Raunchy Rowdy Rhonda
The other day I went to see the insipid but pleasant chick-flick '27 Dresses' with my mother Pauline and her mate Rhonda.
Rhonda invited me in to her pimped out crib in the Bay Village and it was rather like Doctor Who's tardis: much bigger and groovier on the inside. What impressed me most was the car in the garage; a new Subaru Impreza.
For some inexplicable reason, I seem to possess Rain Man-like powers of knowledge retention when it comes to makes and models of cars. Lindt knows why - my brain is emptier than a nun's hook-up book when it comes to the details of what happens under the bonnet but I clearly pay unconscious attention to body shapes, colours, styles and litre capacities.
My six year old godson Will has been pleasantly surprised at his GM's capacity to match his car spotting ability: "Hey MillyMoo, do you see that black Magna with the spoiler over there?"
"Sorry buddy, it's actually a new Nissan Maxima Ti. They look as big as the Magnas because some of them have three-and-a-half-litre engines."
Thinking intently, sucking hard on his chupa-chup and responding quietly with "Oh," is Will's version of a bemused head-scratch.
Back at the Bay Village I clapped my snotty green eyes on Roarin' Rhonda's Rod and whistled appreciatively.
"Rhonda, who knew that at eighty five years old you'd been such a Rev head?"
She giggled and waggled a finger at me, replying, "Oh MillyMoo, your Mum said that you're a cheeky one." After a pausing for a moment, she explained that, "My late husband liked to race a bit, so I've always bought a car that respects his memory."
"Fair enough. You do know, Rhonda, that car thieves who aren't bogans and therefore are not interested in stealing a commodore, instead prefer to flog and thrash Imprezas, aren't you?"
"Oh yes, Milly, yes, but we don't get too many hoons staking out the Bay Retirement Village very often. The rowdiest we get is when the community hall's booked out for bingo night."
We chatted a bit more about cars - why I wanted a Subaru Impreza, Toyota Prius, Nissan Dualis or a Volksy Golf for my next car (maybe not in the reality of living on one income and the hopes of being a paid hack someday but in MillyMoo's Happy Land at least), and our family's perennial fondness for 1970s volvos. Every single member of my family have driven and owned one at least once and my Grandpa even featured in a movie about the evils of Volvo drivers (he was accosted outside of the Norwood Coles and gracefully declined to comment).
"Oh yes, they are good cars. Gwen at number 24 still has her 1975 box and it's just as reliable as ever. We can hear her returning home from as far away as the bluff."
No docile old lady, this Rhonda.
We must have made an interesting trio as we pushed through the art deco doors of the Victa Cinema in Ocean Street. White-haired Rhonda was wearing her newest blouse for the occasion. Sixty seven year old Pauline was wearing a bright new t-shirt with the ever-present slick of matching coral lipstick. Holding Rhonda's elbow to keep her steady was I, a 39 year old dag who decided to forgo the usual pongy old crocs for my best Havainias thongs.
Two very patient men were surrounded by a couple of hundred women - the cinema was packed with Ys, Xs, baby boomers, pre-war and WW1 generations of chattering females. How on earth was Rhonda - let alone Pauline, who thought she was living large if she said 'bum' instead of 'buttock'- going to cope with a movie that warned us ahead of 'coarse language, sex scenes and partial nudity' ? They did realise that it wasn't going to be quite so innocent as 'Paint Your Wagon' or 'Pillow Talk', didn't they?
I needn't have wasted such precious brain space worrying about either of them. In one scene the two characters were having drunken sex in a 1970s-era volvo. Rhonda leaned over and loudly whispered, "Now I know why you and your Mum like them so much."
A living CLASSIC.