Random Drunk

See, this is yet another reason to love Facebook. I was skimming through some friends photos from a recent vacation and came across this photo, instantly finding myself in the throes of a friend crush:


I have no idea who she is, but she looks amazing and clearly needs to be my new best friend. And you just KNOW she looks like this at least two nights a week. Probably three.

And before you say anything, YES, I do fully realize that this post is vaguely hypocritical and fully lacking in self-awareness considering the number of similar photos of myself that probably go up all over the internet every month. Does that mean one can't appreciate the small things in life?

Validation

As I start looking at ways to make my residency in Australia more permanent, a small part of me wonders if I'm turning my back on being an American, even if it means I'm only here another couple of years.

And then, I read things like this...

Who knew President Obama was not born in the United States? Nearly four in ten Americans in a Public Policy Polling survey. But he was born in Hawaii! Yes, but six percent of those in the same poll said Hawaii was not part of the United States. Another four percent were not sure of Hawaii’s status.

...and all I can think is that I should just start a fire and burn all evidence that I was born in a country of such fat, stupid people. If nothing else, I suppose we should appreciate the awesome entertainment value of watching the world's only super power self-implode before our eyes.

It's Like Watching An Entire Nation Go Extinct

In the absence of having anything original or entertaining to say, I thought I'd share this with you -- People of Walmart: a collection of all the creatures that grace us with their presence at Walmart, America's favorite store.

If you're thinking for even a second that you might not have to click on that link, I give you this teaser:


Happy Friday. Go get fat.

The Most Reliable Sources of Schadenfreude on Facebook

Last week I was reading a CNN article profiling "The 12 most annoying types of Facebookers", and while we could all easily categorize most of our friends (and maybe even ourselves) into those types, it started me thinking about why I haven't deleted (or at least used the "Hide" feature on) some of the people on my own list. And I realized...I take some serious pleasure in getting regular confirmation that there are people in the world who make me look like a hard working, well-balanced individual.

And so, here's the rundown of the biggest assholes in my Facebook feed (who hopefully don't read my blog):

Who (is this loser?): Male, early 30s
How (do I know this person?): Worked with him for possibly a year at my last job in NYC
What (makes him one of the biggest douchebags ever?): Approximately once every three months, this dude updates his status to tell everyone he's met the most amazing girl. Possibly a week later we get another update saying that he can't stop thinking about his fantastic new girlfriend, which is consistently accompanied by a change in his Relationship Status to indicate he is "In A Relationship". And approximately a week after that we get an bitching about how people are passive-aggressive and should say what they mean, despite the fact that his chosen method of communicating this is a vague and broadly directed Facebook status.
Why (am I still friends with him?): Just to be clear, this guy is a complete douchebag. He constantly talks about how various women aren't up to his personal standards in looks or education, despite the fact that he is overweight and sounds like a neanderthal in both style and content. And so you can only imagine how good it feels to see this delusional twerp get trounced every financial quarter as a reminder that even single, desperate 30-something women think there's a limit to what they will settle for.

Who: Female, late 20s
How: Was a receptionist at my company a few jobs back
What: This nutjob added me to her list of friends just in time for her divorce, which she decided to recount in a blow-by-blow detail via her FB status. This included updates such as "The husband, well I guess now ex-husband, has moved out...I feel so alone" and "I should just get some cats and call it a life". As the months have gone by, she has graduated to that sad specimen of divorced women who tries as hard to convince everyone else as she's trying to convince herself that she's having a great time. "Yeah awesome I forgot how great it was to be single and independent!" or today's update of "I should probably stop turning down hot lawyers who ask me out on dates". Actually, you should stop completely making up unbelievable statuses on online social networks full of people who don't actually like you, dumbass.
Why: Because it's good to know that as pathetic as I've been after a few of my breakups, I will never be as sorry as this chick.

Who: Male, late 20s
How: Friend of a friend, who lives near me
What: Constantly posts new photos of himself that have been airbrushed within an inch of not looking anything like him, which are even more ridiculous when you know that he has a lisp and a lazy eye in real life. His shockingly bad spelling abilities also make me question how he could possibly be employed.
Why: If nothing else, this is an emotional insurance policy - no matter how freakish I may look one day, or how retarded I might get, airbrushing and government hiring quotas for "special needs" applicants will apparently be there to keep me afloat.

Who: Female, mid 20s
How: Friend of a friend of a my uncle's former roommate's dog
What: Is apparently a fan of every single singer, actor, artist, and inanimate object known to humankind. She is even a fan of "Not Being On Fire", most likely in a completely unironic way. She also feels the need to several times a day update her FB status with song lyrics -- as in ALL of the lyrics to any particular song. It's the kind of shit that makes you wonder why FB removed character limits.
Why: Whenever I comment on one of these to tell her what a loser she is, she tends to respond with "LOL ur so funny", which makes her a fantastic virtual abused wife. We all need one.

Who: Female, early 30s
How: Went to college with her
What: Generally has the typical lame statuses of anyone with a young child about whatever supposedly cute thing their little snot factory has managed to do in the last two days without choking on creamed peas. However every couple of months, she suddenly makes some ominous reference about her father-in-law coming to town which always ends with a frowny face, and the reactions of her friends ("Oh my god, I am so sorry to hear that!" or "Call me if you need anything") makes one start to wonder what in the hell this guy has done to her that requires such serious and dramatic reactions from her friends.
Why: She bores me to tears, but this weirdness with her father-in-law has "America's Most Wanted" written all over it, and I am collecting screenshots of these status updates to sell to the highest bidding news media organisation when shit goes down.


I actually have a ton more of these dickwads, but these are probably some of the best ones, and I may as well save a few for the next time I have to endure 4 consecutive days of not drinking.

Sincerest Apologies

On Saturday I was excited about my plans to meet up with Pak, a new friend who is from NYC but also lives in Sydney. We'd had a few lunches together in the city during the week, but this would be our first boozing session.

As a result of this highly anticipated get together, I have a few people to whom I owe apologies for the events that ensued:

• Deeply sorry to the waitress who turned out to be standing right behind me as I muttered something about "Well at this rate it doesn't matter what we want because it doesn't look like anyone's ever going to take our order..." - you the situation very well, I have to say.

• Apologies to the wine bar that we showed up at around 2pm and then proceeded to stay in the exact same seats for 5 hours. While I'm sure you appreciated the extra income, the beligerence was probably unnecessary.

• I beg forgiveness of the two friends who met us at the wine bar about 4 hours into our session, as I barely remember you were there and can only pray that you didn't tell me anything important.

• I regret having whipped out my iPod while Pak and I were heading into the city on the bus (because we couldn't find a taxi for the life of us) and instigating our rapping session, including a full length version of "Shoop". I don't think the two people sitting directly in front of us but too afraid to turn around appreciated it.

In the end our night only lasted about another hour before we realized we were in no condition to be in public, even if it was in the privacy of a friend's house, and we headed home. Between the shockingly painful hangover in the morning and the fact that I blew through last week's target budget by around 50%, I will be aiming to keep a low profile until Friday, at which points all bets are off, per usual.

Texts From The Weekend

(Juice): Dude come down to Bondi, we're here with beers in hand

(Zander): It's 11am.

(Juice): Well come over when you can, it's a gorgeous day

(Juice): Are you on your way?

(Zander): No.

(Juice): I'm hanging out with awesome Irish people

(Zander): That's not good.

(Juice): They're brilliant...are you almost here?

(Juice): Hello?


* * * * * * * * * * NEXT DAY * * * * * * * * * *


(Zander): Hey dude, how was the rest of your night? Are you still alive?

(Juice): Oh my god. What a night. The bar kept telling us to be quiet because people were complaining about all the Irish people singing. Then [redacted] was running to the bathroom because she was feeling sick but she didn't make it and threw up next to a family eating dinner. We were all kicked out. Kept partying at another bar though.

The Weekend Starts Early

I agreed to go out for Thursday night drinks only because I was meeting up with Becs, who tends to be one of my more sensible friends and is less likely to get carried away in the moment.

Two bottles of wine and something called a "Midori Illusion" says she might need to be recategorized.

Goodbye, Civilization

I've been informed that a project in Perth we've been waiting on for ages is finally coming through, and I will be the project manager.

I generally wouldn't mind this, except that they believe that it's best that I essentially live in Perth for the duration of the project, and potentially longer depending on various client relationships.

The thought of spending more than a couple of weeks in a city with less than 2 million people, even if it was apparently ranked #5 in the World's Most Livable Cities, is almost heartbreaking. To fight the chances that I'll commit suicide within the first few days, I'm starting a list of things that should make me happy about this development:

The frequent flyer points - lame, yes, but a few round trips to Perth and I should make it to the next level of flyer on my usual airline. I'm pretty sure that means that each time I arrive at the airport I'll be massaged while carried to my flight by Burmese virgins.

Proximity to some of my favorite wineries - if I can drink 3 bottles of the stuff at 4,000km away, imagine the damage I can do if I'm actually over there!

Cold, hard, cash - for each month I spend out there I'll be entitled to collect close to $2000 extra in my paycheck, which is just a little bit amazing considering accomodation and travel will already be covered.


And by focusing on all of those things, I've almost dulled the pain of realizing that my social life is about to be decimated for the rest of the year. Almost.

Alert: Brain Cell Count Dangerously Low

After last weekend where I went out drinking and singing karaoke with a sore throat and then lost my voice, you'd think I would know to take it easy for at least a little while. But you'd be wrong.

While I managed to exert a little self-control on Friday night and headed home around 10, I seemed to see no issues with meeting Ginny and Jam at 5pm on Saturday and ordering wine by the bottle.

The last things I remember of the evening were possibly falling on someone I had just met, and inhaling a slice of pizza on the way home.

Needless to say I had even less of a voice on Sunday morning and declined to leave the apartment in fear of scaring any young children that might not be comfortable with the fact that I sounded like Cancer Man.

I am now aiming to not drink (much) until Friday, and would appreciate your support through these hard times.

Can't Liiiiiiive, If Living Is Without Youuu

With Twitter down for the second time in less than 24 hours, my colleagues and I have had to find other ways to distract ourselves in the office (doing work not being a serious option) and I came across this article that reminds me of one of the main regrets I have about moving to Australia -- no McRibs!



I realize some people are utterly disgusted by these things, as they probably should be, but I have been known to eat four of these in one go after a big night out, and it's hard to describe how much I need one right now after attending an MTV party last night that involved free wine, beer, and Jager shots for three hours. If I hadn't destroyed so many brain cells, I'd be starting a petition.

I'm A Simple Man

Colleague: Why are you squinting at that piece of paper?

Zander: I have really bad eyesight.

Colleague: Really? Why don't you get glasses?

Zander: I refuse to wear glasses until I'm 30 -- only 4 months to go!

Colleague: Are you serious? Don't you get headaches?

Zander: Nope.

Colleague: But what do you do when you can't see something far away?

Zander: I stop looking at it.

Colleague: ...

Why There Are So Many Shitty Products On The Market

I somehow almost forgot to write about my amazing focus group experience last week. For the two-second backstory, I met up with a friend for drinks a few months back and she had just come from a focus group. She recommended I sign up, seeing as I love giving my opinion on pointless nonsense all the time, so why not get paid for it?

I eventually did register with a market research company, and finally last week, one of them called me and asked me to attend a focus group after work one day. This was after they'd sent me a survey where I claimed that I drink sparkling water all the time, which is an out and out lie considering I can't stand sparkling water. But why worry about these minor details?

Anyway, I went to the focus group, and while my attempts to drink sparkling water without gagging were amusing and all, easily the best part about it was meeting the people who apparently do these sorts of things all the time. Here's a rundown of the characters I was paid spend a glorious 90 minutes with:

The Country Bumpkin - Guy who apparently just moved to Sydney from the asshole of nowhere, and spent the first 5 minutes of the session ranting about how when he first moved to the city the water made him violently ill for 2 weeks straight. He had almost nothing to say for the remaining 88 minutes. Thanks for your contribution.

The Chauvinist Pig - As soon as the facilitator asked us if we drank water for a specific reason and gave an example, this guy would respond with something along the lines of "Nah mate, only chicks care about shit like that..." or "We're blokes! That crap doesn't matter!" I am willing to put money on the likelihood that this dude sleeps in women's underwear.

The Wannabe Advertiser - When asked about the intended advertising campaign for this new brand of sparkling water, this guy not only disliked the one they had, but then took several minutes describing what he thought were better marketing concepts, as if he thought he was in a job interview.

The Faux Doctor - Kept reminding us all that he worked "in the medical profession", although the fact that he never said he was a doctor makes me assume he is a hospital janitor. Used his "expertise" to repeatedly dismiss any benefits the brand attempted to advertise about water being good for you.



Those were easily my favorites, and I'm not sure what they would have thought of me considering I had so little to say other than nit-picking at some sort of marketing pamphlet we were asked to look at (" I don't know, using the word 'fairly' here sounds very non-committal..."), so I was probably the OCD American, which sums me up pretty accurately.

In any case, I really hope I get another invitation to one of these, I think I would actually pay them for this kind of entertainment.

I Should Go To The Supermarket More Often

After having a bit of a sore throat for a few days and doing the opposite of taking it easy on Friday night, I woke up on Saturday with an even sorer throat and no voice. Deciding to act like a remotely intelligent mammal, I made Saturday a quiet one. I skipped a BBQ with some friends, met some others in the evening for two glasses of red wine (which is basically cough syrup) and then went to dinner before heading home and going to bed early.

Sunday was heading in the same direction, until I headed out the door to pick up some food at the supermarket and ended up meeting a friend for breakfast. It seemed harmless enough at the time, but when one considers that I was meeting Juice, then it seems less than surprising that I found myself at a trashy bar in Kings Cross before noon ordering jugs of cheap beer.

If nothing else, I will congratulate myself on making it home before 7pm and getting to bed at a reasonable time. The same can't be said for Juice, unfortunately, who has no recollection of when or how he got home on Sunday night (or perhaps Monday morning) and didn't see the inside of his office until Tuesday.

In the meantime, my throat will clearly need a few extra days to heal. Shame about the drinks scheduled from Wednesday thru Saturday nights.

Nice Working With You, Bruce Lee

Normally I'd blog about something silly or offensive I'd done as part of my usual Friday night routine. Maybe I would mention the fact that we went to karaoke, and when the Chinese girl from work decided to sing a song in Mandarin, I grabbed the other microphone and sang backup with lyrics like "spicy pork dumplings" and "bok choy in oyster sauce". Or the latest offensive joke that I decided to tell at a work event.

But all of that pales in comparison to the fact that around 9pm, as I was standing chatting to a few of my colleagues, one of them suddenly went flying and landed on the ground halfway across the room. Turns out that another coworker had been discussing fly kicking with some of our young graduates, and decided to show off his skills on an unsuspecting victim standing nearby.

Needless to say he was immediately kicked out of the bar, and I'm sure this will result in us having to listen to some pointless speech on "drinking and violence at work events" and which parts of company policy they violate. But as one of the graduates summed it up with wide eyes immediately afterwards, 'That's the coolest thing I've ever seen!"

Damn right.

Just Sign Me Up For World of Warcraft

In yet another breach of my supposed rules for myself when it comes to my iPhone, I have not only downloaded a game for my phone, but I even paid for it. I had told myself that not only do I not need games for my phone, but that I didn't want to pay for any applications because how could they possibly be worth it?

In this case, I was pressured into it and only gave in because I got an agreement that I was owed a beer if the game was retarded. After proclaiming that it was indeed a waste of time, it took only 24 more hours before I was so addicted that I played until my phone battery died.

To make matters worse, the game in question (Flight Control) actually is really dumb. Essentially I act as an air traffic controller and guide aircraft in to land at the airport without any of them crashing into each other. And yet, I am fully addicted to this crap:


The one thing that still annoys me about it is how every time a plane lands it congratulates you -- but in addition to the regular "Great!" and "Well done!", it also tells you things like "Jolly Good!" and "Good Show!", which leaves me visualizing Basil Fawlty yelling at me while I'm trying to waste my life playing a game that leaves my vision blurry after only a few minutes of playing.

Seriously, someone shoot me.

Where's My Trophy?

As some sort of reminder to myself that a few quiet weekends doesn't make me any more mature and sensible, I managed to make a complete ass out of myself on Saturday night.

At the second of three parties I was attempting to make it to that night, I'd had just enough wine (I'd estimate about three bottles) to stumble and fall backwards over a friend's coffee table and take out all of the drinks on it. I hear the red wine stains have actually come out, but I apparently also managed to sent the table itself.

My lack of shame is probably something I should actually feel guilty about, but instead I'm just grateful that this was the only photo that anyone managed to snap before I stopped laughing hysterically and was capable of standing up:


Consider me extremely appreciative of the iPhone's lack of a flash for it's camera.

Bring. It. On.

OMG OMG OMG! Hadn't checked my blog stats in months, and I went in today and found this:



I think it's a fair assumption that this is Sarah Palin, considering there are likely 2 computers in Wasilla, Alaska, and there's a good chance that one of them is only used to play solitaire. Hopefully the fact that I communicate using words instead of water color paintings won't scare her off too much on her first visit. Promise I won't tell my favorite joke about what the difference is between her mouth and her vagina. Well, maybe in the comments.

Saturday, In An Electronic Nutshell

Birthday Party #1

Drinking for three hours. Highlight: Telling a couple I've just met that their baby is cute but I'd rather they'd brought a puppy.


Birthday Party #2

Finding the atmosphere in the restaurant a bit subdued and telling racist jokes until it was time for me to head to the next event. Final words: "Let the bitch cook in the dark."


Birthday Party #3

Exhausted from 8 hours of drinking (not to mention old age), I have two drinks, grab a friend's breasts inappropriately and head home.



This is my life.

I Should Host A Game Show Or Something

Each month we have a two-hour meeting on Friday afternoon with the extended team of about 200 people. Drinks are provided which makes it marginally less painful to sit through people who do things I have zero understanding of talking about their latest projects as if the rest of us could possibly care.

One segment is just an update on engagements and marriages, people who had babies, recent hires, and people who have resigned. And for some reason, I was put forward as the ideal person to present that segment this month.

I might have done alright if the segment had been closer to the beginning of the meeting. As a result, the following ensued:

• I decided to bring a bottle of wine with me from the drinks table so I wouldn't have to keep getting up during the meeting

• I got progressively drunker throughout the meeting, including talking while everyone else was presenting

• I was still talking to the people around me when I realized the room had gone quiet, and looked up to see my name on the screen

• I then swore - loudly - and stumbled to the front of the room

• For some reason, I started by talking about myself

• My first announcement was one I made up on the spot, about how a guy on our team had gotten engaged at lunchtime, and I made everyone give him a round of applause. He's never even had a girlfriend.

• I fortunately refrained from saying that I think newborn babies are gross - but it crossed my mind

• When one of our team's new hires declined to tell an embarrassing story about himself, I stepped in and told one about him

• At the end I was supposed to congratulate certain people from another team within my division on passing some exam, which I worded as "Congratulations on passing your exam and becoming...uh...certified, or whatever it is that happens to you now."

The whole routine got more than a few laughs, but I think we can be confident that senior management was not impressed and I likely won't be asked to present at that meeting again any time soon.

On the plus side, I got drunk for free.

This Is Why I Don't Live In America

I originally saw this on The Soup the other day and was completely "flabbergasted", for lack of a cooler word. I was going to blog about it in more detail, but I think this guy has the topic pretty much covered. Wow. (Click on image to view the video on YouTube.)

It's Not Easy Being This Predictable

I went into the weekend with some semblance of a hope that it would be another quiet one. And I came so close.

My dinner on Friday might have been marginally more civilized if I hadn't started drinking at lunchtime, resumed again at 4pm in the office, and continued through dinner. I could have been tempted to stay out after dinner, but fortunately the two girls at the dinner table who apparently weren't speaking to each other kind of ruined the mood and I was home and in bed before 11.

On Saturday I attempted to stay in watching Law & Order reruns, but by the time 3pm rolled around I was in no state of mind to refuse an invitation to drinks, and found myself at the pub. The tequila shots before 7pm started a severe downward spiral involving champagne, Smirnoff Blackouts, and something in a can that may have contained bourbon, all of which resulted in my spending 90% of Sunday laying on the couch. Watching Law & Order reruns.

It's the circle of life, really.

Seriously?

Not to rehash overplayed recent events or anything, but this whole Michael Jackson thing is a bit too much for me.

On June 24th, he was a weirdo with a half-melted plastic face and creepy (read: probably illegal) attitudes towards children. And apparently starting from June 25th, he was one of the most amazing people in history and to say anything negative about him means you're a bad, bad person.

While I think some of the obituaries and articles that only focus on his scandals, legal issues and financial woes are in somewhat poor taste, the idea that I'm no longer allowed to even mention the fact that the dude was clearly one of the biggest freaks in modern times annoys the crap out of me. Or maybe I'm just bitter because I'm pretty sure the moment I die people aren't going to magically forget what a complete asshole I was. Whatever. If I want to tweet jokes about MJ being a dead pedophile all day while everyone else is being melodramatic, I will, and I won't feel bad about it.

The most offensive part is the people wailing in the streets and saying things like "A part of my childhood has died." Actually you self-obsessed dickhead, an ACTUAL PERSON has died, and you were not him, you were not related to him, and there's a 99.73 chance that you never even met the dude. As a matter of fact, your life before his death is likely identical to your life after his death, other than your incessant moaning about a guy who hadn't released anything worth listening to in over a decade. SHUT UP.

Is This What Being A Dad Is Like?

After a couple of years of fighting the iPhone craze (which wasn't too tough considering the original version didn't come with features that were considered basic on other smartphones) I have finally given in to the iPhone 3GS that came out in the last few weeks.

And after all that, I can also say that this thing is everything that I feared it would be - awesome and addictive being the first two words that come to mind.



(Not sure why a photo is necessary, I imagine everyone knows what these godforsaken things look like by now.)

For the first time I've actually bought a protective cover for my phone, considering the last few times I spent a lot of money on a phone, they've either ended up lost or with a cracked screen because I sat on them or something equally stupid.

My main concern now is that I've had this phone for 4 days and I've blatantly been sitting in the office playing with it at my desk the entire time, with only vague references to the fact that I work in the digital industry to defend myself.

Good thing there's probably an app to keep me warm at night once this whole employment thing falls through.

Slippery Slope

I just went downstairs for my morning swim, as I was a judge in a cake competition yesterday and also ate an unfortunate amount of food otherwise too, and was definitely in need of the exercise.

However I saw that there were far too many people in the pool, and I am now back upstairs in my apartment eating cheese and Ritz crackers.

Awesome.

Still Got It

After a few weekends that were neither quiet or retarded, one side finally won out this past weekend. Or at least for one night.

I met up with Juice, the Hickster, and a few stragglers on Friday night for a few drinks and "nothing too crazy". A few bottles of wine later I was destroying furniture at one of Sydney's most exclusive bars, and had trouble remembering how I got home. When I woke up on Saturday morning, the feeling that I might be dying was slightly outweighed by the comforting fact that no one else remembered getting home, although Juice did recall not being allowed to enter at least one rather trashy bar on Oxford Street.

After spending most of Saturday laying on the couch and hoping for a quick death, I allowed Junior to drag me to a showing of Transformers 2, which was shockingly bad enough to allow me to redirect my anger at myself for my hangover into fully fledged rage against those responsible for making such an awful movie.

We stopped by a 30th birthday later on but only lasted for 2 beers before I needed Indian food and my bed.

This was in sharp contrast to both Juice and the Hickster, one of whom started drinking before noon on Saturday despite waking up drunk, and the other partying until 7am Sunday morning and losing her third coat of the week.

I realize one shouldn't evaluate their lives by comparing themselves to their friends who are busy setting new standards for devious and self-destructive behavior, but it's really the only thing keeping my self-esteem afloat at the moment. I'm sure you understand.

New Addition To My Shit List

From Overheard In New York:

Guy #1: Are you Xander with an x or Zander with a z?

Guy #2: An x.

Guy #1: Nobody likes a Xander with a z.

--Hunter College

I'm Getting Worse At This

Apologies for my absence, I'm not sure what excuse I can really provide for the fact that my commitment to blogging is deteriorating faster than the illusion of democracy in Iran.

In the meantime, my photo of the day:

People Who Should Not Have A Job

I casually went to check the weather online and I noticed a scantily clad blonde dancing in the top right of my screen. I realize that some of the shock and tastelessness is lost without the animation, but I can't even begin to describe all of the things that are wrong with this ad:



I mean, where would one start? The incomprehensible text? (What's with the "4/9"? Is that a date?) The fact that regardless of the alphabet, "Alabama" should never the default option for anything? Or just the utter irrelevanance of a stripper when it comes to refinancing your home loan?

It's times like these, when unemployment is so high, that you have to wonder how the numerous people who must have been involved in getting that ad to where it is today are still being paid for anything.

Too Old For This

On Friday night I met up with a couple of work-related friends and we started drinking at a couple of the more respectable establishments in Sydney. Hours later we were hopping from one trashy bar to another on Oxford Street when the night ended around 2am because one girl seemed to have sprained or broken her ankle and couldn't actually walk. We confirmed the next morning that she was fine, meaning she was simply so drunk that her ankle had stopped working.

After sleeping until noon the next day, I managed to stay sober for just a few hours until meeting up with the Hickster and a few bottles of wine. My hopes of having a quiet-ish night to recover were clearly when I ended up dancing and doing shots at a club in the Cross after midnight, using someone's birthday as an excuse.

I think I have a problem.

Everything I Feared It Would Be

Despite the fact that I knew I'd essentially owe Mastercard my next paycheck when I got back from my South American holiday, I agreed before I left that I would do something I've always avoided - go on a cruise.

My mental image of cruises has always been a boat full of thousands of people whose average IQ doesn't come anywhere near triple digits and have a fashion sense that hasn't evolved since 1991 and wasn't acceptable back then either, in any case.

And so, when I boarded this cruise ship on Friday evening for a trip up the coast from Sydney to Brisbane, all of my fears were realized. Suddenly, I was surrounded by people with permed hair and tapered jeans who seemed to think they were living the life because they'd just spent what was probably a week's salary on a $400 2-day cruise.

While I will admit to having a good time, I can qualify that by saying that I was with a group of 7 people which meant we could close ranks and defend ourselves against the onslaught of bad taste and idiocy that we were surrounded by. I am also very thankful that I 'forgot' to bring my camera along, since there's only so much laughing one can do at this sort of a situation. In the absence of my own photos, here's one I found off the web that should suffice:


Needless to say, I will be drinking those memories away this weekend.

Oh Geez

It's Thursday and I haven't posted anything here since Saturday!

Tough shit.

I Demand A Trophy

Last night the Hickster and I met a friend to take a tour of some potential spots for my 30th birthday party, and agreed that we'd go out for a couple more before heading home and having a relatively quiet night.

We jumped in a taxi, told him where we were going, and I started telling a few of my funnier vacation stories.

Suddenly, as we were almost at our destination, the cab driver flips out us. He turns around and starts yelling "IN EIGHTEEN YEARS YOU ARE THE WORST PASSENGERS I HAVE EVER HAD!"

While we weren't hammered by any stretch, we were feeling rather cheeky after a few wines each, and proceeded to qualify this statement.

Zander: I don't know how you can say that. Surely you've had passengers who have vomited in your taxi.

Driver: YES, AND YOU ARE WORSE THAN THEM! THE TALKING AND THE LAUGHING!*

Hickster: What about people who have sex in your taxi?

Driver: YES, YOU ARE WORSE THAN THEM TOO.

Zander & Hickster: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

Zander: Well at least we know we don't have to tip him.


In the end it's a bit of a dubious honor - while I have no doubt that we were painfully annoying, the idea that our voices and laughter could linger long enough to trump the act of cleaning a stranger's vomit (or bodily fluids) out of the back of your taxi is implausible, at best. Still, we'll take it, and I'm already looking into where we can get little trophies made.


*Driver's statements are even more hilarious when re-read with an Arab accent.

Aye Carumba!

Well I'm back from a month jet setting around South America. The trip was amazing, but I will admit that as much as I love to travel, 4 weeks in one go is a bit much, so some part of me is happy to be back in Sydney with some sort of plan about where to be each morning.

I'm still in the process of putting together the resulting photo albums (and by that I mean I haven't even transferred the photos off my camera yet) so here's a quick rundown of each place I visited:

1) Buenos Aires - I actually went back to Buenos Aires for much longer at the end of my trip, so this 24 hour stint there just consisted of checking into the hotel, walking through a very dodgy area to get to a quasi-tourist attraction, and going out for an early dinner (that's around 10pm by Argentinean standards) so that I could get up in time for a morning flight the next day. More on BA later, though.

2) Iguazu Falls - It's either the biggest or highest or loudest waterfalls in the world, or something like that. In any case, it was cool, and didn't require more than 24 hours to see it. Perfect for my short attention span.

3) Rio de Janeiro - Pretty much everything you'd expect Rio to be...beautiful beaches, great restaurants and nightlife, and a certain probability of getting stabbed after dark. And of course we did the requisite hang gliding while there, which I can admit to hesitating at originally, but was one of the highlights of the whole trip.


4) Lima - We actually ended up flying through Sao Paolo and Santiago over 24 hours in order to get to Lima, but considering the detour also involved drinking for free with some cool Australians in the airport lounge in Santiago, it was probably worth it. Lima itself left much to be desired, but we were there less than 24 hours so I won't bitch too much.

5) The Amazon - Gross, as expected. That's all the nature I need for at least another 5 years, thanks.

6) Cuzco/Sacred Valley/Macchu Pichu - You may be surprised to know that I actually enjoy climbing around ancient ruins, even if a bar isn't part of the reconstruction plan. High altitude and low oxygen, on the other hand, sucks ass.

7) Lake Titicaca - I actually spent a night on an island in the middle of the lake with a local family that didn't have steady electricity or any form of running water. Please feel free to slap a few gold stars on my ass next time you see me.

8) La Paz - Creepiest city I've ever been to. I'm not sure how long it takes to get used to seeing dried llama fetuses hanging outside shops on the street, but I can assure you that I didn't reach that level of comfort in 4 days time.

9) Santiago - Considering we were only there for 2 full days, and after a big night out I only left the hotel on the second day to go to McDonald's for dinner, I'm not sure I'm in a position to say much about this city. Seemed clean, though?

10) Buenos Aires - I want to live here. Amazing food, nightlife that makes New York look a bit slack, and a low enough cost of living that I'm pretty sure even my salary and excessive spending would still put me on a path to home ownership.


And so I'm now back at work in Sydney, struggling with low motivation and jet lag, and officially poor for the next 2 months while I essentially transfer any salary payments directly to Mastercard. This means either a very quiet time over the next few weeks, or (more likely) an increase in trashy nights drinking in the apartments of friends. I know you're hoping for the latter, so I'll see what I can do. Assholes.

Arriba!

Well kids, I'm off to South America this morning. In true Zander form it's 6am, I have to leave for the airport in less than 2 hours, and I haven't even started packing. How could that possibly end badly?

Junior and I have upgraded to business class using our points, which is good considering it's a 13 hour flight, although I'm more concerned that it will make the flight back in a month seem even more painful.

And I should probably mention that I doubt I'll be updating the blog much, if at all, while I'm gone. Most of my trips usually include at least a few days in the comfort of a home in a developed country where I can post the occasional inane blurb about how my trip is going, but this time I'm likely to be too busy turning down drugs and dying of malaria to log on. May I recommend the vintage posts starting from 2004 to keep you busy, as I was much more obnoxious and entertaining back in those days anyway. See you guys soon.

Was It Something I Said?

Apparently something about my latest posts has Google Ads thinking that you, dear readers, are clearly suffering from various behavioral and speech disorders:


I still say the ones for alcohol treatment were more relevant.

Gee, Thanks

Not too much to report from the weekend.

I had a quiet Friday night to save energy for what I knew would be a hectic Saturday. I went to a BBQ in the afternoon, and then went to three different birthday parties over the course of the rest of the night.

The result is I am proud of myself for making it to everyone's birthday celebrations, even if I didn't have any fun because I was always getting ready to head to the next event.

Also, there's nothing more fulfilling than getting out of a taxi in the pouring rain 1am to go for a drink with the last birthday boy, everyone being completely hammered, and all of them subsequently not remembering you were there when they wake up the next morning.

Assholes.

We All Make Choices In Life

Last night I received invites to after work drinks from two of my friends who I would comfortably class as "almost alcoholics". Fortunately for me, I already had plans to head over to a friend's place for dinner, and so I turned down the offer to grab drinks and told my friends to have fun without me.

I just received a photo from the evening that I missed, and all I can really say is that one sign of hitting rockbottom is meeting someone for a drink after work on a WEDNESDAY and ending up like this:


(Well, some would argue that rockbottom is more like your friend taking a photo, emailing it to another friend, and that friend posting it on his blog for all to see, but that argument is really neither here nor there at this point.)

I Swear On Mickey Mouse

Sorry, this just popped into my head...something that actually happened to me, but I get the feeling that no one believes me when I tell them. So I'm going to blog it, because everyone believes what they read on the internet.

Years ago, when I was still living in NYC, I went to the movies one afternoon with a friend. We had a few minutes before the movie started, so I figured I would get some snacks, and saw a vending machine for ice cream bars.

I went over and selected the frozen Mars bar, put in the appropriate amount of money, and waited for it to arrive.

Finally, it fell out of the vending machine with a thunk. And as I looked down and prepared to grab it, I saw a mouse run out from under the machine, and straight into a movie theater. Which, by itself, is kinda gross. But I then looked up, and the theater the house had run into was showing none other than...Stuart Little 2.

I shit you not.

Four Days Is A Bit Much

We just finished the 4-day Easter weekend and I realize I might be in the minority for saying this, but I don't think 4 days off from work is really necessary. Mostly because Australians purely see this as a reason to be drunk for a week straight, and with my new wiser and more mature sensibilities, I look down on such things.

Having said that, I fully participated. For some reason I organized after-work drinks on Thursday evening. You know things are going downhill when 1) the first bar you are at tells your group to leave because the bar is closing (at the random time of 8.41pm), but doesn't seem to be mentioning this to anyone else 2) the coworker who has a habit of getting completely shit-faced and waking up in weird places, including a stranger's backyard and a towel closet at a 5-star hotel, says that things are getting too messy and he needs to go home and 3) one of your colleagues goes to the bar to ask for a water and the bartender serves extra waters "in case anyone else over there needs one". We so classy.

In the slightest nod to the holy weekend, not to mention the need to stop Australians from drinking because they certainly won't stop themselves, bars in Sydney close at 10pm on Good Friday, thank god. We all went out for Junior's birthday dinner and some drinks, and I feigned disappointment when it was time to go home but really I was sort of relieved.

On Saturday I hosted a bit of a lunch/BBQ/roast at my place and invited around 10 people over. You'd think that eating unnecessary amounts of food would have slowed down the intoxication of those in attendance, however shortly after 6pm at least two people could barely stand up and the party ended a bit early. Considering we didn't really start the party until 2pm and ate a massive meal at 4, that is nothing short of tragic.

Sunday was another BBQ but at the risk of sounding weak, 4 nights in a row is too much even for me, and I was home and in bed before midnight. And so, Monday was a quiet day involving leftovers and the first season of 30 Rock, about 2 years after everyone else watched it.

And just as I was ready for a quiet short week and avoiding alcohol until Friday, I've just been reminded that I have a birthday dinner tonight, and dinner at a friend's place tomorrow, and I am now starting to wonder if any of my South America vacation will be refundable if my liver falls out before I get to Buenos Aires in 2 weeks. Help.

Babysitting Services Available

We recently started chatting about children in the office -- we only have a couple of people in our team that have kids, although a few recent marriages probably means more are on the way. Great, just what the world needs.

I'm personally torn on the topic -- I think kids are cute and lovely, but only as long as they do what they're told and don't cry or throw tantrums or require any extra effort other than playing with them for my own personal entertainment and giving them back to someone when I'm done.

Not only that, but I find a crying child completely unacceptable in public. I recently sat on a 5 hour flight listening to someone's brat scream the whole time and by the time the plane touched down I was possibly a few seconds away from lecturing the parents on how they could have left the baby behind for this trip and just brought some photos along instead. Likewise, I think young children in restaurants is just rude, and I believe it should be understood that if you choose to get knocked up and pop these suckers out, then you have just chosen to confine yourself to private houses until your child knows how to act in public. It's only fair to the rest of us.

In the end, if children of any age refuse to act appropriately, I stand by the school of thought that says it's acceptable to use statements like "Hey kiddo, why don't you go play with the pretty bottles under the sink and I'll come see how you're doing in a couple of hours". Consider it a sort of Darwinian situation, with the end result being win-win for society as a whole.

Pussies

Every year around this time we get a few days that are cooler than what we've seen since before summer started, and everyone in Sydney starts whining about how winter has arrived. Many of them bust out the scarves and winter jackets and might even call in sick claiming they have a cold.

Just to give you an idea of "winter" approaching in Sydney, please see the weather forecast for the next 5 days:


(For those who speak Celsius, a.k.a. the vast majority of the world, it's going to be around 25 degrees on Friday/)

And so, please join me in serving my fellow Sydney-siders with a hot, steaming mug of shut the fuck up. Seriously.

Let's Have Some Fun, This Beat Is Sick

Per usual, I was hopeless this weekend at staying quiet and not spending more in one weekend than most people on the planet make in a year.

Friday wasn't too bad (I was home before 10, although considering we started drinking at our desks at 3.30pm, it wasn't exactly sober) and Saturday went from my plan for quiet lawn bowls in the afternoon to partying at an apartment and contemplating getting into the massive jacuzzi on their roof. Don't worry, didn't happen.

Now I'm struggling because a friend has just texted to let me know he's at a bar nearby, but I'm determined to stay in and spend the evening cooking. And as I've been typing this I've decided that a happy medium might be opening a bottle of red to keep me company while I'm slaving away in the kitchen. Photos of my third degree burns coming soon.

Status Report

I'm feeling guilty about slacking on the blog front this week -- alas, my week involved a trip across the country to spend less than 24 hours in Perth, hence being busy and disoriented. You know you've just gone on a pointless trip when you don't see any purpose in bringing along a charger for your phone or iPod, and don't actually set your clocks back because you'll be back in your original time zone so soon anyway.

While in Perth I had a few hours of meeting and attended a trivia night with the client. Clearly you're held in high regard in the office when you tell your boss about the trivia night beforehand, and she pleads with you not to get too drunk and act like an asshole.

In other news, I have tried to set myself a $400 cash limit each week to cover drinking, eating out, and taxis. It's Friday morning and I have about $100 left, despite the fact that we haven't reached the most expensive two days of the week. I'd consider this a total budget fail, but the Australian government has just approved stimulus payments so I think I'm covered, and will try again next week.

In the meantime, there are farewell drinks tonight and possibly drunken lawn bowls tomorrow, check Facebook for embarrassing photos that I don't manage to untag quickly enough, which is my new favorite pasttime.

It's The Monastery Life For Me

Apologies for going quiet, but my weekend was uncharacteristically subdued. This is mostly because I organized Thursday drinks which turned into me staggering home around 1am and needing several days to fully recover.

The apparent highlight of the night (which I don't remember but was recounted to me over drinks last night) was me being introduced to a friend's colleague and pulling on his curly hair and asking if he was "Jewish or something". Nice.

I even managed a couple of hours at a day spa for a massage and facial to top it all off, since I foresee some very messy weekends ahead, in part because the 4-day Easter Weekend is coming up, and it's what Jesus would have wanted.

Bipolar Advertising

When I changed the template on my blog, the Google ads down the side of the page seemed to have vanished, which was upsetting. Not because I make any real money off of these ads (I seriously make about $0.01 each time someone clicks on one of those) but I find it highly entertaining to see what Google thinks are appropriate ads based on the content of my recent posts.

So imagine my delight when I looked at my blog the other day and the ads were back. Especially because these were the first two listings:


Apparently Google isn't too concerned about mixed messages. Nice work, team.

Fine, Don't Show Up

Although I've been on Facebook for almost 2 years now, I'm still adjusting to various elements of Facebook etiquette. Being who I am, I have no real qualms about deleting a "friend" or 20 at a time, and I often use my status updates to tell people what losers they are. Consider it a public service announcement.

The one thing that continues to get my goat (I'm trying to bring that one back) is events on Facebook. I love the idea that a site that so many people use can be an invite list management tool, but it seems that not everyone got the memo on "How Not To Be Rude, Even If We Are Online". At least back in the days of evite, which was used pretty widely in the US but never took off in Australia, you had total control over the guest list to the extent that I could move people from the "Not Replied" column to "Attending", since I knew they were rude lazy shits that would claim to be too busy to click once on a page they were already looking at.

Alas, in these new days, one simply has to adapt to the following code:

Attending = Possibly, if nothing better comes up
Maybe Attending = I hope you consider this my attempt to come to your event, even though I put zero actual effort into it
Not Attending (with a comment on the wall) = I actually would like to come, but whatever, I'm not
Not Attending (without a comment on the wall) = Oh, are we still friends on this thing? Need to remember to do something about that


And more often that not, the people who actually do show up never bothered replying because they couldn't be bothered.

The reason this bothers me is not because of actual numbers who may or may not attend my events, it's because it makes me look unpopular. Case in point - a day and a half ago I sent a somewhat last minute invite for drinks this evening after work because Miss Chong is in town for a few days and I thought it would be good to introduce her to a few people and have a night out. The numbers?

Attending: 9 (sadly, that includes myself)
Maybe Attending: 17
Not Attending: 4
Not Yet Replied: 70 (including the guest of honor herself, plus at least 8 people who have told me in person or via email that they are coming, but apparently couldn't grasp the concept of an RSVP)


Which makes me think that I might have to go back to email-only invites to events until Facebook lets me play God the way evite did. I am a small, petty man. Awesome.

"You Need A New Liver."

I was reading a recent NYTimes article (actually it is billed as a "blog" which annoys me because I don't see how it's different from one of their articles other than the comments and some marginally different font and page formatting, but I digress) about how we choose drinks based on what we want people to think of us. No huge revelations there, but I still found it an interesting read.

Of course it led me to think about what my drink selections say about me. When I was in New York, my drink of choice was a vodka tonic, both because I liked the taste and also because it was something I'd picked up from my mother. I also thought it seemed a bit classier than drinking a beer, which I associated with poor people and the uncultured. Wine was something that I drank with dinner, but wasn't socially acceptable to be ordered anywhere else.

Moving to Sydney changed all that. Australia (along with other countries like the UK and Ireland, where binge drinking is essentially the norm and a bit of a public hazard) requires that one serve of hard alcohol is equal to one regular shot glass, or 30ml. Considering how much vodka a NYC bartender would normally pour into a vodka tonic, this meant that even ordering a double and paying twice as much left me wondering if I had just been duped into paying for a glass of tonic.

And so, I generally stick to beer and wine. Australian beers are a little bit awesome, especially when compared to the chilled frothy urine that passes for the American version. If I find myself in most places that I would class as a "pub", there's no question that I will order beer. I can actually think of certain pubs I go to on a regular basis that I have never ordered anything other than beer. This is possibly in the fear of anyone in the bar thinking I'm not a real man, which is hilarious considering how many other reasons they would have to think that. But alcohol, much like love, defies logic.

However any trip to somewhere with a nicer atmosphere means that I will lean towards ordering a decent bottle of Sauvignon Blanc, ideally with a friend, as the looks that come along with asking for a bottle and one glass generally aren't kind. I imagine that being specific about my choice of wine makes me seem more worldly than the fatass next to me asking for a $3 schooner of beer, which is also ironic considering that wine gets me drunk and beligerent so much faster and results in many more broken glasses and hurt feelings.

The one other choice that happens literally a handful of times a year is a Smirnoff Black (a.k.a. Smirnoff Blackout) which might seem like a girly drink at first glance, but essentially says that I've decided I have no issues with not remembering anything that has happened or will happen within 3 hours in either direction of that first sip. Because really, you have to save the good stuff for special occasions.

Dickhead

I went out briefly on Saturday night after a nice, quiet day at home. Killed a 6 pack of beer at a friend's place and then headed out to a club to say hi to a few others.

At one point a photographer walked up and quickly snapped a photo of me and a couple of friends, and feeling a bit feisty, I decided to yell at him as he walked away. I believe it was something along the lines of "I'm so sick of you paparazzi following me around! Can't I just have some privacy! I'm a person too! LEAVE. ZANDER. ALONE!!!"

My friends (who I should more accurately refer to as acquaintances, or perhaps former acquaintances now) were sufficiently horrified. This is why I don't get invited out more often.

Unnecessary

Probably should have known last night was going to be material for embarrassment in the morning when I was drunk and had broken the seal before I'd even left the office at 5.30pm.

Things that just did not need to happen included:

• Me and the Hickster jumping in a taxi to go meet a friend and then both completely blanking on which bar we were supposed to go to, followed by the Hickster asking the taxi driver to list every bar in Kings Cross he could think of in the hopes that one of them might ring a bell. WTF.

• Being introduced to a colleague of a friend who I assumed was a lesbian, and upon being corrected that she is not actually a lesbian, asking her "Oh, so is this just a phase?"

• Running into an acquaintance I haven't seen in about a year, finding out he just went through a breakup a week ago, and then giving him breakup advice.

And to think that was all accomplished by 11pm. That's efficiency for you.

If You Have To Ask...

The other day I went on a bit of a rant (you know, for something different), this time about how ridiculously enraged I get when someone asks me "So, are you ever moving back to the US?"

For reasons that I have yet to fully understand, that question is insanely annoying to me. My main gripe with it is that it's just a really, really dumb question. It's essentially the equivalent of asking a single person "So, are you ever getting married?"

People, come on. How on earth could I possibly know how the rest of my life is going to play out, unless you lend me your functioning crystal ball moments before asking me that question? I might move back to the US. I might stay in Australia. I might move to Paris. I might do some mix of all of those, plus a few others. I really have no idea, and I don't have some silly five or ten plan in place, considering anyone who has one of those and makes it public generally looks like a jackass in five to ten years unless their "plan" involved something painfully mundane like "getting married and having kids", which pretty much anyone can do as long as they throw all their other far more interesting life plans down the shitter.

Perhaps I'm assuming the worst when someone asks me that question, but I just find it incredibly presumptuous. A more carefully worded "Do you ever think you might want to move back to the US?" is possibly a little more acceptable, although just as hypothetical. I think a "So, how's Australia?" is general enough to seem like you have a more sincere interest in my life, while also standing a pretty good chance of giving you my view on if I'm thinking I might spend much more time here.

Overall, I agree it's likely that I'm being overly sensitive, and people are probably just making small talk and that's one of the more obvious things to ask me considering they haven't seen me in years and don't actually know anything about my life beyond the fact that I now live in Australia. And so, I have agreed that going forward anyone who asks me this question is simply going to get a response of "Next Tuesday" without any further explanation, and we'll see how that goes down. Dumbasses.

Still Drunk Hall of Fame - Lady Gaga

I made my first 'Hall of Fame' post over 4 years ago with the intention of doing one every few months to highlight awesome drunk celebrities. Unfortunately, many drunk famous people are simply not so awesome, and generally come off as kind of creepy and depressing (e.g. Amy Winehouse), so there's been less than one of these a year.

However, I am proud to bestow the latest admission to this esteemed group of dumbasses to none other than Lady Gaga. Over the last few months, as she has topped charts around the world, she has started showing up in photos on almost a weekly basis where she is stumbling out of clubs, or even better, being carried out by her bodyguards.

Now in the interests of full disclosure, I pretty much worshipped this chick from the moment I heard her first single open with the lyrics "I've had a little bit too much..." -- clearly this would be someone I can relate to. And considering her newest song has her telling some dude that she "wants to take a ride on [his] disco stick", I'm pretty sure she's my version of Jesus.

However I think we can all love someone who not only sings about getting drunk, having sex, and partying all night and day, but clearly lives by these things as the pillars of her life and reason for being. And we should probably consider the fact that she walks around dressed in what looks like bedazzled underwear as a bonus.