Trauma and good surprises make a grand contrast.

Dear Internet:

Please, please, can you give me some better warning?
Here I am, innocently attempting to see which scoundrel ripped off Allie Brosh's pictures, and I find a link. Awesomesauce. The link is good. The link is just. (Her provided link is not, but oh well.)
Then I think, Well, she reads Hyperbole and a Half, right? She must have some rad musings.
Well, I guess to some they may be considered rad, but honestly, Internet? I did not need, at all, to see an exhibitionist's fancies laid out for all to see on a blog. I think I may be scarred for life. Or am slightly scarred, because I didn't scroll down. I closed that window as fast as I could and erased all my history and stared at poor Lupin in shock. 
Cause Lupin didn't want that either.
So next time something potentially scarring comes up, can you please just make a popup of this guy here - a popup that is immune to all popup blockers?
Kind regards,
Me.


Anyway, that trauma aside, I got surprised with happiness today!
Picture, if you will, Facebook a couple of days ago. One of my best buddies Trina messages me, asking about a DVD I borrowed off her. I have said DVD, and she tells me her boyfriend Nick will come along to pick it up before he goes down to my ex-home, where Trina lives, to give it to her. 
4pm, I get home. I have $5 to buy mince, from Kathryn, because I ran to Big W for her (a bit over a block, but she fears for my eating habits). A message arrives: I'll be at yours soon - Nick. I duck across the road hoping to get to Woolies and back before Nick arrives. Mince is secured. I race back home. Press elevator buttons. Door opens.
And Trina is standing in the elevator with Nick.
Cue screams and hugs and screams and hugs and me going to Nick, "Hold my mince" and more screams and hugs.
I, as I tried to find mince, actually thought to myself, "Huh. It'd be funny if Trina was there with Nick... nahhhhhhh. Whenever I think about something cool and scenario-like, it never happens."
God decided to prove me wrong on the best one of them all, to date.
My reaction was thus because I haven't seen my lovely Trina in awhile, and I missed her tremendously. Trina also gets a shoutout because she's my mother. This began at a Girls Retreat with my Sunday School teacher, Robyn, a couple of years back:


SCENE: Teenage girls lining up to make sandwiches.
TRINA: [picks up plate] So, what do you want on your sandwich, Tash?
ME: [confused] Um... ham. 
TRINA: Do you want beetroot?
ME: Yes please.
TRINA: And you like cheese and tomato, don't you?
ME: Yes please.
TRINA: Do you want mayonnaise?
ME: No thank you.
TRINA: And I'll put some lettuce on, I know you like lettuce. [puts lid on sandwich] There you go, Tash! 
[TASH takes sandwich and, confused, leaves a happy Trina making her own sandwich.]

She is amazingly lovely, and is fantastic with advice too. She and I got baptised on the same day - which I believe is yet another factor saying she'll be in my life forever. (My kids, when those poor souls come along, are going to need one bit of sanity in their lives... and while Trina is as crazy as I am, she at least has mothering instincts.)
Also, Trina knows how to drive. I am in awe of this because I don't know how to. My mother says I need 5hrs with a driving instructor first, but I think it's just because when I was 15 and practising out on my grandma's farm, I nearly ran over a stray sheep. Yes, my grandparents farm sheep, and yes, I may or may not have driven off the driveway and into a paddock (in my defense, it was all dirt road) but I still don't believe that's any reason to not teach me. Also, Dad's more than a little to blame. "Okay, go... go... STOP!" [I slowly stop so I don't get yelled at for suddenly stopping the car, as I have been getting yelled at for.] "What?!" "You just ran over a cyclist." Keep in mind, this is a farm, in whoopwhoop somewhere, WITH NO PEOPLE IN SIGHT UNTIL YOU POSSIBLY HIT THE COAST, 500KM AWAY.
I digress. Trina can drive, and thus I trust her with my life.

Anywho, it's somewhat morningish. 2.19am, to be precise. I once again cannot sleep, because I am a noob. It seems to be common. 

Oh, but guess what? Shenanigans be had tomorrow! We are going to - where else? Say it with me as a chorus, Mana Bar. I find it more than a little odd that me, the most non-gamerish person ever, is seemingly frequenting a gamer bar. However, during a conversation with Nick and Trina on my bedroom floor today, we actually discovered what Mana Bar means. (Don't shoot me.) As Nick chuckled at such a pun (he's studying game design, so it makes sense), we eyed him suspiciously. "What?" "Mana Bar is the magic bar in a game. So you can see how much magic you have left." Trina and I just looked at him incredulously, and continued talking about the Valley itself. But this time we have a group that is increasing. Stanfield, Joe and I, plus Trina - that be our usual group for Brisbane shenanigans and Sunny Coast shenanigans. And now Nick, too, is becoming a regular. Stanfield's friend Nathan is also coming along for funs. (I have not met Nathan, so no shoutouts, apologies.) Shall be a blast, and Stanfield will be picking me up, so no fear - I don't have to correct it next time.


G'night.


(By the way, anyone out there looking for awesome? Louie Giglio. YouTube his fantastic talks.)
 

Well, nights out?

Once again, Mana Bar was frequented tonight, and I realised something. Lego RockBand exists. Honestly, is there a greater thing than Lego RockBand? Beyond Lego Harry Potter, no. There is not, not in the realm of games.

Before I continue with yet another post at 2.24am, my friends have requested mentions. I know it seems fail now, Joshua, but I'm going to do it because I have a love for my friends, especially those out with me tonight:

Joshua Stanfield, Esq.: Has plans to take over the world. I will be his propaganda specialist. We will have cookies and dance around bonfires. He also is quite skilled at gatherings because he has organised two of the best outings of my life. He's also good for talks... and only occasionally mentions how often I cry to him, "Joshua... am I a silly?" (His reply is no. One day, it will be yes.) Anywho, to continue.
Hon. Christopher Kemp: Ahh, Joe. Joe is my buddy. I talk to Joe frequently. I'm fairly sure Joe is aware of how silly I am, but he seems to be okay with it. He has a fair lot of knowledge about those knowledge boxes known as compu-ahs, and used to have a fantastic afro. I mean, there's afro, and then there was what Joe used to have. Joe, obviously by my use of past tense, does not have said afro, but he is nevertheless exuding awesome charm.
Sir Chris Fielder: He was officially dubbed thus at Pancake Manor a couple of hours ago, after patting me gently on the head in a very patronising manner. Fielder is epic, and why? Because he gives hugs like no other. I mean, there are hugs. And then there are Fielder hugs. I don't think a hug I've had from any other has really come close. That's how awesome they are. I could wax lyrical about Fielder's hugs all day long. But I won't, because I just can't describe it. I want to learn his secret to hugs, but he hasn't shared it yet. Sadface.
Her Lordship Kathryn 'A' Scanlon: Also has been dubbed this. My bestest buddy ever who gamely agreed to come with me to a gamer bar. She has decided it is awesome. After knowing her since I was 11 (and beginning a friendship with the ever-so-alluring line, "Do you like BOOKS?") I think God has put the awesome in front of me, and said, "There. That's your person to make friends with." That is what she encompasses - the most accepting person I have come across, even when I curl up in a ball on my bed, scream, "I DON'T KNOW!" and then realise I have undone all my careful work at convincing her I'm okay. And she is quite hilarious, so generous, and a kind, amazing buddy to have. You want a Kathryn now. I know it. Steal this Kathryn away and I will chase you spouting non-sequiturs and eyeing you suspiciously.

Anyway, so this was the crew who went to the gamer bar. I had prepared myself for a quiet night in - knitting, being a crazy spinster, watching TV and possibly sighing in happiness over Pride and Prejudice, but it was not to be. Stanfield appeared on Facebook:

Him: Pick up your phone!
Me: It's out of battery. What? 
(The phone was on silent, I just failed at life.)
Him: We're coming to get you tonight. Mwahahaha.
Me: Whatnow?
Him: Nah, we're going back to Mana.

I phoned Kathryn, she accepted somewhat eagerly, and off we ventured. 
When we arrived, Fielder and Stanfield were already inside. Joe, Kathryn and I were stopped by the bouncer. "Can only take one of you," he said. (As Kathryn pointed out, the bouncer himself was a gamer nerd. Ahh, wins.) 
Joe went inside to grab Stanfield and Fielder, and the bouncer and I made small talk. "Yeah, we're just taking her," I said, gesturing to Kathryn. "She's not been before."
"Oh, well, you guys can go in."
Score.
After a quick round of some racing game, and a quickly-drained OJ, I was ready to edge to my corner. Kathryn edged with me, and we started a round of Ghostbusters. I know, right? One area RB owns GH, is when you get Crocodile Rock and Ghostbusters included on the game. We're playing this, we are feeling skilled, Kathryn has progressed to medium and is going swimmingly. Raskulls - a genius game, Kathryn and I both managing to come first, though beaten many a time by Stanfield - and more GH. Sitting on a beam, near GH, feeling content.
Suddenly, a Fielder to the window. Fielder and Joe are quickly joined by some random, who looks at me quizzically and asks Fielder who I am. Assumedly, Fielder mouths 'Tash'. I wave, the guy waves back. Suddenly, the bouncer murmurs something to Joe, and we find out - where we are, well... not too stable, at all.
Our cue to leave.

Pancake Manor was next. Kathryn was deeply concerned about my lack of food (which was because Chris has decided he wants to go to the Bahamas, he funds my survival, and thus, we are lacking on the survival today) and ordered me to order something wholesome. I got nachos, and am now feeling nauseous. A whole lot of food crammed into one sitting... well, not the best, I will warn you now.

By the way, all you Brisbane-frequenters, Pancake Manor has a bar underneath. Not that I drink, it's more, "Who knew bars lived under pancake houses... and had knights in them?!" Excitement plus, for all you who have not seen it.


Now to stay awake.
TIL DAYBREAK.
No, just kidding. 

NOTE: Conversations with Stanfield -
It makes it sound like we never picked you up from home lol :)
They did pick me up from home, because they are loving and kind.

Masked Shenanigans

So I went out last night - very much unlike me - and went to partayyy.
No, I'm kidding. I wasn't really partying, lest you die of shock. I actually went to this pretty awesome place in the Valley.
(I may have started completing things on my list of things I said I'd never/prefer not to do. Go to a place - at night - in the Valley was one of them.)
Anyway, so this place - Mana Bar - was holding a masquerade night. Mana Bar is a gamer bar. I'd not been to a gamer bar before, so it was a new experience compared to the usual live music drunken patrons scene. I was freezing - as I am an idiot, I didn't stop to think that a short dress, stockings, ankle boots and a thin cardi weren't exactly good attire for warmth - so in that bar, it was packed. And I was rather warm indeed.
Little secret, I am not a gamer. My gaming repertoire consists of Guitar Hero, Spyro, a bit of Crash Bandicoot, Sims, Tekken and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. (Soon, Harry Potter Lego. SO. EXCITED.) So anyone says CoD, I'm like, "What? Cod? The fish? How the heck do you play with a fish? Kevin never used to play, though he was a fighting fish, and a frightened one at that..."
But at this place, lo and behold - Guitar Hero. Nikita, Joshua and I were hunting this bar down, and I just slunk over to Guitar Hero and began playing.
I highly doubt I left that bar stool that night, because not only is playing fun, but watching those pretty lights... ahh, it's lovely. And it was quite good, because these people were like, "Hey, you're really quite good at this," and all I get at home (from Chris) is, "You suck. You realise that you're supposed to HIT the notes, don't you? Why do you fail at life?"
High on this victory, I stormed out of my room this morning and slung a guitar around my neck, slid Beatles Rockband into the player, and nodded to myself. It was to be grand.
Then Chris came home.
I was expertly strumming and telling him how I was getting all the photos, and he calmly sat on the lounge and watched.
That's when I began getting nervous. My fingers began trembling as I pressed those plastic notes and tapped, with increasing stress, at the strummer, and suddenly I was messing up the Beatles. I could just see it - George, Ringo, John and Paul standing in Sergeant Pepper uniforms, glaring at me and shaking their heads crossly. I was failing. Not literally, but in my mind. And it didn't help that Chris, trying to mock Helter Skelter, was dancing stupidly next to me. I felt confused. Still trying in vain to hit those notes, I sunk down onto a stool.
And I couldn't do it. I just couldn't. So I pressed the pause button, feeling slightly light headed. Chris's show was over; he left the room and I slumped on my stool. What was it? Why was it that around my brother - the guy who'd taught me to play - I couldn't do it, but around a random group of bar frequenters, I could play? All confidence I'd had in my abilities was shot.
I propped the guitar up against the TV, and went to go start prepping my roast. Suddenly, Chris raced out of his room. "YOU'RE FAILING!" he screamed. He started doing what can only be called a jig. "YOU'RE FAILING! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA FAILING!"
My only instinct was to run to the TV, begin stroking it, and begging it not to turn red. It didn't work.

Chris and I were left with a FAIL on the screen, and our eyes on it. "Well," I said, "at least this screen looks pretty."
"That's true. But you still suck."
I could only nod. And vow to myself he'd see my wicked skills at some point. Wicked skills, I tell you.