Where To Bring Your Imaginary Celebrity Friend In Melbourne.
I had this weird dream.
I watched this Instagram reel of Sydney comedian Jennifer Wong making food puns after food puns in Melbourne restaurants.
So I booked tickets to her Melbourne Comedy Festival show but canceled immediately due to Hana throwing up all over the floor due to non-COVID flu.
So I messaged her:
Since I can't go to your show, why don't you bring your show to me?
She said yes, she could arrange a private show the same day, just before her last show, or the next morning before her flight back to Sydney.
You know how dreams go.
And I was quite generous and said how about tomorrow morning, you deserve a rest after performing a big show.
I arrived half an hour earlier to Seven Seeds, only to see her already there.
In this dream, we were both very Asian.
It's like a blind date. I asked her what she did before becoming a comedian. She asked me to summarise my life.
I made her laugh. Not a chuckling laugh, but a belly laugh.
Making a comedian laugh is akin to making a pornstar ejaculate, or even better, fall in love, no? It was a good feeling.
I like this dream.
And then her face changed.
“Tell me more about your writing. Summarise it in one sentence,” she said.
“Err, I write grumpy cynical food stories? I erh, write offensive stuff?”
“Ok, give me a hot take. Tell me something offensive,” she pressed.
“Erh, food is too .. expensive? Shops are overcharging stuff by simply adding Japanese names... and shit ....” My voice was airy, shaky, trailing off.
I want to wake up.
She wasn't Jennifer Wong, but the ghost of my old creative directors.
We switched cafes.
One in Carlton with blue water bottles. I don’t even like that cafe.
You know how dreams go.
She said she used to live in Carlton, my hood.
Sure, ghost in a dream. Then tell me, how was Brunetti's Italian Hot Chocolate?
“Oh my god, the one with the cream? It's like intercourse,” she leaned in.
Of course, you'd say that. You're a construct of my brain.
I'm not a very sociable person.
I think the reason I'm not 'mainstream' is because I have a hunchback, or I'm not very presentable.
“What are you talking about? You're fun, you're funny, you're interesting. Your photos are amazing. You'll be alright!”
She wasn't Jennifer Wong, but the encouraging mother I missed, or never had.
Is this purgatory? Am I dead?
When do I wake up?
Since you're so kind, mother ghost, let me show you my secret place in Carlton. So secret, I would never share it with anyone else.
“Do you want to split a baguette?” She asked.
No.. don't you have a flight to catch?
“The flight’s canceled. But never mind, I have to meet my cool friends at Gimlet now,” she said.
I dropped her into the city and drove off.
Before the dream ended I sent Jennifer Wong the ghost an email with a copy of my ebook.
In my DM I addressed her as 'Jessica'. I’ve David Lynched her and Jessica said Gimlet was very expensive for what it is.
Of course, you'd say that. You're a construct of my brain.
You know how dreams go.
Then, yesterday, this happened.
Do you know what this means?
This means I took Australian Chinese comedian, ABC writer, SBS host, TV presenter Jennifer Wong on a food tour.
This means I fucking called her Jessica.
And said all those embarrassing things.
Where’s Gordon Ramsay and his idiot sandwich bread? It’s ok I’ll make my own baka sando.
*presses shokupan on left and right ear*
She doesn't need this, but if you're in Brisbane or Canberra, please watch her show. Or stream her videos on Asian cooking. Or all her writing on promoting Australian aboriginal culture.