BBQ...Australian for 12 Hour Drinking Marathon

Funny how many things translate to drinking for 12 hours in this country. Yeah so, it's Tuesday morning down under, and I'm still not completely sure I've recovered from the weekend. Unfortunately it also means that I don't remember much, even though I'm sure it was awesome. Here's what I can gather from conversations I've had in the last couple of days...

FRIDAY

It almost looked like I might stay in on Friday night and catch up on some sleep. As if. Walked over to the Centennial Hotel to meet a few peeps for drinks around 10 or so, and then caught a cab into the city to meet up with some others. This sadly ended in a trip to The Palms, the epitome of trashy bars in this city (at least that I've encountered), and where I encountered the following:

• People who think the DJ playing "Since U Been Gone" means it's time to turn the dance floor into a mosh pit. Chill the fuck out.
• Two grown (and painfully gay) men suddenly busting out some lame-ass dance routine. It was very Romy & Michelle, and also inspired me to loudly exclaim things like "LAME." and "THIS is why you're both going to die alone."
• Okay now brace yourselves, because it was shocking enough when it happened to me once but on TWO occasions I went into the men's bathroom and there were "women" peeing at urinals, and I think they had...ahem...twinkies. Or whatever crappy euphemism you want to use for penis. Anyway, it was freaky and gross and I applaud your courage in going through with the operation ladies, but sweet jesus you should still have to use the women's room.

SATURDAY

We'd planned to have a BBQ in Centennial Park at 3pm, which I then made everyone change to 1.30, following which I showed up at 3pm anyway. So I already had fans that day. Did the usual BBQ stuff, like eat and talk about me, including Zander gems like "Eww rain is gross...but I look pretty hot when I'm wet." and telling tales about that time I did something somewhere and someone else was there but that doesn't matter because I'm talking about me, remember? People love that.

Stopped by my place afterwards, where I showered and shaved not only drunk, but with a beer in my hand (that takes SKILL, people) and we yelled at our neighbours through the windows and danced around to S Club 7 before walking over to the Woollahra Hotel. Which naturally meant it was time for racist and dead baby jokes.

At this point I did something I never do -- I stopped drinking for 45 minutes, because I could see things were getting pretty bad and my liver needed to breathe if I was going to keep partying. Photos up to about that point can be found here.


SUNDAY

What's most important about Sunday is not that I woke up around noon (very unlike me, I'm that annoying asshole who jumps up at 8.37am with bright eyes and a bushy tail, even though we were all out until 5am) but that I was still completely trashed.

Headed to Yum Cha (Dim Sum) with The Flattie and JuJu, where the hangover started to kick in as soon as the food hit my stomach. Of course no matter how hungover I get, I can still be mean to fat people. This included singing the theme song to Australia's Biggest Loser every time a fat person walked by.

Finally, there's no better place for recovery than Bondi Beach, so I met up with Ayesha for some fun in the sun, and we spent the evening eating at her place and watching the "Leprechaun in Mobile, Alabama" video numerous times because it's just that good.