Bachelor Weekend

Shalome and I kicked off Friday night, sans families, with a pub crawl starting sensibly enough with beer and wine at The College Lawn (my local). A brace of flavoured vodka shots at the next place, The Lucky Coq, tipped the sensibility scales against us and the cornicopia of cocktails that followed at bars such as Tusk Back Bar and Wonderland shoed away all remaining descency.

It was all part of a cunning plan to punish Shalome for attempting to scale back the evening by organising an early morning run on Saturday. Who does that? I haven't heard from her since so I trust she learnt a valuable lesson.

Onto Saturday. It might surprise you to know that i've been in the market for a muscle car for some time. My frugale nature is the only chastity belt standing in the way of my cherry being popped. This weekend's hot rod show was the perfect avenue to continue window shopping and The Lovely Samantha would have been proud - I shopped till i dropped.

I could never imagine loving another, but I have to be honest in admitting that a little 1967 Mustang Fastback has got me all hot and sweaty under the collar. Once restored, these things are an absolute leg opener.

After a solid day of full throttled temptation and red hot love flowing through my pistons, the animal in me wanted nothing more than to rip into a bloody steak and howl at the full moon rising.
The hot steamy night was too much to stay indoors so I packed the camera in my bag and headed into town. It was on the St Kilda Rd bridge that I glanced to my right and spotted another creature of the night with the same idea.

Boring Domestic shuffle took up the best part of Sunday morning. That afternoon, attempting to jog around Albert park again, I tried a novel suggestion from The Lovely Samantha to prevent further injury. Stretching before and after running gets my tick of approval.

see ya,
Minas.