In Other News...

...could my bosses 14-year old son not be walking around the office drinking his second beer??

Beer O'Clock Strikes Again!

...because I actually don't remember the last time I ate dinner on a Friday night. Enjoy the weekend.

Americans, Dumb? No, Just Really Loud.

Last night we did something I hadn't done in a while -- went to a trivia night at a local pub. Because something like 7 of the 10 people there were Americans, we named ourselves Team America. This actually made me a bit nervous at first, since we were then responsible for representing our supposed nation. Funny how that manifested itself though, as we were quickly getting dirty looks from everyone in the bar for the following:

• yelling/singing "FUCK YEAH!!" every time we got an answer right (me)
• chanting "USA! USA!" when we got an obscure one correct (The Flattie, who isn't even American but loves to create bad will between the US and nations around the world)
• telling the team "Shhh!! I think those Australians are stealing our answers!", loud enough for them to hear it (me)
  
• completely creaming the competition in the final scores and winning the $50 bar tab

The $50 was quickly spent on jugs of beer, sangria & Pimms, and we've decided to make this a semi-regular event because it was so much fun. I'm thinking next week we may call ourselves "The USA Could Blow You Up If We Wanted To", just for that extra special touch.

Along those lines, I've analyzed what should be considered the ideal demographic makeup for a pub trivia team (because you care):

• Several girls (to recognize pointless celebrities in the photo questions)
• A gay guy (for song recognition questions and anything about musicals)
• A straight guy (sports, and songs the gay guy wouldn't know aka Billy Joel, and singers along those lines)
• Someone over the age of 50 (because that's how they get the younger crowd, with silly questions about the 60's and what not)
• Me (to make sure everyone is steadily liquored up, and to piss off all the other teams)
• Someone hot (for me to stare at since I won't know the answers to any of the questions)
  

Who the...??

Had one of those moments this morning where I was walking down the street and all of a sudden someone in a car started honking at me and waving frantically. I smiled and waved back, and then continued walking, and now I'm left to wonder who the hell that person was.

Do I actually know you? Maybe you just got me confused with one of the other 6'4" half-black men strolling around Sydney. Are you a friend, or just a random acquaintance I met one time? Have I slept with you? Do I want to sleep with you (again)? Are you going to text or email me later so this mystery can be solved? Because god knows I won't be able to get any work done today unless I can get my mind off this. Yeah, that's gonna be my excuse...

I Really DO Know Everything

Last night I had a nightmare that I ran out of chocolate Nesquik and was unable to make a proper chocolate milk for myself, as I do every morning. I clearly do not lead a stressful life.

However I had completely forgotten that 6 months ago I actually was a bit stressed. I mean granted, I was drinking almost every night and my biggest dilemma was literally "should I take a nap so I have more energy for drinking tonight, or should I go to the beach and work on my tan?"

But of course the big decision I had to make was: am I going to start making plans to move back to NYC, or do I find a job here in Sydney and stick around for a decent amount of time.

So, on a whim, I went to a site someone had sent me at http://futureme.org and wrote a letter to myself 6 months in the future, which ended up being today. And not that my complex about always being right needed reinforcement, but I rather accurately predicted where I would be at this point in time. But it was also pretty interesting to remember my state of mind and how different it was just 6 months ago. And now I think it's totally nifty, and am going to write letters to myself every 6 months and just see how it turns out.

Anyway this post is really just to share that link with you guys, cause it's kind of a cool time capsule sort of idea and it's fun if you're a self-absorbed geek like myself (and since most of you are bloggers, you qualify). I chose 6 months because I figured anything less doesn't really leave enough time to make progress, and something like a year is a bit too long. Or you can send emails to yourself 30 years in the future, but getting it would rely on several factors:

• that you're still alive
• that the nuclear holocaust hasn't occurred and you still have access to email
• that you still have a job that an eggplant could probably perform, and still spend massive amounts of your day screwing around on the internet with shit like this
• that you'd really want be in your 50's and open an email from yourself 30 years ago when you were still young, hot, healthy, and having more fun than should be legally allowed

It's that last one that would probably encourage me to quickly locate 2 bottles of vodka and some valium. (Mmmm, vodka.) So yeah, I'm sticking with 6 months.

Oh Yeah, I'm Supposed to Blog

Sorry it took me so long to get around to this, but it was a crazy weekend that involved me being drunk by 6pm on Friday, Saturday AND Sunday, so hopefully you can sympathize. Or something.

Not gonna go into a long detailed explanation of it all. Sufficed to say, being awake for over 24 hours on Friday (damn you, World Cup) and being drunk for the last 8 hours of that is apparently just the right combination of circumstances to turn me into a drama queen bitch by 2am on Friday night. Ah well, I never claimed I wasn't high maintenance.

Saturday seemed to be headed towards an opportunity to allow my organs to breathe without being suffocated in alcohol, but that dream died by 4pm. Fortunately other people were so smashed already on scotch and wild turkey (eww) that I don't remember the last time I felt so sober on a Saturday night, if only relatively speaking. I will definitely say that if you find yourself having a drunken sing-along to "Eternal Flame" before 9pm on ANY night of the week, it's time to re-evaluate the wisdom of trying to continue the evening on any level.

And Sunday was supposed to be the quiet one, where I met up with Becs and Jenny for Yum Cha (Dim Sum) at 11am, only to walk directly into the bar next door afterwards and end up slurring badly by 7pm, and shoving Indian food into my face a few hours later to the point where I had trouble breathing.


So that's my weekend. In other news, a couple of people have noted in the comments here that Australia lost to Italy last night which would have been more upsetting, except I was lucky enough to only wake up for the last 20 minutes of the game when all the drama happened. At the risk of sounding far more masculine than I actually am, can I just say that the refs have SUCKED for this entire World Cup, and all need to be terminated immediately. No, not fired -- TERMINATED. Arnold style.

And now I'm left with a dilemma as to who to support the rest of the way. Would love to see Ghana kick some ass, partially because I love an underdog and also because they are from the motherland of Africa. I also have a financial interest in seeing France win because then I get $100 out of the office sweepstakes. And finally there's England, who I guess I should support because I am half British after all, but good lord they are so cocky. And we know how I can't stand arrogance. Because I'm so modest and all. And religious. Right.

Sheer Brilliance

Okay so I think we can all admit we knew Vicki was a funny bitch, but her new blog making fun of this guy shows that she is a seriously funny BITCH. Right up there with the chick from Hated New Guy, who apparently is no longer annoyed by that bastard (or maybe he finally moved) cause there hasn't been a new post on that blog in ages.

In other news, someone sent me the link to this MySpace profile today. The best part is that he went to my high school and apparently graduated from Harvard Law School recently. But this profile is genius enough that I could believe that.

Anyway...enjoy. It's Friday at 5pm here, I've got my "suitcase full o white bitches and I'm ready 2 party."

Ghana???

Okay so I realize this is the first time you've ever seen me mention sports on this blog (and after July you shouldn't expect it for another 4 years) but the only athletic event I ever get remotely interested in is the World Cup.

This is even more relevant this year because the Australians (their team quaintly known as "the Socceroos") has made it to the World Cup after a 30 year absence or something ridiculous. Naturally this is yet another excuse for the average Australian to tie a flag around their neck and go get trashed, and therefore I love it. The game this morning between Australia and Croatia (at 5am, for crying out loud) was a seriously entertaining affair and will be worth me feeling like crap before the clock even strikes 9pm in whatever bar I will be in.

But that's all irrelevant, because I have actually been awake since before THREE in the morning. Why, might you ask? Because I had some kind of faith in the American team, god knows why. The world recognizes that football (soccer) is one of the few sports that the U.S. can't even attempt to dominate, and yet losing to the Czech Republic last week was still a bit of a stinger. So for the U.S. to get knocked out of the game by GHANA of all freaking countries was just embarrassing.

I'll save all the rude and un-PC jokes this time, all I'm going to say is that I want my 3 hours of sleep back, and I mean BEFORE I pass out in a bar tonight.

Fuglia Stiles

So on Sunday evening I was coerced into going to see The Omen, that stupid "6-6-6" movie that looked silly from the second they started advertising it.

Now I can deal with stupid horror movies. And I'll tell people it wasn't really scary, but I did a jump/muted yell thing a couple of times. Then again one of those times was when my phone vibrated in my pocket, so it's not like the movie can take all the credit.

But by far the most horrifying thing about this movie was the fact that Julia Stiles was in it. How's that for a nasty surprise.

Just for the record, and in case anyone wasn't aware, I think Julia Stiles is HIDEOUS. I'm sure she's a wonderful girl who is down to earth and gives back to the community, however one look at her face can only confirm that she must be one of the most obvious cases of undiagnosed down syndrome ever to fug the silver screen. I have no idea how she ever scored any of her starring roles, but I'm sure it's some Tori Spelling-type situation. Somehow I find Tori Spelling more bearable because she probably knows she's ugly and talentless and shouldn't be famous in the first place. I think Julia still needs to be clued in.

Even more aggravating is finding the rare rare person who think she's kinda cute, which happened the other day with one of my coworkers. He can't actually name an attractive feature on her pug-like face, which leads me to believe she's the actress that guys go for because she's ACTUALLY attainable. Like she's rich and famous, but it's not like Jared Leto is gonna go for her, so maybe my coworker could snag her. Kinda like that.

So yeah, I sat through this movie and have rarely wanted an "innocent mother" to die more than the demonic devil spawn that was supposed to be the bad guy. Now can whoever keeps putting her in movies please STOP.

That is all.

Notes From A Messy Weekend

Because I'm too lazy to recount it all properly...

• Going to someone's farewell lunch/drinks and telling them you're drinking champagne because "I can't think of a better reason to celebrate!" is not generally accepted behavior.
• Irish potato famine jokes never get old.
• Tying the potato famine and the holocaust together in one truly offensive remark is what makes me that special kind of asshole.
• As any self-respecting jerk knows, dating someone who doesn't speak English very well is awesome because seriously, it's just SO easy to make fun of them, and all of us can join in.
• Telling people "You look kind of homeless with a beard" is not constructive criticism.
• Zander + tequila = Catastrophe for everyone involved. Honestly that shit is so reliable at this point they should start teaching it in high school math classes.

I'd also like to thank Ellen and her cousin for the following comments:

"Does it annoy anyone else that all Asians don't speak the same language? I mean, come on."

"I'm American, I don't use chopsticks. Someone get me a fork."


Thanks ladies, cause we needed that refresher on why people keep thinking of ways to blow up the good ol' U.S. of A.

I Still Heart Personality Quizzes

And this one is the best of all! It's actually something that one of my company directors talked about at a management training session a few months back, and it's called a Johari Window, where you can see what you think of yourself, as well as how much people agree with that, and what else they think of you.

I'd pretty much forgotten about it until I came across it again on a blog I've been reading lately and Ben had linked to an interactive version. Naturally the idea that I could prompt people to spend even 27 more seconds in a day thinking about me than they already do got me excited, so I sent out the link.

According to my results so far, both myself and others strongly agree that I'm "confident" and "extroverted". That's not-so-secret code for arrogant prick. And then there's the list of words that I didn't pick for myself, but others did. I love that so many people think I'm "witty", and since everyone else has said it now I can admit that I totally wanted to pick that one for myself, but then I thought about how obnoxious it is when someone refers to themselves as witty, and went with intelligent instead. SUCKERS.

Oh and people also said I was "self-assertive" and "bold". Two more words for arrogant prick, or perhaps pushy asshole, whichever you'd prefer. And of course there is at least one person not taking this whole thing seriously (how dare they) since I see "complex", "dignified", and best of all "modest" on the list. Although I was quickly told that picking that last one was an accident, which made me breathe a little easier since for a second there I was worried I'd have to talk even MORE about how awesome I think I am, which just sounds exhausting.

You can see my full results here.


And finally there's also a Nohari Window, which is the same thing but with all negative traits. Let me tell you, I consider myself pretty self-aware and able to take criticism, but I took one look at that list of words and decided there was no way in hell I wanted to see my friends and family describe me as any of them. As a consolation prize though, here are the words I imagine would show up if you had been allowed to choose them for me:

• childish
• boastful
• impatient
• loud
• insensitive
• self-satisfied
• smug

Hopefully that saves you all the trouble of compiling your own lists behind my back, and yet somehow I doubt that's the case. Ah well, as long as you're thinking of me!

Yeesh, I Was Just Sayin'

Zander: You know, Kylie Minogue just isn't quite pretty enough to pull off that short hairstyle.

Flatmate: Oh my god, she had cancer!!

Zander: Yeah I know, but is that really an excuse?

Flatmate: YES! Asshole.

Best. Google Ad. Ever.

Last time I published the blog I scrolled down a bit to see what Google ads were appearing, and clearly God is thrilled about how much I'm drinking this week because this is what greeted me:


I've put a lot of thought into who they are actually trying to target with an ad like this, and these are the only three explanations I could come up with:

• Single people with anger issues who enjoy dating self-acknowledged losers with ridiculously low self-esteem. Because if you're bitter about life, there's nothing better than being able to emotionally abuse someone who thinks they deserve it.
• Mean-spirited individuals like myself who jump at the opportunity to ridicule the less fortunate looking in the world.
• Mature and sensitive individuals who can look past a person's outward appearance and love them for who they are as people.

Oh wait, that last group doesn't actually exist in real life, much like leprechauns or eskimos. So I guess I only have 2 explanations, feel free to let me know if you can add any to the list cause I'm stumped if one of those isn't correct.

Just How The Queen Would Have Wanted It

Ah, gotta love a long weekend. I was essentially drunk for about 80 hours straight, and loved every blurry minute of it.

LuLu's birthday coincided with the Queen's Birthday Weekend (how appropriate) so we were all out on Saturday night drinking in his honour. As usual I was way drunker than the actual birthday boy, and all I can really remember is hitting a wall around 1am (I'd been drinking since 6pm, before you think i'm a total pansy) and thinking to myself that I had better stop drinking at that very moment or something terrible would probably happen. So I put down my half-finished beer and walked out the door. I think I should get points for self-control.

Felt awful for most of Sunday, but pepped up when it was time to meet Ellen and her cousin for drinks at the Civic. Three bars later it was about 5am and I'm pretty sure the cab driver was not impressed when I couldn't quite remember where I lived for several minutes.

Which all brings us to Monday. If you're thinking that I might have used the extra day to recover from all the binge drinking, you are so so wrong. Despite whining all morning about how much pain I was in, it was barely past 3pm when I ended up at the first bar of the day, and about midnight when I finally stumbled into my apartment and pissed off The Flattie who was trying to watch the Australia - Japan World Cup game. I unfortunately was in no condition to understand the rules of a basic sporting event and promptly passed out, missing what must have been one of the best 8 minute stretches of a World Cup game ever.

And now I'm at work and my hands have literally been shaking all day because my body doesn't understand why I've suddenly started drinking anything other than beer again. Oh, the horror. Even better -- I have plans to drink every night this week through the weekend. My liver just handed in its resignation.

It's No Harry Potter, But I Love The Free Champagne

Probably the best reason to get into a job where you deal with clients is the random perks that you get as a result. Actually make that the only reason that putting up with their bullshit is really worth it. Oh right, and the "challenge" and "quality experience", in case any prospective employers ask. Point is, this is how I ended up at the Opening Night of the Sydney Film Festival on Friday night.

My dates for the evening were JuJu and Ayesha -- JuJu because she's hot, and Ayesha because she has an uncanny ability to know EVERYONE wherever we go. So we strolled in, starting loading up on the free champagne, and promptly got trashed well before the movie had even started.

The movie was an amazing film called Ten Canoes, "a beautifully poetic, multi-layered film that is sensual, humorous, tragic, intriguing and utterly unique." It might as well have been called Forty Winks cause I was fast asleep within minutes. Better yet was Ayesha who was asleep before me, but was gracious enough to wake up when her phone started ringing and ANSWERED THE CALL.I'm sure the actors and director sitting a few feet away were highly impressed. As if I wasn't mortified enough by all this, the folks sitting behind us made an astute observation: "She's pissed." (That's 'pissed' as in the British/Australian way meaning wasted, not the American meaning of 'angry', which would have more accurately described everyone sitting around us.)

Once that was over it was time for the real reason we had even showed up for the movie in the first place -- the after party! Ayesha and I managed to wake up at the prospect of an open bar, and she introduced us to all kinds of characters, most of whom were as drunk as we were. Always a good time for rude and inappropriate conversation at the expense of others.

Eventually though I was full of free food and booze, and it was time to grab my gift bag and head home. That's about as posh a party as I'll probably be at anytime in the near future, I can now go back to my usual partying at trashy bars. Whew.

Anyway it's a long weekend here (Monday is "the Queen's Birthday", whatever the hell that's supposed to mean), so I'll stop here and get back to my Sunday drinking now. Pardon me.

Ouch

Barely slept Tuesday night and was hungover for most of Wednesday, so it's obvious how I needed to spend Wednesday night -- out drinking until 4am. Clearly.

I'm at a point where I guess I don't feel that bad, so it must be adrenaline that's keeping me going despite 5 hours of sleep in the last 2 days and enough beer to knock a baby elephant out cold.

Which is all fantastic for my brand new employee, since I'm sure she's never heard anything as reassuring from a new boss as "Uh yeah...not actually sure when we get paid...uhhhh my head hurts..."

Am I Manager of the Year yet??

Still A Fat Asshole

Met up at the Civic last night for Ellen's birthday drinks, and apparently the following are not always recommended:

• Eating 2 tacos before going for drinks may seem like a responsible move, but probably won't keep you sober if you intend on drinking 12 schooners of Toohey's New.
• Upon seeing 'BBQ Baby Octupus' on the menu, it's perhaps not so appealing to either the people at neighbouring tables or people you've just met to exclaim "Mmmm! Everything tastes better when it's made with babies!"
• After the tacos before drinks and the food during drinks, it is NOT necessary to warm up a massive plate of pasta bolognese with a loaf of garlic bread upon arriving home. That isn't how people get fat. It's how people get really really really fat. (See photo in previous post.)

That was it I think, which isn't so bad when compared to my average night out. Snaps for me!

Gazing Into The Future, Yet Again

I forwarded this picture to a few people earlier this week:


It was then brought to my attention that I shouldn't send out pictures of animals of African origin that are supposed to be tall and skinny but end up being really fat, because it will just remind everyone of what I'm going to look like in 10 years.

Screw you guys.

The New Paris Hilton Song

Meaningless lyrics? Check.

A singer with a generic voice and a reputation as a vapid whore? Check.

A melody that could have been accidentally tapped out by a 3-year old Jamaican child with some steel drums? Check.


Obviously this song deserves to have been on repeat on my mp3 player for the last 20 minutes. Now I'm just waiting for the Aussie debut of the video, which I honestly truly hope is simply her home sex video in slow motion with the song playing over it. Pretty please?

My Version Of The Pulitzers

Based on the events of the last 72 hours, I'd like to present some awards to all the people who made this weekend what it was:

The Seasoned Stalkers Award goes to Anita & Karen for dragging me and The Flattie along on a ridiculous goose chase to a bar on Friday night where their coworker MAY have been (and wasn't). Because I've always wanted to blow all of my cash on unnecessary cab fares to Bondi. In the pouring rain. Thanks ladies.

The Award for Fastest Best Friends Ever goes to the girlfriends of two coworkers at a housewarming party on Saturday who met each other at 2pm, and were rolling around drunk on the floor together (yes, literally) saying how much they loved each other by 6pm. I'm pretty sure both of your boyfriends were absolutely horrified. I, meanwhile, loved every second of it.

The What Have You Been Smoking Award clearly goes to Andrew (of "Who's Nelson Mandela?" fame), who managed to essentially trash a Thai Restaurant (food everywhere, broken wine glasses) but couldn't possibly have been that drunk at 7pm or whenever the hell it was. I can only assume he smoked some bad crack. Thank god we had the good sense to send him home.

The Award for Best Irish Goodbye goes to Justin, who walked into The Colombian with us, said something along the lines of "I'll be right back", and clearly walked straight out the back door of the bar, never to be heard from again. Fair enough, we wouldn't have let you leave without a fight.

The Enabler Award goes to Derek, who seems to delight in watching me make an absolute fool of myself, evidenced by the number of shots he insists on giving me every time we hang out. Dude, you are SO lucky I have a good sense of humour, even with people who are clearly set on having me deported before the end of the year for being such a drunken asshole.

And finally, I'll have to present the Most Vomit Inducing Text Message Award to Ellen, who seriously made me gag on Sunday morning with the simple words "Wanna do drinks this afternoon?", which makes me a bit nauseous even now because it's Monday and I'm still kinda hungover.

Oh wait, I seriously almost forgot this, don't ask me how -- the Holy Crap That's So Ridiculous It's Hilarious Award goes to my staff member who was supposed to be back in the office today after her holiday, but instead emailed (not even a phone call) to let us know that the earliest she can get back here is...wait for it...JULY 18TH. (Would have made a great phone call though: "Hi, I'm gonna be a little late to work. About six weeks late. Is that cool?") We'll be laughing about that one in the office for months, I assure you. You wouldn't know that because you just got a long overdue termination letter. Via email, of course.


And that's just the major highlights & lowlights, although honorable mentions would be Danny and Ellen getting to see my morning bus crush and encourage my harassment even further, and Tom Hanks managing to ruin The Da Vinci Code by being ugly and annoying.

Because We've All Been There...

...I'd like to thank Vicki for passing this one along, I just saw at least 30 minutes of this morning evaporate, which is just what I was looking for.

Actually I think this one deserves a place in my links section, because I will certainly be reading it every day. And everyone say goodbye to Truecraig, who has a great blog but apparently is distracted by his other writing projects and now updates once a presidential term.

Always Remember What's Important

Sorry for the delay in a new post here -- yesterday I just kinda got sick of being in the office, so after I'd finished interviewing a potential new staff member, I left the office "sick" around noon and headed home to get a haircut, eat a big lunch, take a three hour nap, and generally do nothing. It was fantastic.

Along that same line of professionalism, I have the overwhelming urge to tell you all about the candidates I've interviewed so far for a designer position at work:

Candidate #1: One of those too-good-to-be-true situations. You have amazing designs, you're young but you seem mature and really friendly. And most importantly when evaluating a potential employee, you're totally hot. Now before you go calling me superficial and whatever else, please keep in mind that every office needs some eye candy. It motivates others to come to work in the morning, and it just brightens everyone's day in general. So naturally, you have a catch -- you need sponsorship because you're an immigrant like myself. I hate to sound like a hypocrite, but that could be a bit of a pain in the ass, so we'll have to see if we really want to get into all that. Ah well, you're still on the table. (I just had various dirty scenes run through my mind while I typed that last sentence)

Candidate #2: Dude, you're 28 and you look like Uncle Fester. How does one even accomplish that? (And please don't say heavy drinking and an unhealthy diet, cause then I might be screwed). I hope I didn't cringe when I first walked into reception to meet you. Not only that but you seem a little "slow" and your designs are just a bit crap, and I'm being generous here. Of course I still tried to stretch the interview out for a few extra minutes so it wouldn't seem too obvious that you were eliminated the moment I laid eyes on you, but anyone with half a brain would probably have seen what I was thinking. I'm betting you didn't.

Candidate #3: Oh sweet jesus, it gets worse. Seriously, I'd rather sit through a long and painful second round interview with Uncle Fester than have to look at you for 20 minutes. Make that 15, that's all I can take. If Skeletor became a hippie, I imagine he'd end up looking something like you. How OLD are you anyway? You must be at least 40, and I can't imagine your dream job involves being told what to do by an obnoxious twenty-something like myself. And could you please not try to bond over both being Americans. Actually, could you go back? I'll confiscate your permanent residency card myself, thanks.

Candidate #4: Nothing that interesting to say about you, really. You've got good designs, you seem normal and I'd say you have potential, and we'll probably end up hiring you. You're no hottie-and-a-half, but definitely not a certified uggo like the last two, so let's consider you a happy medium.


Wow, just re-read all of that. Sometimes I'm so shallow it hurts. But in a good way. And let's face it, most people think that way when hiring, so cut me some slack.