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.

I Suppose Halloween Could Have Turned Out Worse

Not much to say, other than the fact that I love this video. And not just because of all the cheesy euro dance pop music playing in the background.

(And if anyone knows how I can make this fit properly into my blog, I will promise not to post any similarly embarrassing video of you should it ever fall into my hands.)

Good Time To Start Drinking Coffee

Well I have to say, I didn't think I still had it in me.

On Thursday evening, Benji was in town from NYC for one night, so it was my obligation to take him out for a few drinks. That finished up around 2am, and of course I had to wake up for work a few hours later. So that was awesome.

Friday night was a "chilled out reunion" with some former colleagues. That ended with break dancing at 1am. (Disclaimer: I have never, nor will ever, attempt breakdancing. Unfortunately I seem to associate with several people who don't share this aversion.)

Saturday morning I had to wake up to drive to the ungodly suburb of Castle Hill, some 45 minutes away from civilization, to visit my cousin's 10-day old baby. And if we're being quite honest, that was pretty generous considering babies don't actually do anything at that age.

It all caught up with me on the Saturday night, as I was supposed to be partying hard for Jules' farewell drinks, but decided to head home by 10pm to spare everyone my increasingly nasty attitude. I might be in my 30's, but when tired I revert to being a toddler.

And somehow, after a solid 9 hours of sleep, I woke up on Sunday morning and thought it would be fun to head to more drinks. I'm not quite sure why.

Needless to say, I am exhausted today, and not at all pleased at the prospect of drinks and dinner tonight, and no quiet nights at home until some point next week. Oh well, I guess it beats being fat and not having any friends.

And Then They Stopped Trying

I've complained before about the constantly declining standards of what passes for journalism in this country. Newspapers constantly have typos, and while there's no Australian equivalent of the always abhorrent Fox News, there's never a shortage of idiots with misleading information who are ready to take advantage of other idiots with no information.

And so, the latest example isn't quite that serious given it falls more under celebrity/entertainment news than anything else, but I want everyone to appreciate the caption on this photo from the Sydney Morning Herald website today:

Perhaps there's a major shortage of caption writers with 6th grade diplomas here in Australia.

You're Doing It Wrong

As you guys know, I simply hate being forced into a position of judging other people. I don't generally expect everyone to be as perfect as I am, but to be quite honest I don't think it's too much to ask that they try.

On that note, I want to introduce you to two people I met this weekend that I consider absolute failures at life:

1) On Friday night I went to a dinner at an Italian restaurant in a less than trendy location because a couple of friends were in town and I hadn't seen either of them in a year or so. What I forgot is that although they are cool, fun people who have traveled the world, not everyone they grew up with would fall into the same category.

And so I ended up sitting across the table from a girl who had never left Australia, loudly announced that she tried not to leave her suburb too often (some place I had never heard of, and hope never to visit), and exclaimed multiple times at how shocked she was that a glass of wine could possibly cost $8.50 - which is easily the least I've paid for a glass of wine in years, and I'm not even very fancy.

In any case, I mocked her so much before the main course was even served that she moved seats and ignored me for the rest of the meal. Sounds harsh, but it was necessary to maintain at least some sanity if I was going to make it to dessert.

2) The second is the type of person that I constantly encounter and have to make a fool out of to prove a point. The fake New Yorker. I am so sick of meeting people who clearly walk around introducing themselves as being "from New York", only to find out that they can't even claim to be from the same time zone as New York. In case anyone needs a guide, the following things do not make you a New Yorker:

• Living in New York for two years in your adulthood...and then moving elsewhere
• Being born in New York and leaving before you started forming actual memories
• Actually being born and raised in Kentucky and having a job in New York for a year

This idiot belonged to the last group...which made it feel even better to make sure EVERYONE knew about it. He avoided me for the rest of the night.

In related news, there are two new people in Sydney who absolutely hate my guts.

Nobody Likes a Fatty

Egged on by a couple of friends who are much healthier than I am, I recently downloaded an iPhone app (My Fitness Pal) that takes your age, height, weight, general activity level, and goal weight, and tells you your daily calorie limit. You then enter in anything you eat or drink, plus any cardio you do, and it lets you know if you're over or under your limit.

Being a bit bored at work for the time being, I gave in and decided I would use this app for a couple of weeks. I figured it wouldn't hurt to be a little more aware of what I put in my mouth every day. (I feel like I should change the way I ended that last sentence, but I really can't be bothered.)

What was probably most surprising was the fact that

my diet is apparently not nearly as hideous as I thought it was. Not that I tend to fall asleep with half a stick of butter hanging out of my mouth or anything, but I had just imagined that all the take away lunches and occasional cookies were doing more damage. Turns out you actually have to eat an entire box of cookies every day to get as huge as some of the people you see in any video footage of middle America. Good to know.

Of course those positive results were for most days. I quickly decided to stop recording what I consumed on the weekends, because as it turns out, just a few beers is like eating an additional meal. Which means the amount I drink on your average Friday or Saturday is akin to me eating two lunches and two dinners that day. Unhealthy ones, too. DAMNIT.

(Translation for Americans: "You gonna be FAT.")

In any case, I've decided that this is the last week I'll be recording any of this stuff. If I wanted to be told every day how fat I'm getting, I would have adopted a Jewish mother a long time ago.

It All Balances Out

Had a weekend away with a few friends, and spent most of the weekend eating, drinking, and sitting around chatting about god knows what. There were even moments where we discussed laundry, spreadsheets, and Australian immigration policies. All very mature.

Fortunately we had Scottie with us. Despite the fact that he arrived later than the rest of us on Friday night, he managed to kill a bottle of wine and several very strong rum drinks before going to bed. I was lucky enough to sleep through what was apparently a very messy affair involving him throwing up all over the upstairs bathroom at around 4 in the morning.

As a group, I think we're even for the weekend.

Shame Can Be A Good Thing

As I made my way through yesterday's issue of The New York Times I came across an article about St. Patrick's Day in Hoboken, New Jersey. Not only does it take place weeks before the day it should, but apparently it has turned into an orgy of drunken, lawless debauchery that would rival Mardi Gras in New Orleans.

All of that is something I'd classify as "not my problem", and I was about to close the article after a few paragraphs when I came across this part:

Nicole Magana, 33, said she kicked off a 15-hour spree on Saturday by taking a beer with her into the shower. Around 9 a.m., she arrived to a “kegs and eggs” themed party, which she left for a different “beer and bagels” event nearby.

On Tuesday, Ms. Magana, a real estate broker, was still carrying in her purse a color-coded itinerary she had drawn up of all the house parties she had planned to visit that day. Over the course of the festivities, she heard about a friend who was given a ticket for the unlikely offense of throwing meatballs out of a window.

I have SO many issues with these two paragraphs, that I will sum up with the following comments and questions:

1) Surely this girl was still drunk when she talked to this reporter? Why would you give you full name, age, and occupation to accompany it with what a retarded drunkard you are? Making the parents proud, I'm sure.

2) Since when is "throwing meatballs out of a window" a proper offense? And really, if the festivities get as out of hand as the article suggests, I would assume the police had better things to do.

3) Why has it never occurred to me to take a beer into the shower with me? (Probably related to the fact that I've never been invited to a "kegs and eggs" party.)

This idiot then goes on to blame the increase in arrests and injuries on "the bridge-and-tunnel crowd", apparently not realizing that by residing in New Jersey, that would include her. And really, honey, trying to blame "out-of-towners" for hooliganism when you've just admitted that you and all your friends started binge drinking before 9am is pretty lame.