1. I told you, bitches. Or, in the words of Groundskeeper Willie, "I warned ye, didn't I warn ye!?"
In case you don't remember, I've banged on repeatedly about how I want futuristic clothes, i.e. bubble jackets, spackle pants and licorice all-sort sneakers, stuff like that. I made the prediction that a year-or-so from now (when you add Australian time delays, then Brisbane time delays), we'd all be in shiny shit like circa 1997. I'm talking Ginger Spice's latex dresses shiny. No really, when Karl Lagerfeld does it, we all do it. I'll see you in sparkles and perspex this time next year.
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| Givenchy |
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| Givenchy |
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| Chanel |
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| Chanel |
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| Gucci |
2. To conclude the entire contacts fiasco, I got a new prescription in my old frames. It's like looking at the world through a periscope. I don't like it.
3. Part two of the bike crash story.
I can't even remember how I turned that little ditty into such a convoluted drag. To make it as minimal as possible: I was tearing down Coronation Drive (non Brisbvagans, Coro drive is a six-lane whopper that runs alongside the Brisbane River, it almost permanently busy and bussy, Additionally, post-flood, it has the most balls-crazy GTFO mess of construction. Both on road and on the pedestrian paths. Not that these details had much to do with the stupidity that follows here.) feeling pretty swell when I tried to come off and onto the footpath. My front wheel wedged in a gap of concrete. I was whipped sideways and half onto to the road, where my head was sticking out in the way of an oncoming bus.
Seeing as I've still got my head, I moved away in time. After that was the requisite loud sighs and head shakes at the general passing traffic (of which there was ample, both in cars and on foot). On the plus side I did get to turn the bike upside down and feel all mechanic-y. Lucky for me a decoupled chain is easy to spot.
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