Challenge: Eating Crab

When it comes to food and beverage, I am a person who knows what she likes. If you regularly have lunch or dinner with me at a specific location, chances are you'll soon be able to order for me, because I will have the same thing every time. As far as I'm concerned, it takes away the pressure of making decisions and you know, if you're on a good thing, why not stick to it? It's because of this that I rarely try new types of cuisine, especially when it's a situation that could leave me paying considerable amounts of money for something I might not like.

But, last night, a situation presented itself to me to try crab for the first time, a meat I had previously never had the balls to experience. And yes, I was a little wary of the idea, but my friend suggested we share it, and get the chicken as well in case I didn't like it. Feeling bold, I agreed to these terms.

When the meal came out, I was optimistic. There were obviously some very tasty herbs and spices flavouring the meat and the smell was delicious. My friend and I each picked up a piece of the animal and began approaching the task of eating it.

This was something that turned out be harder than expected.

Trying to break through the shell and into the edible part of the crab made me feel a bit like a caveman who has yet to discover tools. I pulled and prodded at the shell, eventually finding that the best method was to smash it apart with my hands and claw the meat out. Already, eating crab was starting to feel like a bit more trouble than it was worth.

When I finally got some meat, I found to be... ok. It wasn't horrible, but it wasn't super tasty either. It was also incredibly rich, and the seafood flavour seemed to get stronger with every bite, meaning I liked it less and less as the meal went on.

Luckily, I wasn't particularly hungry and there was also some pretty decent fried chicken so I was able to let my friend eat the majority of the crab and no food went to waste. As far as it goes as an experience, although I had an excellent time at dinner, I have discovered that crab is not something I really particularly enjoy eating.
I rate eating crab probably a 3/10.
Would I do it again? Almost definitely not.

4D Cinema – because sometimes three dimensions is simply not enough!

I don’t go to movies often. They are just too long and you just sit there and can’t move and you can’t stop it to take a wiz. And it costs too much anyway. So why don’t we all just stay home and watch some more Mad Men?
It’s a question that can only have one answer. Yes, we should just stay home.
And this newfangled 3D thing that’s supposed to save the film industry? Pltth. I went to a 3D movie when I was 12. There was one where a car was zipping around the cliffs of southern France and then braked suddenly on the edge of the aforementioned cliff… and I shit myself! I’m sorry but seeing a computer-generated tiger just doesn’t cut it for me.
But 4D? Well that’s just …. (insert compulsory dimension joke here)
After a bit of research here, where I was rather taken by the promise of “a high-powered bloody zombie that looks like a giant mutant foetus into a cathedral, where it races towards a crucifix the way a hungry dog runs after a flesh-covered bone. Jesus hangs motionless on a cross. The zombie reaches it, climbs up his body, and punches Jesus in the face.”
So clearly I had to go.
I asked the kid behind the counter for the movie with the zombie punching Jesus. He said he didn’t have it. He was probably just hiding it from his elderly Chinese mother, whose job it was hobble in front of us and show us the way to a table fulled with bright yellow 3D glasses so that we could engage in everyone’s life-long fantasy of dressing up like Devo.
For A$15 you get two ten-minutes movies. And in addition to the possibly imaginary zombie-Jesus movies, they also had a selection of dinosaur movies. A whole lot of rollercoaster themed movies. And a bunch of horror movies. We chose “Adventure In A Dinosaur Valley” and “Flying Through Icebergs”, the latter of which didn’t only involve icebergs but a strange sub-plot where you fly through tunnels getting squished by factory machinery. And then decided to go again the next day for “Blood Road” and the sequel “Blood Road 2”, which mostly involved us laughing at a badly CGI-ed zombie-like creature waving a sharp knife in our face. Whilst the bubble machine blew out a couple of bubbles. Because I know what special effect I most associate with having my life threatened by a raving lunatic.
So there was a bubble machine… but what else did they offer to make it “4D”?
Well the seats move around in a far more jolty manner than you might think appropriate for the action on the screen. And just above your head is a fire sprinkler for when you’re going under a waterfall, and one in front of you for when you are getting licked by a Diplodocus. And just a bit behind your head is another sprinkler blowing out soap suds… if you squint you can just make up that it is supposed to look like snow.
So it doesn’t really win any prizes for being hi-tech. It’s endearingly lo-tech. The movies aren’t particularly hi-tech either. I wouldn’t be surprised if they just downloaded them from the Internet. It’s the kind of home-spun futurism that you might expect from a family run business with an adorable old lady. You could say it’s kitschy, but the thing is, I don’t think this family would agree with you. I think they actually believe in the power of low budget 4D. And that’s an attitude that is worth supporting.

Rating: 8/10
Would I Do It Again: Yes

Challenge: No Lights No Lycra

This challenge is something I had been meaning to do for a while. And by "a while" I mean "around 3 years," since my ex housemate and INSSW blogger Dave used to go all the time. Also, dancing in the dark pretty much sounds like exactly my kind of thing. But often I was busy or lazy or forgetful or had a broken leg and didn't get around to it. Yet, one very cold Wednesday evening I managed to remember that it was on and that I had expressed interest in going, even if I did remember halfway through a gym workout. And I decided to go anyway.

This is basically what happens

No Lights, No Lycra started a few years ago, and the idea is that it is a dance class without instructors or choreography, where people can just dance in the dark. When I arrived, there wasn't really anyone around yet, and since it is in a church hall it was all a bit creepy. Soon enough, people who looked like my people and so I followed them to a dark hall, and sat just inside, hoping that I would be able to find Dave in the dark when he arrived. Lucky for me I did, and soon enough there was dancing to keep me warm. About halfway through Dave wandered off, and I didn't find him again until the end. I think the experience is better on your own, as it was much easier to forget myself and just enjoy my own physicality. Highlights were the weird echoey version of "Shout" that was kinda eerie in the dark, and going crazy to "I just can't wait to be king."

Rating:

10/10 - turns out it is my kind of thing.

Would I do it Again:

I already have! (Yeah, I have been slack with blogging, but it only took a week and a half to get around to it. Which is not that bad)

Challenge: Spiegeltent

The Spiegeltent has been popping up in Melbourne for several years now, and has always fallen into the category of things I meant to go to but always forgot about until it was gone. So, after convincing my sister and mum to go to a comedy festival show with me, when I noticed that Ali Mcgregor's Late-Nite Variety-Nite Night was on there, I figured that might be a good choice. Partly because Mum knew who Ali McGregor was (after a small amount of reminding), partly because the show offered variety and mostly because I like the name. AND IT WAS AT THE SPIEGELTENT. Finally, I could go!

This is a picture of Ali McGregor that also shows how happy I was to be going to the Spiegeltent.

The Late-Nite Variety-Nite Night featured four guests, as well as host Ali McGregor and her buttress Floxie McGinty (Virginia Gay). The first was standup comedian Matt Okine, who my sister and I liked enough to decide that we should go and see his show the next night. Next up was East-End Cabaret, who I liked enough that I would go and see their show if they were doing one in Melbourne. Although, hearing a song about how deflowering virgins is a terrible idea while sitting next to my mother was a new experience I possibly didn't need? Maybe next time that will be less uncomfortable. If that happens again.

I stole this photo from Ali McGregor's facebook page.

Burlesque act Agent Lynch was next, (sitting next to my mother while a lady is stripping to reveal a vagilaphone was another new experience). Finally, there was Dave Callan, who I have decided I should definitely go and see this festival. He danced to Beyonce. It was marvellous.
Between the guest spots, Ali sang some wonderful things, the highlight for me being the medley of Prodigy hits. If you have not heard her sing, here is a video of her singing a Blur song.

Virginia Gay, who was Ali's "buttress" (this may or may not be the correct term for a female butler, although I think the correctness of the term is probably irrelevant) throughout the show, was hilarious. Her face is just so delightfully expressive. She also had to earn her keep by singing a song, which had me in stitches.
Nutshell: A good way to see a variety of acts. Turns out the name of the show is an accurate description!
Rating: 10/10
Would I go again: Yes. I'd even take my mum again.

Challenge: Attend a poetry slam.

It is perhaps somewhat surprising I have never been to a poetry slam even before – a big fan of Carl Hancock Rux, a small fan of Saul Williams, and I have my favourite Hip-hop lyrics tattooed on my back. I’m not sure why I haven’t been to one before – perhaps I was afraid of a “Portlandia” skit inspired by Party Fun Action Committee’s “Word Up” (Google that shit!).

The revolution was not going to be televised so I ended up in person at SLAMALAMADINGDONG: Open Poetry Slam feat. Omar Musa and the launch of PARANG!. Poetry slam is egalitarian in design – the thinking behind it is that anyone can enjoy poetry not just Ivory Tower folks. For the uninitiated, there are 5 judges who are made up of the audience and there are no ‘professional’ judges as I erroneously thought for some daft (lack of a) reason, but as the hosting emcee told us repeatedly ‘Applaud the poetry not the points.’ Somehow I ended up being one of the 5 which was awesome. As it was not a ‘professional’ event we could award scores from 7.0 to 10.0, with the top and bottom scores not counting.

The entrants varied in quality which is to be expected given it was a not a ‘professional’ event. A lot can happen in 3 minutes – one really nervous young lady who stumbled and forgot her poem at the start really picked it up and took it home; I scored her highly accordingly (nothing like watching a underdog claw their way back). Some of them I didn’t immediately take to or felt were meandering were able to bring it back before they finished. As someone who has spent more time than he’d like to admit listening to Hip-hop – oh crunk who cares? It’d at least add up to weeks – it is fun listening to spoken-word following its own meter which gives it something of an interesting unpredictability, as opposed to rappers who (generally) have to keep the beat.  Also the audience clicks their fingers to show their appreciation – if you really impress them then they vocalise their approval.

What I liked most was that I was that some of the work that impressed me the most was work I wouldn’t ordinarily be exposed to; the aforementioned recovery girl and another girl slamming (?) about quote/unquote ‘female issues’ really impressed me. If they can hit home to a Dumb White Male® like me – well mission accomplished, I guess. As for the older guy talking who went from ‘personally revealing’ to ‘TMI-overload’ to ‘borderline primal scream therapy’ – well he wasn’t quite my cup of tea, but I hope it worked as catharsis for him. 

Judging was fun and for some reason I felt vindicated when my low score was booed (every judging panel needs a Red Simons, right?). If anything the booing meant they were defending each other rather than waiting for each other to fall, which is great. There is a real communal feel about it – I’m not sure I’m meshugganah about the ever so slightly cornball term ‘loveswamp’, but I do like the concept of it.

At the risk of sounding smug and worrying more about the points than the poetry, I also felt slightly vindicated that the 3 guys (yes, guys) that won I gave scores somewhere in the 9s. Applaud the poetry….

Oh yeah Omar Musa read from his poetry book and he was awesomesuace.

Rating: 7/10

Nutshell: Clicking not cliquey fun.

Would I do it again? Nah, not really my ‘scene’.

Challenge: Write a blog entry.

It wasn’t until Sally pointed this out to me that I realised this was a first (*face-palm*). I’ve generally resisted a blog because if I have anything to say it is going in my thesis.

I’ve written streetpress music reviews, - long-arsed emails, Facebook status comments and Internerd forum entries, and symbolic interactionist sociological reports for uni. It was actually the last one it reminded me about the most – the observing and getting amongst it (even if I didn’t quite end up dancing). Like most things I write I stop and start – a gradual, organic process. Maybe I should do it in one go in the future to keep it brief. But yeah I didn’t mind it.

Rating: 6/10

Nutshell: An acceptable way to procrastinate from doing ‘real things’ (read: ‘doing my thesis’), but not quite as much fun as making mixtapes.

Would I do it again? Uumm…….

#1st!

Challenge: I’ve never seen a country music gig.

“I like both kinds of music – country and western.”

It wasn’t until I was writing this up that I was thinking I have some vague, memories of me doing some country dancing as a kid – more than 20 years ago, probably under much sufferance. So the challenge was still valid and so there I was at the Victoria Hotel Brunswick, a typical, average sized suburban pub, on a Saturday night to see The Moonee Valley Drifters. With that noughties Johnny Cash biopic well in the rear-view it is once again pretty easy to shit on country music again; you know the drill; cousin courting country folk, depressing lyrics and crunking awesome hats. Yeah the jokes pretty much write themselves (And what is the deal with aeroplane food?).

But in the spirit of INSSW someone who’s country music collection begins, middles and ends with a (hardly listened) double CD Hank Williams best of collection there I was at a not-in-the-country country gig.

The crowd was made up of white suburbanite couples in their 50s and 60s who reminded me of my parents – if only my parents were out on the town having so much fun. I know more about Japanese basket weaving than I do about country dancing, but even I could see that it was the more swing dancing than boot-scooting. Same goes for the music; if you’re note familiar with it then of course all country music sounds the same in the same way that you probably couldn’t tell the difference between Waka Flocka Flame and Gucci Mane* if your life depended on it, while I on the other hand could bore you to death on the difference several times over.

What I liked the most was the communal feel – people seemed to all know each other or eager to make friends. Honestly I couldn’t have looked more out of place, but I didn’t feel out of place, well not too out of place and I think if I had made the effort they would’ve been friendly enough, despite the age gap. It wasn’t until Sally pointed it out that I realised that they were swapping partners; I’m not sure if this contributed to the communal feel of the place, or vice versa.

As for the fetching less who was possibly the only young person there and maybe I could’ve plucked up the courage to ask her to dance – I mean this is for hicks so it really can’t be much harder than getting crunk, innit? Going by snappy dressing she looked like she meant to be there (somehow I felt my plaid Chucks violated the unofficial dress code- will have to back to you about my Kangol), but when she got dancing and showed up pretty much everyone there- well, you could tell she most definitely meant to be there; it was her world and I was just visiting. 

The band did 3 sets of about 5 or 6 songs, at first I thought I thought it was maybe to give the band a break (who appeared to be much the same age as the dancers with the exception of the lap steel player who looked my age give or take), but then I realised it was probably so the dancing baby-boomers could have a well-earnt break.

After the gig I spoke to the perfectly friendly and likeable band leader ex-pat Yank Tom Forsell and bought a CD off him which he and several other band members signed. Of course, you can’t decide that you don’t like ALL country and western from one gig any more than you can decide you don’t like ‘rock music’ (hey I’m down with the kids!) from one gig, but I enjoyed myself. Even if they looked like my parents it was a fun night. Who knows? Next time I might pluck up the courage to dance…………

*Like Hank Williams both are hard-living, (self)-destructive Southerners.

Rating: 7/10

Nutshell: Friendly, unpretentious fun.

Would I do it again? Yes absolutely I’m going to keep an eye out and see them again.