And I shall call him Tulip.
So I was shooting the breeze around the Mamamia office the other day when I asked where in time our crew might like to visit, should they ever have the chance. Any time period. In history.
I know, right? What a fascinating question!
Except the answer from two of them was none. They wouldn't like to time travel. Ever.
OK. Two things. First, I'm not asking them to try fish lungs in Bosnia. You can go wherever you want. It just so happened that I wanted to see what the dinosaurs looked like (hopefully pretty!) but neither could fathom why anybody would want to.
That's fine. Riding a triceratops is not for everybody, and I was born without the gene that tells me not to do phenomenally stupid things. Sweet, I get it. But maybe they would want to go visit a castle in Victorian England, or something? Play a practical joke on a King by taking his picture on a digital camera, pretending you have his soul and then trading it for his entire kingdom?
I know. I'm a fucking riot. But no.
One asked: will there be Twitter there? I don't know, it's a bloody hypothetical question! You can take a My Little Pony for all I care. You can do the Macarena in front of a mirror holding a video of you doing the Macarena while Los Del Rio watch on and end the universe as we know it if you really want. You know why? Because it's a hypothetical question.
I've always been rather fascinated by time travel. My mum, ever the hilarious she-wizard, used to joke and wave her fingers around all spookily and say 'but you're time travelling now...into the fuuuuuuuutuuuuure'!
Which is about the lamest thing she's ever done. But that's the natural course of time. That's like trying to tell me getting milk from the corner store is a road trip. It's not a road trip unless you cover more than 1000km and set fire to a barn in your sleep.
I want to go into the past. I want to interrupt the Gettysburg Address with several 'meows' at inopportune moments and see if it makes it into the transcript. I want to yell at a peasant.
I want to take my hipster friend to the very beginning of time itself as the universe explodes forth and expands and watch his reaction to see if he's 'seen better'. Ingrate.
If I ever invent time travel I will come back to this moment while I am writing this post and make it even better with my future words.
Oh. My. God. It's happened.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Above: The look on R-Patz's face when I overtook him on the red carpet. Not pictured: me.
Last night I went to a red carpet movie premiere, and had to walk the red carpet. The same one with Robert Pattinson and that Witherspoon lady on it.
I did this because I hate myself and have no respect for the institution of celebrity.
I'm not really a 'red carpet' kind of guy. And I'm not even using that as a euphemism. Although red hair kind of scares me too. Unless you're wearing it ironically in which case FUCK YEAH you're so post modern it hurts.
The premiere was for the movie Water for Elephants which by all accounts is amazeballs. I'd originally thought it was a documentary about a herd of pachyderms who had to navigate their way across Africa in a convoy of Range Rovers looking for a new watering hole.
Turns out I was wrong. Elephants don't drive. But if they did, they'd never forget. Like riding a bicycle. Which they don't ride either.
I accepted the invitation to walk the ridiculously long red carpet for two reasons. One, I thought it was hilarious that anyone would let me and two, my sister is in Year 12 and I wanted to see the look on her face when I told her I'd be walking right past Robert fucking Pattinson.
I told her over the phone but I imagine she was sporting the same look as somebody who had just been punched in the face with a lemon. Kind of like this :0
Problem was, of course, I had no one to go with. Not a soul. I don't really do social functions on my own. Can you imagine being the unfashionable guy walking it on his own? If it was an Angelina premiere, maybe I'd have a chance of being adopted, but it wasn't.
But then I found a friend on Twitter who was also going. And we totally fucking rocked it.
I had arrived straight from work and bar the addition of a blazer, it looked like I was about to walk into a pub in Boonah. And I think I became the first person in the world to walk a red carpet with a laptop bag over my shoulder. I was also carrying a giant fuck off book as well but managed to hide it in friend's handbag so people didn't think I'd become lost on my way to university.
We walked right past R-Patz and it was kind of nice on two levels. One, I pretended all those girls were screaming at me. That's certainly never happened to me, even at my most faux-heterosexual. It's the kind of oh this fire blanket does nothing scream you hear in movies or stunt shows. Two, I totally overtook R-Patz on the red carpet. He didn't know it was a race but I won the shit out of that race.
Oh, and after all that, a lovely lady whom I don't know that well tweeted me today and said she recognised me. ME. On the red carpet.
I totally should have got my hair did.