This Should Be Interesting

On Sunday I will be participating in the City2Surf (a 14km run from Sydney's centre out to Bondi Beach) for the third time. Last year I was pretty focused in my preparation, and my time was just over 72 minutes, and while it was an impressive time I set my sights on doing it in under 70 minutes this year.

And so, in order to prepare to push myself that much harder, here's how I've trained for City2Surf 2012:

• I've been running outside a total of 3 times in the last month
• I have strenuously avoided running or even walking up any kind of hills
• This was after spending 2 weeks eating my way through the US and Mexico
• I love beer

So yeah, this may actually be farcical. And yet, I am still fixated on 70 minutes. Will let you know how that goes.

I Come Bearing Gifts

I know, I've once again ignored my blog for weeks on end. Real posts are coming, but in the meantime I give you the greatest music video since ever.

Where Are They With That Cloning Technology?

I have FIVE projects launching on or around July 1. One of which I've been working on for an entire YEAR. And of course, I am leaving on my next vacation on June 25, so I won't actually be around to watch them all go live.

I'm normally thrilled about holidays, but this one has me mortified because I have so much to do in a week that I'm waking up at 4 in the morning making mental to-do lists. Whenever anyone gives me an excited reminder that I only have a few days left before I jet off to LA-Mexico-Chicago, I actually get heart palpitations.

It's gonna take a lot of tequila to get me to stop worrying about this. Maybe I should start now.

Doctor's Orders

Dental issue seems to be resolved. I went back yesterday (this time to my usual dentist, who told me I was an idiot for taking the laser treatment option) and we just ripped the offending tooth out. Some actual conversations during the 40 minutes I was there:

Dentist: So what do you want to do?
Zander: Let's just rip the tooth out and call it a day, shall we?
Dentist: You know, you may want to just get the bottom wisdom tooth out as well while you're here.
Zander: I don't think that will be necessary.
Dentist: But...
Zander: Listen, I majored in Marketing. I think I know what I'm talking about


Dentist: Okay, so no drinking at the moment while you're healing.
Zander: Wait, for how long?
Dentist: A few days, I guess.
Zander: This is important. I need you to be specific. Can I drink on Friday?
Dentist: Oh whatever, you can drink tonight if you want to.
Zander: Sweet.


Dentist: Now go straight home, get some rest and start taking the painkillers.
Zander: I have tickets to see Prometheus in 3D at the IMAX theatre in 90 minutes.
Dentist: Ooh, tell me how it is! Oh, and no popcorn.


(For the record, my laissez-faire attitude towards medical advice hasn't seem to have backfired. Yet.)

Dental Hell

My excuses for going quiet this time? Apart from work being insane and looking like it will stay that way through the end of the month, I've been having a dental problem for a couple of weeks now. Specifically, a couple of my wisdom teeth have come in a bit more, and as a result the top tooth keeps grinding against the gums on the bottom of my mouth every time I eat or talk.

To summarize - I literally can't stop biting myself.

In any case, I finally went to the dentist (not my usual one) and she gave me two options - remove both the top and bottom wisdom teeth on that side of my mouth, which didn't actually feel like an option given how busy I am at work, or use a laser to cut away the gums that are being affected. I chose the latter, since it sounded simpler and with less complications.

That was 3 days ago, and I'm pretty confident that I chose THE WRONG OPTION. If anything it hurts even more (although at least I can now speak without too much issue, but eating anything other than soup is a disaster), and the back of my mouth looks like an arson scene. Sexy, I know.

Worst part? I'm heading up to the Blue Mountains for the long weekend tomorrow evening, and given it will be horribly cold I would normally spend the entire time eating shitty food. But now I have to bring CANS OF SOUP.

Hope you enjoyed my pity party.

Never Gets Old

I was totally bummed when I realized that I had tickets to see Janelle Monáe perform live at the Sydney Opera House on Sunday night, mostly because I usually would have stayed home and thrown a Eurovision Party.

Thankfully, the days leading up to the Grand Final give you a preview of even the countries that are so awful that they don't even make it to the last night, so I'm still across the awesomeness that is European 'culture'. Forget museums and ancient ruins, THIS is what Europe is all about in the 21st century:

Romania - So it's not particularly noteworthy, however it is a classic example of Eurovision in that it consists of a hot chick in a short/non-existent outfit singing a nonsensical song (have accounted for the English translation). Poorly. At one point she sits on a drum and I actually thought she might be mocking people in wheelchairs. And given the song is named "Mandinga", we should probably just hope she's not being racist. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FGNmRkYZkk4

San Marino - Who says a Eurovision song can't have an important message? Apart from the fact that this song is about Facebook, I love that the subtitle is actually "Oh Oh Uh-Oh Oh". Here's a hint - if the subtitle of your song is both meaningless and makes me have to think about how it would be pronounced, you're not making it past the semi-finals. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y7IoR_5HPQ0

Ireland - I despise the phenomenon that is Jedward, but it's their second year in a row at Eurovision and they're at least good for a laugh. What amazes me is that these two claim to be straight, despite all evidence to the contrary. I mean, why bother? Somehow I doubt anyone who buys their albums could possibly have an issue with homosexuality. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e1cuimKLNpU

Russia - Last, but not least, we have the Russian Grannies, who I assume most people would have heard of even outside this contest. They're around 70 years old (but look closer to 95), some don't have teeth, and they sing dance music while BAKING ON STAGE. In case you haven't heard it yet, I give you "Party For Everybody".




And before you worry, I've already put Eurovision's 2013 date in my calendar to ensure that there's no way I'm missing it again next year. 'Party For Everybody' at my place, y'all.

I'm Fabulous. But I'm Evil.

I may be barrelling towards my mid-thirties, but let it never be said that I can't turn a professional work environment into the next instalment of Mean Girls at any age.

Related: DO NOT PISS ME OFF. Especially when you're stuck sitting directly next to me for the foreseeable future.

Foot, Meet Mouth

Zander: Ugh, the bar at this charity event is a DISASTER. Seriously, how can anyone manage a bar this badly? You'd think this place would have a clue what they're doing.

Friend: Zander, this is my friend Amy. She's the events manager for this bar.

Zander: Oh. Hi.

Aussie Aussie Aussie!

I love how the majority of the time that Australians get international attention, it's for something really stupid and immature. Like this:

So Classy

As one of the inaugural events in my new apartment, I decided to have a few friends over for what I billed as a Champagne Breakfast. The deal was that I would cook up a meal, and each of them would bring a bottle of champagne at 11am on Sunday, and we'd all be super civilized. To be quite honest, it mostly worked. After an insane amount of food and a bottle of champagne each, we were all warm and cozy and full of laughs.

Where this all fell down was when I decided to finish off the evening by heading to the pub for a few beers. While I certainly didn't get overly debaucherous, I can confirm that I woke up in my underwear on my couch around 9.30pm with empty Indian food containers nearby, possibly drooling on myself.

We have decided to avoid thinking about how this would have turned out if Juice had been able to attend, but we're pretty sure there would have been tequila with our scrambled eggs.

Good News or Bad News?

The bad news is that I am so pathetic these days that I had to leave work at 3pm yesterday so I could go home and take a nap. Otherwise I wouldn't have had energy for dinner with friends at a really good French restaurant.

The good news is that I live in a country where this is not only acceptable, but encouraged. My boss actually asked me why I was still here at quarter to 3, when I was clearly really tired before midday.

Now if only I'd been able to use that sort of leeway to spend that time at the pub. The younger version of myself is seriously unimpressed.

Not The New Favorite

Had a pretty chilled out weekend, despite my best intentions of getting hammered - at my age, the constant fear of hangovers really puts a damper on a big night out.

So on Friday night, I decided I shouldn't drink too much white wine, because that would be a guaranteed hangover. Beer would be the same. And so, for some reason, I decided to try a "Paloma":

For anyone who remembers 2004 (I certainly don't), my drink of choice back then was vodka and grapefruit juice, so chosen because grapefruit juice apparently inhibits your liver's ability to function and therefore allows you to get insanely blackout wasted in far less time. Well the Paloma consists of grapefruit juice and...tequila.

No, I have no idea what's wrong with me either.

The Real Cure For Jet Lag

It was true 2 years ago, and even in my old age, it's still true now. You can avoid alcohol and caffeine. You can take small naps or just force yourself to stay awake until a reasonable hour. But the only real way to beat jet lag is to have a little too much to drink and let the hangover win out in the end.

It is 3.24am, but I am already looking forward to some serious alcohol intake after work. It's the only way.

April? No?

Nice, I managed to skip an ENTIRE MONTH of blogging. Not quite sure how that happened, but at least one valid excuse is that I spent almost half the month on vacation in NYC and Chicago.

While there were plenty of laughs and drunken moments, it's amazing how much my trips home have changed in the last 6 years. In 2005, they involved drunken karaoke, partying until 5am, and all the usual dumbassery that I'd left behind when I moved to Australia in the first place. This time, I definitely spent two afternoons of my trip hanging out with Fry and her 6-month old baby, and at least two other friends are pregnant. Intentionally!

So yeah, end of a golden era. Although I will admit that when I woke up with some lower back pain halfway through my time in NYC, I did consider the possibility of kidney failure because I'd been drinking so much. Carrying the torch, you guys.

Somewhat Inefficient

Ouch. Just when I was starting to feel oh-so-mature and adult-like, and less than 48 hours after moving into my awesome new apartment, I woke up Sunday morning to the worst hangover I've had in at least a year. Dear god.

To be honest, I didn't think an afternoon that started like this...

...would end in a blur that none of us could remember. I suppose that's what happens when you're plied with tequila shots on a day when you forgot to eat anything after breakfast.

Also, unpacking is horrible. Unpacking while hungover? Possibly one of the worst things I've ever attempted in my life.

So Close, Yet So Far

People always say "moving is so hard", but tend to follow it up with some sort of sentiment along the lines of "...but once you're in there, you will be so happy and relieved."

I beg to differ. All of my things have been sitting in my new apartment for over an hour, and all I can do is sigh in resignation at the intimidating thought of how many weeks away I clearly am from unpacking, setting up, and actually LIVING in my new apartment. And for at least the next few days, anyone who could see my apartment would think I was auditioning to be the subject of an episode of Hoarders. Ugh.

Yawn

I'm exhausted. Work is absolutely killing me at the moment, and combined with my social life (which still requires I leave the office at 5pm on the dot, thank you very much) it's not leaving much time for sleep and relaxation.

And of course, I'm moving into my new apartment on Friday. The main question people ask for weeks leading up to a move tends to be "Oh, so have you started packing yet?" For some reason, I get defensive about this question. When you're three weeks away from moving, it just sounds stupid. Why the hell would I have started packing already? Leave me alone.

Of course we are now less than 48 hours from when the movers will show up, and thanks to that defensiveness, with a touch of my usual procrastination, I'm pretty sure the only way this can possibly end now is with me frantically throwing all of my belongings into huge garbage bags while the movers take care of anything that is too big or heavy to fit into one of said garbage bags.

For the record, I still think I'm better than you. Yes, you.

Won't Take It Personally

Sometimes you don't realize how shitty some of your furniture actually is until you have to post an ad to sell your "bright red single futon chair" on the web. And nobody response. After you've dropped the price two times.

Low Point of 2012...I Hope

It's been a hectic year already, scary considering we're not even a quarter of the way through. And I've probably already got a few highlights.

As for lowlights, well, it would probably be having to walk around in broad daylight with a friend dressed like this:

I could give you some long excuse about how he was promoting a show and so on, but really, nothing makes this okay.

Timing Is Everything

The last year at work has been a mostly chilled out one. It had its stressful moments, but nothing too intense as my biggest projects all languished in approval limbo.

Also, as mentioned, I've just bought an apartment, which means tons of paperwork and dealing with banks and planning for moving and painting and whatever else.

So guess when all my huge work projects get approved?

THANKS FOR THAT.

In related news, not sure I will have anything remotely fun to blog about for a few weeks as I despair at the fact that someone actually seems to expect me to earn my paycheck.