced. Oh, and when I saw the actor playing Rocky, my fast-drying ovaries damn near went into overdrive.
His dad and I saw a production many, many years ago in the early days of our courtship. We are both huge fans of the depraved musical. You know something? Liking 'Rocky Horror' is a deal breaker for me. Oh, not in every day life, but in romantic relationships (not that I am seeking any new ones!). I told my son in order to be considered a suitor for me, a man must (1) like children; (2) be kind to animals; and (3) like 'The Rocky Horror Show'. Naturally, his dad meets all the criteria.
Call me shallow, but I once broke it off with a guy because, among his other crimes, he didn't like 'The Rocky Horror Show'. It is important to respect each other's differences and look past them, but when he sat appalled in the theatre after Frank threw off his cape to be revealed in his basque-and-suspendered glory, I knew he was most likely not a keeper for me. They say opposiites attract, but I now know this to be completely untrue. I think we seek out qualities in our friends that we might lack in ourselves, eg, assertiveness. Having different opinions on subjects is not a problem, and possibly healthy. However, if someone stands in total ideological opposition to you, then I cannot see how a romance can survive. This guy turned out to be a whiny pain, and it was best we not continue any romance. But that was a river under the bridge, and we did actually see each other around sometimes because of our work, and eventually resumed a friendship, which was nice. Haven't seen him in many years, but I wish him well.
Other things annoy me. I am having trouble with my computer at home for some reason, and am therefore typing this in the library. The computers are arranged on a rather elliptical set of tables, and opposite me sits a group of boys, aged about twelve, carrying on like snickering, infantile little nongs. I'm guessing they're not looking at porn given we are in a library. Oh, who am I to make assumptions? Maybe they're reading some history or geography, and their giggles are a reaction to their joy of learning. But I doubt this very much.
Moronic comments from our MPs annoy me, too. In my cross hairs today I have lined up parliamentary secretary Ray Williams. He made an asinine comment against the idea of installing more women's toilets in Parliament House on the basis that the women will spend all day in there and nothing will get done. I know it's an old chestnut and joke that ladies spend a lot of time in the loo, and always travel in packs. I'm not like this; if I want to go, then I'm going to go. I don't know if you're reading this, Ray, but when women go to the loo, they don't the luxury of standing there, unzipping a fly, and flopping out a todger. There is more clothing to fiddle with and adjust, such as skirts and occasionally pantihose, which is a monstrous nuisance at times. A woman occasionally has to replace a sanitary product. But here's the thing: we're not going to the dunny just for a laugh, okay? And your comment really sucks donkeys' balls in the lack of logic. If there are more loos, there will be LESS time away from the desk because there will be LESS queueing for a stall. Take a moment to let that absorb, will you? And isn't it preferable that women go to the toilet and void their bodily waste in a considered and culturally appropriate manner, instead of they way YOU obviously do, Ray? By this I mean you just climb up a tree, have a crap, and then fling it.
On a final note, to the dick beaters who leave shopping trolleys in the parking bays of the shopping centre car parks, rather than wheel them to the trolley bays, or at least to a spot away from the car spaces - yes, you - the morons who put trolleys right where people would like to park, thus necessitating them either driving to another spot or getting out of the vehicle to move the infernal trolley: you are all the wads your respective fathers should have spunked onto the bed sheets.
No comments:
Post a Comment