Near Death Experience

I had another relatively quiet weekend, with the highlight being dinner with friends at a restaurant I hadn't been to in well over a year. Their food and cocktails are simply awe-inspiring, and as expected we had a fantastic evening.

At the end, as we were ordering dessert, I figured a round of Cafe Patron shots were in order, especially considering we had a few virgins at the table.

We downed the shots, and as I finished mine I felt what I assumed was ice against my lip. I looked into my shot glass and saw some very oddly shaped ice. I pulled it out, and it turned out it was a massive shard of glass from something other than my shot glass. Better yet, there was a smaller piece of glass underneath it.

I've never considered myself an overly dramatic person. (I'll give you a moment to stop laughing.) But this was pretty shocking. I just sort of stared at it, while we of course reported it to our waiter. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized how ridiculously horrible that whole situation could have ended up.

In any case, the staff were horrified and crazily apologetic, and I have abstained from spreading the name of the restaurant to everyone as I really don't think it's characteristic of their level of service. And hey, I'm still alive and unharmed.

Most importantly, the round of shots was free.

Feral

Some of you will be disappointed to hear that I actually had a rather chilled out weekend. While there was a lot of socializing and drinking, I intentionally avoided being drunk or hungover. As such I have no scandalous stories to tell you about myself.

So I'll tell you one about someone else. This person will not be named (or even nicknamed), but no it's not Juice (or me, for that matter).

A couple of weekends ago, this person was out partying, and blacked out somewhere between one bar and another. This is quite standard for this individual, and tends to be how all his nights out progress.

However this time, his first memory post-blackout was not waking up in bed with a terrible headache, but standing in a strange apartment with someone he didn't remember meeting saying to him "I'm sorry, mate, but you just peed all over my kitchen floor. You have to leave now. It might be okay if I knew you, but..."

I'm not really sure there's any commentary required for this one, it simply serves as one of those tales that makes you feel so much better about even the most humiliating of your own drunken moments. Gotta love those.

(There's also perhaps a side discussion on if it really would be okay if you did know the person who had just peed on your kitchen floor, but I suppose that's a personal decision.)

What Not To Do This Weekend

Having said that, I thought last weekend was going to be a quiet one, and I ended up in a hot tub at one point, so who knows. Keep those cameras rolling.

Still Life In The Old Man Yet

Thought it would be a quiet weekend. Figured that since I had nothing planned, I'd spend most of the weekend relaxing in front of the TV or reading a book in bed.

Friday night started with some very civilized drinks (and food!) with Neels and Hickster, and somehow ended with dancing past 2am and Hickster chucking her drink in a guy's face.

And despite feeling a bit rundown on Saturday, I thought I'd at least be polite enough to swing by a farewell BBQ at a friend's house. I almost headed home around 9pm, but somehow that didn't happen. There may have been a hot tub involved around midnight.

Despite the fact that Sunday only resulted in a few pints of beer in the sun with lunch, I can easily say that Monday was one of the toughest days at work I've had in a very long time. Sad considering I had absolutely no work to do.

Professional Time Wasters

Early January is easily the least productive time to be in an Australian workplace. At least in December people are still trying to finish things off for the year, between Christmas lunches, parties, drinks, etc. (I know someone whose company gives them a SHOPPING DAY as a bonus annual leave day.)

But at this point in January, half the people haven't even come back from their Christmas breaks, which means the rest of us who are unlucky enough to have to trudge into the office simply don't have much to do.

While I'm lucky enough to have a TV on my desk and other bored people to talk to, the bulk of my time ends up being having the most inane conversations one can imagine with Juice, via instant messenger. Topics this week have so far included:

Latest opinions on British Airways

Is it okay to use coconut cream that has been sitting in an open can in the fridge for 4 days

Life in a minimum security prison probably wouldn't be that bad, if it was only for like, a year, and you met some really well connected people (Dependent on the assumption that there would be decent food and access to good wine.)

American "ain't" vs. Australian "arvo" - which one makes more sense than the other in it's respective context

Should Juice go drink alone in the bar downstairs from his office

Needless to say, no one will be crafting any university courses around these topics anytime soon. It's actually kind of a miracle that we get paid at all.

Not To Be A Downer, But...

My grandmother passed away on Christmas Day. Sad, obviously, but the woman was 98 and had an amazing life that anyone of my generation has to be in awe of. She was born in Scotland the year the Titanic sank, lived through two World Wars, and even in the last couple years of her life could still tell you what she wore to an officer's ball in India in the early 40's.

I could just tell you all those sorts of interesting things, but I figured a true homage to the woman (at least one that suits my blogging style) would be to list my favorite ridiculously bitchy things she said in her old age, since we all know that's the best part about getting old - you can say whatever you want.

After being asked if she wanted to put up a photo of one of her infant great-grandchildren:

"No, she's too fat."

While trying out her first walking stick:

"Well I suppose I could hit people with it..."

On being told the name of her first great grandchild:

"What? That's a dog's name!"

Shortly after claiming she was blind, discussing a cousin's pregnant girlfriend:

"She's getting fat, she is!" (upon being reminded that she was supposed to be blind, "Well, I can see shapes!")

So in case you were wondering where I get my pre-disposition for disliking fat people - it's genetic.

Why, Hello 2011, You Look Familiar

I went to great trouble to orchestrate a celebration for New Years Eve that would allow us to ring in 2011 with at least a little class and maturity.

Between the canapés I prepared myself (including stuffed mushrooms with feta, and shortbread tarts with lemon cream cheese filling), the avoidance of doing shots of any kind, and the fact that I intentionally kept numbers to less than 10 people, I was sure that we'd all toast to the New Year and everyone would head home shortly after midnight.

So let's look at the things that didn't factor into my vision of the evening, and yet managed to happen anyway:

1) Broken glass, everywhere - we're still not sure if it was a champagne or wine glass that broke first, or how exactly the bottles on the balcony got knocked over, but we can be sure that we will be picking tiny shards of glass out of our bare feet for the next few weeks, at least.

2) The police were called - not on us, but by someone at our party, to complain about the people across the street who were setting of fireworks. I believe the actual words we overheard were "they're shooting fireworks AT ME". In case we thought there was much left in the world that couldn't be taken completely and utterly personally.

3) People passed out - granted it tended to be in the form of disco naps on the couch, but considering how loud the music was and the fact that people were all around them having boisterous conversations at any given moment in time, I still find it impressive.

4) A bottle of vodka was dropped on my head - possibly my own fault for trying to get something out of the fridge while someone messed around with the bottle of vodka in the freezer above me. In the end I was more relieved about the fact that the bottle didn't break, and only as an afterthought considered that I should be grateful I didn't end up needing stitches.

So, yeah, come on in 2011. We've seen your kind here before, and we know how to handle you.