We Have Nothing In Common

I'd write something here about my weekend, but I spent it in Brisbane. It's a city that I'd compare to Pittsburgh, where I spent my university days - great for families and old people, I hear, but not my choice of residence.

A colleague started telling me about his weekend of camping and spending time in the country and seemed to think I should be remotely interested in the concept. I quickly informed him that I'm about to sign a lease on the exact opposite of anything he would appreciate - an apartment over 40 stories high in Sydney's tallest residential building in the heart of the city.

Having said that, the fact that I have to pay a bond/security deposit and first month's rent in the next week (shortly after two weeks in NY that may have stimulated their economy, but did nothing good for me financially) means that much of my drinking in the next few weeks will have to be either subdued or done on the cheap at friends' homes. I'll be opting for the latter, thanks.

We've All Been There

Sesame just emailed this through to me, and it's absolutely brilliant - mainly because even if I can't remember if I've ever been this trollied, it's a sure bet that we will Juice in similar condition in the near future:

God bless him.

No End In Sight

Despite taking almost 5 days to recover from my jet lag, I managed to have a rather busy week and a rather boozy weekend, despite my best intentions. And now that all I want is a quiet week ahead, I've managed to end up with a fully booked week before flying up to Brisbane for the long weekend.

And yet, per usual, none of my drunken stories (including me falling on two people on Friday night) compare to the week that Juice had, and seems to be continuing indefinitely.

The highlight of his weekend would have been Wednesday night (not Tuesday, when he was out until 4am) when he went drinking and has no recollection of how the night ended. What he *does* remember is waking up at 5am. Under his desk. At work. With no pants or shoes on. YES, REALLY.

After managing to find his pants and shoes in the bathroom, he made his way home and called in sick for the day. He even took the night off from drinking. And has been drunk ever since.

It's always a good thing to have one of those friends who manages to make you feel better about yourself. No matter what.

Self-Medication

Well I've been back from my holiday for a couple of days now. People keep asking me if I'm depressed about being back in Sydney, which is a bit ridiculous - there's only so depressed one can be about returning to a place with amazing weather, relaxed attitudes about what's considered "work", and where most of the people around you seem to be intensely inebriated for a large percentage of their waking hours.

No, my main issue with my return is that I am still jet lagged on day four, despite doing all of the recommended things. I've stayed awake all day. Gone to sleep at the same time every evening. (10pm in case you were wondering.) I've limited my alcohol intake, and even stuck to a mostly healthy diet, although the guy who served me a cheese naan with my Indian food at lunch yesterday might be a tad bit skeptical.

In any case, it's once again 2am and I'm wide awake after only 4 hours of sleep. And so, I will be turning to the most reliable method of overcoming jet lag that I've encountered in my many years of international travel. I'm getting hammered tonight.