And Y'all Said I Ain't Classy

I'm no profound lover of art, but I think we can all appreciate the beauty in a truly touching photograph:


You can find the entire gallery here. It's all very moving. And I'm not just saying that because my breakfast consisted of stale Ritz crackers and some cheese I found at the bottom of my fridge.

And That's Two Strikes...

I've just been assigned my first permanent "counsellee" since coming to this job, a new graduate who joined the team this week. I've had a few summer intern/vacationer types before, but this will be the first time I actually have to care because they will be here for more than 3 months.

I already had mixed feelings about the whole thing, but the following items are already threatening my relationship with my counsellee, and thus, his career:

1) As is common these days, I went to Facebook to look him up once I found out what his name was. Not only is his profile freely available to anyone who might want to take a look, but one of his profile photos is definitely of him smoking a bong. This treads the very thin line between excusable due to being young and needing advice, and just lacking common sense as a fundamental trait. And just when I was willing to dismiss this as an easily overlooked error on his part...

2) ...in the email that goes around when someone starts, we ask what songs they have on their iPod or something equally inane. And so, I have major issues that one of the "artists" on his list was none other than Nickelback. I hate Nickelback with such a passion that I'm not sure I can even put it into words. Apart from from the hideously ugly lead singer, and the fact that you can essentially sing almost any of their songs over another because they are the SAME SONG, I don't even think it's possible to like Nickelback in an ironic way. Sure, I like Britney Spears, but not only do I refrain from taking her seriously, but I'm not even sure Britney Spears takes Britney Spears seriously, and therefore I excuse myself from being labelled as someone with genuinely awful taste in music.


And so, it's day 2 of this kid's new job, and he's only one strike away from officially sinking his career in online consulting. Just try me, buddy.

I'm Not Supposed To Be Here

Per my usual weekend plans as of late, I had intended to have a pretty quiet one.

On Friday, I accidentally wore jeans that were somewhat moldy, due to having left them sitting in the washing machine for about, oh, 47 hours longer than I should have, before finally drying them. (It was a busy week, cut me a break.)

Even better was how I realized I was wearing moldy jeans when, as I was sitting on the bus to work, I decided something smelled and started looking around for a homeless person before realizing it was me. My day continued to lack dignity, as my boss (20 minutes into a meeting) asked me if I thought her office smelled, and I spent the last 3 hours of my day having my colleagues spray me down with Febreze every hour, on the hour. Fortunately, my evening was spent at crowded bars and restaurants where no one could smell the difference.

On Saturday, having washed my jeans and aiming for a decidedly quiet afternoon, I went over to a friend's place dressed like an idiot thinking my night would end there, and that said outfit would help prevent me from going out.

Cut to 10pm, when I left a bar and headed to a housewarming party I had forgotten I was supposed to be attending. Nothing says class like getting to your friend's place and being high-fived by a bunch of random frat-boy types because you have an image of a sheep on your shirt and a comment that suggests an interest in beastiality.

And so, I'm sure you can all see why I wasn't that disappointed to head to work dressed in "smart casual" attire on Monday morning. Bring on Tuesday.

Fat Camp, Here I Come

There simply has to be a strong correlation between how hard I am forced to work and how much revenue the McDonald's across the street from my office takes in.

This week has been completely insane in terms of work, and it's unlikely that I'll get a chance to breathe before Thursday evening. And for some reason, the combination of stress, exhaustion, and not being quite sure what time I'll be able to go home and eat a normal meal, justifies in my mind the decision to get a McDonald's meal and a McFlurry around 4pm every day to hold me over until dinnertime.

I had actually been doing really well over the last few weeks or so and avoided the Micky D's afternoon snack trips, but apparently I'm much weaker than I ever imagined. And at this rate it won't be long before I stop seeing ads for the Skinny Man Workout Routine or whatever it is that Facebook keeps showing me:


Which is extremely disturbing in its own way, because seriously, how do they know that I'm skinny? Do fat people get different ads? Because I swear that for the few months last year where I actually started to get concerned that I didn't qualify as "skinny" anymore, those ads stopped showing up. Does Facebook have some sort of scanning technology that looks at our pictures and tells them if I'm probably someone who couldn't fight off a 12-year old girl if needed? But I suppose that's a whole other blog post, and my 4 minutes of relaxation has apparently expired, so it will have to wait.

The New WebMD

I just looked at the stats for my blog for possibly the first time in a year or so. I actually had to ask a fellow blogger what the site was where I could go to check. Turns out that no matter how much or little I post, the same amount of people read this thing. Go figure.

However every now and then I get curious about the keywords people Google find my blog, and the one that keeps reappearing is often along the lines of "treating a broken toe" or "care for broken toe". It turns out that I broke my toe a few years back (which I don't really remember at this point) and briefly blogged about it. Since then, I'd guess that at least 100 and probably more people have ended up on my blog post when trying to figure out what they should do about their own broken toes.

Pardon my French, but that's pretty fucked. I'd imagine there's a lawsuit in this for Google eventually, since surely there are a million other websites with more relevant information than this one on how to take care of your broken toe, and all it will take is one kid with a broken toe and an extra chromosome to take my blog post seriously for the shit to hit the fan.

I'm not even sure where I was originally going with this post (I swear I had a point in mind when I started) because now all I can think about is how after this post and the fact that I've written "broken toe" 6 more times (now 7), I will probably become the leading source on broken toe (8) treatment on the web. And in a strange way, that prospect excites me.

I've just re-read this post and, well...I'm sorry. I promise to drink more.

Enabler

The Hickster, who I've mentioned here before, is someone I met in July when I was up at Port Douglas on a snorkeling trip on the reef. Turned out she was relatively new to Sydney, which was perfect since most of my good friends were in the process of moving to other countries. At this point she's probably my best friend in Australia, as she is very social and always up for an adventure.

On Saturday night, me and the Hickster decided to meet up for a glass of wine because we hadn't seen each other in a couple of weeks. We instantly started ordering bottles of Sauvignon Blanc, and within hours were dancing wildly to the "greatest" dance hits of the 90's.

This tends to be how almost every outing together turns out. We briefly came to the realization that night that she and I haven't sat down to dinner or anything remotely civilized other than the day we met. It's by no means that we aren't able to have fun without being drunk. I would say that I have some of my most interesting and even, dare I say, philosophical conversations with the Hickster. Alas, we both love similar wine and that always seems to be more than enough justification to order bottles, starting a vicious cycle.

And so, we've started brainstorming for things we can do that wouldn't involve such ridiculous amounts of booze. We've attempted a games night at my place that resulted in no games being played and me dragging about two garbage bags of empty bottles down to recycling the next morning. We did a picnic in the park once which was mostly subdued, but probably would have taken a turn for the worst if we didn't each have somewhere else to be shortly thereafter. And once we tried to give ourselves credit for only having one bottle of wine after work one Friday, but considering I had a flight super early the next morning and the Hickster's flatmate was at home recovering from surgery and dependent on her for food, it's safe to say that it took something close to an act of god to accomplish that.

If anyone out there can help us find something to do that might be a little healthier and cheaper than supporting the Sydney nightlife industry, we promise to be fascinated by your suggestions.

Why Would That Be Okay?

There is no reason I should walk out onto my balcony in the morning, look over to my right, and see this:


And yet...this is what happened. I supposed I should provide a couple of disclaimers on my neighbors behalf:

1) It has been 30-35 degrees (80-90 F) in Sydney for at least a few weeks now, and

2) I myself have probably stepped out onto my balcony in my underwear, albeit briefly, to get a feel for how hot it might be, or to water the plants.


However I tend to avoid doing that in briefs, and I certainly don't throw on pink rubber gloves and spend far too long cleaning my BBQ for hundreds of neighbors to see. Perhaps he thought no one would really see, or it didn't matter because it was just his balcony and not the internet or something. Oops.

Laziness Squared

Well I haven't blogged in days, and I still can't really find the motivation, so instead of a proper post, here's some recycled junk that's going around Facebook that forces you to make a list of 25 things about yourself and then coerce your unassuming friends into reading it by tagging them:

1. The first time I was tagged in one of these things about a week ago, I rolled my eyes and swore I wouldn't do it. By the 5th time I'd been tagged, I felt left out, and I hate feeling left out.

2. I didn't think I would have 25 things to say about myself, and then remember that I talk about myself like it's my job, so this shouldn't really be an issue.

3. 25 people isn't a lot, I'd probably tag more but I am surprisingly one to follow the rules. Otherwise I'd tag at least 75 people.

4. Once every few months I worry that having too many Facebook friends seems really lame and desperate, and I go through and cull around 20 people.

5. I keep people who have funny/interesting status updates, even if I have literally no interaction with them in real life or virtually.

6. I feel really really sorry for the people who have extremely boring status updates about their lives ("Toby Wilkins is eating breakfast!!"), and especially people who do day by day countdowns to their next vacation, which really just illustrates how little else is going on in their lives.

7. Since mid-2008 I have deleted at least 4 people for being Republicans, and I actually feel kind of bad that I'm so closed-minded. But I'd delete them all again if I had the chance. Preferably for a Burger King Whopper this time.

8. I just got a request to move a meeting to two hours later, which means I now have time to go out and lay by the pool and work on my tan, but I am stuck writing this because I can't stand starting something and not finishing it.

9. I clean my apartment for hours at a time at least once every weekend. I worry that it's a form of mild-OCD, but it makes me feel really good so I won't be seeking diagnosis or treatment.

10. If I didn't drink I would own at least one house by now. If I didn't travel internationally, I would own two or more. Seriously, I've done the math.

11. I think teetotaling 30 year olds who own a house and rarely travel internationally should kill themselves.

12. Sometimes I wonder if my natural tendency to speak constantly and very loudly are some sort of a neurological disorder that hasn't been recognized by medical science yet.

13. I've tried in the past to not talk so much at social gatherings, but I often find that I'm far funnier and more interesting than anyone else in the room and can't hold it in.

14. Every now and then I have pangs of sadness to think that I may never live in the same city as some of my closest friends ever again.

15. My excitement for my upcoming 4 week trip to South America only slightly outweighs how mortified I am at how much it's going to cost, essentially spending half of my 2009 tax refund 3 months before I get it.

16. Lately I've become addicted to home renovation and cooking shows, and I'm paranoid that as I approach 30 I'm turning into one of those boring people who wants to buy a house and throw dinner parties instead of getting drunk in random cities around the world.

17. In the past year I've started to feel guilty about eating junk food and not exercising, after almost three decades of thinking people who had to worry about that sort of thing were losers.

18. I just realized I've been writing this for almost 20 minutes now and I'm a bit worried that no one will read it other than the people with the boring status updates. (If you just read that, CLEARLY I didn't mean YOU!)

19. My dream life would be spending October to April in Sydney and May to September in New York, with plenty of other places in between.

20. I would love to live in Paris for at least a few months, but I'm not sure I'd ever have the balls to move there the way I moved to Sydney.

21. Occasionally I wish I had a really strong and consistent work ethic, but then I look around at the people that do and I think they're kind of boring, and I'm not so sure it's possible to have it all.

22. There are old fat ugly women on my hotel room TV screen right now and I am judging them.

23. Clearly I am struggling with the list of 25, as I really just want to head out to the pool now.

24. I hope there aren't any old fat ugly people at the pool. It makes me uncomfortable...as if I thought it might be contagious or something.

25. I can't believe I'm still writing this, or that you're still reading it. Now I remember why I didn't want to do this in the first place.

Serves Me Right For Being Subtle

Okay just a quick rant, folks -- let's do this one as a hypothetical situation.

Let's say you're new to town and you meet someone who seems pretty cool, fun and social. So you exchange contact info, you hang out with this person and their friends a couple of times, and all is well.

Then on a Friday morning, you email this person and ask what they're up to after work. Said person responds and says they are meeting up with some former colleagues at a bar in the city, and will be in touch later to possibly meet up. Which of the following adventures would you choose?

A) Say that getting in touch later sounds good, and make other plans

B) Respond to indicate that maybe you will just get together another time, and make other plans.

C) Ask if you can join the group.

D) Reply to say that you will be at the bar at 5.30pm, waiting.


So yeah, I might have a stalker, and I am vaguely annoyed about it. He's not even a bad person, I don't dislike him, and maybe it's my own fault for telling him what bar I was going to after work. However, I didn't realize that you had to be more obvious than pointing out that it was a get together for people who used to work together (i.e. this has nothing to do with you). Not to mention that when someone says "Oh yeah, stay in touch tonight and maybe I'll see you later" is pretty much universal for "I have better things to do, I will call you if I'm bored at any point in the next few years."

Focused Intolerance

Lately I've grown a bit concerned with my behaviour and inability to deal with a certain type of person. And that would be...willfully ignorant Republicans. Specifically, I can name at least 4 people that I have deleted from my friend list on Facebook for at least one of the following charges:

1) Praising Sarah Palin, without a hint of sarcasm
2) Announcing, once again sans sarcasm, that they were a McCain supporter, even after the Palin selection and Joe The Plumber fiasco
3) Saying something about Bush not being that bad, despite the crumbling of the world economy, a decline in American power and stability not seen in decades, if ever, and the fact that the Constitution will take years to repair after the past 8 years
4) Acting as though Obama is really the worst possible thing to walk into the Oval Office, even though it has instantly gained America respect of the kind we haven't seen in years, and has some of our worst enemies willing to consider talking to us instead of figuring out the fastest way to rid the planet of us


I consider myself to be a very open minded human being. And not just because I think that, in general, people should be able to do what they want to do as long as they're not causing anyone harm. Even when I see people who are blinded by religious and intolerant beliefs and constantly judge others for the way they live, I really try to at least understand that they come from a very different place than I do, and that there's a reason (if not an excuse) for the way they are. It's what I like to think of as a What Would Obama Do? philosophy.

But when someone posts a link to a story on World Net Daily that talks about how Obama is the end of America, I'm not sure I'd have the restraint to not hit the "Delete from Existence" button were I given access to God's control panel. And this is not even for having conservative or Republican beliefs. I actually think there are a lot of intelligent and reasonable Republicans out there, even if I don't particularly agree with their point of view. But if you get your news from World Net Daily, you're officially a moron.

Exhibit A: The person who wrote the article is clearly 15 years old. He may be skilled at the use of a Thesaurus (did he really use the word "platitudinous"?) but if anyone thinks big words equals smart ideas, maybe they should be writing for this site.

Exhibit B: There is an ad for an Ann Coulter book. Even die-hard Republicans who have never seen the inside of a community college think this whackjob is simply an attention-seeking idiot who just wants to sell books. At this point even the most dim-witted of readers must know they are in unfortunate company.

Exhibit C: Loving this headline below...if not only that it's shocking in its ridiculousness, you've gotta appreciate the fact that those who claim to be the most patriotic don't seem to know how to spell "America".


If anyone thinks I'm being a bit harsh by culling my Facebook list for this reason, please please please let me know. I won't do anything about it, but I might pretend to care.

Happy Australia Day - I Hate You

This past weekend was a long one -- we had Monday off for Australia Day, where even old people seem to find it perfectly acceptable get trashed all day and dance. But this post isn't about drunken dancing old ladies. Some people even seem to find such things "cute" and think I'm a bastard for being horrified by their very existence. So fine, let me move on.

I want to talk about the BBQ I went to at my cousin's house on Sunday. It was her new house which was pretty cool, and we all set into drinking heavily, singing along to music, and ended up playing midnight volleyball in the pool, surely to the delight of all the neighbors.

The most offensive part though, was having "that girl" in attendance. I've supposedly met her before, although I have zero recollection. And understandably so, as I imagine many people actually block out memories of her. She was the girl that inevitably starts a massive fight with her boyfriend any time they are in a group with other people, and then acts like a complete ass clown and cries and wants people to have sympathy for her.

Now don't get me wrong, I realize most people have been there. You're drunk, a certain mood strikes, and things get a bit messy. But if you're the person that does this every single time you smell a beer, then maybe it's time to reevaluate your life. Especially if you're crying, then dancing, and then dancing AND crying at the same time. Do you have ANY idea what that looks like, even to people who have been drinking beer, wine and vodka for 12 hours? My god.

Some additional tips for the "lady" in question:

1) We got out of the pool about 2 hours ago. Please get your not-so-toned ass out of that bikini into some real clothes.

2) If I very deliberately turn away from you at the moment you make eye contact with me when you're looking for someone's shoulder to cry on, I am not simply delaying that scenario. I am excusing myself from it. Don't try again 5 minutes later.

3) When I posted the photos to Facebook and didn't tag you in any of them, I actually thought I was doing you a favor. I realize you're no poster girl for the concept of "dignity", but why you would want to tag yourself in a photo where your eyes were rolled back in your head and you were slipping out of your bikini top, I can't even imagine.

4) Please be aware that even though I accepted your friend request just to be polite, I will delete you from my list at the next culling and simply hope you don't notice. Don't make me block you.

Obligatory Inauguration Post

Apologies for the silence, it's been a busy week. I could have blogged a few days ago to talk about the weekend and yet another lunch turning into a half day bender that resulted in at least one person blacking out before the sun went down, but would that really add anything to what's been catalogued here over the last few years? I think not.

I have to admit I struggled for something to blog about. And as excited as I am about the inauguration of a President who doesn't inspire me to take voice lessons so that I sound like I was raised in a South American jungle as opposed to any location that sits on the same continent as Texas, the whole event being talked and blogged and commented to death.

In particular, everyone is obsessed with what Michelle Obama would wear throughout the day. And in what might be a more unique commentary on that, I have to say...I don't really get it. Let me be clear -- I don't hate what she wears. I think it's nice enough. More importantly, it's not nearly as boring as what we've seen on pretty much any other political wife out there. But it doesn't blow me away or anything. And what she was wearing for the ceremony itself, while not offensive by any stretch of the imagination, does look like someone took a Bedazzler to my grandmother's sofa upholstery. If it helps, I'd give it credit for looking like something that was thrown together by one of the promising designers who made it to the final 6 on the lost season of Project Runway and maybe even won this specific challenge that involved choosing a piece of furniture to transform into formalwear, but I think all the ass-kissing that's going on about it is just a little over the top. And really, if most of us had to pick a globe trotting first lady to be if we had the choice, I think we all know the prize would go to Carla Bruni, minus the whole having sex with Nicholas Sarkozy bit.

FAIL

After getting off to a great start this year in terms of cutting back on the partying and spending ( I realize it's only been two weeks, but you have to count the small victories, people), I am sitting at my desk at work having just agreed to go to a ridiculously expensive lunch at a nearby steakhouse with my colleagues.

The lunch isn't for another 45 minutes so I still have plenty of time to change my mind, but I've already looked over the menu, decided on the starter, main, and sides that I want, and even which glass of cab sav I'll be ordering.

I feel pretty guilty about it already, since my original plan for lunch today involved a $9.90 burrito. My rationalization at this point includes:

• I'm always still hungry after the burrito
• It's Friday and I should really eat a lot of food before I start drinking this afternoon
• We all have to treat ourselves every now and then

Any other pointers would greatly improve my comfort level with this whole scenario, so please, pass them on.

Ah, The Good Old Days

I'd blog about my weekend, but you'd all be bored to tears. I did have a big Friday night, but I don't remember enough of it to make it sound remotely interesting.

What I did remember all of a sudden though, was a few weeks back when I was at a supposedly exclusive bar (or at least they try to make it appear that way) and before it was even 8pm some dude started throwing up in the middle of the bar.

That in itself is something of an accomplishment, however to make it so much better, he apparently ran into the bathroom to finish puking, and totally ralphed on a random guy's back, as the innocent victim was simply trying to take a piss at a urinal.

It just reminded me of my younger, more exciting days, that's all.

I have "a quick drink" planned with Busty tonight after not seeing her for ages, so we'll see if I can follow that up with falling the stairs after two bottles of wine each, as I may have done in 2008. Allegedly.

Zero Improvement

I mean that in at least two ways...the first being that just a week ago I mentioned how slack my blogging had been, and here we are a week later in the same situation. And I haven't even been that busy.

Also, there's my bad habits in general. I'm not really a believer in New Years Resolutions. My thoughts on the matter are really that if you were going to make any significant change in your life, you'd do it whether it was January 1st or not. I always laugh when I see people saying they will start a diet "on Monday", while shoving a greasy burger into their face on Thursday afternoon. Because we all know that if they had any real interest in improving their dietary habits, they would already have started.

However, I do understand the impulse to see certain moments in one's life as a chance for a new beginning. I've generally tried to be a bit healthier and to spend a little less money over the last few months, if not longer, but how much I've succeeded is questionable. I do think I'm drinking less, which is great, and I'm eating a little healthier these days. However any financial savings in that area has been blown away by my even more extravagant travel adventures.

And so, I had hoped that in some way, 2009 would be a little less indulgent than the previous year. Imagine my dismay then, when on January 3rd, I found myself (I love that phrasing -- as if some people snuck into my house, overpowered me, dressed me up in a suit and dragged me to somewhere I'd never have any interest in going) at the races, betting large sums of money on horses I knew nothing about while downing champagne like it was oxygen.

The quintessential "who-was-I-kidding" moment was when I drunkenly tore up one of my betting tickets, thinking I had lost, only to realize that the horse in 4th actually counted as a "place" and would have gotten me back some of my bet money. Smooth.

Ah well...at least it's Friday and I haven't had a drink since Saturday night. That sure as hell never happened in 2008.

Oops

I hate to say I actually forgot about the blog for the past week. Probably a result of the fact that as my second week off work comes to a close, my average day has consisted of watched TV, reading, napping, and the occasional dinner and drinks with friends. I'd even forgotten that I was supposed to do some work until one of my clients called me a couple of days ago.

In any case, I've actually been mostly well-behaved over the break, other than a very messy Sunday involving drinking on the beach all day and an attempt at clubbing later that night. And of course New Years Eve, which I think can be summarized by the following:


At this point there's a 64% probability that I will be a drunken fool this evening. I can only be a good boy for so long.

Worst. Christmas. Ever.

I had a lovely Christmas lunch with my family yesterday, and then came home to have a quiet and relaxing evening on the couch watching some of my favorite TV shows. Normally this would have been just fine. However, Santa must have decided I was a very naughty boy in 2008, because for Christmas I got...my first cold sore.

I had always assumed that I was one of those people who just didn't get cold sores. But as it turns out, anyone can get them if you get stressed enough, so I'm assuming this is a result of 12 hour work days followed by dinner and drinks every single night for almost a month.

My family and flatmate have all laughed at me because they claim they wouldn't have noticed it at all if I hadn't gotten ridiculously close to them and pointed it out, however it's really more about the fact that even if no one can see it, I feel like I should have half my face covered a la Phantom of the Opera.

Perhaps I should really put things into perspective and consider all the people who are losing their homes or can't afford to even feed their children this holiday season, but instead I intend to stay inside my apartment and feel sorry for myself until this situation is all cleared up. See you all next year.

Christmas Cheer

So I had a few people over yesterday for some drinks. The idea was that we'd do something a bit more wholesome, like play games etc., but we just ended up getting drunk and forgetting that part.

To sum up the evening, here's a bit of a countdown of my favorite moments:

5) Ginny looking at the people on the balcony across from us and asking "Are those mops?"

4) Me trying to drink out of an unopened bottle of beer. Repeatedly.

3) Stranger complaining that he wasn't able to find tickets for a music festival in February, and that when he looked online they were only selling tickets for 2009. Um...

2) Me not realizing someone had closed the glass door to my balcony, and walking into it face first.

1) Ginny leaving the party to meet her boyfriend downstairs to go to dinner with him and his parents...and then coming back upstairs because he told her she was too drunk.


I'm sure this just what the baby Jesus had in mind. Now if you'll excuse me, it's time for Christmas Eve drinks...

R.I.P.

While attempting to rearrange my freezer to fit bags of ice in there for my Christmas/Belated B-Day drinks that are starting any moment now, I dropped a half-full bottle of vodka on the floor and it smashed everywhere.

I'm saddened by the loss of booze, which is always a tragedy, however I'm really enjoying the way my apartment now reeks of vodka. It reminds me of Christmas with the family.

It's All Relative

I've had a couple of pretty messy nights in the last week or so, but what I love about those nights is that as embarrassed as you might feel for yourself, it only takes one person to tell you about their night for you to feel almost completely vindicated.

Example #1: Saturday Session In Perth

The aftermath of this one included vague memories of the afternoon pub crawl with Chappy and J, plus new friends picked up along the way, and meeting up with Newman to drink an unnecessary amount of his duty free vodka before heading to the club. This was topped off by cuts on my hands, chipped fingernails (I can only assume I took a few falls on the way back to my hotel), and no recollection of how I could have gotten home.

I was rather angry at myself for being so ridiculous, until Newman called -- he didn't know how he got home either, but was at first just happy he had woken up alone in his hotel room. That is, until he got up and found a stranger's underwear in the bathroom, a used condom on the floor, and a note with a phone number on the bedside table, but still no idea who he had brought home. He wins. Or loses, I suppose.

Example #2: Work Christmas Party In Sydney

I got back to Sydney in time to head out on a yacht on the harbour for 4 hours, which involved me telling far too many embarrassing stories about myself, berating at least one colleague, and stumbling out of the bar without saying goodbye.

My personal humilation was quickly trumped the next day by stories of how one of our graduates had woken up in a towel storage closet at the Park Hyatt, and our boss' corporate card in his pocket.

I am basically a saint in comparison, and will just think about them the next time I do something completely retarded (likely to happen within the next 48 hours).