Berocca & Bourbon

"Berocca & Bourbon, darling?"
"Don't mind if I do."

It's entirely possible that Berocca -- effervescent vitamin tablets -- exists outside of Australia*. Personally, I had never encountered it before coming here, where it finds a devoted following. Poor Man's Vegetables, as Harrie describes.

We're getting ready for a night out in the city, starting with burlesque at Eurotrash. Tisi has reluctantly put aside the rag rug she's been obsessively working on. Since learning how less than a week ago, she's nearly completed a fair-sized rug. "I just... can't... stop!" has been the refrain of the past few days.

"I'm pretty sure most people take, like, a month or two to finish a whole rug, man."
"I know..."
"So, put down the fabric. Come on, you can do it."
"Oh-kaay," she relents with a sigh.

We have just discovered we can share most clothes, including shoes. I'm taller and proportionately larger than Tisi in all directions, but only to the extent that everything feels like it's shrunkl a touch in the wash.

***

On the bike ride down, Tisi mentions that it's Lesbian Burlesque night: no boys allowed. Sudden relief that Richard had alternate plans and declined my invitation. Can you imagine: "So, I know I invited you out an' everything, but you actually can't come in..."

Tisi has forgotten her phone and is concerned we won't be able to find the bar, since she can't call the people we're meeting for directions. I, however, had looked up the address a few days earlier, and take us straight there. Ah, the practical applications of photographic memory!

Tisi is impressed. She tells me about the many times she's lost and forgotten things: wallets, clothing, phones, keys. Especially keys. She asks if I've seen her tattoo.
When she was 18, loss of keys became such a problem, she spontaneously decided to get a tattoo: Tisi, don't trust your head. Her friend suggested the more direct Don't Forget Your Keys.
Out they marched to the tattoo parlour. A fairly cheap establishment, they didn't have any font templates. So they went back home and, with the help of Microsoft Word, found the perfect font for the reminder.

By this point in the story, we're in the dark club and I'm fiddling with the bag Tisi's lent me, searching for my bike light.
"Impressive drawstring use. I never remember to use the drawstring."
"That may explain why you lose things."
"Hmm... point."

Tisi has pulled the left side of her pants down enough for the bike light to illuminate Don't Forget Your Keys across her hip.
In Times New Roman.

***

The burlesque itself is decent. The first girl out hula-hoops and jumps rope while wearing roller skates. Quite a feat, to be sure, but she's a little stiff as a performer. I lean over and tell Tisi she'd be so much better if she dropped the 70's porn face. Tisi bursts out laughing, "That's what it is!"

***

In between set-ups, we boogie up a storm on the dance floor. A tall, gorgeous blond joins us, overtly trying to make her girlfriend jealous. Tisi and I both agreed the attention is highly flattering and that we are, by far, the hottest couple there, despite being a pair of faux-lesbians.


[*According to Wikipedia, Berocca taken before drinking alcohol is said to prevent hangovers -- which may explain it as Tisi's choice of mix with bourbon. It also does exist outside Australia, but not in North America, kiddos. Sorry.]