We Are Our Parents

I just had a brilliant weekend in Melbourne with friends, however it continued my ever-growing concern that I am turning into an old man.

Remember when we were kids and your parents would have people over, and you'd eventually go to bed wondering how it was possible that a bunch of old people could just sit around drinking and talking until well after midnight? Even in our early 20's, the night always ended with losing your friends at a club or being refused entry to a bar for being a drunken idiot.

Well, both my Friday and Saturday nights came to a close with me drinking scotch (neat, of course) while chatting to my friends about god knows what. And it was nice, but scary, to think that it is actually possible for me to drink for hours at a time and not find myself inebriated and doing something that would cause me to die of embarrassment if it ever made its way to YouTube.

The most shocking moment of the weekend, one that confirmed how old we are, is when a member of our group didn't know what Jersey Shore was. To be clear, I'm not saying she hadn't watched an episode, even I've never done that. But she's never *heard* of Jersey Shore. While I realize that we'd all be better off not having heard of Jersey Shore, the fact is that even my mother who lives in the French countryside knows what it is.

Needless to say, I am trying to help this poor friend of mine cling to whatever semblance of her youth she has remaining, and she has been sent various videos of Snooki, The Situation, et. al. as part of her education. We're not giving up that easily.

Weekend Away

As a bit of a random weekend, Hickster and I have decided to visit some friends in Melbourne, possibly the only other place in the Australia/New Zealand region that hasn't been decimated by one natural disaster or another in recent weeks.

Unfortunately, we've just missed the St. Kilda festival by a couple of weeks. I want to check out any event that turns up the following image in a Google search:

Food Hangover

Yesterday I found myself suffering from the rare but not impossible food hangover. After eating an absolutely insane amount of food at a dinner on Tuesday night, I woke up yesterday morning feeling full, nauseous, and exhausted. I even typed out a text message to my boss saying I needed a sick day, but at the last second decided that eating too much food was probably on the border of sick and retardedly lazy, and just sucked it up and went into work.

Needless to say, I will be eating a lot of salads in the coming weeks.

Genuine Concern

So I'm getting seriously worried about my lifestyle lately. While some people worry they are partying too hard, I have the opposite problem. Since around New Years, I basically haven't partied much at all.

Friends are quick to point out that even my version of a quiet lifestyle still involves more socializing, drinking and eating out than some 90% of the population. But still, the fact that I tend to want to head home by 10pm on almost any given night makes me feel like I need to figure out what's going on here.

Apparently the options include:

1) I partied too hard in November/December (known as "silly season" in Australia) and my body just wants to recover for a bit before I get back into it. This was more feasible in January, but we're quickly approaching March, people. How much recovery does one really need? Charlie Sheen apparently only thinks that you need a week to recover from a hard core addiction to hookers and cocaine. A few too many champagnes before Christmas should definitely be out of my system by now.

2) I'm just getting old, and this is my new life. I'd almost believe this, but considering how suddenly my new mood hit, I question that this is the case. Surely I would have been slowing down for at least a few months before I apparently decided it was time to learn how to knit while listening to jazz on my gramophone?

3) I have some sort of virus. Like what? Mono? It's not like I'm sleeping all the time or anything. Pretty sure that there aren't any diseases where symptoms include "Wanting to binge drink for only 6 hours instead of 12". (I will be highly amused if you can show me otherwise.)

In the end, I think I just need to ramp it up. Hickster and I are heading down to Melbourne this weekend, and while I don't think for a second that it will be a weekend of madness, at least a change of scenery might inject some energy into my otherwise lethargic party genes.

If that fails, then the final test is three weeks in Europe coming up in April. Should things not go my way even when I'm surrounded by my hedonistic friends in London...well, maybe it's time to look into a retirement village.

Hard Times

Last night, I saw a guy get busted for shoplifting. From a supermarket. More than anything, I found this incredibly depressing. I mean, at least Lindsay Lohan shoplifts jewelry that's worth more than most of us make in a year. That kinda makes sense. But to try and steal a bag of frozen peas? That's really sad. Good luck with life, dude.

Thanks For The Short List

I often think about what other countries I'd want to live in after Australia. As much as I love it here, I can see myself spending a year or two somewhere else, followed by living between Sydney and New York for the rest of my perfect life.

In any case, I often think Paris sounds quite appealing, although I did absolutely fall in love with Buenos Aires when I was there a couple of years ago.

Fortunately, sometimes advice comes along in the form of random reports in The Economist. Such as, this map of global alcoholic consumption:

So clearly I'm on the right track with France and Argentina, but apparently it's time to do some exploring in Eastern Europe. What I'd really like to see is a report on how the hell any of those people are even alive.

How Not To Celebrate Black History Month

When I Grow Up

Another weekend, another Monday spent wishing I was at home laying on the couch instead of expected to sit at my desk and pretend to do work.

And now it's Tuesday and I just typed the phrase "GO GO GADGET PENIS!" in an instant message conversation with Juice.

I wonder what adulthood will be like.

How Could I Forget

Miss Jessica has kindly reminded me that it is Black History Month!

Unfortunately when I moved to Australia, I didn't take into account the fact that BHM isn't celebrated here, which means I can't stagger into a bar and demand free drinks because it is Black History Month and I've decided I'm black at that point in time. Not saying this worked most of the time, but it was fun. Maybe I'll see what I can get away with this weekend, just for kicks.

World's Worst Student

I would have made an update sooner, but I've spent the last three days in a training course. Normally I'd pay absolutely no attention and use the time to blog more often than usual, but this one actually came with an exam at the end that results in certification for...something. Not quite sure what. But yeah, it meant that other than a few plays in Words With Friends and making sure nothing crazy was happening on Facebook without me knowing, I actually had to have at least a bit of a clue what was going on.

The experience has been a flashback to my college days, and this was just a reminder of how amazed I should be that my ridiculously poor work ethic and impressive inability to pay attention to anything for more than 22 minutes at a time allowed me to complete a bachelor's degree. It also confirmed for me that I probably won't bother going back to school for an MBA anytime soon, unless someone assures me that it's one of those programs where you spend 100% of your time socializing "networking" and doesn't give out failing grades.

In any case, it's almost over, so more pointless and feeble-minded blog posts coming your way. Aim high, kids!