Recently I told you that Brenda is largely reserved and inoffensive unlike her alter ego Mumabulous. Having put that out there, I have to confess that when Team Abulous spent Easter with friends at Perisher Brenda acted in a manner that would have made Mumabs blush. I carried on like a pork chop. Alcohol lubricated my behaviour but was not its cause. Can you guess what was behind my undignified demeanor? You bet your sweet derrières it was crumpet.
Mind you, we’re not talking about any old supermarket variety crumpet. The reason for the fuss was the supremely talented and ultra tasty Chris Isaak . Cue squealing like a ten year old One Direction fan.
It began on the journey southward when we stopped at the Bundanoon bakery for some fine coffee and patisseries (as you do in the Southern Highlands). The the funky young barista casually mentioned that Chris Isaak happened to be playing at Thredbo. My eyes lit up like proverbial fireflies. “Chris Isaak did you say?” “Oh great” moaned Dadabs “The place will be packed and we wont get parking. What a dumb arsed idea putting on a concert over Easter. Sheesh”. Dadabs is a Coldplay fan and therefore does not have music in his soul. He is also one to let a trivial issue like parking stand in the way of me getting an eyeful (and in this case an earful) of crumpet. Needless to say I wasn’t going to let it rest. When we reached the lodge, I made sure everyone was painfully aware that Chris Isaak was playing at Thredbo ( a 45 min drive away) on Easter Sunday. I stressed that we should go because “Chris is soooooooo hawt”. My argument was based on solid fact. Chris Isaak is so well endowed with hawtness it ought to be against the law.
Wicked Game was released in 1989. You may recall the video where a scantily clad Chris cavorts sexily about a deserted beach with Helena Christensen (Sod orf!). The clip was four minutes of hawtness so intense that it caused the entirety of Gen X a mental melt down. Everyone currently in their early 20s has this song to thank for their conception.
As Sunday crept closer I revved up my banter about Chris. Our friends hatched plots as to how I could transport my underwear to the stage. Meanwhile Dadabulous became increasingly irritated. I suspect he was a wee bit jealous. He asked with incredulity whether I really wanted to watch a band outside in the icy alpine conditions. I replied yes because the sizzle between Chris and I would radiate toasty warmth throughout the venue.
As cruel fate would have it our planned day trip to Thredbo coincided with Chris’ concert. As Dadabulous predicted the carpark was indeed full but being the parking Lord that he is we slipped into a cheeky spot beside the salubrious Thredbo Leisure Centre and its indoor pool. I entered the complex disappointed to find Chris conspicuously absent. I gathered he must have been holed up in a luxury hotel room by a blazing fire, sipping whatever rock gods sip at 11am.
I had no choice but to brave the frigid waters and supervise my kids on the water slide. Not fun. Being a Virgo I am finickity about certain issues. To meet my exacting standards pool water must be precisely 33C. Thredbo Leisure Centre is considerably cooler than this. In an attempt to warm up I entertained steamy thoughts. I imagined myself in a hot tub like the one below except without the dudes. Alright – John Cusack can stay.
Sadly while thoughts like this can get you hot and bothered they do not warm you in literally. I was sitting there shivering, my lips turning an attractive shade of blue and my extremities taking on the texture of a withered prune.
By the time the kids condescended to leave I looked and felt like this.
An urgently needed cappuccino and pizza were revitalizing but ultimately unsatisfying. I was so near to Chris Isaak and yet so far. Trudging back to the carpark the gig was in full swing and the music reverberated through the valley. To say I was distracted was an understatement. My head was spinning around like something out of the exorcist as I craned my neck to catch the slightest glimpse of the event. I couldn’t focus on the job of loading the car and slammed my forehead into the open boot. The resulting lump on the head was the perfect souvenir for the day.
Have you ever been so near and yet so far from one of your idols?
NB: I went to YouTube to view the Wicked Game film clip strictly for research purposes. Some dude had left a comment so politically incorrect it registered on the Borat scale. Needless to say it had me in tears. I can’t report it to you verbatim but I can show you the gist of it.
Here endeth my tiresome obsession with felines, unless they happen to look like Hitler.