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...

Oops

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.

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

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
(DGLMm)

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

"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.

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...


FRIDAY

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.


SATURDAY

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.

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:

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.

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...


THURSDAY

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.

FRIDAY

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.

SATURDAY

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.

SUNDAY

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!

MONDAY

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.