Friday, December 30, 2005

Why This Country Rules, Chapter 47

Because Sydney's #1 radio station just played a new dance-synth remix of the original Baywatch theme, with nary a hint of shame in the DJ's voice.

And in that spirit, I will admit right here and right now, that I have always fucking LOVED that theme song.

Happy New Year!

Thursday, December 29, 2005

Santa Thinks I'm A Ho Ho Ho

So now that all my Christmas gifts are in, I thought I'd post the rundown of what I got, and what the life implications are associated with each.

Cousin Emma seemed to think it was appropriate to buy me a pair of pink Aussie Bum knickers. She clearly got me confused with one of the more solidly built models on their website, but I can try and work it. And it's always good to know that your 19-year-old cousin thinks you dress like a table dancer at a trashy gay bar.

Besides, they went so well with the baby blue track pants and the wife beater, as you can see here.

Of course the piece de resistance would easily be the pair of speedos Emma also thought I could use. I'm pretty sure most of my friends would disagree, since the last time I donned a pair of tight swim shorts they reacted by projectile vomiting in my general direction, but why not give it a shot and show some sun to parts of my body that haven't seen any since I ran around naked as a toddler.

And finally, the only non-trashy present I received was this lovely bike. As soon as I got it I thought about how much money I could save riding a bike to the bars instead of taking taxis. I then thought of the increased medical costs involved in attempting to ride a bike back from the bars, and figured maybe I'll have to find other uses for it. It's purdy though, huh?

So yeah, overall I think it's a pretty good haul for my first Christmas down under. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go expose some of my paler nether regions on Bondi beach.

Wednesday, December 28, 2005

True Photographer: Back In Business

That's right, after the personal and public tragedy that was losing my glorious camera in Tahiti, a special someone has given me an even more amazing camera! Which of course means I can take tres classy pictures, like what appears to be my own impersonation of white trash on Christmas Day in Australia:

I'll try and post some more Xmas pictures this week, although considering the weather is just a little bit perfect for the beach, I'm not sure when I'll have the time!

Friday, December 23, 2005

Things That Go Crunch In The Night

Easily one of my biggest fears when I came to Australia was that I would see spiders and cockroaches all the time. As many of my friends know, while I'm more than willing to jump off of waterfalls or go swimming at Bondi Beach the day after a massive tiger shark has been spotted, point out an ugly insect and I'll scream like a woman and do something resembling an Irish jig for about two minutes straight.

Since this sort of thing is constantly in the back of my mind (and everyone here loves to bring it up and make fun of me), I figured I would break it down just a little bit, so people can be a little more understanding of my fears...


Yes, so I realize this is a completely irrational fear. But while they may not be poisonous or anything, I still constantly have awful images of waking up to find a cockroach has crawled on me in the night and eaten part of my face, or something equally stupid and horrible. In the end though, they are just really really ugly, and much like ugly (or fat, or poor) people, I'd really just rather pretend that they don't exist. Which makes it that much more shocking when I see one.

Of course with the almost constant summer weather there are plenty of roaches around here, or at least more than I would see in New York, so there have been several displays of my ridiculous fear of these things.

My favorite rebuttal from Australians so far is "well yeah you might see them once in a while, but they're not dirty like the ones in New York".

RIGHT. Thank you. Seriously I feel so much more comforted. Because really, it was the fucking DIRT on the roaches that was freaking me out. Assholes.


Now this one makes just a little more sense. As most people know, Australia has something like 7 of the most 10 venomous spiders in the world. Granted I'm unlikely to ever see one of those, but it doesn't stop me from worrying about it.

The other day I thought I saw a poisonous redback spider (it wasn't, of course) and was told that they often hide under toilet seats out in the bush, and bite you on the ass when you sit down.

Now let me tell you something. I have determined several acceptable ways to die. In a helicopter crash in the South Pacific is one. Perhaps a small yachting accident off the coast of Greece would be another. On the other hand, I can confirm right now that being found lying dead on a bathroom floor with my pants around my ankles and a turd hanging out of my ass is definitely NOT on the list. So forgive me if I keep such things in mind when I'm wandering around in anything resembling nature.

Anyway, that is all. I hope this little rant has given you all a chance to understand me a little better, and perhaps be a little more sympathetic in regards to my delicate mental state. Good day.

Thursday, December 22, 2005

Well Played

In yet another bid to make me homesick and return to New York sooner rather than later, Emla has just sent me the link to Gawker's 123 Reasons To Love New York Right Now, and it's totally working.

I would also like to add #124: Because theoretically, you could get banned from a bar every weekend and still never run out of places to go. Never underestimate the importance of having that quality in a city.

Wednesday, December 21, 2005

The Simple Life

*Please excuse yet another awful StillDrunk graphic, but I felt it was very necessary.

As any of us know, the most important part of being a socialite is having someone to be a socialite with you. So you can imagine my dismay when the last couple of people I knew in Sydney who were all for hanging out on the beach all day every day went and got full time jobs, selfish bastards that they are.

Fortunately things have taken a turn for the better, because last week at drinks for Irene, I met her friend JuJu, where we had this instant bonding moment:

JuJu: Ah, you're Zander, great to finally meet you.

Zander: Same here. And what do you do?

JuJu: Oh, I don't work.

Zander: Omigod, me neither!

JuJu: We need to hang out.

Zander: That's hot. Gimme your number.

And so we met up for a late lunch yesterday (we were both sleeping in, obviously) which lasted past 9pm, while we bonded over how hard it is that people think we "don't do anything", as if those beaches are going to lay on themselves or something! It was really deep.

Anyway I must say, I was already happy about missing the NYC winter, but with the transit strike going on I'm even more thrilled I'm here in Sydney for the time being instead of riding a family of Mexicans to work, or whatever the current transportation options are in Manhattan.

Now if you'll excuse me, big day ahead -- doing the beach with JuJu this afternoon, and can't forget the season finale of America's Next Top Model tonight. Cheers!

Tuesday, December 20, 2005

Overheard In Sydney

Guy #1: What's the baby powder for?

Guy #2: Oh, it's great! You throw some on your balls and ass, and you're still fresh as a daisy when you get home with whoever you picked up at the bars that night!

Guy #1: Ah.

Pregnant woman nearby: [Horrified glance as she walks away]

--Sydney supermarket

Redefining "A Quiet One"

For some reason I had it in my head that this past weekend would be a relatively quiet one, so of course both Friday and Saturday nights ended past 3am, Friday night including a stop at an Indian restaurant to consume a really offensive amount of north Indian cuisine before heading home to pass out.

So really I think this all just means that I need to give up on the idea of a quiet weekend, since they're all going to involve at least 16 hours of drinking, the only variable is whether we start at 6pm or noon.

Friday, December 16, 2005

The Language Barrier

If you will recall, it's been more than a few times that I've slipped up and used an American saying that doesn't go down so well in this part of the world. Yeah well, it's happened again.

You know how in the US, when you see someone with two drinks, you might note that they are 'double fisting'? Definitely not a term to use down here, for more than obvious reasons. Unless you're eager to have people you've known for months stare at you with a look that says "I think you should sick sick bastard."

Thursday, December 15, 2005

Can We Move On?

Wednesday night meant farewell drinks for my flatmate Irene, who's out of the country for a month. Of course once everyone had told her how much she'd be missed, the conversation devolved into everyone recapping what an ass I was at my birthday party on Saturday night. Just a couple of tidbits that I had no recollection of:
  • Having the same conversations with each person about 4 times
  • Suddenly holding my breath (I probably had the hiccups) but not telling anyone why, leading everyone to think I was about to projectile vomit all over them...kudos to Kate for actually taking cover behind Cathy
  • When Kate accidentally took a picture of my feet, starting to laugh hysterically and yelling "THANKS! Just what I fucking needed! More pictures of my fucking FEET!", and then laughing at how hilarious I thought I was for a good five minutes

Apparently when others were leaving the club after I'd gone, there was an ambulance outside and everyone figured I was probably in it, but turns out some girl had to be taken to the hospital. Strange how it's the little things like this that give me comfort in times of shame.

Wednesday, December 14, 2005

Current Events Blah Blah

As a nasty reminder that there are things going on in the world that don't revolve around me, people have been writing to ask me if I'm okay with the "race riots" going on in Sydney. So I thought maybe I'd make a quick comment to let everyone know that I'm okay.

In addition, I'd like to put this whole thing in perspective for the folks back in New York. Basically the disturbances were down in Cronulla, which is I don't even know how far from the actual city. So think of it this way: imagine if there were some kind of riots and gangs running around on the Jersey Shore. Would you really care? Not so much. Actually, you probably wouldn't be too upset if some of the people involved managed to knock each other off in the process, and make the world a better place.

So yeah, not to sound completely insensitive, but it's kinda like that. But thanks for your concern!

Tuesday, December 13, 2005

At Least I Know Myself

If you'll refer to my prediction of how Saturday's birthday celebration would most likely turn out, you'll be pleased (or maybe just disgusted) to know that it was almost dead on accurate.

I actually managed to last a solid 75 minutes longer than expected, was only warned by the staff twice that I needed to stop drinking, and there was a stopover at Hungry Jack's (Burger King) on the way home that I hadn't foreseen. I also generally remembered who showed up to the club that night, although any actual conversations I had escape me for the time being. And of course since it was my birthday, everyone has to be polite and say things like "oh no, you weren't bad at all!" and "of course no one was offended". Liars.

Needless to say it was another excellent birthday bash, and I take full credit even though I barely recall anything past 7pm.

As for pictures, I think some people may have taken some, but I have no idea who they would have been so I'll have to wait until they turn up in my email, and so will you.

Friday, December 09, 2005

Wishful Thinking? Perhaps.

So, I believe all of my birthday wishes are in. Some were sent by Monday, Australian time, which was impressive and showed excellent preparation on the part of some of my friends. Others sent it on Monday, New York time. Probably only because Friendster reminded them, but certainly appreciated nonetheless. And then there are those who sent them about 72 hours later and still tried to give me some shit about the time difference. Uh yeah asshole, unless there's some fascinating secret about the rotation of the Earth that someone's hiding from everyone but you, I think you just need to use that little word "belated" and then we can both move on with our lives, mmmkay? Great.

Of course with pretty much every email or phone call, everyone was like "Oh my god I bet you're not gonna be sober enough to read this for DAYS!", to which I had to embarrassingly respond that I hadn't really gone all out on the actual date of my birth. Don't get me wrong, it was a nice day, with a trip to Bondi with my fellow New Yorkers (they got me a boogie board, yay!) and a lovely dinner at a French restaurant with all my closest friends here. But yeah, I was in bed earlier than most 6-year olds are on their birthdays, so it wasn't all that crazy. BUT that's all because I'm saving my energy for Saturday, which promises to be an interesting test of Zander's self-control.

The plan calls for a long boozy lunch starting at 1pm, with the same people who were responsible for my first 12 hour Australian bender back in September. That will most likely move to a bar or two until 8ish, when my party is scheduled to begin at Mars Lounge, as pictured, with 60 of my closest friends in Sydney. Or so my guest list would suggest, even though I've actually never met at least 9 people on that list in my life. Either way, that's a lot of drinking, and I figure there are a couple of ways this could all end up:

The Ideal -- I pace myself while drinking at lunch, perhaps having a sip of water for every two sips of an alcoholic beverage. I politely decline the offer of free drinks and shots until after 10pm. Around 2am, once I've made conversation with everyone in attendance, and the crowd begins to thin out, I gracefully make my exit, grab a taxi, and head home.

The Probability -- I start drinking heavily at the lunch table, maybe I've even had a couple of beers before I left the apartment, and quickly toss back any drink that's handed to me, even if it was meant for someone else. I am barely allowed into my own birthday party by the doormen at Mars Lounge, and around 11.15pm I am found passed out in a booth, poured into the first taxi that will take me anywhere, and I remember nothing.

Honestly, something in between those two extremes would be nice, but I'm not trying to kid you or anyone else. Bad things will happen.

Wednesday, December 07, 2005

More Birthday Randomness

Other than Joe's lovely e-card, I got a few interesting ones. One that was a bit dorky but I really liked it (because it said nice things about me, of course) was from Apparently my birthday color is 'Riviera' (which looks a lot like the color of your average pair of jeans), and I am 'courageous, outspoken and intelligent'. Yay! Here's the rest:

TALENTED and persuasive, there is much that you can accomplish once you put your mind to it. You are a natural achiever, and you expect to win and often do. You want to move around and connect with interesting and important people. Similar to a game or a sporting event, you want to play with people who are on your level or hopefully better. Your personal color blends your depth with wisdom. Wearing, meditating or surrounding yourself with Riviera reminds you to stay lighthearted and enjoy the game.

Then again these things are always so positive and full of all kinds of jolly bunny would be great if just one would be like "you know what, everyone born on this day is a complete twat, and you are NO exception". Wouldn't argue with that either.

Now that I think about it though, there's always my "REAL" horoscope:
SAGITTARIUS: You are optimistic and enthusiastic. You are have a reckless tendency to rely on luck since you lack talent. The majority of Sagittarians are substance abusers. People laugh at you a great deal because you are always getting screwed.

Awww, and all this time I thought I was just funny.

Tuesday, December 06, 2005

Actually, We Prefer The Term 'Porch Monkeys'

Went to get a haircut the other day at a place I hadn't been before, but it's about a 3 minute walk from my apartment, so I figure it's worth a shot.

The barber looked about 70 or so, which is a drastic improvement over the 96 year old non-English speaking Italian barber I had in Brooklyn, so I figured I'd be fine.

Things were going well until he asked me where my parents lived, and I mentioned that my father lived in Jamaica, and that he was Jamaican.

"Ah, so your dad is Jamaican, huh? I was wondering why your hair was so curly, but it makes sense if your dad's a negro."

How awesome is that? I mean seriously, when was the last time 'negro' was an acceptable term for a black person? 1968?

This guy is offically my barber until I leave Sydney.

Monday, December 05, 2005

Birthday On The Beach

This, ladies and gentlemen, is the famed Bondi Beach, mere minutes from my apartment:

Not sure I can remember ever spending my birthday laying around on a beach, but that's exactly what I'll be doing with the other members of Team America this afternoon, followed by dinner at a French restaurant. Planning to spend most of the week relaxing though, saving energy for the big bash on Saturday. I'll share those plans with you this week and we can all sit around and imagine the worst possible ways it could all turn out.

In the meantime, let's all thank Joe for this birthday card, which came with the message "Hope you die a miserable old man. Love, Joe":

Not That I Needed To Be Reminded That I Make Awesome Decisions...

...but things like this really make me happy I'm taking a small break from the good ol' U.S. of A:

Mrs Merv Grazinski of Oklahoma purchased a brand new 32-foot Winnebago. On her first trip, she drove on the freeway, set the cruise control at 70 mph and went out back to make a sandwich. She crashed. Then sued for the manual not advising her not to do this. The jury awarded her $1,750,000 plus a new motor home. The company then changed their manuals on the basis of this suit.

I'm not even sure I have a real comment. But I promise things like this only happen in America. I mean stupidity is one thing and I'm sure it's an international problem, but why on earth would it be rewarded?

Then again I'm guessing we have someone in the US to thank for this as well:

Once again, not sure what to think, but I'm pretty sure it's kind of awesome. Thank god everything worthwhile ends up on the internet eventually.

Saturday, December 03, 2005

Harry Potter and the Sauvignon Blanc

Met up with a few fellow Americans last night to go see the latest Harry Potter movie, since Australians, as cool as they are, apparently all think they are too good for "kid movies". Whatever.

We also decided to get the first class tickets, which included fancy seats, unlimited popcorn and soda, and access to the lounge and bar, all for only double the already extortionate price one pays to see a movie these days.

Having already had a few beers that night, I opted out of more alcohol and stuck to the popcorn and Coke. Last thing I need is to be that creepy drunk guy making comments about certain actors being "pretty hot for a teenager", etc.

Danny on the other hand thought otherwise, and bought a bottle of wine to help him through the film, which included calling one of the actresses a slut every time she appeared on screen. Well done, my friend. New York represent.

So yeah, that's my exciting Friday night for you. I'd go on, but in less than an hour large numbers of people will be descending on our apartment to begin drinking at noon before the Jamiroquai concert and I want to make sure I'm half in the bag before they get here. Hope everyone is having a similar weekend.

Friday, December 02, 2005

I Will Always Lube You

Another dinner party, another potentially civilized event turning into a drunken mess with two of the guests giving the rest of us a lip synch performance of Whitney Houston's greatest hits.

Plenty of memorable moments, but just wanted to share my favorite:

"See I can't actually sing, but I've got all the moves. I'll show you but I need a microphone. Pass me that deodorant."

"Um...actually, that's lube."

God knows where that conversation would have gone, but the German neighbors, obviously drawing on their culture's inability to grasp the concept of "fun", started banging on their side of the wall and the night quickly ended shortly thereafter. Total nazis.

Thursday, December 01, 2005

Another Shocking Test Result

This time it was the Which Greek God Are You test, and surprise surprise, I was Dionysis, basically the god of drunken sex.

Gods! You scored 51!
You are most like the God Dionysis! Dionysis is the god of wine, intoxication and creative ecstacy. In short, a party god! He was often having drunken orgies with both men and women, as well as with helpless maidens his centaurs would carry off for him.

This obviously isn't based on this week, where all I've managed is a few beers on Monday night, a few glasses of wine on Tuesday night, and a few more beers on Wednesday night. Besides, I haven't hung out with the centaurs in ages.

Don't worry, if nothing else we are just over a week away from my birthday celebration, which promises to be a disaster for most of the hapless souls involved.

Wednesday, November 30, 2005

And This Country Just Gets Better

So I'm sitting on our new sofa bed at 1pm on a Wednesday afternoon (I realize that sentence doesn't make my life sound terribly exciting at the moment, but I can only keep up a certain pace for so long) and I turn on channel 7, expecting to see a talk show or a cooking show, or something along those lines.

Instead I see a woman baring her breasts while some guy goes at them with his tongue and starts heading for her crotch before he gets interrupted and has to leave. 1pm. Network television. WTF.

God. Bless. Australia. That is all for now.

Monday, November 28, 2005

A How-To Holiday Guide For Tahiti

So I'm back from my trip, and my French Polynesian tan is proof that I had an awesome time. Actually that's all the proof I have since I managed to lose my beloved camera on our last night out. A moment of silence, please. Thanks. Anyway, I decided instead of a standard recap you guys are gonna get a how-to guide on vacationing in Tahiti, just in case you're feeling inspired...

1) Fly out of Sydney, or any other location just west of the international date line. That way you too can experience the ridiculous fucked-up-ness of leaving Saturday afternoon and arriving at your destination on Friday night.

2) Admire the scenery, including the graves in the Tahitian front yards, since that's where they customarily bury their dead family members. Let's not even think about the logistics involved in moving to a new house.

3) Gawk at the "rae-rae". These would be the many many transvestites you will see on the islands, due to the Polynesian custom of raising the family's eldest son as a girl. Yes, really.

4) Be rich. Granted, this isn't the easiest accomplishment, but I don't recommend traveling to French Polynesia under any other conditions (unless you happen to know someone who works in corporate travel, yay for Jon Jon!). Just so you understand why, here are some of the prices you can expect to pay for standard items:
  • Taxi from airport to hotel practically next door - $30
  • Bottle of beer at our favorite bar in Tahiti - $15
  • 3-course dinner for two, with wine - $150 (reasonable, but still, we're on like a desert island here, gimme a break)
5) Decide to have a vodka tonic during a pre-dinner game of Scrabble. Once you've finished half the bottle and the quality of words has deteriorated to each person playing "TO" and "THE" once every 23 minutes, head to dinner. Get distracted by the bar, where you drink more, make friends, and end up swimming naked under someone else's overwater bungalow at 1am.

6) Despite a hangover that would make Jesus beg for the cross, go swimming with sting rays at 10am. If you're a 25 year old man named Zander, feel free to squeal like a bitch and yell "Get it off! Get it off!" when the sting ray swims up on top of you. (In my defense, I wasn't scared, just totally grossed out because those things are slimy and really really ugly up close.)

7) Remember those friends you made at the bar? Keep hanging out with them, since they just might give you a free ride from Moorea back to Tahiti in their helicopter.

8) If going out one last time in the capital, be sure to start drinking at 6pm. The night is over once Rob has ordered a third bottle of vodka for the table, Sheryl is dancing with random Tahitians, Zander has passed out in the booth, and Jon Jon has stripped his shirt off while dancing with the rae-rae. And if you're feeling generous, be sure to leave your $500 digital camera sitting on the table when you leave.

Random web surfers who find this may also want to use it as a subsitute for the Lonely Planet guide. Enjoy.

Friday, November 18, 2005

Off To Tahiti

Just a post to let you guys know that there probably won't be anything posted here over the next week, since I'm off to Tahiti on holiday in the morning. And yes, it's already been pointed out how obnoxious it is that I'm basically taking a holiday from a holiday, but hey, a boy needs to take a break every now and then, even if it's a break from nothing.

So take care, and I'll be sure to come back with pictures and tales of swimming with sharks and whatever other tropical shit we have planned.

Thursday, November 17, 2005

I've Never Been More Inspired To Get A Job

Sorry I haven't really posted this week, but I've been distracted with various things - like planning Sydney's first celebration of my birth, yay! And to be completely honest, other than a supposed attempt at a surfing lesson that turned into just another trip to a pub, I haven't been up to much.

But today, the most glorious thing happened. I went for a job interview (no, that isn't it, smartasses) and I'm not sure I've ever wanted to work for a company more. Granted, I'm easily impressed, so little things like the big marble floor and the 25th floor view of Sydney Harbour would have been enough. But really it was when my interviewer walked up and said "All the conference rooms are full, do you mind if we sit down in the bar?" that my heart skipped a beat.

I shit you not, this company has its own bar. Not only that, but before we had even started talking about whatever position I was supposedly there to interview for, she uttered the words "Yeah we work hard but we play hard too. This bar opens at 5pm every day and it's all free."

I think after that she might have rattled on for anywhere between 5 and 30 minutes about something or other, but all I could hear was "free bar, free bar, free bar" in-between getting distracted by big shiny metal things I believe we call 'airplanes' gliding past the window.

I also liked this line: "Just to warn you, our company is definitely more corporate than most. One of our major rules is that there's no drinking before 5 in the office." Um, yeah, I think I can manage, thanks. Could you sound any more Australian right now?

So yeah...whatever it is you people want me to do, I will do it. Just hire me.

Tuesday, November 15, 2005

Maybe I'm A Bit Cynical, But... I the only person that thinks maybe the Sydney Transportation Authority was just a little bit happy when this guy had his accident? Like maybe this ad was ready to go, and just needed a poster boy? Either way, it's one of my favorites and I wanted to share. Enjoy.

Friday, November 11, 2005

God Damned Fly-over States

Yes well, what can I say. Another trivia night at the pub, another chance for Zander to prove that he's an idiot when it comes to knowledge of his home country.

The latest question was pretty tough, in my defense. They asked what the 25th state was, when listed alphabetically. I don't know that stupid little song with all the states and the capitals, so I just started listing them out and somehow managed to have no idea why I only had 42 states. Granted we were better off than the folks overheard asking if there were 52 or 53 states, but in the end I just couldn't do it.

Honestly though, it's my own fault for going to the UN school until I was 12. Ask me the capital of Eritrea and I'm all set, but ask me to point out Oklabama on a map and I'm screwed.

Sorry for the lack of booze in this one, but between a dinner with mostly strangers tonight and a family gathering tomorrow, I should have plenty of chances to come up with something ridiculously embarrassing.

Wednesday, November 09, 2005

Movin' On Up

So for about two weeks now I've been living in Woollahra, which might possibly be the exact opposite of my former surroundings.

When I told people that I was living by Kings Cross, the reaction was "that's the trashiest drag in Sydney." A recruiter had called me and was really professional until we got into the topic of where I was living at the time, at which point she told me "Wow...I mean I party there on the weekends" Now that I'm in Woollahra I just get "Ooh that's posh", while they wonder how I ended up here.

Likewise, my former neighbours were a homeless guy, some porn shops and a bunch of nightclubs. Now it's Sotheby's, some foreign consulates, and a synagogue, if that gives you an idea. Kind of like the Upper West Side, really. I keep worrying someone might ask me to leave the neighborhood because I don't own a Mercedes and a yarmulke.

And I have to say that the best thing at the moment is that it takes me less than 20 minutes to get to Bondi Beach, probably my favourite city beach in the world. Not really helping the fact that I'm currently carrying out the most half-assed job search in the southern hemisphere, but until I'm so tan I'm mistaken for a sub-Saharan African and I've suddenly woken up with the swimmer's body I like to imagine will develop at some point, it can't be all bad.

Tuesday, November 08, 2005


Same ol' crap this weekend, so I won't really go into it. Friday was yet another life lesson about drinking without eating, and Saturday night was excessive enough that it almost (but not quite) put a damper on Sunday's trip to the beach.

BUT, we did catch that documentary Rize on Saturday, which had just enough fat people dancing to make my week, so I'll say that was the highlight. I'll blog something worthwhile tomorrow...

Friday, November 04, 2005

Apparently I Have A Face For Radio...

Not really in the mood to do anything original, so here's another internet quiz. I think it can only be healthy to take one of these on at least a weekly basis. No such thing as too many quizzes to tell you things about yourself that you already knew, such as a humor style test to tell me that I'm an obnoxious asshole and a lot of people probably don't think I'm funny.

the Shock Jock

(61% dark, 53% spontaneous, 42% vulgar)

your humor style:

Your sense of humor is off-the-cuff and kind of gross. Is it is also sinister, cynical, and vaguely threatening to the purer folks of this world. You probably get off on that. You would cut a greasy fart, then blame it on your mom, and then just shrug when someone pointed out that she's dead.

Yours is hands-down the most outrageous sense of humor; you like things trangressive and hardcore. It's highly likely (a) you have no limits (b) you have no scruples and (c) you have no job. Ironically, it's your type of humor that can make the biggest bucks in show business.

PEOPLE LIKE YOU: Howard Stern - Adam Sandler - Roseanne Barr

LOVING how it knows I don't have a job. Only questionable thing here is that Emla took this and it said that she was less vulgar than I am. Not in a million fucking years. That girl even grosses me out on a regular basis.

Thursday, November 03, 2005

Cup Day

On Tuesday I had the opportunity to witness another miracle of life in Australia. Cup Day, the day of the Melbourne Cup horse race.

Not only is this a public holiday in Melbourne, but the entire country essentially comes to a standstill. For a TWO MINUTE RACE. People just leave their offices around midday, companies shut down, everyone goes to the pubs (after they've placed their bets, of course) and drinks until well after the race has finished. Yet another excuse to drink and gamble, Australia, I am impressed. Somehow millions of people in this country seem to have missed the fact that it's still just a bunch of midgets riding farm animals, but I'm not going to pretend I wasn't drunk for 9 hours and loving it.

I was talking shit about the whole event and attempting to claim that we didn't do anything so silly back in the States when someone was kind enough to point out that we actually have a day where no one goes to work so we can sit around with people we can't be bothered to see the rest of the year, all shove disgusting amounts of poultry and pie into our faces, and get even fatter than we already are. Touche.

Wednesday, November 02, 2005

Sunday Night Fever

I'd heard that Sunday nights were a good time in Sydney, so capitalizing on the fact that none of my American friends had to work Monday morning, I organized drinks at my place before moving on to a bar.

I asked around for what bar would be a good spot to hit on a Sunday night, and the response was Deck Bar, which happens to be at Taylor Square on Oxford Street. I asked if it was gay, not wanting to make anyone in the group uncomfortable if that was the case. I was told it was not.

Lessons learned: generally if a bar is on the gayest part of the gayest street in the gayest city in the world, it's gonna be pretty fucking gay, no matter what anyone says. Not that I have a problem with hearing the new Madonna song FOUR times in one evening, I just like people to be up-front about these things.

It was a great time of course, until all the Americans wanted to go home around midnight. Bullshit plus. Naturally I ended up heading to another bar with three complete strangers and pounding more tequila shots than anyone should want to do in the wee hours of Monday morning, work the next day or not.

Which brings me to my question -- has anyone else ever done a few too many tequila shots, and the next day everything smells burnt? That's the second time that's happened to me, I want to know if it's normal.

Tuesday, November 01, 2005

No Halloween For Zander :(

*Apologies for the weird spacing and layout, Blogger's giving me a hard time and I don't love any of you enough to mess around with it for one more second of my life.

Yup, that's right. As awesome and fantastically fun as the Aussies are, they don't really do Halloween, and there's nothing I can say to convince them otherwise. When I try to describe how amazing Halloween in NYC is, and explain how it's the one occasion that I'm probably most upset about missing while I'm here, they just look at me and go "But, why?"

Various people back home have suggested that I just dress up and go out and start my own Halloween, and think that everyone will stare at me. Um, folks, I think I need to remind you -- I'm in a country where they swear on the radio, naked people are used to advertise real estate and lemonade, transvestites are more common on the streets than homeless people, and Queer As Folk is considered appropriate for network primetime viewing. This past Sunday afternoon, I was at a nearby shopping center and I walked by an older bald guy wearing a purple Sunday dress and a hat, muttering to himself and swinging an umbrella around at the same time. And about an hour later I was walking down the street and a bus driver honked at me and flipped me the bird for NO REASON WHATSOEVER. And you really think anyone would bat an eyelid if I put on a silly costume and walked around? I think not.

Actually that's why I think Australians are so nonchalant about the whole Halloween thing. Every weekend is Halloween here, in one way or another.

Anyway, I've just finished looking through everyone's pictures from Halloween in NYC, and although I'm a bit depressed that I wasn't around to share in the revelry, I thought I'd post a few here:

This one is just vulgar and offensive. Therefore I love it. And of course half of the album was every female in the party striking a lewd pose with this guy.

Colin, the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man, in what might have to win my Favourite Costume award this year. Extra points because he apparently threw it together in like an hour.

Isn't it great how this scene is so common, and yet so fucking hilarious every single time? Lookin' sharp, Varghese. Emla claims he was able to just wipe it off when he woke up, which leads to my conclusion that all Indians have dry-erase skin. Discuss.

And this guy on the right wins my WTF award for 2005. If I had to guess, I'd say he's supposed to be a serial rapist/murderer with shitty taste in beer. Any other guesses?

Alas, all I can do is send all of these pics to my Aussie friends and hope they can catch just a glimmer of the best thing that's ever happened to anyone anywhere. And start planning my costume for next year. Jess, we are totally gonna be slaves.

Friday, October 28, 2005

It's The Little Things

Since I've been here in Sydney, I've tried really hard not to be one of those people who compares everything to it's counterpart in New York. However, there are two things that are really getting to me at the moment:

1) I have made it a well-known fact that I will cheerfully toss a small child off the Harbour Bridge if someone can get me a slice of NY pizza. I have been all over the world, including Italy, and I will right now make the rather obvious claim that NY has the best pizza IN THE WORLD. Compounding the issue is that Australian pizza is fucking awful, and no one here seems to realize it other than my fellow New Yorkers. On two occasions already I've found myself uttering the phrase "Can we order it from Pizza Hut instead?" Yeah, it's that bad.

2) Do you have any idea what it's like knowing that millions of people across the Pacific are already watching the latest seasons of your favorite shows and you won't be able to see them until January? Yeah, it sucks. And I've already informed everyone worth telling that if anyone leaks any plot twists to me before I've seen the episodes myself, I will fly back to the good ol' US of A just so I can shove a large and unfortunately shaped object up their nether regions.

SO, you can imagine the exquisite joy I felt when I was laying around on Bondi Beach on Wednesday with Ellen (the girl from high school I ran into a few weeks back), and she casually informed me that the current season of America's Next Top Model was showing that night on cable. Oh happy day! Granted it was the episode where they kick off the fat chick -- oh I'm sorry, "plus-size model" -- and pretend they're doing it for some reason other than her size ("You just weren't bringin' the fierceness this week, chubs."), but I still thoroughly enjoyed every fierce moment and plan to watch the entire season from here on out. These are the things I hold on to, what can I say...

Thursday, October 27, 2005


Just realized I never recapped the weekend. Then again another 12 hour alcohol binge isn't really news anymore, so I'm sure you can understand.

Actually managed to have a REAL quiet night in on Friday night, I'll spare you the craziness of the Scrabble game that evening because I'm honestly not sure you can handle that kind of excitement.

Of course this was so we could all wake up at the ass crack of dawn the next day (10am is dawn, right?) and meet up at Darling Harbour to board the booze cruise, a 4 hour trip around Sydney Harbour while ingesting as much beer as possible. Cathy and I spent most of the time trying to look like sexy socialites, and failing miserably, as seen here:

Actually Cathy did pretty well, I just don't want to admit that when I try to look sexy it comes off more as "newly lobotomized hospital patient" than anything else.

I think Scott and John were placing bets on me being the drunk on the boat, but any potential they might have seen in me was quickly eclipsed by this guy:

No idea how this guy ended up on a boat with a bunch of young, attractive people. Apart from missing most of his teeth, our friend here repeatedly fell over, dribbled beer down the front of his face and shirt, introduced himself to everyone in his immediate vicinity about eight times, and randomly busted out a few breakdancing moves whenever he wasn't getting enough attention. Keep in mind it was about 2pm, so I'm assuming he just never sobered up from the previous night.

Even better was when the crew told him to calm down, and he would start doing the electric slide or some shit, leading them to finally tell him "That's it, you're off!" Which left everyone else wondering what the hell that meant considering we were in the middle of the harbour. Didn't see him again, so we can only assume that he was actually tossed overboard and left to fend for himself.

As for the rest of Saturday, I went home and managed a 20 minute nap, and woke up an hour before my ride was coming to get me. Using my drunk logic, I determined that it was important to start slamming cranberry and vodkas otherwise I might lose my wind and have to end the night early. Oh, god forbid. Needless to say, I had text messages from people on Sunday saying how great it was to see me the night before, and I have no recollection of seeing them in the past month.

Sorry for the crappy entry but my short-term memory is complete shit since I arrived in this country and decided that beer, sun and napping are perfectly good substitutes for water, food, and having a job. Fuck.

Tuesday, October 25, 2005

We Have Faith In You, Ladies

Phil and I discussing the impending disaster that is Jess and Jaya moving in together...

Zander: i knew it would be a match made in drunken heaven
Phil: oh god, she's living on 14th and 1st, right?
Zander: yup
Phil: i shuddered as soon as I heard
Zander: stumbling distance to the east village
Phil: someone's going to end up hurt and/or arrested
Zander: oh definitely
Zander: before thanksgiving, i'm sure

Monday, October 24, 2005

Sorry, Try Again

Considered typing up my weekend recap, and then decided that despite having all the time in the world I'll do it tomorrow, just because I CAN.

In the meantime, I just took this quiz via Vicki's blog, and realized I haven't been taking nearly enough internet quizzes lately. Shame on me. That's definitely going on the to-do list, and much higher on the list than "get a job", I don't mind telling you.

Oh and here are my results:

The Gentleman
Deliberate Gentle Love Master

Steady & mature. You are The Gentleman.

For anyone looking for an even-keeled, considerate lover, you're their man. You're sophisticated. You know what you want both in a relationship and outside of it. You have a substantial romantic side, and you're experienced enough sexually to handle yourself in that arena, too. Your future relationships will be long-lasting; you're classic "marrying material," a prize in the eyes of many.

It's possible that behind it all, you're a bit of a male slut. Your best friends know that in relationships you're fundamentally sex-driven. You're a safe, reliable guy, who does get laid. In a lot of ways, you're like a well-worn, comfortable pair of socks. Did you ever jack off into one of those? All the time.

Mostly true. I'd like to take issue with the whole "you might be a huge whore" section, but I'll save my typing for a proper blog post.

Friday, October 21, 2005

Reaching My Comfort Zone

Until about now, I've been really nice, trying to meet people and being relatively polite so I can make friends in a new city. Well apparently that phase of my relocation is done with.

Wednesday night was another Trivia Night at Trinity Bar, where I once again showed the world how right they are in thinking Americans are ignorant. The question? What is the capital of Maine. My answer? "I dunno, does Maine really have a capital? Only place I can think of is Bangor."

A Canadian girl was nice enough to overhear me and give us the correct answer, Augusta. Which of course I've never heard of. And how did I repay her kindness? With charming questions like "You know you guys are just America Junior, right?" and "So honestly, are you guys pissed that we still own Alaska?"

Wonder why she didn't ask me for my contact info before she left the bar...

I've already booked myself for a booze cruise birthday party tomorrow afternoon and a house party and a farewell party tomorrow night, so either I'll have some interesting tidbits for you by next week, or you'll see a story on CNN about a drunken American drowning in the harbour. I think we're all winners either way.

Wednesday, October 19, 2005

Small World

Not really anything to do with booze, but wanted to share a couple of really random run-ins:

1) Was meeting my cousin for drinks a few weeks ago when I saw this girl on the street that looked really familiar. We just kind of stared at each other for a few seconds before we realized we had graduated from the same university, and had even hung out several times over a summer we both spent on campus. And then her husband showed up, who was also a fellow graduate. Would have been more exciting except I don't remember either of them being much fun, so maybe they'll be the kind of people I meet for dinner and then head to the bars with someone else afterwards. Is that a terrible thing to say?

2) Last Friday I agreed to go to an agency to talk about potential employment (yuck!) and same thing, a girl in the waiting room was staring at me. Started talking and realized we both graduated the same year from the same high school, and she moved here about the same time I did. No idea if she's a good time or not, but we'll get "a drink" someday soon and I'll put her to the test.

A bit ridiculous that in less than two months I could run into two people I went to school with in the States, but I guess that's a good fall back plan in case my novelty wears off and the Australians remember they hate minorities.

Tuesday, October 18, 2005

Maybe There Is Such A Thing As "Too Much"

No point in a weekend recap, since I was such an idiot on Friday night that I ended up mostly out of commission for the rest of the weekend.

It really was supposed to be a quiet night in, but those always end up the worst. After dinner, shared a bottle and a half of red wine with one other person, and we then proceeded to drink a bottle of 100 proof Stoli between the two of us while letting a few guests who came over drink the cheap white wine.

I'm not going into details, all I can really tell you is that the night definitely involved a gratuitous display of my genitals, and that it took about three days to recover from that hangover. Ouch.

Friday, October 14, 2005

Drunken Moment Of The Week

Both from Wednesday's bender, here are your choices:

1) Suddenly remembered, as I walked into my building at 1am, giving the previously mentioned homeless guy a thumbs up while grinning like an idiot. I am SO getting stabbed this weekend.

2) Getting a call from an employment agency while in a bar at 3pm, and doing a phone interview from the table, taking sips of my beer between sentences. Which sums up my priorities and "job search" pretty well, I think.

Thursday, October 13, 2005

"A Drink" - Australian For "12 Hour Bender"

I have to say, when someone sends me a text message at 11am on a Wednesday asking if I want to meet for "a drink", I don't really expect to still be throwing the drinks back at midnight with the same person. Especially when it's my first time actually meeting them.

I'll spare you all the details, since my memory has been kind enough to do the same for me. All I know is that it's the next afternoon, I feel like horseshit, and I could have sworn I intended to do something about looking for employment today, but since I'm having trouble remembering I think the best way to go is another nap.

Tuesday, October 11, 2005

If I Don't Remember Most Of The Weekend, That Means I Had Fun

Sorry, but I'm getting totally hooked on these weekend recaps...


Yet another mess that started as a quiet dinner and turned into drunken buffoonery. Was just finishing dinner in a restaurant, getting ready to head home and get to bed early for once, when Kristy and Siobhan called from a nearby bar, clearly "drunk off their tits" as some here would say. So of course we decided to meet them for "just a couple of drinks".

Favorite conversation was as we were heading out of the second bar, on our way to the third...

Bouncer: She can't leave with that beer.

Siobhan: Oh please, I still have half of it left.

Bouncer: Nope, finish it or leave it.

John: If you let her take it with her, you can feel her tits!

Bouncer: I've had better offers.

Not a good night for Siobhan's cleavage, apparently.

We then headed to the Imperial for one of their world famous drag shows. Seriously, what's better than three drag queens doing a routine to all our favorite pop songs? Um, one of them being completely shit-faced and falling all over the stage, losing a shoe, and tripping through a curtain. Apparently this is how things usually go there, and this was only the 1am show, if you want a real treat you stick around for 2am.

We were contemplating if we wanted to do just that or go home, when we heard one of our favorite dance songs blasting from the club below and gunned it down the stairs. I seriously have to wonder if I've taken my euro-trash transformation about four steps too far when my favorite song is called "From Paris To Berlin". But then I remember that it's great to be me, and I don't really concern myself with such trivial problems.


To cleanse myself of the night before, I took a three hour nap before waking up for a birthday party that was at a club around the corner from my studio in sleaze central. In an attempt to be fashionably late, I decided I should kill some time having a cranberry vodka or four before heading out. I was a little concerned when I noticed that I'd had a third of the bottle of vodka and maybe a fifth of the bottle of cranberry juice, but by that time I was too late for the party to put much thought into it.

So of course a few hours later, I had introduced people to each other up to three times (I'm sure this gave everyone an opportunity to perfect their eye-rolls) and was having trouble standing up straight. There's also this dialogue at a fast food joint around 3 in the morning:

Zander: Ooh, this sandwich is spicy.

John: Yeah, you said you wanted the Portuguese Chicken.

Zander: Ah...

Seconds later...

Zander: Ooh, this sandwich is spicy.

John: You just said that.

Zander: No way, that was my first bite.

John: You've eaten half of it already.

Zander: No I didn't. You did.

John: I'm not talking to you anymore, you're off your chops.

Yeah whatever. Good times. Except for the raging hangover the next morning, but really that comes with the territory, and according to the next day's text messages I wasn't obnoxiously drunk, I was "delightful", whatever that's supposed to mean.

Anyway I think it's about Tuesday, and I just got back from playing with koalas and kangaroos, because clearly what marsupials really want to spend time with is a freakishly tall half black dude who is still oozing the remnants of the weekend out of his pores. Wow, that sounds really unattractive, let me stop typing now.

Friday, October 07, 2005

Looking My Best

Just a quick post to show you a not-so-flattering picture of me that a German friend was kind enough to email over. This was at the end of one of the nights where I'd spent over 12 hours drinking. Can't remember what sent me into fits of laughter, complete with rolling on the floor while 4 normal people looked on in horror, but there you go:

Thursday, October 06, 2005

And As Expected...

Okay, so I didn't actually vomit all over the city, but at least that might have garnered a little more sympathy.

John's friend Tracey was in from Bahrain for 24 hours, so we met up at her hotel where she was kind enough to supply us with 100 proof vodka. And as longtime readers of this blog would know, that never works well for anyone.

So how did this one end up? Well, let's put it this way -- you know how every city has that one big kinda trashy bar where people can act like total dick monkeys and no one bats an eye? Yeah, we got kicked out of there.

And it gets better. We then walked down to the second trashiest lounge in the city, which was completely empty, not a soul in the place. So we all stumbled through the door together, and before we had even asked for a beer the bartenders shook their heads and refused to serve us. At an empty bar. Is everyone following this?

Finally, we gave up on the drinking, and filed into Burger King next door (which is inexplicably called "Hungry Jack's" in this country) and shoved a few whoppers into our faces while donning the crown of the Burger King himself.

Aww, yeah. That is the face of a WINNER.

Tuesday, October 04, 2005

Gotta Love A Long Weekend

Sorry for disappearing for a few days, but it was a long weekend here in Australia and I was only getting out of bed for food, beer, or the beach. Here's a bite size recap of the last few days...


Overall a quiet night (meaning dinner and two bars), although after a few glasses of wine in a restaurant I was convinced by my dining partner that it would be absolutely hilarious if I tossed the restaurant's silverware into the purse of the woman sitting next to me. I stopped before I could get the salt shaker in there, but I was pretty proud of myself. And was then informed that it didn't count because on the way out of the establishment I failed to notify the staff that there was a suspicious-looking woman placing forks and whatever else into her purse. Sonofabitch.


Met my cousin Sarah and her coworkers for drinks, where John and I decided it was time to unleash our arsenal of racist, sexist, and generally offensive jokes on the poor kids. Nothing says "great first impression" like looks of total shock and disgust, or so my momma always used to tell me.


Something about Saturdays and binge drinking that just goes together, apparently. Started around 1 at a BBQ and I'll be fucked if I can remember much else before waking up with a spectacular hangover the next morning.


The weather was flawless and spent most of the day between the beach and the beer garden, but what made it the best was that I finally saw the music video for "I Want You" by Paris Avenue, my favorite song at the moment, AND there were hookers in it. I swear, sometimes it's like people are just reading my mind!


Um, and nearing the top of the list of "ways to end a dinner party badly", we have "Serve your guests beer, white wine, red wine, and then GIN". Yeah, that's really all I have to say about that, although I will say that if I never again hear someone I've just met utter the words "you can have a Thai teenager for like ten bucks!", it will be too soon. Jesus.

Anyway now it's Tuesday, everyone I know is back at work (suckers), and I'm sitting in an internet cafe listening to fantastically horrible euro dance music and sitting next to a little nerdy girl who appears to be IMing with someone who's face looks remarkably similar to a large penis. Pervy little minx.

Catch you guys later, I need an afternoon nap, tonight's supposed to be a big one and I like to have plenty of energy before I vomit all over a foreign city.

Wednesday, September 28, 2005

I Got Nuthin...

Still been partying all week and all that, but nothing too ridiculous. I'm still on decent behavior so that by the time everyone here I hang out with realizes I'm a complete twat, it'll be too late to exclude me from their social circles.

Went to my cousin's college graduation dinner last night, which was highlighted by yet another 80 year old woman hitting on me and even inviting me to lunch today. Shockingly, I had other plans. Next time, grandma.

I also got an open invitation to drunken golf one of these days, I'm already picking out sweater vests and practicing golf course poses.

Pictures soon, I promise.

Monday, September 26, 2005

You're So Stupid It Hurts

Now as anyone who knows me at all can attest, while I love to joke around, I am seriously offended by genuine stupidity and ignorance.

So you can only imagine my reaction last night when exposed to the most idiotic gay guy I have ever met in my entire life. And before anyone cries foul, the fact that he is gay is VERY relevant for two reasons - 1) there are a LOT of stupid gay people out there, and 2) it's bad enough to be as dumb as a box of hair, but it sounds even worse when accentuated by a ridiculously queeny southern English accent.

This is only partially based on the following conversation:

Someone else: There were a lot of Lebanese at the bar last night.

Gay English Idiot: What's that?

Someone else: What's what?

GEI: A Lebanese.

Me [complete with eye roll] : It's a person from Lebanon.

Several blissfully quiet minutes later...

GEI: So whereabouts is this 'Lebany'?

Me: What did you just say?

[everyone else in the room dying of laughter]

GEI: I don't get this silly joke.

Me: It's not a joke you fool, it's LEBANON and it's a COUNTRY. In the MIDDLE EAST.

Of course this night wasn't complete without this same idiot getting lost in the apartment even though the one he's staying in is EXACTLY THE SAME in layout, some doofus asking me if Jamaica was in Mexico, and both of these morons thinking I was from England after talking to me for over 10 minutes. Fortunately they left before I could seriously injure someone, and I'm still SO irritated right now and can't seem to do anything about it.

P.S. Maybe I should shut up, not quite as bad, but last week I was at trivia night and SWORE on my mother's grave that the three states bordering Louisiana were Alabama, Tennessee and Missouri. Sorry, mom.

Friday, September 23, 2005

This Is What I'm Talking About

Take a good look at this sign from Coogee Beach...

...and note that the Australian definition of "alcohol-free" still means you can booze it up for the entire afternoon and early evening.


My Drinking Dilemma

Well another week is coming to a close, and I've been drunk every single night, blah blah blah. At this point it's not really blog-worthy unless I get arrested or deported or at least start a brawl in a pub. Or maybe, like the girl I saw last night, I can imitate an 80's hair band video and roll around on the hood of a taxi until the entire city is honking at me. How she got that drunk by 6.30pm is anyone's guess.

But I digress.

Actually my original intent was really just a random comment on the state of my drinking here. As anyone from New York knows, I'm a vodka tonic man, with the occasional glass of scotch thrown in. HOWEVER, bars here follow that silly rule they also have in the UK about limits on hard liquor in a drink, which means I have to ask for a double to get anything decent.

All of which leaves me drinking beer. Constantly. And that is dangerous for two reasons:

1) I'm going to get fat. Especially if I start remembering to eat dinner again.

2) Beer is the kind of thing that one feels very comfortable drinking in the middle of the day. Which didn't seem to be a problem until the other day when I was sitting at a friend's place checking email, and got up to get a beer, and then had to stop myself because I realized it was, um, 10am.

Anyway, I doubt my story here about having to drink tons of beer between napping and lying on the beach is going to elicit much sympathy, but felt obligated to share. If anyone has any suggestions though, other than smuggling my own liquor into the bars, since I certainly did that last weekend (don't worry guys, that flask you gave me will definitely go to use here), I'm all ears.

Tuesday, September 20, 2005

My Favourite Australian

Possibly the best story I've heard lately is the tale of Ashley McDonald, an Australian tourist who was missing in New Orleans for two weeks. Turned out just before Hurricane Katrina hit, he got into a fight at a bar because they refused to serve his drunk ass, and got thrown in jail.

As if that isn't typically Australian enough, he calls into a radio show here in Sydney the other day and they asked him " get kicked out of a pub for fighting, thrown in jail, the hurricane hits, you get robbed and have to survive the riots...wasn't that all pretty traumatizing?"

His response? "Yes well I must say, getting thrown out of the pub was rather awful."

Sir, consider yourself my Australian Idol.

Of course I have to give an honorable mention to Kenny, a guy I've hung out with a couple of times here in Sydney, who was recently at a business dinner and managed to drink enough to throw up ON THE TABLE.

It's good to have role models, you know.

Monday, September 19, 2005

The Half-Assed Weekend Recap

You know what people, I honestly don't have the energy or memory for these weekend recaps anymore. So here's all you're getting:

Just did dinner and drinks on Thursday, which was a bit lame, but more than made up for it on Friday when Irene and I hit the town, which included about 5 bars and harassing strangers until they invited us to their party the next night (which we naturally didn't bother to attend). Woke up with a massive hangover on Saturday, just in time to head to drunken lawn bowls around noon, where I didn't pass a moment without a beer in my hand. I would also like to thank some of the guys in attendance for making it clear that jokes about Hurricane Katrina and New Orleans are already acceptable. Headed off to Audrey's birthday party where I downed about 5 glasses of scotch, and then went to Clay's house for champagne before a trip to a club where members of the party ended up dancing on tables and the like. In case you were keeping track, this adds up to approximately 16 straight hours of drinking. Which was why Sunday, after I'd returned from lunch, I passed out around 5pm and didn't rise again for FOURTEEN hours. Which prepared me well to start boozing again on Monday afternoon.

I've also noticed a trend since I arrived here, where I keep getting drunk so early in the day that I forget to eat dinner, unless peanuts at the bar count, and I'm pretty damn sure they don't.

Sorry it's a bit concise, but you try drinking for 4 days straight and tell me how much you feel like writing about it on Monday. And I'm already working on making it up to everyone, I took plenty of pictures during Saturday's boozefest, and should have some kind of a first month recap for you in a few weeks. Try not to let the excitement interfere with your daily life.

Friday, September 16, 2005

Learning The Hard Way

For the most part, nothing is that different in Australia than it is in the US. Sure they drive on the wrong side of the road and their mixed drinks are way too weak (that's a whole other post) but there's not much of a culture shock coming here from New York.

Of course, there has to be something. In less than 2 weeks I've been ridiculed for using American sayings that don't have the most appropriate meanings over here. A few of my favorites:
  • I was out with some people, and was supposed to meet up with another friend, but they said I should keep partying with them. So I told them "Well, I can't just blow him off." Yeah, not the best choice of words. You can pretty easily imagine what that means here. Not to say I won't be using that phrase at any point, I just need to be a little more careful, that's all.
  • You know how you might "root" for someone, or "root" for the home team? Apparently that's slang for sex, so don't tell someone you've just met that you'll be rooting for them, because they'll think you're a perv and stop inviting you to things. So I hear, anyway.
  • My personal favourite though is when I was talking about tourists, and said something about them wearing fanny packs. Turns out "fanny" is a word used to describe female genitalia, which I previously knew but managed to forget. Of course I got a bit defensive about this one, and asked someone "But seriously, what do you imagine when I say 'fanny pack'?" The answer? "Oh I don't know...perhaps a bulbous oversized vagina..." Nice.

That's all, just a quick PSA, cause I'm lookin' out for you guys. Anyway it's Friday and it's almost 10am, I need to find a bar. Enjoy the weekend.

Thursday, September 15, 2005

Won't You Be My Neighbour

*Apologies to those who recieved my mass email update, since this will rehash part of it. Not like any of us thought I was that original in the first place though.

So the other day I moved into a family friend's studio apartment in Kings Cross, which is like Sydney's version of Times Square. Figured it was time to get out of Kate and Cathy's place, since they've been nice enough to put me up for 10 days, and also have always been curious if I'm the type of person that could really live on his own. Oh yeah, and it's free, if only for the few weeks I'll be staying there.

Of course the best part is that I get to live in a whole new neighbourhood, on a street described by people I've met here as "the trashiest drag in Sydney". Oh how appropriate, I say. Best 5 things about my new neighbourhood:

5) On the same street as a few of the clubs I've been hanging out at since I got here. You know those really swanky types of bars where they only let in celebrities and ridiculously rich people? Yeah, I hang out across the street.

4) At least three establishments within a 5 minute radius called "Adult World"

3) The local supermarket is open late, until midnight, because hookers and crackheads have to do their grocery shopping too, damnit

2) The Asians around the corner who dry clean my shirts and wash my laundry - it's just like back home in Brooklyn!

1) And the best things about it is my most visible neighbour, the homeless guy under the foot bridge. Not only does he have a pretty sweet setup, but I think he'd be the perfect friend, since if you think about it, neither of us really do anything all day, so we have plenty in common. He was also wearing leather pants this morning, which is just another sign of his awesomeness. A lesser bum would have sold them, but he just KNEW he had to have them for himself.

And that's about it, although I've only been there for 2 days or so, god knows this list will keep growing.

I'll stop typing now, and you can ponder on a scale of one to ten how irritating it is that I've been out of the USA for less than a month, and I already use the British spelling of "neighbor".

Monday, September 12, 2005

Now That's What I Call Lunch

And now, for the weekend recap...


Met up with a family friend and her crew for some wine and food. Had a good time, met some really cool people, although the highlight was probably a very old lady actually saying to me, "Well, you're just gorgeous. Have you ever had an 80 year old before?" I wish I was shitting you guys. My as-diplomatic-as-possible response was to pretend to blush, smile, and then turn around and talk to someone else.


After a few hours at the beach and a couple of naps, I desperately needed a drink, so joined a few people downtown for after-work fun. The bar was very cool, although they weren't paying attention and the big TV in the room started showing the news and scenes from the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. Talk about putting a damper on my Friday night.

Later on we headed across the street, and our group was lucky enough to include a very, very drunk French girl whose concept of dancing included a lot of vogueing, fist pumping, and staggering backwards into several strangers a minute. Felt just like happy hour back home, really.


Ah, yes, Saturday. Joined about 15 other people for "lunch". I use the quotes because their definition of lunch apparently comes from the same book as my mother's. Here's what I consumed starting at 1pm:
  • 2 vodka tonics
  • 2 caipirinhas
  • 4 glasses of wine
  • some food
  • additional glass of wine
  • 4 glasses of champagne
  • 1 glass of scotch, neat
  • 2 beers
  • 2 more vodka tonics

Needless to say, after a couple more bars and hanging out at someone's house where I was allowed to mix my own drinks (which many of you know never works out well for anyone involved) my more vital organs started to shut down and it was time to head home, where Kate and Cathy wondered what the hell I had done to myself before I passed out on my bed until the morning.

Can't wait to do that again.

Friday, September 09, 2005

My Life As A Socialite

So I've just completed my first week here in Sydney, and to no one's surprise I'm taking my sweet time looking into any kind of employment.

Cynics might say that doing absolutely nothing productive with one's day would get old pretty fast. Those people probably have to work for their money. I call them "suckers".

I'm still having trouble mustering up the energy to blog anything worth reading, so in lieu of all that, here's a little diagram that should help you visualize what I'm doing with my days in Australia:

I guess I should have included 1% for actually taking 1.7 minutes to make an utterly pointless pie chart in Excel, but that would mean more work. I think not.

Anyway, I hope this explains why I have no time to blog these days. Unless I multi-tasked and combined napping and lying on the beach. Hmmm...I'll see if that works out and get back to you next week.

Wednesday, September 07, 2005

Some Photos For You

As promised, here's a photo album from my week in the UK.

As I've warned everyone, a lot of the pictures are cutesy family shots, but that doesn't mean there isn't a drink in pretty much every single one, so enjoy if you have a few minutes to kill.

I'll try and take the camera out with me in Sydney this weekend and see what I can come up with for you guys.

Tuesday, September 06, 2005

Wish I Had A Proper Excuse

Why I haven't made any real blog posts in the past few days, choose one:

1) This is the first chance I've had access to a computer since I arrived in Australia, and I'm so busy catching up on vital errands that I haven't had a moment to blog.

2) My priorities in life have changed, I've sobered up, and no longer have any drunken tales.

3) I've been drunk or hungover for approximately 73% of the time I've been here, and haven't had enough functioning brain cells to make a coherent post, regardless of the free and constant internet access I have at my current home.

Oh wait, that one was too easy, huh? I promise I'll try to stay away from the sauce today and maybe I'll have something for you guys tomorrow. Or Thursday. Or something.

Sunday, September 04, 2005

Priorities, People

So on my first full day in a new city, in a new country, with no job, and no housing of my own, I obviously started a job and apartment search, right?

Of course not. No, I bought a mobile phone (that's a "cell phone" to you Yanks) and then spent over an hour trying to figure out what dirty words I could spell with my new number. My hosts are amazed that even I can be that unproductive at a time like this.

Anyway, I need a nap to sleep off my hangover, so I can be ready to start drinking again at 7.30 tonight. Gosh, life is just SO different down here.

Thursday, September 01, 2005

Some Culture For You

As most of you know, I (and Emily) have a deep fascination with stupendously crappy dance music, preferably when the singers clearly don't speak English.

In the absence of much foreign dance music here in the UK, and since I'm a very visual (aka superficial) person, I thought I'd take a few minutes here in Heathrow to share some craptastic finds over the past week:

Artist: Xavier
Song: Give Me The Night

I have to say I genuinely like this song (although please note this is NO indication of actual song quality), but the reason I love it is because I vaguely remember a video featuring scantily clad hot chicks in stilettos dancing around with flashlights. Need I say more?

Artist: Axwell
Song: Feel The Vibe

Almost a run-of-the-mill dance song, fortunately the video had two Indian youngsters breakdancing down the street for four minutes. I am totally gonna do that as soon as I get off the plane in Sydney.

Artist: Jupiter Ace
Song: 1000 Years

Easily the cheesiest one, and probably shouldn't have been produced after 1996 or so. Still, this video clip had a clearly unattractive lead singer that they had miserably failed in sexing up, PLUS breakdancing astronauts. Obviously a classic for the ages.

Feel free to download those illegally. Also, random note -- when did Charlotte Church turn into a total ho bag? Could have sworn just last year she was a little girl singing opera, but yesterday she gave my uncle's TV syphillis.

Okay, time for the longest plane ride EVER. Hopefully they'll have music videos for me to watch.

Wednesday, August 31, 2005

Bloody Hell

So I've been in the UK for less than a week, everyone here is ALWAYS DRUNK, and my entire family seems ready to kick me out because it takes me 10 minutes to finish a pint of lager instead of the family average of 47 seconds.

Sweet jesus I don't even know what else to say. How does this country operate?? You can even buy booze at Blockbuster Video. I...don't...understand...

Next update will have to be from Sydney, I'm off tomorrow AM. Assuming I'm sober enough to drive when I wake up.

Tuesday, August 23, 2005

And I'm Off...line...

I'm mere minutes away from being cut off from the web for a while. Hopefully I'll be back to the blogging world within a few weeks. Everyone take care and drink a few in my honor.

Just One Addition To The Friday Recap

Loving this conversation Giant struck up with Daniel, whom he had never met before...

Giant: Excuse me.

Daniel: Yes?

Giant: Why are you dancing?

Daniel: What do you mean?

Giant: Well, are you dancing because you want girls, or are you dancing because you want boys?

Daniel: Um...why??

Giant: I'm writing a book.

Monday, August 22, 2005


So if you actually read the nonsense I post here every few days, you're aware that I'm moving to Australia for a few months. Between my friends and a few reader emails, I figured I would answer a few questions about my little adventure:


Yeah, this one is pretty basic. Essentially, one of my very few goals/dreams in life is to live abroad for a little while. And since I was in Australia last year, I've decided that Sydney was the place I wanted to be. The timing is perfect because I have a couple of friends down there temporarily, in addition to my family who lives there, so it's a 'now or never' sort of deal, and I'd rather not spend the rest of my life regretting that I didn't have the balls to do it. Besides, everyone there is always drunk. I shouldn't need more reason than that, right?


Uh...that's TBD. I'm pretty sure I'll want to get a job of some sort, if only to make sure I don't get bored with lying on the beach, and maybe meet people. But at this point I'm open to doing almost anything. A lot of people have suggested that I should be a bartender, but there are a couple of issues with that -- a) bartenders in Australia don't make nearly as much as they do in a place like New York (no tips) and b) based on my previous bartending experiences, I'd probably end up passed out on a couch in a corner of the bar, OR simply too inebriated to open a bottle of beer without injuring myself.


Hmm, well the original plan was just to go for around 4 months, but now I'm considering extending it for a month or two. After that I'd probably come back to New York and get back into my usual routine, aka being a horrifying display of why prohibition might have been the right way to go.


That's a good question. I'm spending a week of vacation in the UK first, and I don't know what kind of computer access I'll have on a daily basis in Sydney, so it's going to be at least a couple of weeks without any posts here. In the meantime, everyone should refer to all those nifty links to other blogs and sites on the right side. God knows Cristin and Vicki should have enough entertaining tales to keep you going, them bitches post like it's going out of style.

I think that's all the big questions I keep getting. Other than "why are you such an asshole?", but I'm still trying to figure that one out.

Sunday, August 21, 2005

How Could I Forget...

...a huge shout out to my friends who chipped in for a brand new shiny flask for me to take on my trip.

The engraving? "good riddance, darkness" Brilliant.

And The Award Goes To...

One would think that if I had a huge farewell bash and 75 or so people showed up, that one of the usual members of the crew would make the biggest ass of himself. But one would be wrong.

I'd like to thank my mild-mannered roommate for coming out. Sad thing is, the poor kid was planning to stay in and do work until we badgered him into coming to the club for at least a couple of drinks.

This picture above ends up being the last thing he remembers. Shortly afterwards he managed to break approximately four glasses, at which point I suggested he head home in a cab.

It's still unclear what happened after that, but he definitely woke up IN THE HOSPITAL the next morning with no recollection of how he got there. Don't worry, he had no injuries, it's okay to laugh. My favorite part of the story is that when he woke up, the first thing he thought to himself was "Shit, am I in New Jersey??" Because yes, being in New Jersey is clearly the worst thing that could have happened when you wake up in a hospital and have no idea how you ended up there. Awesome.

Otherwise, the party was awesome, or so I hear. I'd be lying if I said I remember much after the first few drinks, but if you really have the energy to look at almost 200 pictures of drunk people, you can go ahead and take a look yourself.

I had spent some time looking at this picture and trying to figure out who it was, but I now have witnesses who saw the guilty party stick the camera down her shirt, so at least that mystery is solved. I'll keep it to myself and spare her the embarrassment, cause I'm a sweetheart like that.

And so ends my week of farewell parties. I should probably start packing or something, huh?

Saturday, August 20, 2005

If Resumes Weren't Complete Lies...

In honor of my last day at this company, I decided I should put together an honest job description that you definitely won't find on my resume:

  • Deflected large amounts of work using various strategies (scattered papers around my desk, walking quickly through the halls as if doing something remotely important) to give the impression that I was far too busy to do anything else; effectively allowed myself to spend 90% of time in the office on blogging and various other personal internet activities
  • Abused freedom of position to take an estimated 217% overage of vacation days in 2005, all off the record
  • Served as a central fixture in the flow of gossip throughout the company and across all departments
  • Spearheaded and actively participated in the "Mean Girls" contingent in the office; the team's crowning achievement was having a coworker quit claiming she could no longer take our offensive and inappropriate commentary, leading to a sexual harassment investigation

Ah, confession is good for the soul. If I had a soul, that is.

Why Having A Reputation As A Drunk Isn't All Bad

My coworkers just came over to me with a standard farewell card, and a big Mickey Mouse bag. At first I was concerned, since I can't imagine why anyone would think I'd want something from the Disney store.

Turns out the bag itself was only for the humiliation factor, since I still have to take it home on the subway. How about inside there were 20 bottles of assorted liquor -- I'm expected to drink them on the flight down, but I think pretending these little bottles of heaven are going to make it through the weekend would be a lame pretense.

Thanks, guys. My liver hates you eternally, but my love for you right now should balance that out.

Friday, August 19, 2005

Not A Real Post...

...just another retarded alcohol-related internet game for you.

Crazy Story

Okay, so get this.

I was walking down Wall Street this morning and I hear someone call out my name. So I turn around, and there's girl I definitely don't recognize coming towards me. She walks up, and she's like "Hey!" and I seriously can't figure out who she is. So I tell her she doesn't look familiar, and she tells me "I know...actually, my original name is Daniel. We went to summer camp together."

So I'm dumbfounded. I can't believe this is a DUDE standing in front of me, it's all very convincing. We make some small talk, catch up, but I'm still in shock. Finally though I couldn't hold in my curiosity, and I had to ask.

"Sorry, but I just have to ask, I hope you don't mind...what was the most painful part about becoming a woman? I assume it's when they did their know...down there." She tells me that wasn't it though. Then I was like "Okay, so it was the breast implants, right?" And she said that wasn't it. At this point I have no idea, I ask her "So what was the most painful part about becoming a woman?", and she told me "Actually, it was when they made my mouth bigger and my brain smaller."


Thursday, August 18, 2005

I'm Too Sexy For This Blog

Last night was Farewell Party #3 -- Farewell Happy Hour & Karaoke with only the coolest people I know.

I figure I could take some time and make a quality blog post...or I could just post a bunch of pictures that tell the story and call it a day. I think you can guess which direction I'm gonna head in, though.

So here are pics of each of the fantastic performances from yesterday, where everyone who came was required to sing me a song with a goodbye/farewell theme of some sort. Here was the track list...

I kicked off the night with "Goodbye" by the Spice Girls. Vocally it was a disaster (my throat is still a mess) but fortunately I had Jordan and Chris as my backup dancers to distract the audience.

Then came Jordan featuring Cristin with Bon Jovi's "Always", which must have been awesome because it's still stuck in my head. Or maybe that's because it's just about the last thing I remember of the night. Either way, jolly good show.

And then, yet another stunning rendition of "Separate Ways" by Miss Jessica. And yet another standing ovation from the audience and staff.

There was the touching performance by my brother, singing "It's So Hard To Say Goodbye To Yesterday".

Then I decided to mix it up a little, and do "I'm Too Sexy". No, it's not a farewell song, but it was MY party and I could make my own rules. And I am too sexy, so it was appropriate in general.

Jaya and Melissa managed to make it through "I'll Be Missing You", even with me drunkenly interrupting them every 7 seconds. Well done, ladies.

As expected, Joe was too douche to properly stick to the theme, but "Down Under" was relevant, so I managed to not rip his balls off, curry them, and feed them to him for dinner.

Cristin and Jordan (with help from all of the drunkards) tore it up with the classic, "Total Eclipse of the (Fuckin') Heart".

They also sang "With Or Without You", a song I find vaguely insulting, but I'll try not to take it personally.

Emily picked an awesome one, with Aerosmith's "Don't Wanna Miss A Thing".

And don't tell anyone, but my eyes might have teared up a little when Belle sang "Right Here Waiting For You". Seriously, that's a secret.

My personal highlight though was probably when Jessica decided to do an interpretive dance to a song some dork outside of our group was singing. Not quite sure what the song was, but apparently the accompanying dance called for lots of jumping, thrashing, and ended with a nipple pinch. All I can say is that people were scared.

Finally, 'Big Knockers' and Melissa got up to sing "Baby Got Back", which clearly has nothing to do with me, since it's not farewell themed, and I literally have NO ASS. This effectively ended the night.

So all in all, it was just as awesome and brilliant as I had hoped and dreamed it would be. Full set of pictures can be found HERE, as usual there are enough in there to make your eyes bleed, so click carefully.

And so, farewell week continues...