Posts Tagged ‘Venn diagrams’

The other day I was having coffee with my dad friend TMR and he ordered a mugaccino. Yes, a mugaccino. For those of you whose lives  have thus far been untouched by the mugaccino, let me explain it this way: it’s a cappuccino. In a mug.

I snorted slightly as it was delivered.

“Oh, [TMR],” I said, shaking my head. “A mugaccino is sooooo 1995.”

Even the cafe owner laughed as he placed it on the table. But then, I have the cafe owner well trained. He basically knows to start laughing the moment I walk through the cafe door but I’m not sure he’s always laughing in a kind way.

A few minutes later, however, it was TMR’s turn to raise an eyebrow when the cafe owner placed a Chai Latte in front of me.

“Yeah, okay, alright,” I said, feeling a bit exposed. “At least my drink wasn’t in fashion with Jennifer Aniston’s ‘Rachel’ ‘do.”

Still, there we both were, with our notsohotrightnow drinks. We chatted for a while about ways we could get them to join forces, wonder twins style, to become a ‘chai-accino’ or a ‘mugachai’. But that last one just sounded like a character from hit 1984 movie ‘Gremlins’. And no, I don’t know why I thought that, either.

Anyway, it turns out TMR is simply waiting for the mugaccino to become the ‘it’ drink again. Just in the same way, I’m waiting for Cornflakes to become the ‘it’ cereal in my household so that the 5KG Family Pack taking up precious pantry real estate might actually get eaten.

You see, I live with a bunch of food faddists. Mostly this faddism is concentrated in the area of breakfast cereal where a particular cereal will be eaten voraciously right up until the point I invest large sums of money in the type of bulk-buy pack that requires its own shopping trolley. It’s at that moment that my children will suddenly regard eating the cereal in question as the equivalent of stuffing one’s mouth with shredded cardboard and cat’s piss.

Fruit, too, is also a key focus area for food faddism. For example, Mr Justice last year proclaimed the humble ‘Golden Delicious’ as his ‘apple of choice’, shortly before it went out of season. I waited half a year for them to appear back on the supermarket shelves only to have him take one bite and spit it out, declaring it to be ‘the devil’s own food’. Yes, that apple tree in the garden of Eden was apparently a Golden Delicious tree. Who knew.

To be honest, I think they basically inherit this trait from their father – my so-called husband – who will announce that from this moment on he will only eat chicken and vegetable pies and then, mere minutes later, will have taken to his bed complaining of ‘pie poisoning’.

The most annoying thing of all of this is trying to cater for such movable palates. If you were to draw a Venn diagram of foods each of my children deemed ‘acceptable for consumption’ at any given moment in time, the circles representing each child will cross at one point and one point only: hot chips.

Personally, I hope for two things: that there is a scientist out there somewhere on the verge of declaring hot chips as the new Super Food (bye bye, banana) and that hot chips never, ever, EVER go out of fashion. Not like the mugaccino, eh, TMR?

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To be honest, the evening probably started on the wrong note. A frank discussion about nether-regions waxing – before we’d even ordered our first cocktail, I should add – had me proclaiming a bad ‘bum fluff’ wax related in one story to be a ‘bum mullet’.

The three of us (birthday girl GT, our long-serving mutual friend [Name Withheld For Legal Reasons] and yours truly) were at GT’s favourite bar in Sydney – her “home away from home” – although admittedly, it was a little further away from her home than I would have liked since we’d walked there in our heels and I’d subsequently lost all radio contact with my toes.

Luckily alcohol helps in these situations and we hit the cocktails. After our first round, the owner of the bar sent GT over a complimentary cocktail for her birthday. Strangely, it was the fruity cocktail that I’d been drinking (and not the ‘dirty martini’ she’d been drinking) and so she gave it to me. I like to think this mistake happened because the manager had asked the waitress “Which cocktail is GT drinking? You know, the glamourous one in glasses…” and the waitress had assumed he was talking about me.

Yes, that must be it, especially since I’d been the one shrieking “BUM MULLET!” at the top of my voice.

Then the moment that I’d been waiting all my life happened. Three glasses of champagne arrived, unbidden, with the words “These come with the compliments of the three men in the corner.” Following bar etiquette, we all turned and raised our glasses to them.  The fact that one of them was actually GT’s friend and that they were all gay did not detract from this genuinely exciting moment.

Anyway, it was little wonder that after so much excitement and free drinks, the conversation should turn to mathematics – or rather, Venn diagrams. You see, we decided to work out if the three of us had ever all shared the same ‘conquest’ – you know, whether there was a point where our three circles (so to speak) met.

The answer was no. This was, in turns, not surprising and yet very surprising.

It was not surprising because there are well over 3 billion males on the planet. It was surprising, however, because two of us were from Perth and we all know what that means.

However, the most surprising thing of all was the point where GT and [NWFLR]’s circles overlapped.

“Who is it?” I asked.

GT and [NWFLR] exchanged quick, embarrassed looks and then looked away.

“WHO?” I demanded.

“Uh, we share [Man Least Likely],” [NWFLR] confessed.

“WHAT? [MAN LEAST LIKELY]????” I was outraged. I had known about [Man Least Likely]’s affaire d’amour with GT but not that he’d got it awnnnnn with [NWFLR]. That particular little secret had been kept from me for fifteen years. Fifteen years!

[NWFLR], for her part, was a little bit pleased with herself – about the secret keeping, that is, but perhaps not the conquest itself.

“I am an international lady of mystery!” she said. “Anyway, you and GT share someone, too.”

She was right, of course. GT had briefly dated my husband a couple of years before I met him and, in fact, had introduced him to me.

“Yes, but he’s my husband and the father of my three kids!” I argued. “I think that counts as Full Disclosure! I mean, we’re talking [Man Least Likely] here. [MAN-LEAST-FUCKING-LIKELY]!!”

And amidst all the subsequent laughter and shrieking and carry-on, I paused for reflection. Even with the sixty-four years of friendship the three of us shared between us, there were still surprises to be had. What a many-spendoured thing female friendship is…


Happy 40th Birthday, GT.

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