Had things been different, I would have been extremely depressed this week. I was supposed to be in NYC this week for Halloween, and to meet up with my mother. I had expressly bought my ticket for these reasons, however with the new job I thought it more prudent to skip that trip and go back at another time, as much as it pained me. A few of my friends from Sydney and New Zealand were in NY this week, and between their text messages and even a partner in my office flying up there the other day, I was just plain jealous.
To twist the knife a little further, everyone back in NY sent me their Halloween pictures, which was a bittersweet experience. My favourite was probably this one:
Jeff & Joe and their chicks dressed as Mexicans climbing over fences and border security. Because no one I know has any idea how to put together a costume that isn't ridiculously offensive in one way or another. (I even had my whole "slave" costume planned out this year, with rags, shackles, and cotton balls stuck to my hands. And perhaps a white guy in a suit with a whip behind me.) Better yet, when Joe & Jeff were approached at a party by REAL MEXICANS, they attempted to claim that their little getup was sharp political satire. They are now recovering from stab wounds in a Brooklyn hospital, send flowers.
The closest we came to celebrating Halloween here was a friend leaving the bar last night and coming back wearing a kilt and a fake vagina underneath. Thanks dude, that was just...enlightening. Really.
But back to my original point...after all that, I am NOT depressed. Why? Because it is 6.16am here in Sydney and in one hour I am leaving my place to go and get Emla and Domini FROM THE AIRPORT. Australia is about to witness 10 days of wickedness that will go down in the annals (hehe) of history. Or maybe just my blog. Whatever, I bet we manage to break the opera house or something.