There's this advert on Foxtel right now (no, not Maori Poppins) where this girl in her underwear says that she likes guys with back fat and a hairy back, guys who watch a lot of football, guys who don't buy her flowers and guys go to strip clubs. The tagline is "The Girlfriend" and whatever the alcoholic beverage is is the ultimate bourbon, as she is the Ultimate girlfriend, you see. However the ad just creeps me out - she seems too confident in herself, like she's planning something. If she was so carefree, I'd just think she was going to stab me in the head as soon as I was asleep. Maybe it's just me, what would I know, but I suspect she's up to something. Maybe in a later version of the ad...
Anyway, it's pretty easy to tell if a girl is really into you. I draw it from my relationship with the lost netball girl, and my future relationship with blue eye shadow girl, that a girl is really into you if she likes your friends (the girl in the ad is a little too keen to push the boyfriend out of the house) and is willing to drink with them, for this will wear off and eventually you'll have to stay at home. And if she's really into you in Hobart, she'll go with you to get late night Hobart food. I don't know if I've mentioned Mykonos yet in this place, but it's the place in Sandy Bay to go and get late night food. There's absolutely no recommendation to the place if you are sober, awake or don't like anything from salad to Red Bull to a Mars Bar being fried in batter, but if you drunk, hungover, tired, ill, sleepy or bewildered at 3 in the morning, there's no better place. Now, this is something someone told me - and it's something I didn't even realise - it's apparently a very good pick up point. Especially, how can I put this, if you like the larger lady. So I'm told. I'm told it's a chubby chasing kind of place. And I can sort of see how one guy in one group could hook up with another girl (large or otherwise) in another group while they sit on the bricks outside the real estate agency eating shockingly bad/shockingly good (it varies) chips. I don't know what happened to the two gay guys who last year seceded from Sandy Bay to make their own republic in their back garden, but if Mykonos seceded, the Tasmanian economy would lose the crucial drunk food tax money.
However, as much as people champion Mykonos, I'm not a fan (this might just be because I've never picked up there). I much prefer Hobarts hidden late night snack stop gem, the little Hot Dog shop in the middle of town, which seems to no longer be open, which is just near the VIP Driving school. I was told once at Customs that the people who worked in the hot dog shop were either reformed mental patients, homeless people, reformed drug addicts or failed reality TV stars (ooh, satire). I didn't really ever notice this, but I was then told that all the people who had been in prison were doing the cooking out the back, so they wouldn't scare the customers. I have no idea is this is true at all, I was just obsessed with the 70s style Space Invaders machine in the foyer, the delicious milkshakes, the incredibly dodgy hot dogs (was that really mustard?), the strange way every hot dog was named after a real dog and illustrated with a cartoon of that dog (what was a double poodle dog?), and the wonderful, ever present threat of violence in the place. The waiting area was incredibly small, so as you can imagine, a lot of people imagined that they were being looked at in a funny way, or that they were really first in line. Every time I went into the place, there was a fight, although oddly, I always seemed to walk in just as someone was being escorted out with a head wound. And I'll have a double rottweiller dog to go thanks...
The best memory I have of the place was I went there with a friend of mine just after I moved to Hobart, and when we went in, she was pretty much face to face with an ex of hers. There was really bad lighting, no one else in the store, and absolutely no room to move. This was really, really awkward because it was a tiny room, and I was absolutely no help, because I was all "wow, is that Space Invaders!" - there was just no way either of them could stand each other, and I think one of the staff members noticed the tension and decided to snap it by yelling "HEY! You know who was in here! A minute ago! KEVIN SHEEDY!" - this didn't work at all, since none of us liked Essendon, but it was worth a try. I know Kevin Sheedy is a man of the people, but I couldn't imagine him eating a late night hot dog, especially not in this place. So we all just kept standing in silence, until after about two minutes (and I was on level 2 by this stage) a cat just wandered in to the hot dog place. A Kylie Stray as we call it these days. I wasn't really thinking, so I said something to myself like "Ah, fresh meat for the hot dogs then" and the woman behind the counter has screamed at me "WE ONLY MINCE DOGS THANKS VERY MUCH!" and stormed off. I don't remember, but I'm pretty sure we never got our hot dogs that night, for no matter how bad late night food is, you can never, ever, ever, diss it.
Even if it is made by mental patients with minced dog...
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