Just Shake Whatcha Mamma Gave You, Get On It

This past weekend was Sydney Mardi Gras. Many think it's odd that it would be celebrated AFTER actual Mardi Gras, but it makes a little more sense once you know the history of the event. It actually started as a gay rights march in Sydney in the 70's, commemorating the New York Stonewall Riots about 10 years before. And now, as with anything involving large numbers of homosexuals, has turned into an utterly ridiculous freakshow for the masses. Therefore, timing to coincide with the religious calendar was mostly irrelevant, but 'Mardi Gras' sounds way more festive than 'Gay Rights Celebration', so I think we can all support the choice of name.

I like to think that the transition between gay rights march and circus act was very sudden. Like, the planners were sitting in a room one day, and someone said "You know what? Let's be honest. We're not gonna get respect and equal rights anytime soon. Let's get naked and have fun!" And then hundreds of drag queens and buff guys in g-strings descended upon the city, to the amusement of the world.

But I digress...


FRIDAY

I decided to take it easy on Friday night so I would have energy for the actual Mardi Gras celebration on Saturday. And I succeeded! Met up with Team America after work (where I'd been drinking since 4, but that's status quo at this point) for a few drinks at Establishment and then headed to Oxford Street for a few more, but as soon as the clock struck ten it was time for an evening snack and a quick trip home.

Only moment worth mentioning would be when we were at a bar in a large group and only I was accosted by what I will generously refer to as a drag queen, who wanted me to come to 'her' party a few days later.

He also tried to tell me that he was a supermodel for Yves Saint Laurent. Um, dude, honestly now? You're a 50-year old black guy in earrings and a shawl. Other than the fact that I think you're on drugs right now, I'm guessing you and any supermodel I can think of don't have much in common. But thanks for playing.


SATURDAY

What. A. Mess. Team America met up at LN and Dan-man's place for pre-gaming before the parade. And I'm guessing that when it's only been two hours and 5 of you have finished 2 bottles of wine, numerous beers, half a bottle of vodka and a bottle of champagne, you should be a little more concerned than we were.

Needless to say the parade was awesome - 3 hours of various gay groups marching up Oxford Street, most of them scantily clad and drunk off their minds. Just as good were all the spectators, who ranged from men dressed like nuns to little old Asian women standing on milk crates so they could get a better view. Scooter even dressed up for the occasion, borrowing Cath's shirt, belt and sunglasses, and looking gayer than any of the homos marching in the parade. Well done, dude.

Of course in my condition it was less than half an hour before I lost the rest of Team America, and ventured off to meet up with others, which is where things got fuzzy. But hey, when you find out the next day that 3 members of the original group ended up either vomiting, passed out half-naked on their bathroom floors, or crying in public, I think you've got a winning night.

And at least we didn't end up like this:



That's right, I have pictures, and they will be online later this week.


SUNDAY

Woke up with an awful hangover, met up with JuJu for brunch (which is always great because she starts sentences with things like "So I was browsing through the sex shop yesterday...") and recapped the night for her. We walked down from my place into Woollahra village, and fortunately my senses were too dulled to realize that I'd just paid $12 for what was listed as 'pancakes' on the menu, but was clearly just pancake, no plural. Gotta love it.

Then it was time for recovery on the beach, and considered going to see Lord Of War with LN and Dan-man, but then remembered that Nicholas Cage is really really ugly, and my money would better be spent elsewhere.