Last night the joint CEO’s of QFL enterprises took a two-and-a-half hour break from the company and attended the Jurassic Lounge at the Australia Museum.
The evening began with Q falling asleep too early (because she only took one day nap) thereby ensuring a nervous female CEO as she anticipated a wakeup at any point during her absence.
That was followed by an extra long bus ride because we jumped on without looking at the sign, unfortunately allowing plenty of time for a discussion about G’s work which we hastily aborted before we got a divorce on the bus.
We made it to the museum just before 8 o’clock and I remarked to my beloved that our last outing had been Easter.
Oh we go out and see people all the time, (several times a day if you count my brothers dropping in) but just the two of us…not since the miracle of Jesus’ resurrection.
Marriages don’t survive on miracles, we surmised, so we’ve succumbed to using that very wankiest of terms – date night – and shall make it a regular thing.
It also occurred to me that it is important to get out more often, so I can accurately pinpoint the demise of society.
Since when did electric blue high-waisted pantaloons become fashionable? The woman in question looked like an uptight Hitler on his way to Studio 54.
Ditto the sensible lace-up school shoes our mother used to force us to wear to school even though everyone else was in sneakers or buckles.
I’m no stylist to be sure, but those things cut the line of your leg worse than a Sydney shark attack.
Tighty-tight-tight jeans are ever in vogue, but when swivelling your torso and dislocating your hips is the only way you can climb stairs, perhaps you should consider a larger size.
The queue for the bar was so long this breastfeeding mum was fearing she’d never be able to down her one free drink, but it did give me ample opportunity to study these fine fashionistas.
It’s a bold move to open up a museum after hours, provide alcohol and entertainment and let people wander free…
Gregory and I were remarkably well behaved as you can see by this slightly blurry picture of me riding a bike that made a skeleton ride his.
He seemed to be doing a better job.
G was too much of a wuss to handle the stick insect in the learning centre (he’s got a bit of an issue with snakes and insects so it’s a shame he migrated to Australia I suppose) but I gave it a go.
No one got drunk and mounted a T-Rex which I thought was a sure bet, but we did see a couple getting hot and heavy behind the stuffed dingo.
A quick trip home – helps when you take the right bus – and we walked in the door to discover Miss Q in the arms of her aunt, talking away telling her all about the nap she’d just had.
We’d visited history but now we were back to making history, one Q day at a time.