This karmic post is about the things I did NOT do.
This week, I did NOT go to a fabulous Cocktail Party to support the local vets setting out to doctor the diseased dogs of Utopia.
Utopia. An Aboriginal community with a dog problem. Each year some generously inclined vets go up there (it’s in the outback) and desex the dogs and treat their various diseases, for free.
The night of the party happened to be Saturday, a day which is firmly dedicated (usually) to bonding sessions over bacon and action movies with Mr F. So I threw aside (reluctantly) my low cut spangly black cocktail dress and stilettos, and gave them the entrance price instead.
Also this week, I DID NOT go to a fund raising movie ‘Not My Life’ about Connecting Hands, an organisation which rescues people from sex slavery.
Connecting Hands. Connecting Hands is an Australian non-government organisation which raises awareness about human trafficking and supports children and young women rescued from sexual slavery in Cambodia. The organisation was inspired by the true story of a former Cambodian sex slave, Somaly Mam, who was sold into sexual slavery at 12 years old. She was tortured and raped every day and after many years of abuse escaped. Connecting Hands partners directly with a Cambodian organisation established by Somaly called Acting for Women in Distressing Situations (AFESIP).
And, I DID NOT go with my newly-joined social group for women who like women but don’t want to tongue kiss them, Sisterhood. Why didn’t I? Because…
I arrived at the venue at the appointed time. Glasses of champagne were being bandied around, and a plump jazzy songstress was singing soothingly sultry music from a stand in the corner. I looked around at the assembled charity-goers – and realised that I did not know what any member of Sisterhood looked like!! That is because I was in a hurry and under-prepared. I am ALWAYS in a hurry and under-prepared!
So I wandered over to this likely looking gaggle of middle aged women and said, hi there, excuse me, but are you Sisterhood?
They looked at me in puzzlement. Sisterhood?
Yup. Sisterhood. It’s a..group.
Oh. No, sorry, never heard of it.
Ok thanks then. Well, how many motley groups of strange looking women can there BE in this enclosed VIP space! As it turns out, LOTS.
I think I must have wandered up to just about everyone there who was female and hanging around with one or more other females, and asked them if THEY were Sisterhood. They weren’t.
By this time, I’m feeling like a total idiot. Because of course the film is fully booked anyway, and I am under the impression that the organiser of Sisterhood has got me a ticket. So I can’t go IN – and I can’t go OUT. All I can do is stand around looking like a C grade movie actor trying to get into Brad Pitt’s after party.
So then I think, stuff this. I could be at home! I could be reading by my fire! I could go to bed early! (and that’s actually a very tempting prospect). So I leave.
When I get home I check the Sisterhood site, just to see if one of the women I approached WAS in fact Sisterhood, and was just hiding the fact so that some weird chick (me) wouldn’t sit next to her in the movie. And I find that even if I had found Sisterhood, I was supposed to have bought my own ticket, so I couldn’t have sat next to her in the bloody movie, cause it was FULL.
So again – I donated. ALL the money, none of the fun. Next time, I may take a slightly less dotty approach to social outings.
ALSO – I did NOT go to see elderly Mr L (yet). I’ve been too busy NOT doing other things!
Points: 10 for donating, minus 2 for being an idiot. And no it’s not Alzheimers, it’s just Rose. When I go senile, no one will notice.