Partying and Film Festing

I went to a fundraising quiz last night at the police station with my basketball team and some others.

Highlights were
- $5 wines
- unlimited sausage rolls (maybe etiquette was supposed to dictate some kind of limit, but we ignored that)
- I was able to identify Zoe Bell in the picture round - I would not have thought that was one of my trivia talents

The main one, though, is that I won a spot prize. About 50% of the people there did, so the mere fact that I won one is no bragging point. But I was one of the earlier ones.

My table was the 'loud' table (we were called the Jalapeno Hotties) and when the number 39 got drawn I was in the middle of texting someone and didn't hear it. But the girl sitting next to me hit me and yelled, 'That's Becs!' (long story, but that was my name for the night). My table went literally wild and I actually jumped to my feet with both fists in the air.

So I wandered up to the prize table and my eyes went straight to the Smiggles highlighters. Oooooh yeah! Highlighting goodness! I may have already had them in my hot little hand when my eyes glanced at the beauty products hamper. I stopped mid-grab and said, 'Oh, is that one of the choices too?' and yes, it was. Over $150 worth of Trinity products. So I put my $15 pack of highlighters down. What a close call. Toner, moisturiser, cleansing cream and a lip balm! They all want to see me in a few weeks time for an 'after' shot of my skin once I'm using all the fancy schancy stuff.

The next girl at our table who went up chose the $2.49 king size Cadbury's bar (which was not anywhere near the most expensive thing left on the table which still included, for example, big jars of sports supplements or protein powder and bottles of wine). We mocked her a lot. $1.99 on special, even. How much was mine worth? Over $150, is that right?

Then we went to Apartment and one of the girls (the one that hit me) pretended it was her house and everyone there was just visiting. Hours of fun in that premise! We eventually nabbed the bedroom area and lounged on the bed while sipping a yellow version of a rosebud cocktail (more passionfruit and some egg white). Every photo that came up on the flat screen TV she had to pretend was a holiday pic and tell us the story of what was going on. And she kept calling after the wait staff, 'You're doing a great job! Go home early! (That's my maid.)' I'm sure that never gets old with them. Apparently there was at least one All Black there (the one called Israel or Isaiah something).

We ended up at Hope Bros, where I couldn't quite get comfortable. I just kept remembering that girls in my seventh form class had said it was the place that's notorious for letting in under-age clubbers. Everyone there looked about 15. I kept picturing going to the bathroom and running into a gaggle of girls I teach (while still clutching my Trinity products closely). Let me note that out of nine girls in the quiz team I was one of only two white girls. So I was feeling very uncoordinated and gumby already, let alone being surrounded by teenagers on the prowl.

Then J and M's. I only had a small fries, yet the layer of fat they produced coated my mouth and interior organs for the next 12 hours or so. Potent.

And I caught a taxi home and it was only $10 flat! That's the cheapest taxi I've had in years! Go the green lights!

And that was my night.

* * *

Prior to that I had gone with my dad to two Film Fest docos. The first one was on Bobby Fischer (the incredibly flawed genius of the 70s). He's got a fascinating life story. Inspiring and tragic. To be honest, he reminded me a lot of my brother (except for the genius, World Champion bit).

It's always disappointing when you realise someone who is amazing at one thing is actually a douche in every other aspect of their life. Not that it was his fault, to a large extent. From the age of two or so his mother left him and his sister at home alone, no father on the scene, so he started playing chess by himself at the age of six. By sixteen he had told him mother to move out and she (a cold genius herself) hadn't cared one bit. And after he got the title he was so consumed with not losing to anyone that he pulled away from chess, and I guess without that his brain was left to be consumed by other things and some kind of paranoid schizophrenia took over.

I liked the little snippets of Garry Kasparov. He's one of my favourites, I think because he's actually (by all accounts) sane and nice. Fairly rare for a chess genius. My other favourite is Tal who is crazy and was accused of trying to hypnotise opponents (I think that's the one). My dad's is apparently Korschnoi.

I thought there were some good little insights from people who were close to him during the time he was gearing up for the world title match. I'd forgotten how controversy-riddled it was.

The second doco was about the West Indian team of the late 70s and early 80s. The highlight of that was hearing Viv Richards talk. His voice is like velvety chocolate. The doco basically covered the time where they went from being one of the jokes of the cricketing world (the Calypso team - fun to watch, but not to be taken seriously) to a team that was undefeated in test serieses for 15 years.

I thought it was interesting that they had focussed on aggressive fast bowlers in response to having been humiliated by the attack of Lilly and Thomson in Australia (bouncers to the head and body all game). Then the world hated them for it.

It was amazing that back then people didn't wear nearly as much protective gear. Lots of them were facing Michael Holding or Dennis Lilly without even a helmet on. Viv Richards did it intentionally to show how tough he was - he'd get a bouncer to the jaw and just shake it off and stare down the bowler like Is that all you got?

There was one guy got a double fracture in his hand mid series, so it was in a cast, but he kept bowling (and even batting one handed). Awesome! Athletes just don't do that these days. Pansies.

Behind all the stories was the history of racism at the time. The crowds, and even Aussie players, would sledge them with racist comments all game. And even back home the cricket board were all white and basically shafted them in terms of wages. So winning cricket against England was their ultimate up-you to the colonists and slave-masters of the past.

Apparently Viv was good buddies with Bob Marley, so this features a little. One of the Wailers reckons if he wasn't a cricketer he woulda been a dreadlocked rasta himself.

Through all of this my father slept intermittently. He would eventually let out of a louder snore and jolt himself awake. I couldn't help but laugh every time, though I felt bad for anyone around us could have been slightly irritated. I know that when you're super sleepy there's nothing more annoying than someone continually nudging you awake. So I tried not to do that too much. I fed him chocolate and cola but it didn't help much.

And that was my Film Fest experience.

The End.