We went home early last night but Craig's incessant calling dragged our tired arses back out to the city. I wish Jez's friends would, for just one occasion, drink somewhere other than Maloney's. I suppose value overrides ambience, because the latter Maloney's has none.
There are also several Maloney's-related memories I'd rather not retain:
- Dropping my then-new phone into the toilet
- Getting kicked out for being too loud
- Standing at the bar behind a couple of guys who got into a fight, one of them painfully stomping on my foot. My Tony Biancos retain evidence of damage
- Losing spectacularly in pool, although this doesn't bother me as much as the above, and I can't recall the identities of my opponents or partner
Maloney's also has a dero crowd. We spotted a few glitzy-dress-clad boulders last night, one of them asking Lillu to join their table. How could he say no?
Oh, and a couple of younger Fortians that didn't look a day over 13; a random man with a dirty long ratty who I think tried to get us to go to Space but I could be wrong because he was rather incoherent; a girl whose short dress exposed her vagina to the world; an eerily familiar-looking dude who I suspect I may have met at a club; a guy who was expelled from Fort Street for sexually assaulting a Japanese exchange student; my ex who tried to fuck me on the first date; and a bunch of older dero Fortians.
DID I MENTION THERE WERE BOULDERS?
There was also a guy who bore an uncanny resemblance to Joe Nguyen, but that's just for interest.
On our way home a mentally-unstable elderly serenaded us on the bus.
Jez kept saying I'm good to him for putting up with nights like these, but I had fun out of being amused. And I suppose Jez's friends are pretty awesome. My friends are just as awesome if not better, but Jez thinks he's above us.
Anyway, to their amusement I spent the whole night chewing glasses of ice. I asked Jez to fetch me some lemons too but he refused. I asked Philip too, but I don't think he understood me, because he just waved his arms around and started singing Ne-yo.
Jez came over tonight to cook for my parents. We picked shepherd's pie and I picked berry custard, which had a fancy name but I forget. Unfortunately the shepherd's pie recipe assumed that we had lamb leftovers and gravy from the previous day's roast. Obviously lamb roast could not have been a product of sitting in a seedy bar gawking at fat chicks, so throwing together dill, thyme, bay leaf, salt and olive oil, I bumrushed the faux-leftover lamb. It was spectacular. The pie, however, tasted too much of barbeque sauce (which superseeded Worchestershire, since my hubby is a picky prat). My parents liked it though.
After pouring the first attempt of custard down the toilet, we gave it another shot. The mixture burnt much too easily that even on low heat and constant mixing, we couldn't avoid a layer of scorched sugar on the bottom, which unfortunately after further beating was folded into the otherwise smooth custard. Jez didn't have dessert but I tried a few spoonfuls. It wasn't as good as I expected.
Lessons to be learnt:
- Burnt milk is extremely clingy on all surfaces
- When you have a punnet of raspberries, just eat them
- Stairs are fun
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