3 nov 2001: 
"My name is Alice. 
Like Cooper."

a v. bizarre evening, indeed: right up there with "haunted tetris night," the night of fish-juggling, and yes, even the inart darkhorse parties....

these shots are from the viennese ball in the hub and an insane euro-club halloween dance party that i later attended with dear beany.

i learnt a lot that evening.  i learnt that beany is quite possibly the best dancing partner i've ever had the pleasure of waltzing with, other than that guy jesse who dropped my ballroom class right before the exam (bastard); australians bleed, sweat out and cry beer; i learnt that i should never be left alone with that peculiar bald russian man with no vowels in his cacophonous name; that i intensely dislike the v. tall girl with the fake accent schtick; that i still cannot do a proper waltz half-step (which would make marilyn, my dance instructor, cry bitterly); cobwebs and vintage beaded hats don't co-operate; i can polka if i want to, i can leave my friends behind; and that drinking warm flat yuengling lager on an empty stomach makes me giggle my head off.

beany, thanks for the fun evening and lovely company.  bob, kiss my bum.  "gleb" or whatever the hell your name is, i find you repulsive.  and last but not least, "icky" (or whatever), you are too tall and too annoying for your own good.
 
 


Alice does her Harriet Vane schtick.
 
 
 
 

Bernard Kelly and me, feeling a bit grainy and vintage.
 
 
 

A very dapper and debonair Bernard and Karen! Trés chic!
Check out Karen's pretty dress!  She made it herself!
Check out Beany's tux!  It's sixty years old!
Yay fashion!
 
 
 
 
 
 

Bernard Kelly and me,  looking 
rather unlike ourselves.
 
 
 

Bailey With the Shaved Head and...ummm. 
I forget her boyfriend's name but he is really nice!
 
 
 


 

Crikey, he's like a frog in a sock.  What does that mean? 
I don't understand you, bizarre lexicon of Australia!
 
 
 
 
 
 

England Nick exorcising things, Vampire Lady, 
Harriet Vane, and a spooked-out Australian with two hats.
Let's give 'em a hand, folks.
 
 
 
 
 
 

Wellety, wellety, wellety, the priest and the vampire girl seem to be very blasé
about the fact that the guy next to them is waving a gun and looking menacing.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Two wacky, pasty, vintage-attired micks plus a few beers equals this picture.
 
 
 
 
 
 

Me attacking Bob Yuncken, despite the fact
that I'm about 3/4ths his body-size. 
Believe it or not, I'm actually wearing heels.
 
 
 
 
 


 

Beany fancies himself James Bond.
Rrrowrrrr.  A zillion hats, please.
 
 
 
 
 
 

Work it, Drunken Yuncken!
 
 
 
 
 
 

Errrr..... 
We've got a querulous guy in an Aussie hat, an Indian (??) 
cowboy with a flask whom I swear is not actually groping me,
England Nick as the Exorcist, and now vampire lady is
pointing that stupid gun at the photographer.  Godammit, I'm pale!
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Actually I think now that I might really
only be 3/4ths the size of Bob's eyeballs.