March 8, 2019 by writehandman.com.au
Living in Lindfield, I worry too many people in Hornswood (being the mystical little suburbs snuggled between the bookends of Hornsby and Chatswood) work too hard and don’t have enough… fun.
So, I sipped my Hemingway Daiquiri (who knew there was such a thing?)
Carolyn the lawyer was undecided between getting the absolute shits with me, or laughing. Confident they should be similarly offended, her four-bloke entourage of sycophantic junior lawyers become a little agitated.
Me (with a smile) – “All I’m saying is, I’ve been standing here for twenty minutes meeting you all for the first time and all you’ve talked about is how rich you are, the fancy cars you drive and the amazing places you holiday! I’m not rich, due in the main to my meagre income, I drive a six-year-old Mazda CX9 (with fancy power windows and a reversing camera) which cannot compare to your Tesla,” I motioned to sycophant 1.
Me – “Our last holiday was Byron Bay, which pales in comparison to your Maldives battery-recharge,” motioning to sycophant 2.
Lawyer Carolyn (who decided she now had the absolute shits with me) – “Why don’t you walk away and find some Mazda friends then?”
Me – “Great idea.”
So, I wondered over to my wife who was talking to the host of the elegant affair, Shane.
Me – “Some lawyers asked me to walk away.”
My lovely wife – “What?? We’ve only been here half an hour!”
Turns out tall, attractive lawyer Carolyn was the head of one of the biggest law firms in the known universe.
We were at a cocktail party in Shane’s magnificent house on the water with twenty others. Hanging with the rich and powerful. Sophisticated waiters buzzed amongst us with fancy cocktails, bubbly and truly amazing food. Shane’s a BIG-TIME lawyer, so the event was highly lawyer-permeated. Lots of very clever people everywhere, but I was feeling pretty cluey because it was so stinking hot on the verandah in the mid-Summer afternoon, that everybody had to put on sunscreen, and I was the only one not wearing a suit!
About two hours later it started to rain so nearly everybody moved inside. I was full of champagne, Hemingway Daiquiri’s and beer and thought it would be a good time to rejoin the lawyers to smooth things over, as I’d discovered Carolyn was actually Shane’s boss. I was going to bury the old hatchet.
Me – “Sorry about earlier everybody.” I put up my hands in a vulnerable symbol of apology. “I’d had an argument with the wife who didn’t want me bludging a ciggie off those lads out on the verandah. I know, I know, cigs are moronic, but I do like the odd one when I’m on the piss.”
The four sycophants and Carolyn were still standing in exactly the same positions as when I left them two hours previously. I quietly wondered with a chuckle if the warden allowed them toilet breaks.
Me – “You’re all still standing in exactly the same positions as when I left two hours ago… Does the warden allow you toilet breaks?” Damn. I said it out loud.
Lawyer Carolyn – “What exactly do you do?? Apart from dressing inappropriately!?”
Me (with a smile) – “I’m a writer!”
Just at that moment my wife walked past and without stopping says to the gaggle of lawyers – “Actually, he’s NOT a writer”. I had to then admit, that I’m well on my way to becoming a writer.
Me – “So what are you guys talking about?”
Sycophant 3 – “The actress Madeleine Stowe and her legal team actually.”
This was a great topic, on which I could talk without upsetting any of them. Madeleine Stowe has always been in my top ten hot women of all time.
Me – “Ah mate, Madeleine is in my top ten hot women of all time.”
They all stood, silent. Lawyer Carolyn looked like I had just ashed a ciggie in her Gucci handbag.
Sycophant 4 stared at me with a perplexed look. It was pretty obvious why.
Me – “Not now obviously, but in her prime. Madeleine, along with Kate Beckinsale, Catherine Zeta-Jones, Maria Conchita Alonso (especially in Extreme Prejudice), Olivia Wilde, Megan Fox (in her early “Transformers” days), Salma Hayek, Liv Tyler, J.Lo of course and Eva Longoria.”
Lawyer Carolyn – “That’s one of the most sexist things I’ve heard. You’ve demeaned all of those women.”
Me – “Huh? I’ve demeaned Madeleine Stowe and J.Lo?? Oooh, I wonder if they’ll be ok.”
Lawyer Carolyn – “Well what if I was to demean you by calling you a fortuneless, boorish, overweight, sexist, Neanderthal pig in front of all these highly successful lawyers? What then?” Sycophant blokes 2 and 4 chuckled.
Me – “Overweight? What?”
That was it for me. Too much.
Me (to everybody at the party) – “EVERYBODY, I’VE JUST BEEN CALLED FAT BY LAWYER CAROLYN, SO I’M NOW GOING ONTO THE VERANDAH TO BLUDGE A CIGGIE.”
My wife, who was over the other side of the party, starts yelling at me and gesticulating wildly. She’s not a party-yeller, I am, but she’s not, so this was out of character for her. I couldn’t make out her hollering over the music, but guaranteed it was along the lines of DON’T YOU DARE GO OUT THERE AND HAVE A CIGGIE.
I had to get away from these women who were all trying to publicly emasculate me.
I turned, ignoring everybody, including my wife who was still waving and shouting. I power-walked fast, purposefully. Manfully.
And BOOM – I slammed straight into the ten-foot glass verandah door that somebody had slid shut behind me.
I’m 112kg, so when I manfully walk into something, it bangs. LOUDLY. The massive doors shook and there was a communal oooooh sound from the crowd. I dropped to the ground, stunned like I’d been hit by a mallet, leaving a perfect impression of my face, sunscreen-printed on the glass door.
Lawyer Carolyn stepped over me and quietly slid the door open with a smile.
My wife came casually sauntering over, she’s unfortunately used to incidents like these. She left me prostrate on the floor and said to Lawyer Carolyn, I was yelling at him not to walk into the glass.
In my dazed state, all I could think to say to my wife in my defence was – “Carolyn started it”.
Shortly thereafter, as we were leaving, Shane stopped to wipe off the perfect sunscreen-impression of my face that had been left on the glass.
Shane – “It’s like the Shroud of Turin, if Jesus was fat.”
Thanks for reading. I’ve put my heart and soul down in words, for you. Like a noble, armour-clad knight astride a powerful war-steed, in dogged pursuit of my elusive dream of being able to claim at parties much to my wife’s chagrin, that I am in fact… a writer.
If you could Share via the buttons below, that would be wonderful. Cheers. Jase.