Saturday, January 27, 2007

Toronto around Australia day

I was met by DannyBuddy, television's Chris Foy and their mate Katy at Toronto bus station at 4:30pm on the 25th. I was immediately involved in preparations for that night's 'mixer'.
Foy lives in a frat house, which I didn't know til I turned up. I did know that it was his birthday. And I did know that it was going to be a mini-Marly reunion.
His frat was hosting, and they'd selected four rooms to be National rooms with an appropriate drinking game: Japan, Russia, Mexico and Australia. Foy was the Australia host and we played two-up as a drinking game – the first time I've played it. It was an awesome night. The playlist was Australian and general party stuff such as "All this love" by Similou and 'Let me clear my throat."

Rob, Foy and I made an impressive effort with "I still Call Australia Home". One of the girls asked if that was our national anthem. Then there was a rousing round of Happy Birthday for Foy is now 24. Did I say it was an awesome night? Katy takes a particular delight in calling me Harry Highpants. Australia went off – packed with dancing young things. The rest went off to a club called Tonic, but I rested my old bones on the floor. Rob ended up crashing out downstairs somewhere.

Before the party Chris, Katy and I had dinner a Chinese restaurant. At the end we got fortune cookies and I was about to mention the In Bed Game – where you add “in bed” at the end of your fortune – when Katy said we should play the ‘in bed game’.
See? Chinese culture is universal.

I got “Sometimes it’s hard for you to get going, but you keep yourself on task once you have started in bed.”
Katy smiled at me in bed.
This made me think of her in bed in bed.
In my mind we made love for hours. Then in my mind we got married, but it turned a bit sour after I got sick of Canada and we stood on the knife-edge of divorce. But luckily the aliens invaded and I was able to be the man I was meant to be: my hitherto latent abilities in leadership, courage and stoic nobility, were revealed. We were tearfully reunited, each having thought the other killed in the chaos of intergalactic struggle. I had her at hello. She then had me in the kitchen. Woah, wasn’t I eating Chinese or something?

“Harry? Why do you look like a drunk lizard?”
“Sorry, I was just thinking.”
“Of what?”
“…Nothing”
Oh, those eyes.

The next day was Australia Day and Rob's constant prompted for beer was met with indifference. "All this love" once again started up and interrupted Foy making up a song on the guitar about the girl last night with awesome breasts. He was happy in the remembrance, but then turned to restrained fury when he remembered that he'd dropped his camera in the toilet last night. He'd stormed off while Rob was trying to drunkenly explain travel insurance. Frantic searching in the morning had Foy worried he'd thrown the camera out in a fit of rage.
He found it.
This brought delight to his face.
He kissed the camera.
"Um, that was in the toilet."

We watched some Eddie Izzard standup. Very good. Someone asked what the name was for people who had a fetish for amputees. The internet was consulted.

Foy: "Sex AND the handicapped?! We want sex WITH the handicapped!!"

Happy Australia Day.

I think we left at about 3 for food and stuff. We went to a NewZealand pub and won teeshirts and touks for Australian trivia. We made snow angels on the way back.
There's a bit of tradition amongst my friends to marry Canadians. I choose Katy, and not just because she's great fun and so very, very pretty; but because my last three weeks will be spent in Halifax which is populated by fat lesbians.

Okay, so Foy has Chica Cherry Cola by Savage Garden on this thing.

Please enjoy the below.
I am a photographical genius, managing to exlude most of my head from this one. The girl is Katy. No, I am not touching her inappropriately. And none of us have any idea what song we're singing. My guess is that great Australian classic 'Twist and Shout' by the Beatles.



I have photos of two 19 year of Canadian hotties who look like they are about to make out. Luckily Foy totally hit on one of them, thus avoiding many grey hairs and hairy palms.
Instead of posting it, however, I am showing some 30second snow angels from the Marly.


(l to r) Me, Foy, Rob. Angels, all of us.

4 comments:

harry said...

Not all of this is strictly true.

Fyodor said...

No fucking way! I was all wizzed up there, too.

harry said...

What the hell are you talking about, you strange man?

Fyodor said...

I should have thought it was obvious that I was taken in by your fictional tale, you blackguard [N.B. correct spelling]. Your gift for narrative is _that_ good, and way better than, um, say, Matthew Reilly's.