I’ve been on a bit of a scavengers hunt for the past couple of months as I try to cram pack Brisbane’s destination, places and mouth watering restaurants before leaving. In this case after my Brisbane returned to normal after the exciting production of Thor 3 landing, I had the opportunity to throw in the textbook for a day of walking, succulent and tender pork and gossip.
My story as to how I came about sitting in the hot Australian sun whilst a business woman took a phone call beside me, it all started when I opted to use public transport and discovered, after reading my emails, that my 6 hours of tutorials had effectively been cancelled.
It was in that particular moment of wanting to hurl myself up against the train window with a wail before pummelling my little firsts against the graffiti scratched windows, I opted to take a couple deep breathes and focused on the positivity. The positivity I speak of is knowing I wouldn’t be stuffed into a class room with other equally depressed students and as a result, quickly sent a message off to my one and only.
‘Meet me on the corner of Alfred and Constance’ was the reply I received in return.
After disembarking from my brief and yet entertaining train ride to the business district of Brisbane, my travelling feet brought me from a lunch packed, adrenaline fueled shopping mall that was utter chaos to a quaint blue and white cottage on the corner of Alfred and Constance. This is how I would be discovered, sitting in the Australian sun on an Autumn day whilst the business woman hurriedly jotted down important notes.
While waiting for my date to arrive, I used the opportunity to scope out business attire for both men and women on the pretext of window shopping for my interviews. As my living and breathing mannequins walked past in a show of different colours, textures and vibrancy alongside the regular staccato of high heels hitting the pavement before a tiny pair of court shoes entered my vision.
Fast forward the awkward “where do you want to sit?” questions that cannot help but be asked each time Lady Blacksnot and I get together for brunch/dinner or a few liquid lunches on the sly.
Having settled at our table under a traditional veranda on a converted old Queenslander, that now resembled a bustling and bubbling café and restaurant, Lady Blacksnot III and I got down to business of discussing her disastrous second date with Doctor Dick. You know the guy who is a dick with a dick? (If not: click here).
Having not quite gotten over my hatred of Doctor Dick, I informed LBS of her terrible mistake of accepting another date with Bozo the clown, my secret fetish of wanting to meet Doctor Dick so I could perform a surgery on an appending attachment of his and why I was considering women as sexual partners. This is when Lady Blacksnot burst into laughter and stated, “You love women but you don’t love women enough to eat pussy”.
Before she could comment any further about my love and appreciation of all things woman, our bustling French waiter asked what we wanted for lunch to which we replied, “We haven’t actually looked at the menu. Perhaps a few more moments?”
Dearest Reader, I can honestly say that after staring at the menu for quite a while and having conflicting thoughts on what I wanted for lunch, it was only then I decided to play Russian Roulette.
Thus, I found myself closing my eyes and pointed randomly at the menu.
Least to say when I saw my slow cooked and pulled pork piled deliciously and decadently high on a gorgeously crisp sourdough bun with shoe string french fries and garlic aoili, I knew that my finger had essentially made the best decision of the day.
Unlike the remaining shoe string, crispy french fries on my plate alongside a red lipstick stained napkin, Lady Blacksnot III’s phone started going off with new clients requesting a Lawyer Bitch. This also meant that our not-so-liquid lunch had come to an end.
As we walked away from our quaint little restaurant, I watched as LBS scrolled through her various texts and emails while waiting for the lights to change. Before the opportunity to snap a picture of the Lawyer Bitch in motion could be missed by a few seconds.
And that, Dearest Reader, is how we met on the corner of Alfred and Constance.
Until next time,