Comedy: Nick Cody

Hope this doesn’t offend. I am a Coeliac… Don’t judge me.

 

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Out And About: Anh Do at GPAC In Geelong

I picked the boys up from school last Thursday afternoon and headed down to my home town of Geelong. Mum had prepared an old fave casserole – thanks mum!

Then we drove down town and parked a midst many other fun seeking Geelongites, who were out and about to see the very special Anh Do, performing his Happiest Refugee show.

Anh was amazing.He is a skillful story teller and became quite emotional at times, and was laugh-out-loud funny at other times, recounting the poverty and danger his family endured as they set up in a strange land.

On our long drive back to Footscray the boys continuously reflected how much this endearing comedian had affected them. Great and memorable and valuable night out!

My Big Night Out, Part 3: Naked For Satan

Before we go any further we need to get one thing straight. There are VERY few people I would actually get naked for. Maybe a female medical practitioner every two years (if I’m honest, it would be more like every three), and…and… Hmm, let me think about this… I believe I entered the world that way. So there is no way I would get naked for Satan. We clear? Not this bible believing, God fearing, forty five year old, (cough), sagging chick.
IMG_2095IMG_2096IMG_2097Now we have that sorted… You know how a place and all the people in it can sometimes feel just way too cool for you to be intensely and eagerly taking photographs? You don’t want people thinking that you don’t get out much. But I wanted to be taking photos around every corner of this place. It was super cool. And, the truth be known, I don’t get out much. So, in an effort to contain my trigger happiness, I settled for taking photos in the relative seclusion of the bathroom. Yep. The bathroom. These photos are of the women’s bathroom at Naked For Satan. I will have to leave the rest of the décor to your imagination because, I’ll admit, I was too gutless to shoot all the fifties wallpaper collages of semi-naked pin-up girls and boys in full view of the largely young and hipster clientèle.

The whole experience of NFS was wonderful. As I wandered, wide-eyed, around the cavernous spaces, waiting for my friend, Jane, I experienced visual delight everywhere I looked.

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(Not my photo)

Jane finally rang. She was already upstairs in the roof top bar. When I found her – the dimensions of this place are immense – she could not contain her laughter as she shared how she had told her workmates she was taking her Christian friend to Naked For Satan. He, he, he. Yep. Very funny.

So I will end this tale with an anecdote that every middle-aged woman will appreciate. It involves a 30 something barman, a sideways twinkly, slow, flirtatious smile and a little splash of extra top-up wine – our little secret.

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(Not my photo)

Great service, extraordinary styling (reason enough to check this place out), amazing views from the rooftop and nice food at fair prices. All in all a great place for a big night out.

Why the name Naked For Satan? Go to the following link for the full story?

http://www.nakedforsatan.com.au/the-naked-story/

My Big Night Out, Part 1.

Clearly I don’t go out much because I can tell you that this one time that I DID actually venture into the world of Melbourne’s bars and after hours entertainment, I gathered enough material to write three blog posts. Yes. Three.

I didn’t go dancing. There is quite a good reason for this. I am extremely uncoordinated. A few years ago I got the notion Zumba classes might help me get some dance moves and help me loosen up a bit. Really? I never graduated from the back line. I thought it wouldn’t be fair to throw everyone else off. Truth is they were all fine and I remained the only off one. I saw new people come along and I would console them saying, “You’ll feel really unco when you start, but so long as you can laugh at yourself… You’ll be fine.” And I think I would have been fine if it were just me having a quiet giggle at my own expense. But no. The massive floor to ceiling glass walls took care of that. Zumba class was after Karate and before Indoor Tennis so there were always plenty of little kids  – finger pointing, sniggering little kids – sharing my self-deprecating mirth. When the teacher, after two long years of Zumba perseverance, encouragingly told me she thought I might have improved a little, I decided to take up running.

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