Wrap-up

I am so hungover right now, but will try to give you a few snippets:

• Went to the surgeon yesterday for my follow-up appointment, and am now back on antibiotics to hopefully help my wounds heal in the next few days. Which is fantastic because strangely enough, bleeding all day at my desk for weeks on end wasn't on my list of Things To Do Before I Die. As usual, the first thing I asked him was "I can drink on those, right?" He gave me the green light.
• Never one to waste a green light, I promptly went out and got smashed last night. I'd actually run some errands after work and made it home, only to agree to "a couple of beers" in the city. Next thing you know I'm at my 5th bar of the night somewhere in the Cross, it's past midnight, and I'm hanging out with people I had just met earlier in the evening. My shining moment was just after I'd been introduced to a whole new group of people and then backed up and fell over a chair. Pure class.
• I'm at work now, and I'm kicking myself just a little because I'm way too busy right now to be this hungover. Lesson learned.
• Tonight I'm supposed to go to the races with my coworkers as our quarterly event. I give myself a couple of hours before I bow out and head home. Not least because I am moving tomorrow at noon and haven't started packing yet. Will my brilliance never end?

Anyway between work being insane and having to move tomorrow, this is all I can manage for blogging right now. Wish me luck moving tomorrow, my friends are helping me move and are even driving the truck, and I'm having horrible visions of half of my extremely fancy bedroom furniture (from Ikea) falling out of the moving truck and ending up scattered throughout the city.

They Must Be Joking

I blogged last year about the last season of Australia's Next Top Model, both my general opinions as well as some choice comments on a few of the individual girls.

The third season of the show has just kicked off, and holy shit is it a tragedy. I'm sure I will go into more detail at some point in the future (to your utter dismay, I'm sure), however I will say that I am thrilled that, if nothing else, they got rid of the most uncomfortably ugly girl in the first episode.

Apart from the fact that her name is 'Cobi', which made me want to punch her without having seen her, I got extremely upset when it seemed that they were trying to transform what looked like a living, breathing, life-size Trollz doll from the 90's into a fashion model.

Either that or she looks like what I imagine Mary-Kate would look like if she ate Ashley. No wonder those bitches are anorexic.

Hmmm

Drinking on Fridays is bad enough when I start in the afternoon and skip dinner. Consider the fact that I hadn't had a big night since before my surgery, and you can imagine what condition I found myself in this past Friday evening. Ouch.

The rest of the weekend was pretty fun and mellow. Beach on Saturday, and then dinner and drinks with Becs in Newtown before a pretty awesome flamenco performance.

I got a little ambitious again on Sunday, and after breakfast at Bondi with Chip & Mickey I started on some beer I had left over at their place from a couple of weeks ago. After some ten pin bowling I went home and passed out at...wait for it...6:30pm. And didn't wake up until Monday morning.

Sorry kids, but I'm still in recovery. I will put in a better effort next weekend, I promise.

What's Grosser Than Gross?

The unending saga of my stupid hernias and the resulting surgery goes on, to my dismay. Those with weak stomachs may not want to keep reading...

I went to the doctor after work yesterday, because two of my three incisions from the surgery were hurting. For the past couple of days I had been putting Neosporin on them and covering them with band-aids, and was a little worried that they might be infected.

So I finally get there, see the doctor (who also happened to be the assisting surgeon during the operation) and he tells me that it's actually the stitches inside me that were supposed to dissolve. Apparently that isn't happening, and instead my body is pushing them out. So within a couple of weeks guess what will come poking through my skin? Charming, I know. My actual response to the doctor when he finished explaining this to me was "That's disgusting."

Better yet, he told me "Well there's nothing we can really do, so you should just keep using the Neosporin and band-aids."

Uh thanks, Doogie. I'm so glad I came all the way here and inched even closer to the limit on my ridiculously expensive private health insurance policy so that you could tell me that after 7 years of education and 20 years of practicing medicine, you're not any more useful as a doctor than I am.

The only good thing to come out of this is that I'm not on anti-biotics, which means I can drink myself into a horrendous stupor this weekend. Fair enough -- alcohol will sterilize my body AND kill any pain I'm experiencing. Who needs penicillin and codeine, I say.

Movin' On Up

So it's all decided. After a rather brief search, I've found the apartment I want and will be moving in on the 31st.

I had my huge shopping list of things I wanted in an apartment, and blogged about them a couple of weeks ago. In the end I got almost everything I wanted. A rundown of the new place:

• Modern apartment on the 8th floor, with a nice balcony
• Access to the balcony from my bedroom
• Decent-sized bedroom with huge built-in closets
• Huge mirrors on the closet doors (I love mirrors)
• My own bathroom
• Washer, dryer, and dishwasher in the apartment
• Stainless steel appliances
• Access to fitness complex across the street, with indoor lap pool, jacuzzi, gym, sauna, spa, etc.

For some reason the things I latched onto as must-haves were having my own bathroom (not that I think it makes such a big difference in the end) and an indoor lap pool. (I'm gonna try and get fit. Let's see how long that lasts.)

I was also influenced by the main entrance to the building, which are big glass doors that slide apart when you swipe your security card over the reader. Shit like this always works on me, because I'm a) lazy and b) easily impressed by shiny things.

And because I'm no longer in some uppity neighbourhood, this is all going to cost me just about the same as I pay now, possibly less. No complaints there.

The only area where I feel like I compromised is the location. Not that I should whine about a neighborhood that's only a 20 minute walk through Surry Hills to the bars I'm usually at or a 30 minute bus ride to work just like I have now. And I've decided that if I actually lived right by all my friends and the bars, I would probably cross over into full-blown alcoholic pretty shortly. As it is, I will be living near a couple of people I know who don't happen to be huge drinkers. Probably much healthier.

Surely...

...I'm not the only person who has no clue what Penelope Cruz is ever saying? That chick needs permanent subtitles like I need rehab.

Have You Met Me??

As I'm sure I've stated here before, my friends and I have an email chain going every day where we just ramble on about anything and everything, in-between doing actual work. It's a nice little break in the day to remind ourselves that work is not our lives. Occasionally we get a little carried away (there was one day in January where we hit around 400 emails in total, probably wasn't the most productive for any of us) but for the most part it's just a harmless distraction when needed.

The topic du jour is centered around potential weekend getaways. Someone was foolish enough to suggest that we all go camping. Eww.

Honestly, I will never ever understand what inspires anyone to completely leave civilization behind for several days to go spend time in a small tent with smelly people and eating crappy food. My personal major dislikes are being dirty, tired, and being forced to eat crappy food, which means that camping goes against everything I believe in. Or, as I said via email today, "If I wanted to see what it was like to be poor, I would have been born that way."

By the end of the discussion, it seemed to be agreed that we could go to the middle of nowhere, but it would involve renting a lovely house and bring lots of good food and tons of booze. That's what I call a compromise.

Slow Recovery

So it's been a week now since my surgery. I have to admit I am recovering much more slowly than I expected, but I have been rather ambitious.

On Friday night I attempted to act like everything was fine, so I came into work for office drinks, and then headed to Opium Den for dinner and drinks. That mostly went well, other than the fact that every time I laughed (which was pretty much through the whole meal) I would get a painful cramp in my side, which for some reason made me laugh even harder. It didn't help that KitKat kept attempting to refill our wine glasses but forgetting to reopen the bottle. Repetitive stupidity is always an easy laugh.

I then headed to a bar with the gang, only to accept about halfway through my beer that I was way too uncomfortable to have a good time (I still had bandages on) and I caught a taxi home.

Having learned my lesson, I even skipped a cocktail party on Saturday night and stayed in to watch TV. Keep in mind that this is the only time I can remember doing this in recent history, and will hopefully be the last time until I'm old and decrepit. Still, I needed it.

The worst part about the whole thing has probably been that they made me shave my nether regions, so now it's growing in, and you can imagine how much fun that is. Between that and the surgical socks they expected me to wear for a week, it was more like an exercise in humility than a week for recovery. Fortunately I'm in no danger whatsoever of anyone seeing me naked in the near future, so I have plenty of time to get back to normal down there.

The other thing I got done was looking at more apartments and deciding on one, but more about that with my next post cause I've been out of the office for a week and things aren't looking pretty.

On The Mend

Fear not, readers and friends alike, I'm not dead. Just recovering, and now is about the first time I really had the stamina to actually attempt to get online.

My first operation was an interesting experience I guess. The best part was probably the sedatives and morphine I was given directly before and after the operation. Some friends visited just after I'd been wheeled back into my room, and were highly amused by my loopy condition, including the following moments:

• When asked by a nurse if I wanted tea or coffee, responding with "I'm thank you, fine."
• Remarking how odd it was that the massive needle sticking out of my forearm wasn't connected to anything, when it was clearly attached to a massive machine with lights and a bag of...stuff.
• Generally not having a clue what was going on and mostly just watching my friends have conversations around me.

So now the thing is to focus on recovering as fast as possible. While I won't be as ambitious as Lindsay Lohan and be out partying a day after an operation, I have made lunch and dinner plans for Friday which is meant to be my post-surgical debut.

In the meantime I've been hobbling around my apartment for almost 48 hours now and I am going insane. Not helping is that I keep coming across shows like America's Funniest Home Videos and watching until I get a painful reminder that laughing is just about the last thing I want to be doing right now. I won't even try to describe how it felt when I came across Cartman singing the classic "Kyle's Mom Is A Stupid Bitch". Ouch.

Mostly I've been eating, sleeping, and have watched about half of the first season of Heroes so far and am in love with it. Tonight I'm scheduled to go and see at least one apartment as I've been rather lazy in regards to my search for a new home, and may as well use all this free time a little more wisely.

Chill Out

Sorry, just had to mention this. I went to McDonald's a moment ago and there was a guy who was all upset about his food not coming fast enough and trying to file "a formal complaint".

Uh, dude -- this isn't 5 star dining. You just bought a hamburger for 89 cents and the McManager you're bitching to has a look in her eye that says "Gee I wish I spoke English right now." I'm sure you have better things to do with your time, get over it and move on with your life.

Under The Knife

So it's a Saturday morning and for the first time in my life I am in the office on a weekend, which goes against all of my principles, but it's necessary. The reason for this is a long story but I'll try to summarize.

Back in November, I noticed that I had a lump above my groin and decided to see a doctor. I tend to get a bit silly about these things and had pretty much convinced myself that I had cancer or something awful, and so I was prepared for the worst. The conversation with the doctor went something like this...

Zander: Hi, so I have this lump and I'm worried it's a tumor or something, it doesn't seem right.

Doctor: Okay, let me see.

[shows doctor the lump]

Doctor: That's a hernia.

Zander: Oh, really? What's a hernia?

Doctor: [Boring and unnecessarily long explanation]

Zander: Oh, okay. So...[in Arnold Schwarzenegger voice] it's not a toom-ah.

Doctor: [Completely missing my hilarious Kindergarten Cop reference] Um...no. It's a hernia.


Anyway, this all means that on Monday I will be going under the knife around midday to have my hernias (turns out there are two of them) repaired. I'm not particularly concerned about the operation itself (although I've never had one before), I'm actually far more anxious about how bored I'm going to be during the night I have to spend in the hospital and the week I'm expected to lie around my house doing nothing. From what I've heard, the recovery might be a breeze, however I've also heard more than a few testimonials about people not being able to get off a couch without screaming in agony for 2 weeks so I'm just gonna see how it goes. It also doesn't help that there was an episode of Scrubs on the other day where a teenager goes in for a routine hernia repair and ends up dying, but I probably shouldn't look to silly (but hilarious) sitcoms as reliable medical reference material.

This is all rather annoying, mostly because I don't actually DO anything (which is how normal people get hernias), therefore the only theory about how I got it is that I was laughing way too hard at one of my own lame jokes (as usual) and literally busted a gut.

This is also the busiest work has been since I started this job, with one of my proposals being accepted by a client last week and a half million dollar project starting next week, and I'm supposed to manage all of that on top of my ongoing work. Hence the reason I am at work on a Saturday morning. I had intended to finish up last minute items yesterday and ended up having literally back to back meetings from 9am until 6pm (some involving wine or beer, but that's besides the point) and being at my desk for a whole 30 minutes throughout the day. Then again in all fairness, I apparently seem to think I have time to write this blog post, so how bad can it be?

Don't worry though, none of this has put a damper on my weekend. Between last night's unexpected partying and my plans for tonight, I'm actually a little worried that they will slice into me on Monday and pure beer will come spewing out. Ah well, who cares, I'll be knocked out.

So let me end it there. Just wanted to let everyone know the reason the blog might go quiet for a few days. And if it goes quiet longer than that...well I suppose you can always read the archives.

Make It Stop

As anyone who knows me at all can tell you, I'm a huge fan of music videos. I can sit and watch them for hours at a time until my brain actually feels like it's turning into stale pudding. It's my skill.

Considering the nature of music videos, I'm used to the crappy ones. I generally just change the channel or distract myself for the few minutes it's on in the hope that a good one will follow. However, once in a long time, a video so obnoxious and unbearable comes along that it actually inspires rage within my heart. That video at the moment is "What Goes Around..." by Justin Timberlake.

What makes this even more aggravating is that I love the song, I think it might be the best one on this album. I also hate that this is probably one of the more expensive music videos produced in the past couple of years, and still manages to be the crappiest.

I won't go on and on about this much longer, but here are a few reasons that JT makes me want to scoop my eyeballs out with a plastic spoon every time this piece of crap comes on TV (which is just about every 10 minutes):

1) The poorly developed plot -- I'm sorry but the story is SO SIMPLE, and yet I barely have any idea what is going on. She doesn't like him, she has a boyfriend, so...she's going home with him? Oh I guess she was just flirting...REALLY badly. Which brings me to my next point...

2) The awful dialogue -- Holy crap. Who talks like this? Did some 11 year old girl win a competition to write this shit? They should have just pulled lines directly from Passions or some other awful daytime soap and it would have been a vast improvement. Did they really just stop the music (thereby extending the pain of watching this crap) to give us a conversation about threesomes? And when your friend catches you making out with his girlfriend, is the first thing you yell really going to be "I like her too!"?? Possibly the most touching moment:

Scarlett Johannsen: You don't f*ckin know me!
Justin Timberlake: I f*ckin know you!
Scarlett Johannsen: You don't f*ckin know me!
Justin Timberlake: I f*ckin know you! I f*ckin know you!...hey, come back here!

3) The horrible acting -- Even if they had managed to pay a proper writer to deliver half-decent dialogue, Justin's attempt to show that he is capable of acting has clearly failed miserable. And I generally don't mind Ms. Johannsen, but she sucked. And I also love that they spent so much money casting her for the video that for the role of "best friend who betrays Justin" they got That-Guy-I've-Totally-Seen-In-Something-Else, who actually managed to be worse than Justin.

4) The ending -- And finally, I love the implication of this whole thing. That apparently if you cheat on Justin Timberlake you deserve to die in a car crash. Oh no, wait, not JUST a car crash, the most implausible car crash in televised history. I'm sorry, but if you were speeding down a street and you saw this in front of you:

...wouldn't you, oh I don't know, hit the brakes? Try to go around it? Realize that perhaps you'd rather live and confront the boyfriend you just coldly cheated on instead of die?

I also love that despite not showing how this could possibly have happened during the actual crash, we're treated to Scarlett's completely unscathed-on-the-outside-but-totally-dead-on-the-inside body lying nowhere near the car she was just driving. Um...what?

There are probably a million other things I hate about this video but I need to stop typing now because I'm getting worked up and clearly need to go for a walk and think about more important things.

F for Effort

Okay sorry about this but it's Tuesday evening and I still don't have time for a real blog post. So, the weekend.

Friday, drinks with coworkers and the realisation that I'd somehow gone a whole 6 months working here without sharing all of my racist and dead baby jokes. That's all taken care of. Left before I could remember ALL of them, thank god.

Saturday was Sydney Mardi Gras, which went much like last year although instead of actually losing my friends like last time, I went off with some cool people I had just met and ended up at some random rooftop party in Darlinghurst where I decided that if I was having trouble standing up, I should probably head home, and did so very quickly without saying goodbye. (Also turned out that the strangers I had started talking to were good friends of a coworker and that I'd even left a drunken voicemail on one of their mobile phones the week before...small world).

Sunday was recovery on the beach and a quiet night.

Wow that sounds so much less interesting when I put absolutely no energy into it. Sorry about that, will try for something better later in the week, or at least some pics from the parade.

Not Good Enough

Okay, so I actually need some feedback, because I'm often accused of being way too picky about everything, and I think this might be one of those situations.

After months of saying I would do it, I finally told my flatmate that I'm moving out. She took it well (a little too well if I do say so myself, but that's besides the point I suppose), and April 15th has been set as the date that I will be moved out by.

I've started my search for a new place to live. While I'm happy to live with one or two other people, I have a few things that I really want in my new apartment, and I'm not sure I'll be satisfied until I get them. Here's the list:

• In or adjacent to the city center (oh crap I just typed "centre" and then fixed it before some of you Ameri-Nazis could jump on me)
• Modern, high-rise apartment
• Large balcony
• My own bathroom
• Washer and dryer in the apartment
• Pool in the building

I realize it sounds like quite the list, but the fact is that there are plenty of places like this in Sydney, and I certainly won't be able to afford anything like it when I move back to NYC, so I've decided it's my obligation to make the most of a cheap rental market and go all out.

So, am I being a picky bitch? Or are these reasonable demands?

Random

Earlier, I was vaguely horrified that someone had found my blog earlier today by googling "oversized vagina". I don't really recall writing about such things.

However this feeling has been replaced by vague annoyance. Some members of my team were down in the Melbourne office yesterday, and apparently one of them (the new English guy) apparently did some imitation of me that everyone found absolutely hysterical. So I've decided to wait until I see this impression myself before I add him to my shitlist.

That is all. For now. I have something else to bitch about but I will need visual aides.