Bad Habits

Met up with Becs and the Hickster for lunch on Sunday, with the Hickster and I proclaiming that we were NOT going to have a repeat of last week's Sunday lunch that ended with the Hickster incomprehensibly ranting about Ikea taking over the world.

Long story short, we pretty much repeated the entire affair all over again but with a slightly different cast of characters, and the Hickster harassing an old woman in the street. (She had the best of intentions, if that means anything to the old woman who is probably afraid to leave her apartment now.)

I'm tempted to plan another Sunday lunch for the upcoming weekend, but I'm concerned that the Hickster may not make it home alive this time.

And The Winner Is...

I haven't even talked to most of my friends about how their Christmas went, but I am well and truly confident that the Hickster finding her boyfriend Copps unconscious and covered in blood (after falling off the sofa and hitting his face on the corner of the glass coffee table) after Christmas drinks with friends won't be beaten.

Any Christmas evening that ends with paramedics is a good story. I should start planning something for next year.

We Wish You A Bogan Christmas

I'm about to head to the airport to spend my Christmas up at the Gold Coast, pictured here:


Yes, it looks lovely, doesn't it? However it is known for being populated by bogans, a type of person pictured here:


Should I not post again for a week, send Santa.

Just Like Old Times

Yesterday was a Sunday lunch with a few friends, which we knew would be a bit of a piss up, and so we all got a bit carried away.

Carrying the torch for the group though was the Hickster, who managed to go from sober to drunk over the course of about a minute somewhere around 6pm, and never recovered. After her incomprehensible ranting about Ikea taking over the world, Wilks and I faked all of us leaving just so that we could get her into a taxi home. (We then went back inside for a few more rounds.)

Needless to say, the Hickster woke up fully clothed the next morning, calling around to find out what the hell had happened, since she essentially didn't remember anything after 5pm or so.

And it's not even Christmas yet.

And So It Begins

Well my two weeks off work have begun, which is rather timely as it means I can focus on getting hammered every single day until January 4th. That seems to be what the Australians think the Baby Jesus would have wanted.

Due to a long stressful day and a big dose of jetlag, I managed to remain relatively steady in my drunkeness throughout the night. Carrying the torch, however, was Stranger. Among his many atrocities committed during the course of the evening, he at one point decided it was appropriate to urinate on the fence in the front yard of the house party we were all at, instantly earning the total and likely permanent disgust of the party hosts, who have since declared they want nothing to do with him.

If nothing else, I should at least be able to churn out a few blog posts based on his drunken stories alone. Bring on New Years...

Oh, Yes

After neglecting the blog for the last 10 days or so due to family commitments, I'm on my way back to Perth, which should leave me with plenty of time to update the three people who still have nothing better to do than read about my social life in decline.

I'm also hoping that I will have the proper photos from my 30th birthday celebrations to post. In the meantime, enjoy my favorite photo from the afterparty:


And that pretty much sums up the end of that evening.