MANY HUES....FIFTY SHADES, TOO...

Dame Edna...and Sir Les

I didn’t turn any shades of red when I read the trilogy, “Fifty Shades of Grey”.  To be honest, I found them to be a lot of fun. I won’t shy away from admitting I bought and read the books. Oh! Dear!  I even watched the movies!   I’m not ashamed, nor am I embarrassed in divulging this information. I wasn’t offended.  I’m a big girl now.  I’ve been around the mulberry bush many times.

The books, the stories are old hat now, anyway. People have worn out their fans, stopped feigning fainting, and settled down; recovered from the trauma. The hullabaloo and hoo-ha have faded into oblivion. 

E.L. James laughed all the way to the bank. Who could blame her?  She did well out of everyone’s mock shock, horror, literary criticisms, and denial of reading her books.

It’s amazing after the millions who adamantly, and indignantly, declared they wouldn’t read - didn’t read - the books - the millions James made from her novels.  I wish I could write a book or two that were unsuccessful sellers like hers were. And, on top of that disappointment, being paid for the rights to turn the stories into movies! I’d be crying all the way to the bank and, back again, and again, too! Correction!  I’d be laughing to and from the bank on a well-worn track.

Everyone is becoming so damned “precious” these days.  If you make a swipe at a fly, you could get yourself into trouble...particular if you don’t know the fellow wearing the trousers, who is innocently standing in the supermarket aisle pondering his next purchase!

Justin Trudeau’s no-malice-intended past actions of blackening his face and body have caused him to turn red, after turning white first when the stories broke.

Among the many characters I wished to be when I was a kid, a hula dancer was one.

Every fancy dress ball I attended my mother dressed me in a grass skirt, and put an imitation hibiscus behind my ear...right ear, of course.  Colourful imitation leis adorned my neck. Brown leg cream (a product from the aftermath of the war years that was used as a stocking substitute when nylon was nigh impossible to get) was applied to my body. Off I swayed, offending no one.

One of my brother’s mates throughout primary school years was an Aboriginal lad who lived not far from where we did.  He attended the same fancy dress dances always dressed as the Lone Ranger, with his face and arms painted white – except for one year when he dressed as Santa Claus. No one was offended; only disappointed when he didn’t hand out presents. 

To break my hula habit, I once went along dressed as Pocahontas.  I loved the story of the Indian chief’s daughter who had saved Colonel John Smith’s life.  

When my friends and I re-enacted western movies in our backyard, our roles fluctuated between being cowboys, cowgirls, or brave Indian girls...Cherokee, Seminole, Apache, Sioux...it mattered not which tribe we represented.  Our arrows flew straight; our imaginations went wild.  We were quick-on-the-draw sharp-shooters, too.

Often we dressed colourfully as Mexican dancers. We tried our best to do the Mexican Hat Dance.  No one was offended, but we did cause laughter tripping over hats. 

In the early 70s friends threw a private fancy dress party at the home of one.  Everyone went dressed as their favourite music artist or group.  Two friends and I went along as “The Supremes”.  No one was offended... until we started singing; and then they screamed, “Stop in the name of love!”

  

A friend named “Floyd” arrived at the party, not only clad in pink, but with his skin painted pink, claiming to be “Pink Floyd”.  Nobody was offended, but he sent everyone up the wall to the dark side of the moon!

Another party guest of Chinese heritage arrived dressed as Elvis.  Nobody was all shook-up; there were no suspicious minds.

To another “dress-up” party, I went as Dusty Springfield.  Wishin’ and hopin’, I just didn’t know what to do with myself. No one was offended.  

Dame Edna Everage, or the dribbling, drooling, not-at-all-politically-correct Sir Les Patterson have never offended me.  

I won’t even mention, or go into details about Michael Jackson, although I have - albeit briefly!

Many overdo spray tanning, and we’ve learned it’s not advisable to sun-bake at length.  These days there are tanning creams available on the market...they are not dissimilar to those my mother rubbed on me as a child going to the fancy dress balls.

  

As for the hula kahiko...nowadays, even if I go to pick up a ukulele, my hips scream, “No! No! No!”  And, I’m offended.

Hawaiian Garlic Prawns: Toss 500g deveined, unpeeled king prawns in 2-1/2tbs plain flour, 2tsp paprika, salt and black pepper; coat evenly; set aside. Melt 1/2 butter and 1tbs x-virgin olive oil on med-heat in large pan; add 18 large minced garlic cloves; cook 2-3mins until light brown. Remove sauce from pan; set aside. Add 1tbs olive oil to pan; add prawns. Cook over med-high heat 2-3mins on each side. Cook in batches; don’t overcrowd.  Once prawns are cooked, put them back into the pan; pour over the garlic sauce; stir to combine. Serve Hawaiian Style with sticky white rice and a colourful mixed salad.

Mexican Chicken & Rice: Whisk 1/4c olive oil, 1-1/2tsp salt, 1tsp paprika, 1ts cumin, 1/2tsp coriander, and 1/2tsp black pepper; pour over 6 bone-in, skin-on chicken thighs in bowl; coat evenly; marinate 30mins. Heat Dutch oven over med-high heat with 1tbs olive oil.  Once hot, add chicken skin side down; cook until skin is golden and crispy. Flip; sauté 2mins; transfer chicken a plate.  Heat Dutch oven on med-high heat; add 2tbs olive oil; when hot add 2c long grain rice; sauté until slightly toasted; add 1/2c diced white onion and 1tbs minced garlic; cook 30secs; add 1tbs tom paste; cook 30secs; add 1c diced toms, 1c corn kernels, 1c canned, drained, rinsed black beans, 1c diced zucchini, 1/2c diced carrots, 1tbs minced jalapeno, 1tsp salt; add chicken pieces on top; slowly pour in 4c unsalted chicken stock; bring to boil; reduce heat; cover; simmer. Cook 20mins, until rice is tender. Serve with lime wedges.