Thank You, Interwebs

Due to a lack of sleep related to an overwhelming combination of drinking and stress over the weekend (probably more the former than the latter), I had that annoying eye twitch thing that sometimes happens when you're really run down.

After a couple of days, I figured I would look it up on the web and see if there were any little home remedies I should try.

Unfortunately, the first website I found has advised that I may have Tourette's Syndrome.

So yeah, there's that.

If I Must

Although I am quite the self-proclaimed Grinch, I am at least willing to hope that everyone enjoys the next couple of weeks of festivities. I expect stories for the blog, if nothing else.

Guess We're Done Here, Then

Had a brilliant night out with the gang on Saturday, where we started with a dinner that was meant to be the focus of the night. We finished off what little food we intended to eat for the evening, and headed off to the trashy bars around Bondi Beach to get right into it.

Eventually we ended up at a bar called White Revolver, apparently one of the most exclusive clubs in Sydney. We've all been to a place like this - where you have to find the secret, unmarked doorway, and know that the secret password is "dolphin teeth" to be allowed entry. (That's a true story. In this case though, you had to be, or be with, a member who was holding a specific key and know that the entrance to the club was behind a revolving door.)

Turned out to be a brilliant bar playing awesome hip hop for hours on end, and I decided this was easily my new favorite spot in town.

It's a shame, then, that on the way out, Neels had a misunderstanding with the "lady" at the entrance, and called her a "miserable fucking bitch" as we left.

Totally fine. I didn't want to hang out there anyway.

DamnYouTequila.Com

Last night we went to an event where all of the beer and wine was free, the DJ was brilliant, and because it was sponsored by a swim wear company, we were at all times surrounded by hot people in bikinis and speedos. Pretty awesome Thursday.

Of course, not content with enjoying our free booze and having a bit of a boogie, we started in on the Cafe Patron shots from early in the evening.

Juice ended up pulling his first Irish Goodbye in quite a while, and when I texted to ask if he'd gone home I got this response:

"City girls just seem to find our early"

He has subsequently claimed that it may have been a lyric to a song he was listening to at the time. An explanation that makes no sense because a) how would that answer my question and b) even as a song lyric it is still random and nonsensical.

Needless to say, he can't blame this one on auto-correct.

Ugh, This Again

As many of you know, I'm basically a mixed race version of the Grinch. I am annoyed by Christmas music, despise Christmas decorations, and in particular, hate exchanging gifts.

It's not even the religious stuff that I can't stand - I don't believe in that part of it either, but if there are people out there who want to believe that a baby was born to a virgin in a barn and didn't manage to pick up even one bacterial infection in the process, they can knock themselves out.

It's more the commercial bullshit (most of which centers around ridiculous Pagan rituals and mythology and has nothing to do with Christianity) that really grinds my gears, to borrow a phrase from my spiritual leader, Peter Griffin. I'd rather celebrate Thanksgiving two months in a row than have to listen to generally terrible Christmas carols while surrounded by glittering Christmas decorations made out of material even a Russian woman wouldn't wear.

And of course, there are the gifts, which tend to fall into three categories:

1) Generic/pointless - Oh wow, thanks for this gift card. So not only did I have to brave holiday shopping crowds in some horrible department store to fulfill my obligation to purchase something I thought you might like, but now I have to go back to said awful department store to get myself something because as it turns out, you don't even know me that well.

2) Crap I didn't want in the first place - Shit, how did you know I was dying to own the latest Enrique Iglesias album? That is some mighty fine detective work considering I hate that song by him that they won't stop playing on the radio, and I haven't actually purchased music in over a decade. Way to go, Nancy Drew.

3) An incredibly cool/thoughtful gift - This happens like less than 1% of the time, so let's not even spend time discussing.

In the end, the best gift I get each year at this time is a solid amount of money from my mother, who knows that if we are going to honor silly traditions, we may as well be practical about it. Shame I'll probably have to spend that money on presents for you lot.

Brush With Fame

It was a boozy weekend, but that goes without saying in Australia at this time of year.

Friday night was meant to be quiet drinks with a few people at my place, and ended up as a chaotic binge session with far too many people and red wine casualties. Apparently I eventually got drunk enough to tell everyone to get the hell out of the apartment, but fortunately 90% of people were far too drunk to actually remember the incident. Thank you, alcohol.

Saturday was a pub lunch with the family followed by a white party at a posh house of a friend, however given my inadequate recovery time I only lasted a couple of drinks before it was time to call it a night.

Sunday was a long ago scheduled lunch at Bondi Icebergs with some friends, where we thought we'd spend the afternoon pretending to be wealthy and fabulous in the run up to Christmas. While the cocktails and food were all great, the only slight disappointment was the fact that we'd apparently missed Oprah by minutes, and she'd even occupied the table next to us shortly before we sat down. Needless to say, that brief contact with a seat that had recently been in contact with Oprah's ass was enough to make me wonder where my free car was.

Merry fucking Christmas.

This Is How We Do It

This time of year is always a truly brilliant reminder of why life in Australia is so good.

After last Friday's work Christmas party, we're about to head to our third long lunch of the week, and it's not even mid-December yet.

And that is essentially my excuse for not blogging any more this week. (Funny how both drinking and not drinking both end up being reasons not to post here.)

Still Learning

Just because I'm now "in my thirties", doesn't mean that I can't still take on board the occasional lesson in my later years. For example, from my birthday celebrations over the weekend:

Lesson #1

Just a few sips of some awful colored slushy type drink is always a bad idea, and if done directly before taking a photo will result in the appearance that you may have just finished sucking off a leprechaun.

Lesson #2

When you order shots and the bartender pulls out plastic medicine serving cups instead of actual shot glasses, it's time to go to another bar.

Lesson #3

I look hot with tattoos.

Shit List

So today I participated in a charity run that was meant to involve me running on a treadmill in the middle of Sydney for a specific 30 minute time slot.

The run itself went well, and I achieved my goal of running at least 6km in 30 minutes. At that point we were all told to turn off our treadmills and pass over to the next person from our company who would be running for the next 30 minutes.

Except my replacement wasn't there. She just didn't show up. And since my company is the primary sponsor of the event, I basically had to turn the treadmill back on and run for ANOTHER half hour.

I have run for over 10km and I am now sore and nauseous. I also have to attend the work Christmas party in a couple of hours, and will have to summon every last bit of self-control to not throw my drink in the face of the woman who did this to me.

I make no promises.