My Own Reality

I'm in the midst of a week that includes two public holidays and is sandwiched between Christmas and New Years. Technically I'm working today, tomorrow and Friday, but let's get serious. I couldn't even be bothered to go into the office today, and the rest of the week isn't looking good either.

As a result, I am sitting around my house eating insane amounts of food that is probably illegal in some of the healthier European nations, and every time I look at anything I know I shouldn't eat I just shrug and say "but I'm on vacation!" and eat it anyway. Made more ridiculous by the fact that, as I previously mentioned, I'm not ACTUALLY on vacation. But hey, semantics. Or something.

The worst part is that when people ask me if I've kept up my usual exercise routine of running and swimming in the mornings, I say no, but that it's okay because when you work out as much as I do, it's actually really good for your body to take a week off and recover and reset.

And just so you know, I COMPLETELY MADE THAT UP. But it sounds good and people seem to believe it (or at least wait until we're no longer in the same room to roll their eyes and laugh at me behind my back, or hate me for insulting their intelligence, etc.), so I'm sticking with it. Merry Christmas, let's be fat together.

When Going To Work Feels Like Summer Camp

I often tell people that living in Australia feels like a permanent vacation, but of course I at least have some mild levels of stress to deal with every now and then. We all have to at least pretend to do work sometimes, if we're going to keep this charade going.

Of course this week is different, as it's the week before Christmas. At least 20% of the company is already on vacation, so the rest of us are basically just killing time before our team lunch starts at 11am tomorrow (Friday).

And so today, someone actually brought in an insanely geeky board game (remember, I work in IT), and we just spent THREE HOURS playing it, only to then join some other members of our department who inexplicably have a massive cooler full of beer sitting in their part of the office.

Australia, I still have eyes for no one but you.

Old Dog, New Trick

Saturday was our annual long lunch, which started at 2pm, ended around 8pm, and was followed by drinks at a few more parties before the night ended in surprisingly respectable form.

And on Sunday, I met up with my family for my first attempt at a game of golf now that I've finished lessons. Everyone's been asking me how I did, and I tell them "Well, I got around 7 over par...on each hole." It's fun to hesitate in the middle, and then watch their reaction as they go from thinking I'm the next Tiger Woods (minus all sex with trashy blonde Hooters waitresses) to wondering why I even kept going after the second hole.

In any case, I somehow still managed to enjoy being the worst golfer ever, and will try to get into it, or at least get to a point where I'm not completely embarrassing myself and everyone around me each time I play. Stranger things have happened.

How Could I Forget

Someone pointed out that I haven't shared one of my more notable stories here, something almost reminiscent of my ridiculous days back in NYC.

In short, I got completely and utterly smashed at the work Christmas party (career be damned, I say!) and at one point struck up a conversation with Alex Perry, a top Australian designer and one of the resident bitches on the judging panel of Australia's Next Top Model.

At one point I said "You know, I'm still waiting for you or Sarah [the host] to ask me to co-host Top Model next year."

Without missing a beat, he responded "The last thing I need is another tall bitch standing next to me on TV."

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why he has one of the bitchiest jobs in the world. Because he really is that good at it.

Haven't Done That In A While

As silly season stumbles on, we here in Sydney are forced to attend more and more events in the lead up to Christmas, often resulting in some hideous scenes. Such as: me on Saturday.

I went to a picnic at 2pm, figured a few beers wouldn't have any sort of impact. Then met up with some family friends for a few wines, because it was only polite. Then there was a dinner party with some sort of unidentified 'punch'. Which means by the time I arrived at a friend's birthday drinks at 10pm, I was slurring and having trouble standing up. I have no idea why it exists and don't remember when it was taken, but this photo seems apt:

Sign of the Times

Obviously I'm quickly sliding into old age when all I can bother to organize for my birthday is a relatively small lunch at a great little restaurant.

While I acknowledge that I'm not completely past my partying days, the absolutely horrendous weather assisted in keeping our post-lunch celebration to a few drinks at a nearby bar before we headed home during a break in the rain.

Thanks for making me feel even older, Mother Nature. You bitch.

Turkey Time

Just a quick mention that we had a Thanksgiving dinner at my place on Saturday night. And once again it was a collection of individuals so diverse that I have no doubt that the Pilgrims, had they seen this particular celebration, would never have left their state of constant persecution in the Old World.

If nothing else, at least this one didn't devolve into a trashy Euro-dance party. I'm looking at you, 2010.

Bitch Still Crazy

She's still here. And she is still crazy. So here you go:

I am personally judging you for not thinking about any of this before you made the very public move of changing your name on Facebook, for the world to see. Love away, crazycakes.

Anyone else dying to see the other 24 lessons?? I wonder if they're just combinations of the other days of the week. "You can NOT have both Monday and Friday nights.", and so on.

Honey, I think someone has spiked your multivitamins with LSD. Based on your Facebook status updates, anyway.

WHO SAYS THAT?? Pretty sure 99% of white girls would never say something so idiotic.

I'm not sure if this is racist, pretentious, or both.

Or in your case, just show him your Facebook profile.

Nothing like a bunch of comments on your Facebook status to fill that gaping hole of despair in your life, AMIRITE??

See You In Hell

Actual conversation at the polo last weekend, that a friend just reminded me about...

Friend: So I'm doing this thing where you go out to an immigration detention center and spend a few hours with refugees, it's really rewarding!

Zander: Oh that sounds really cool. I mean I like the idea of charity, but I struggle being around sick or poor people. But I think I could handle refugees!

Friend: Uh...okay. Anyway, if you're interested, it's on Sunday mornings and...

Zander: Ooh, Sundays? I golf on Sundays.

It Has Arrived

Here in Australia, we have what's called "the silly season". It starts around Cup Day in early November, and then with all of the Christmas parties, birthdays, BBQs, a few public holidays and so on, we effectively don't sober up until after Australia Day at the end of January. I really don't know how we cope.

So this weekend, I hosted sunset drinks at my place on the Friday, went to watch the polo (aka pay zero attention to the sport being played and judge everyone's outfits) and attended a surprise birthday party on the Saturday, and then had lunch, golf, and book club on the Sunday. And it was relatively relaxing.

Forgive me if I go quiet this week - since I am clearly not satisfied with the ridiculousness of the Australian holiday season, I have my annual Thanksgiving feast on Saturday which requires me to host and prepare around 6 dishes myself. Updates on what I ruined coming next week.

My Favorite Things

Because I'm not Oprah, my favorite things aren't thousand-dollar gadgets, and you aren't getting a god damn thing from me. Sorry. But being the 99% (the better, cleaner end, to be clear on the matter), it's the little things that we have to find value in.

For example, my favorite internet ad would probably have to be this one:

Let us count the ways that this is amazing:

• Apparently you won't just look 10 years younger, not just 20, but THIRTY YEARS. I love how overboard they went with that claim, to the point that even a mentally challenged teenager in the midst of a serious heroin trip would pause and think it was ridiculous. Maybe if a 27 year old uses it they will end up looking like the lining of their mother's uterus.

• Hey wait...I work in Ryde. And it's a person IN RYDE that has this secret. Shit, I better click on it. Except wait, everyone in Ryde is kind of poor, fat and ugly the last time I checked, and I don't want to look at them. It would be far more appealing if they'd claimed it was some old forgotten trick from some island in the Mediterranean. Better yet, I'm guessing they paid extra for that ad feature.

• Oh, did you see the image? Because apparently what we're talking about is a face lift. As in your face will peel off and you will have a completely different one underneath. Because THAT'S HOW SCIENCE WORKS.

• It only costs $5. Then explain Lindsay Lohan, Courtney Stodden, and the numerous other rich assholes who can't even seem to try and look their own actual age. Guess they just haven't seen your ad yet!

All I can hope is that whoever is responsible for these will end up in bankruptcy court or prison within the next 6 months. Until then, thanks for the laughs.

Best Tuesday Ever

In all the Halloween excitement, I almost forget that it is followed closely by Cup Day. For those who haven't seen what is likely an annual post on the topic, Cup Day is the first Tuesday in November, when the entire nation leaves work around noon to have a long lunch and then continue drinking themselves into oblivion all afternoon. Just because some horses race against each other for 2 minutes around 3pm.

Yes, this is a real thing in a real country. Go figure.

The best part was how in the evening I met a few friends for some more drinks, and one of them brought along an American guy who had arrived in Sydney from New York that morning. I'm not sure if that will make him thoroughly excited about moving to Australia, or insanely disappointed when he realizes that we only binge drink like that on Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays.

Halloween in Sydney 2011

Once again, it was time for my favorite night of the year, the always epic Halloween in Sydney 2011. The great thing about Halloween is that people never stop coming up with amazing ideas for how to impress us, creep us out, and make us wonder if they really have nothing better to do with their free time.

In any case, here are the photos...

First up, me as Inspector Gadget, and my co-host Laws as Poison Ivy. Both costumes were her idea, and I can admit that at least 4 hours of my life were devoted to building that ridiculous hat. I should also mention it started to fall apart within 2 hours of arriving at the bar. Awesome.

 These guys needed a photo together, as they both fell into the "TOO SOON" category. (Steve Jobs and Gaddafi, for those who hadn't figured it out already.)

It's not a Halloween Party until people have dressed up like a couple of your favorite childhood characters and then proceed to get insanely drunk and ruin the image for you forever.

Accurate AND really creepy, thanks to those red contacts in her eyes. Also, I like that she's holding a vodka soda. My primary thought throughout watching Black Swan was that she could have benefited from a drink.

Winner of Best Costume for 2011, as decided by the 10 people I surveyed in a drunken stupor.

Worst. Nun. Ever.

And of course, a Viking, a Hippie, and a Nun singing along to what I'm sure was a song about the size of a woman's ass.

Halloween, I miss you already.

Wowsers

Tonight is the big Halloween party. I can't divulge my costume until afterwards, but I will say that I've already hinted at it. Photos to come in a few days.

Step It Up

Almost forgot this one, but when I was in NYC my brother was telling me how his friend almost got into a fight with a guy at a party. My brother's friend had decided he didn't like the guy for some reason, and they were having a heated exchange. And then, according to my brother, they had a dance-off.

No, really.

The best part is that I can't get a satisfactory explanation for how you go from threatening to punch someone's face in, to seeing whose got the best moves on the dance floor. I'm not sure there would ever be a good enough explanation for that, really.

In any case, his friend apparently fell through a glass table while trying to do a handstand, and that's how the fight/dance off ended. He got served.

Embracing Old Age

Not only do I take cooking classes and participate in a book club, but I begin golf lessons this weekend.

Granted all of these activities involve alcohol, but I think we can safely say that I have embraced my old age and it's only a matter of time before I take up bingo and shuffleboard.

On the plus side, I have got some seriously awesome golfing outfits lined up. Photos soon, because I crave the attention.

A Relaxing Weekend

Not much to post lately because I've been having what I consider chilled out, relaxing weekends.

These entail starting to drink much earlier than my normal time of 2ish, sometimes before noon. This results in my being exhausted by the time the sun is setting, and I end up heading home and watching some TV before passing out by 10pm.

Fortunately, everyone else in Sydney is drunk all day as well at the moment (the weather is improving), so it's completely socially acceptable.

In the meantime, you guys will have to live without good blog-worthy stories.

And He's Back

Sorry for a quiet few weeks, I spent a couple of weeks overseas and then 10 days trekking through the Australian outback. More on that later, including photos.

Speaking of which, here's the one photo from my 2 weeks in the US that seems to have surfaced on Facebook. Apparently I was "that guy" at the wedding I attended:

There are claims it was taken at 8.17pm, but that information cannot be verified at this time.

Funny How That Works

Interesting that when I've had way too much to drink, I perhaps grab a falafel or something on the way home and eat a bit of it before I crawl into bed to pass out.

Much more dangerous are the nights like last night, where I've only had a couple of drinks, but just enough to destroy any willpower and cause me to eat an ENTIRE LARGE PEPPERONI AND MUSHROOM DEEP DISH PIZZA.

In case you were wondering, that's almost 3,000 calories in one sitting. Paging Jenny Craig...

Send In The Clowns

I wasn't even planning to blog again this week, and then I saw a Facebook status update from my favorite friend that I haven't talked to or interacted with in any way for over 6 years. Surely you remember her, the star of a blog post from a few months back?

Looked at what she's been up to over the last week, and wouldn't you know it, bitch is still crazy.

Well, good thing you posted this on Facebook. How else would we all have known how hot and desirable you are to men of all ages?







Hmm, not *completely* over it, I'm guessing.








More importantly, how are you not punched in the face on an hourly basis?

No one called you.


* * * * * * * * * *

My only regret is that I didn't take these screenshots yesterday when she had a completely ridiculous cleavage-baring profile photo up. I have failed you, dear readers.

This Could Go Either Way

Well the best you're going to get out of me is another blog about what's going on at work. Which I'm sure you don't mind, you guys would still read my blog if it was all about being sober in the office, right? Oh. Well fuck you.

In any case, things haven't improved much. I generally manage to escape before 6pm at the moment, which feels like a treat at this point, but I'm still being expected to do actual work for my paycheck, which is downright rude if you ask me.

And now I've just had to send an email to a bunch of senior executives that, in the words of a colleague who just read it, "will either get [me] promoted or fired." So that's not an ambiguous feeling at all.

At this point it's all about the countdown to my next vacation. T minus 9 days...surely I can last that long.

Okay, I'm Not *Actually* Dead

Wow, only just realized that I haven't blogged in weeks now. And when I just came here to log in, it took me about four attempts to remember my password.

The saddest part is the reason I haven't blogged - it's because work has actually taken over my life lately. To the point that I've canceled most of my social engagements over the last couple of weeks to accommodate the fact that 12-hour days are not out of the question at the moment.

The benefits of working my ass off are that my days completely fly by, I actually feel like I'm earning my paycheck, and I have a whole new set of arch-nemeses on which to practice my most passive aggressively worded emails and my utterly condescending stares. I'm looking at you, stupid fat chick.

The downside of course is that I have no life, meaning I have nothing of value to blog about, unless you really want to hear about the new recipe I tried in my slow cooker the other day. (It really was delightful.)

As a matter of fact, the only thing I can think of sharing is that I spent last weekend in Hobart, Tasmania, an odd little island off the south east of Australia's mainland that's a little bit New Zealand, a little bit England, and a whole lot of Middle-earth, at least judging by all the short overweight people without any fashion sense. Pretty sure this was the most fashionable outfit we saw the whole weekend:

But yeah, nice place.

I Might Be Dead Soon

Mickey is visiting from London for a couple of weeks (before he moves back in a few months), and after only one afternoon and evening of hanging out with him, I'm concerned that I might not make it to September. Not only is he an alcoholic, he has the added advantage over my other friends of being in his mid-20's.

I'd give details from the rest of my weekend, but I think everything is still a bit fuzzy. In any case, I will probably spend more time drinking this month than I have since before Mickey and the rest of the crew left Sydney a couple of years ago.

Abracadabra

As part of my ongoing struggle with insomnia, I followed a friend's recommendation and made an appointment with a naturopath for last night.

Until I got there, I have to admit that I had no actual idea what a naturopath was. All I knew was that she'd helped my friend get over her insomnia a few months ago, and at this point I couldn't be that picky about trying new things.

So it turns out, a naturopath is basically a witch. Who went to school. A certified witch.

First we did normal stuff, like talk about my insomnia, and of course my health in general. I was as honest as possible, and pointed out that while I generally eat healthy (not counting yesterday's McDonald's, which totally doesn't count anyway for a reason I have yet to come up with) and get more exercise than most people I know, I probably drink more than most people I know as well. She didn't seem to think this was a bad thing, especially after I pointed out that the few times I've slept well lately were after a few hours of boozing.

But then she pulled out what looked like a cheap 21st century magic wand. It had lights and made sounds, and she pressed it to certain points on my ears that supposedly corresponded to the rest of my body. I half expected her to yell "Patronus!" at some point, but she just kept pressing it to different parts of my ear every time it made a high pitched squeal. We can thank old Chinese medicine for that one.

Then there were the things I'm supposed to take every night before I go to bed. The magnesium and potassium supplements were normal enough, but the odd herbal concoction (which I refer to as "the potion") looks and tastes disgusting. And might turn me into a toad.

In case you couldn't tell, I'm not totally sold on naturopaths. Having said that, I'm pretty desperate for something to cure my insomnia, so I'm actually going to follow her advice for at least a week and see what happens. Feel free to check in on me and make sure I haven't turned into a winged monkey.

Where Not To Go

I just read a New York Times article that left me in hysterics. As obnoxious and pretentious as Sydney-siders can be at times, it only takes a few stories to be reminded that New York still holds the trophy when it comes to complete and utter jackasses.

In a style article on "Dress Codes in New York Clubs", the writer goes around to hipper-than-thou establishments in Manhattan (and the Hamptons) and asks the owners/managers/promoters what sorts of fashions will get people let in or turned away at the door. Naturally those responding to the question manage to be vague and contradict themselves at the same time.


My favorite quote is probably:

For women, shoes are key. “Minimum five-inch heel,” he said. “Christians are our favorite,” he added, referring not to the faithful but to Christian Louboutin, the designer known for his red soles. Jimmy Choo and Christian Dior are also welcome.

I'm guessing the number of women who can both afford those shoes and walk around in them without looking like polio survivors is small, even in Manhattan. Also, I'd imagine your door staff would have to be made up entirely of gay guys who have far too much time on their hands, as I'm not convinced anyone else would be able to tell the difference (or at least I hope they wouldn't).


Best line that insulted people from LA:

“You get guys in from L.A., they think a brunch is a brunch,” Mr. Koch said. “We have to say, ‘Look, dude, this isn’t what you think it is.’"

As much as I dislike LA and most of the west coast, even I find it hard to be condescending because someone thought a brunch was actually a brunch.


And the award for total lack of self-awareness goes to:

Guys...are encouraged to wear “a nice sports coat, a really great flower-print shirt underneath, maybe a matching pocket square,” Mr. Dusheiko said. “We respect individuality.”

Uh yeah, the same way Communist China in the 1960's respected individuality, I imagine.


In any case, I've never been known as any sort of style guru, and it's unlikely I'd ever find a reason to go to any of the places mentioned. So in order to avoid sounding like a hater, I will stop mocking all of these people now and try to find a list of places in NYC that I'd actually want to hang out in when I'm there in a few weeks.

Snowing in Sydney

Can't forget to relay the most ridiculous part of the weekend, which occurred at the Christmas in July dinner I attended. For the record, this was indeed a dinner involving proper food brought along by the guests.

Which made it even more shocking when a friend's 3-year old daughter ran up to her mother and said "Mummy, there are people upstairs putting white makeup on their noses."

For the record, I was not one of those people, and I went home before the 3-year old did. Good lord.

Who Needs A Doctor?

You guys!

So just last week I was sharing my first world problem of not being able to sleep for 8 hours a night. Well on Saturday night, I actually did! Without sleeping pills! Granted, it was after some 7 hours of drinking all afternoon, but still! Excitement!

(Yeah, yeah, don't worry, I'm still going to see a naturopath on Thursday. Which is a little intimidating because I'm still not entirely sure what a naturopath actually is.)

Enter Sandman

As I may have mentioned before, I've been struggling with insomnia for the last couple of months, and as anyone who has had serious trouble sleeping before knows, it's possibly one of the most frustrating conditions you can deal with.

Partially because you're just exhausted all the time, and yet you can't sleep normal hours no matter how hard you try. But also because there are a lot of people out there who have completely idiotic suggestions about how to cure your insomnia. These range from recommending a glass of warm milk before bed (yes, thanks, a full bladder definitely sounds like a good idea, moron) to comments like "well have you just tried lying there and closing your eyes?" Oh, thank you SO FUCKING MUCH, I really had never thought of that, you utter asshole.

So yes, I get tons of exercise, I drink plenty of water (but stop before 5pm to avoid having to wake up in the night), I take vitamins and have a pretty good diet, and I've even cut back on my alcohol intake (sacrilege in my social circles), if only because I'm too tired to stay awake in bars late at night. I avoid looking at any sort of computer screen just before and while I'm trying to sleep, and I have nothing at all to be stressed about in life at the moment, I promise.

The other night I actually tried the classic "counting sheep" method, but then found myself trying to decide if the sheep should have white or black faces, which led to pondering if sheep are racist against each other for things like that. Which is the crux of my problem - I have no problem falling asleep, but come 3am I wake up and start thinking about inane crap. It's like a prolonged form of jet lag or something, despite the fact that I haven't been overseas since some time in May.

So now I've resorted to sleeping pills twice a week. I only take one and it leaves me groggy for half the day afterwards, which I find funny only because the box says you can take 1 or 2...I imagine I'd never wake up from 2 of those things. If I disappear for a couple of days, you know what happened.

And The Worst Part...

I almost never remember my dreams. And after the dream I woke up from this morning, I wish it was just never.

This time I was in New York visiting friends, except most of the people there were more acquaintances than friends, and didn't look particularly excited to see me.

I was chatting to Fry, in the pouring rain, when some black beetle sort of thing flew into my eye socket/throat (which were somehow the same orifice, attractive I know) and we spent several minutes trying to get it out. It happened eventually, but I can tell you that I am still grossed out at the thought of it.

And the most horrible part of the whole dream was that Fry had the worst haircut that has ever existed. Think bowl cut in the front, huge 80's mullet in the back. Even a hipster wouldn't think it was cool in an ironic way.

Fear not, though. I've already emailed Fry and recommended that she don't do anything of the sort with her hairstyle anytime soon.

Rapt In Ridiculousness

After a couple of quiet weekends, this past Saturday was a charity ball that we went to for the second year in a row, except this time we had about 30 people in tow.

The theme is always a different color, and this year it was Rapt In Ruby, which mainly led to us being amazed at the number of guys that think a plain suit and a red tie is making an effort of any kind. Honestly, don't even bother showing up.

I went with a red cravat (which is not "a big tie", as I took great pleasure in correcting pretty much everyone who commented on it) on an otherwise black and white outfit. Nothing that special, but compared to the uniform every other male was wearing it attracted a decent amount of attention.

This was a photo from earlier in the evening:

No one actually remembers this one being taken, despite it only being around 10pm:

And I'm not ensure sure who the other people in this photo are, but according to their comments on my Facebook page we are totally BFF's (Best Friends Forever, in case anyone over the age of 43 is reading) and need to start planning the rest of our lives together:

In any case, it's been a long time since I had a 3am finish, so forgive me if I don't have any big nights out for a little while. I'm sure Juice will do something insanely stupid for us to laugh about in the meantime.

Seriously, Hollywood? (Warning: Major Rant)

Did you guys see Transformers 2? Because it was awful. Like, HORRIBLE. It stopped making sense around 43 seconds into the film, and got worse from there. I tried to walk out of the theater less than an hour into that mess, but was forced to stay by my movie companions. I'm still traumatized by the memories of how angry I got sitting through it. I related to a recent tweet by a someone who said "I can't remember if I saw Transformers 2 or just had really bad diarrhea for 2 hours in 2009."

So when I saw Transformers 3 this past weekend, many would say that I had no one to blame but myself. But screw that, I'm ready to point some fingers.

I guess I'd been given hope by not only the slick trailers for the movie, but also the fact that the director himself had reportedly said he wanted to make a film that made up for the nonsense that was the last installment of the series. I was optimistic. I mean, I grew up loving the 80's cartoon of Transformers, and I actually thought the first movie was more than watchable. Enjoyable, even, in a mindless entertainment sort of way.

The thing is, there's a difference between "mindless entertainment" and "shit that is really just insulting to someone of even average intelligence". The most common argument that defenders of this pile of steaming excrement bring to the table is "you just don't think about it and enjoy robots fighting." Well, despite the admittedly brilliant special effects, the fact is that half the time I couldn't even tell which robots were fighting. Isn't that kind of fundamental? And really, if you're going to spend well over $100 million on making a film, surely it isn't that hard to shell out for someone who can write a script with a semi-coherent plot line and lines for the "actors" that aren't absolutely cringe-worthy? Notice I'm not even asking for good actors here, gorgeous people who can walk, talk and maintain respiratory function at the same time are totally acceptable. (Which is a good thing, if you've seen what passes for 'talent' in this 'film'.) Just maybe someone working on the film who is smart enough to realize how stupid it looks for a girl to fall out of a building, crawl through burning rubble, and still not have a single smudge on her white outfit, while she still has perfect makeup and manages to keep her heels on.

The thing I harp on the most about, though, is that the plot point driving most of the movie is completely ludicrous. (SPOILER ALERT, by the way, not that anyone reading this should actually want to see the film by the time they're done here.) I mean, why the hell would any Transformer want to teleport their world into Earth's atmosphere? They can teleport anything they need from Earth over there, right? Including themselves? And most importantly, wouldn't bringing a massive planet to that location completely screw up the orbit of Earth and everything else in our solar system, thereby destroying whatever it was they wanted from here in the first place?!?! The whole thing reminds me of X-Men: First Class a few weeks ago (more spoilers!) where the goal of the main villain is to start a nuclear war so that mutants can rule the world, completely ignoring the fact that such a conflict would proportionally kill just as many mutants as humans.

Please note that I am not some science geek who expects everything in every sci-fi movie to make sense. I mean, I can watch Star Trek without sitting around wondering how Einstein's theories could possibly make it possible to travel at warp speed. All I'm asking for is for someone to at least PRETEND that they've spent more than three and a half minutes thinking about the plot of a movie they are making for hundreds of millions of dollars, and will be subjected to even more people, not to mention the scrutiny of critics. I don't think that's too much to expect from people who are supposedly experts and professionals in the field of entertainment.

But whatever. Latest reports are that this movie is breaking all kinds of revenue records, despite being panned by most critics, because what we don't want to admit is that the success of such films is a pretty strong indicator of the pervasive stupidity and low standards of the average moviegoer. All I am left to wonder is why, given the resources at their disposal, the creators of this thing didn't think it was worth being remembered for making a good movie rather than just a profitable one.

(For a far better takedown of Transformers 3, you'll want to read this.)

Making Amends

In order to balance out the fiasco that was last weekend, I was determined to have a respectable weekend this time around.

There was a farewell dinner on Friday night, and I managed to stay sober despite the presence of FOUR English people. People, that's impressive stuff.

Saturday night was a Christmas in July party with a "kitsch" theme, but I was too lazy to put any real effort into it and ended up wearing a stupid Christmas hat for a few hours and then heading home at an obscenely early time to get some rest.

Based on my usual patterns, this indicates that the coming weekend will be full of embarrassing shenanigans, so stay tuned for that update.

Young & Stupid Again For One Night

I should probably apologize for not blogging in two weeks. But I won't.

On Saturday we did a long lunch at Firefly, which we'd scheduled ages ago. We had all been looking forward to it, and thanks to brilliant weather and a festive mood, we got stuck into the wine right away.

Thanks to acquiring an ounce of common sense at some point in the last year, I don't sit around drinking wine for hours at a time anymore because it turns me into a complete moron. But I somehow forgot this relatively new rule on Saturday, and by 10pm I had run into a glass door and was having serious trouble walking. Hilarious for all my friends, not so much for me while suffering through flashbacks the next day. I'll just feel fortunate that by the time I had turned into a complete and utter retard, we were in the privacy of a friend's apartment and not out at a bar somewhere.

The scariest part is that it didn't take much for me to feel totally normal the next day, and I even got through another lunch on Sunday, although with significantly less wine this time. (The cognac went down a treat, though!)

In any case, I'm serious you guys, I am never drinking ever again until Thursday. And I mean it this time.

"Well I Guess I Need To Eat..."

We just had a really crappy long weekend here in Sydney, primarily due to the constant torrential downpours that are still making us miserable even though the work week has arrived. At least Mother Nature is a consistent bitch.

In any case, I hadn't planned much for the long weekend. Thanks to my continuing inability to sleep past 4am without the assistance of medication of some sort, I figured I wouldn't want to plan too much, and the only real event I agreed to attend was Newman's 30th birthday drinks.

So I went to drinks, and made it clear from the start that I was probably going to head home in a couple of hours when everyone else headed over to dinner. Of course when that time rolled around, and I was still on the fence, I was persuaded to at least get some food in my stomach. And several bottles of wine later, I agreed that I should at least be polite and have a drink at the next bar.

Given the fact that we started drinking around 5pm, I can attest to being shockingly drunk by the time I got home at some point after midnight. And after around 24 hours, my headache finally subsided. In case you were wondering, that much booze definitely did not help my sleeping habits. And as a general rule, I am never agreeing to eat dinner with a bunch of alcoholics again.

Why You're Single

I am a very active Facebook user. Some would say prolific. I post photos from pretty much anything remotely interesting that I do, and I mostly see my status updates as a perfect opportunity to judge everyone and everything around me. It's fun.

Of course, we all have those Facebook "friends" who overshare. And I don't mean the ones who post photos of their babies and pets. I mean the ones who don't seem to think there's anything inappropriate about letting us all know the rather intimate details of their personal lives.

And so, I thought I'd give you a taste of my favorite Facebook nutjob. We briefly worked together many years ago in New York, and she was one of the people who I added with the intention of removing after a while when I didn't think they'd notice. (See, I'm not totally heartless.) However, I quickly came to look forward to her ridiculous status updates profiling her divorce proceedings (yes, really) and whatever else she could contribute that was amazingly lacking in any sort of self-awareness.

Here are my top 10 status updates from only the last few weeks:

This is probably one of the less ridiculous things she's posted. Having said that, I'm not sure why everyone on Facebook would need to know the date her divorce papers were filed. (Also, I'm pretty sure you're not actually 'free' until the papers are processed and approved. But I won't nitpick.)

Did she just refer to herself as "young and beautiful"? Well, as long as you've convinced yourself, honey.

Or, just trying to avoid identity theft. But go on, continue stalking.

These are my favorites - the divorce settlement details. I mean the guy sounds like an absolute prick, but these status updates really make me feel like I understand why he left.

Nothing better than passive aggressive bitching about your friends on Facebook because they didn't want to hang out with your crazy ass. One guess as to what they think is annoying...

Wow, there was almost a tiny bit of self-awareness in this one! I wanted to give her a pat on the back when I read it.

This is a perfect example of over sharing. It sounds like something she meant to write in an email to a good friend she hasn't seen in a while...except it's on Facebook, for asshole strangers like myself to gawk at and hope that she's getting professional help.

I had assumed that she meant this as some sort of obvious double entendre. Then I read the comments where she sincerely told her friends that had absolutely no idea that people might interpret it in a dirty way. So either she's stupid and really didn't imagine it might sound pervy, or she's just completely insane. Maybe one of her other personalities wrote it.

Once again, lady, NOT FACEBOOK MATERIAL. Unless you're hoping to inspire hordes of hungry men to descend upon your doorstep. Knowing her, she's probably already posted her full address and phone number in a status update.

I really, really had to fight the urge to click "Like" on this one. Hopefully the ensuing comments on her status were enough to fill that empty void for the evening.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

And folks, this is just from the last MONTH. Having said that, she's clearly heading out of divorce territory which means I may lose interest and finally delete her after a year of the crazy, but at least we had this chance to share.

I Want What He's Having

Just wanted to share this animated GIF that Emla was evil enough to curse me with - so far I find it impossible to look at it for any less than 27 seconds.




No, I will not pay your therapy bills.

Booze Metrics

I should have thought of this ages ago, but my new gauge to determine how good a night out was will be based on the number of people I can't remember who add me on Facebook the following day. This means that I was memorable, but in a good way.

Likewise, waking up in prison or to a number of your friends not speaking to you indicates the opposite.

In any case, Saturday night was apparently awesome.

Handy Man

I worked from home today in order to take care of a couple of things, including doing a self-installation of my upgraded cable box, and having a desk chair delivered and then assembling it.

This is a big deal, as anyone who knows me is familiar with the fact that I'm completely helpless when it comes to doing things around the house. When I was a kid I actually shorted out electricity for my entire building on the Upper East Side (apparently pulling a plug out by the cord isn't the way you're supposed to do it), and to this day I tend to call for maintenance for something as simple as a light bulb needing replacing.

In any case, the installation of the cable box wasn't nearly as awful as I thought it would be, despite involving far more cords than should be necessary in the 21st century. The chair, on the other hand, came with instructions that made IKEA's seem detailed and straight-forward. After struggling with what were only really three pieces for some 30 minutes, the chair is now as assembled as it's going to get, even if it wobbles at unfortunate angles.

So until that chair collapses in an embarrassing and painful fashion at some point, I'm feeling rather proud of myself with today's accomplishments. Now excuse me while I go have a beer and watch some sort of sporting event.

Breaking The Bank

The weekend ended up being bigger than planned. Went to a comedy charity event on Friday evening, which was fun, although I do have this bit of unsolicited advice for comedians - if you're performing at an event that raises money for sick children, doing a 10 minute bit that mocks people with disabilities probably isn't the way to go. (Even if I did find it hilarious.)

Saturday was booked for a lunch with a few friends, where a few of us spent a few minutes during our expensive lunch to discuss how being older has resulted in us preferring to spend $150 on a great meal with friends instead of dancing to loud music in a room full of a strangers. We then proceeded to spend the following 7 hours doing exactly that, so apparently being older just means we spend twice as much money.

And so, Sunday was recovery day, with an alcohol-free breakfast and an afternoon spent on the couch catching up on mediocre television programming. Because there's nothing that makes you feel better about boozing away an entire day of your life than forcing yourself to sit through recent episodes of Desperate Housewives while sober.

Photo Analysis Session

I've spent much of this week putting together my photo albums from the recent trip. I'll refrain from posting everything here as well, but given the theme of this blog is supposed to be boozing, I thought I'd throw one photo from each of my two drunkest nights out and we can mock the results.

London, Royal Wedding Eve

In our infinite wisdom, we started drinking on this Friday at around 1pm. From Pimm's to wine to beer. This was around 2am, long after we'd forgotten to eat dinner. Needless to say, we were rather hungover for the wedding the next morning, and ended up passed out in bed by 9pm. At least this photo is evidence that we thought we were having fun at the time.

Hong Kong, Trashy Night Out

I can only distance myself from these "ladies" by saying that they were friends of a friend of a friend. I don't know their names. But they are clearly at the level of inebriation where one thinks they are looking a lot sexier than they are in reality. Not that anyone has ever looked cool dancing on a table outside of a well-edited music video.

* * * * * * * * * * 

I'll be quite honest, the rest of the trip was relatively tame. I've unfortunately started to drink like more of an adult lately (my previous post on last weekend should be ignored to make that sound more believable) and so nights of drinking until 2am generally remained rather civilized. Go figure.

Early Bird Special

Went down the coast this weekend for Hickster's 30th birthday celebrations (belated, since I was busy being fabulous in Europe on the actual day). It was great fun and generally relaxing, although it may have involved the following:

• Friday night dance party
• Shots of Cafe Patron
• Hideous amounts of snacking
• One walk on the beach outside the house
• Drinking all afternoon on a Saturday
• Playing drinking games (Circle of Death) at 5pm
• A pre-dinner dance party
• Falling on Seedy Pete in the midst of pre-dinner dance party/photo shoot
• A Saturday night dinner that I don't remember...at all
• Passing out before 9pm on the couch
• Sunday morning exhaustion
• A three hour drive home
• More drinks on Sunday afternoon on a friend's terrace because I'm a moron who has no respect for my body

In short, the post-European holiday recovery and detox isn't going so well.

New Fatty In Town

Well I'm back in Sydney after a fantastic holiday. Unfortunately that means I am exhausted and a little bit fat. Actually more than a little bit. I may as well have strapped chicken schnitzels to the sides of my torso. I'm so fat that I tried to run my usual 5km this morning, and only made it about 3km before my left foot started to hurt and I needed to go home. At this rate, I should be back to my previous level of fitness in around 2018. Brilliant.

Photos and stories to follow in the coming weeks, once I have fought off the recurring desire to eat 6 full meals a day.

Happy Eas...Oh Wait

And Today's Theme Song Is...

Sorry, given today's travel plans I just can't get this one out of my head.

Quieter Than Usual

Off on another holiday again, because life is tough like that.

I'm heading straight out to Brittany when I get to France, which is a damn shame considering I wouldn't mind living in Paris, and yet I'll only be there for about an hour to catch a train tomorrow. The itinerary also includes Berlin, London, and even Hong Kong, because it's not a vacation until you've been a complete dick on at least two continents before heading home.

In any case, blog posts are likely to be few and far between, so either read up on the classics (I often love to remember what a drunken moron I was back in the day) or just come back in a few weeks when I'm back home and partially sobered up.

Clearly Idiots Have No Trouble Finding Jobs

It amazes me that in times of such high unemployment in the developed countries of the world, that I can still come across really stupid shit like this:

I mean seriously, what is that first character? An 'x'? An upside down 'y'? Perhaps something borrowed from Ancient Greek.

In any case, I want this person fired. Immediately.

It's Hard Being Popular

This week is stressing me out. Once again, nothing work related. It's just the fact that some 8 people I know have birthdays this week, which leads to a lot of dinners, lunches, drinks, and parties for people aged anywhere between 1 and 60. (According to Facebook I actually have about 23 "friends" who have birthdays this week, but I suppose that sort of thing isn't so unlikely to happen when I accept friend requests from people I haven't seen or talked to since I was five foot seven and didn't see anything wrong with wearing black tapered jeans in broad daylight.)

In the end it's great to see everyone and be social. But even if I look like I'm chatting and dancing and having a great time, please be aware that an unusual amount of my consciousness is really just wondering what the hell it is about June and July that apparently makes so many people want to have unprotected sex.

A Broken Man

My weekend wasn't that crazy or anything, just busy and involving a decent amount of drinking and not nearly enough sleep. It's barely noon and I am so ready to crawl under my desk and take a nap.

The most interesting thing that probably happened though was that I had a baby in my apartment for the first time:

She was asleep not long after arriving - passed out, I can only imagine, from inhaling all of the alcohol that must be infused into my carpet by now.

Mmmm...Sacrelicious

The photos from a week ago should really have my blog covered for offending religions for the year, but I had to share this billboard advertising "Hell Cross Buns" at a chain in New Zealand:

Personally, I love it. I'm guessing not everyone does though.

And in other reasons to love New Zealand, I didn't realize they had actually banned fat people from immigrating to the country. That is just fantastic - go kiwis!

Keepin' It Classy

Franz was back in town from London last night and we went out for dinner to celebrate his birthday, which I had naively assumed would be the end of the night.

Naturally we all ended up at karaoke hosted by a drag queen, and around 1am I was singing "I Want It That Way" in front of the entire bar. Awesome. Although the karaoke highlight was probably Stranger getting up to sing Jesse's Girl - but forgetting all the words, apparently not being able to read the lyrics, and failing to understand how a microphone works as he held to his ear or some other part of his body that wasn't actually emitting anything that might sound like singing.

Fortunately I was sensible enough to head home before 2am - the others didn't, and now Juice is nowhere to be found, and Franz has admitted to throwing up at the next bar.

Just like old times, really.

Found: Our Spots in Hell

This past weekend was the long-awaited LOST party. In a bit of a throwback to the 90s and rave dance parties, you only get told where this party will be a couple of hours before the actual event. And the theme for this one was "Lost at the Altar", basically a wedding theme.

We knew the party was going to be hectic in an awesome way, but nothing really prepared us for the fact that everyone seemed ready to get hammered (or already there) from the moment we got there around 3pm, and it only got better (worse?) from there on out. All I can really do is let a few of the photos tell the story.

I decided to go as a hipster priest - with tight black shorts, hipster shoes that also look like something a poor religious person would wear, and sunglasses. Throw in a cross hanging in front of my crotch and I was set. (The 'stache was just for effect, it didn't make it out of my apartment.)

 The creativity was pretty impressive with some costumes:

Not so much for all of them though:

I'm not sure what's more appalling - the fact that the dude on the left is definitely in blackface so that he could be Usher, or the fact that it literally took me about 36 hours to make the connection between Usher and a wedding theme:

And this pretty much sums up how the night ended - because I have no idea who these people are, and I certainly don't remember hanging out with them, yet we have about a dozen photos together:

Alas, I'm really not sure I will go to any more of these parties. It was one of the best days I've had in a while, but it's also Tuesday and I'm not entirely sure I've fully recovered. Also, the the photos suggest that I need not do anything else beyond this party to earn a pretty cozy spot in hell, so really why put in the effort.

Wondering Where to Drink in Sydney? Some Bar Recommendations For You

One of the questions I'm asked most often (other than "Why are you such an asshole?") is where people should go and get hammered. Even with colleagues I barely know, I seem to have a bit of a reputation for being a hard core boozer who is disturbingly familiar with the bar scene in Sydney. As such, I tend to keep a list of bars handy that I can just forward around to people, and I figured why not share it here since I really have nothing of interest to blog about today.

Click on the map to see where all of the bars are, and my personal thoughts on each one are listed below.


View Recommended Bars in Sydney in a larger map

Pocket Bar – Easily one of my favourites, and easier to find than some of the others, always end up chatting to cool people here

The Commons – Same strip as Pocket Bar, with a great wine list and some good cocktails. I find it a bit dark and maybe too mellow for my liking, but everyone else seems to love it

Shady Pines Saloon – I was skeptical about this place when I was told it had a American western theme, but it’s really laid back and attracts a cool crowd (should warn you it’s almost impossible to find, but it’s a stone’s throw from Pocket Bar)

Sticky Bar – Ridiculously cool place, also somewhat difficult to find as the unmarked entrance is down an alley (unless you try to get in through the entrance to Table for 20 on Campbell St, but they don’t like that), and the bar staff are highly entertaining

Winery – Definitely more mainstream than any of the others but it’s still quality. You’ll definitely see more attitude here, but the good food and people watching might be worth it

Ching-a-lings – Great place but important to note it’s a bar you don’t really go to until after 9pm, otherwise it’ll be half empty. There’s even an outdoor area in the back (which is great to grab a table if you show up early). Oh and even though the address is on “Little Oxford St” laneway, you actually enter through a door labeled ‘Urban Tanning’ on Oxford St just up the street from the Colombian. (First time we tried to find it we ended up in some dingy brothel – awkward)

Hunky Dory Social Club – Currently my favourite new bar in Sydney, they have a great outdoor area on the top floor, and the level below is decent as well and has a good balcony. (There’s also an Italian restaurant at street level but I don’t know enough people that have eaten there to say if it’s any good.) Note: Top floor closes at 10pm, and despite the awesome music and dancing, the bar closes at midnight. Fringe Bar isn’t too far up Oxford Street if you want to keep dancing and make it a late one

Lo-Fi – This one is the old ‘Middle Bar’, above Kinsela’s. They’ve given it a lot more character than it had before, and the music is great if you’re into old school hip hop and R&B. Lots of space and a great balcony that overlooks Taylor Square. There was an art gallery on the top floor but not sure if it’s open at the moment

Eau-de-Vie – Hidden in the back of the ground floor of the Kirketon Hotel (you actually have to go through doors that seem to be to the restrooms), they have great cocktails and service. Pretty pricey though, so bring plenty of cash or credit

The Passage – Very chill early on, but fills up eventually. Great Spanish tapas to snack on as well. Has three sections with different feels to it: the restaurant, the bar, and the lounge in between. Long and narrow, you can enter from either Darlinghurst Rd or Victoria St

Love, Tilly Devine – Tiny place down a couple of alleyways off William Street, great wine selection (the staff are really good with recommendations too), and didn’t try the food but it looked and smelled great 

Grasshopper – This one is actually in the city but has the Melbourne laneway bar feel to it. Only drawback is that there isn’t really anywhere similar nearby to go (other than maybe Small Bar on Erskine St), so you often stumble into somewhere awful like the Ivy afterwards. Note: The food upstairs is BRILLIANT, you’ll need a reservation though

Grandma’s – A newer addition to the small city bars, it’s small (and probably too crowded on Friday nights to be honest), but has a great vibe and really friendly staff. Good music as well, and I recommend the punch

When Good Bars Go Bad

Saturday night was a farewell party for Jules, and as the apparent resident expert on bars in Sydney, I was asked for recommendations.

I went with Doctor Pong's in Darlinghurst, as my recommendation. I hadn't been in a few months, but I remembered a casual bar with a great DJ playing classic hip hop. Sure the service was never particularly that great, and they often charged extortion-like rates for Patron XO Cafe (a cardinal sin amongst my circle of friends), but it was considered a favorite nonetheless.

Alas, even the best bars are capable of falling from their pedestal. And Doctor Pong's has fallen hard. Let me list the ways that this place was able to amaze us with their incompetence:

1) Confused about their opening times - Their website says they still open at noon (as they did until recently, from what we can tell), however they didn't actually open until 5pm.

2) Really, really horrible music - We got there around 5ish, and for well over an hour had to suffer through what I can only charitably describe as elevator music. When we pointed out that it wasn't really appropriate for a Saturday night, the bar manager actually said that no one there knew how to work the sound system (unlikely, since one of you would have turned it on, idiot), and we'd have to wait for the DJ to arrive and set up before the music would change. This eventually happened, but it was far too late to stop us from hating the bar and everyone who worked there.

3) They started running out of booze - First it was the Frangelico they didn't have any more of. Then it was vodka. Then it was beer. Did you know this actually happened in bars? I mean someone's house party, okay, sure. But a bar. Whose primary purpose is to sell alcohol to people. Ridiculous.

Clearly this is all a result of shockingly bad management on someone's part, but in the end there are more than enough awesome bars in Sydney that we won't be back. And there was even a rather solid rumor going around that Dr Pong's will be closing its doors soon (did they fail because of poor management? or did they stop caring because they were closing anyway? chicken or the egg situation there), so at least someone else will hopefully get a chance to turn it into somewhere that people would actually want to hang out again.

/rant.