Hey, You Guys!

It's Australia Day! Let's all use this day off work to get together at midday and get absolutely hammered. I mean, how else would you celebrate a bunch of Europeans arriving in a foreign land and claiming it for themselves while killing off all the natives, right??

See also: Columbus Day.

I Have My Reasons

I feel like 50% of my blog posts these days are me apologizing for neglecting my blog, which is a shame as I doubt that makes for compelling reading for anyone.

In any case, the reason (this time) is that I have ended up buying an apartment. Crazy, I know. Not something New Yorkers generally do. But there comes a point where the rent one pays on a luxury apartment is so outlandish that it just makes sense to buy one for yourself. And so I've bitten the bullet and done it.

Having said that, I'm still not convinced I will be able to bring myself to hand over all the money I've been saving for over a year to a real estate agent. While I'm sure it will be great to be a homeowner and all, I'm not looking forward to being broke in my thirties. Then again, maybe that just proves that I'm still a New Yorker after all.

The Economy Can't Be That Bad

Why? Because I have recently decided to venture into the real estate market, and I have yet to discover what possible value real estate agents add to the process.

So far not one agent has been able to answer a single question I've had about a property, and I've had at least one lie to my face about a rather important aspect of the home.

Now, I've finally found an apartment I like, and the agent has decided that not disclosing any of the offers to the other bidders is the best way to get a good price and keep things fair. Not only does that defy logic, but the fact that he doesn't recognize me after meeting me three times and talking to me on the phone repeatedly confirms that he is a complete idiot.

Having said that, if not knowing anything, lying, and opening an apartment door for 30 minutes each Saturday qualifies me to make tens of thousands of dollars in commissions, I may have found a perfectly reasonable second job.

That's What You Get

I didn't bother blogging because I just had one of the quietest weekends in my entire life. Other than a couple of drinks on Friday night and a couple more on Sunday evening, I basically stayed in my apartment to cook, clean, watch TV and continue to recuperate from a crazy holiday season.

And what happens Tuesday morning? I wake up feeling like I'm on my deathbed. Fever, aches and pains all over, exhaustion. For a little while I was excited because I thought I had the flu for the first time ever (I like trying out new things), but considering I felt almost normal by the time evening had rolled around, I'm guessing it was something else.

In any case, this completely reinforces my genuine belief that heavy alcohol consumption kills bacteria and prevents you from getting sick. I had previously based my theory on the fact that pretty much everyone I know who abstains from alcohol for a months spends at least part of that month feeling deathly ill, but now I've got my own personal experience to back it up. Vodka, I will never leave you alone in my freezer again.

A Time To Reflect

So it's the New Year, and while many people are reflecting on the year that has just passed and what they want to accomplish in the year to come, that all sounds a little overwhelming to the likes of me. So instead, I'm just taking a quick look at my blog over the years.

As anyone who comes back here regularly would notice, I blog less and less these days. I'm lazy, I occasionally get distracted by long vacations (or even work, less often), and I will admit that I have at times gone a week or two before remembering I even have a blog. And so, I charted the number of blog posts I've managed each full year since starting this thing, and it's not pretty:

I've gone to the great trouble of analyzing these numbers and forecasting the future, and it appears I will reach the rate of one blog post per year in 2019. Which will make them more valuable, right?

And by total coincidence, it turns out that this is the 1,000th post! Here's to many more. Or, 251 more over the next 7 years, if my calculations are anything to go by.

My Own Reality

I'm in the midst of a week that includes two public holidays and is sandwiched between Christmas and New Years. Technically I'm working today, tomorrow and Friday, but let's get serious. I couldn't even be bothered to go into the office today, and the rest of the week isn't looking good either.

As a result, I am sitting around my house eating insane amounts of food that is probably illegal in some of the healthier European nations, and every time I look at anything I know I shouldn't eat I just shrug and say "but I'm on vacation!" and eat it anyway. Made more ridiculous by the fact that, as I previously mentioned, I'm not ACTUALLY on vacation. But hey, semantics. Or something.

The worst part is that when people ask me if I've kept up my usual exercise routine of running and swimming in the mornings, I say no, but that it's okay because when you work out as much as I do, it's actually really good for your body to take a week off and recover and reset.

And just so you know, I COMPLETELY MADE THAT UP. But it sounds good and people seem to believe it (or at least wait until we're no longer in the same room to roll their eyes and laugh at me behind my back, or hate me for insulting their intelligence, etc.), so I'm sticking with it. Merry Christmas, let's be fat together.

When Going To Work Feels Like Summer Camp

I often tell people that living in Australia feels like a permanent vacation, but of course I at least have some mild levels of stress to deal with every now and then. We all have to at least pretend to do work sometimes, if we're going to keep this charade going.

Of course this week is different, as it's the week before Christmas. At least 20% of the company is already on vacation, so the rest of us are basically just killing time before our team lunch starts at 11am tomorrow (Friday).

And so today, someone actually brought in an insanely geeky board game (remember, I work in IT), and we just spent THREE HOURS playing it, only to then join some other members of our department who inexplicably have a massive cooler full of beer sitting in their part of the office.

Australia, I still have eyes for no one but you.

Old Dog, New Trick

Saturday was our annual long lunch, which started at 2pm, ended around 8pm, and was followed by drinks at a few more parties before the night ended in surprisingly respectable form.

And on Sunday, I met up with my family for my first attempt at a game of golf now that I've finished lessons. Everyone's been asking me how I did, and I tell them "Well, I got around 7 over par...on each hole." It's fun to hesitate in the middle, and then watch their reaction as they go from thinking I'm the next Tiger Woods (minus all sex with trashy blonde Hooters waitresses) to wondering why I even kept going after the second hole.

In any case, I somehow still managed to enjoy being the worst golfer ever, and will try to get into it, or at least get to a point where I'm not completely embarrassing myself and everyone around me each time I play. Stranger things have happened.

How Could I Forget

Someone pointed out that I haven't shared one of my more notable stories here, something almost reminiscent of my ridiculous days back in NYC.

In short, I got completely and utterly smashed at the work Christmas party (career be damned, I say!) and at one point struck up a conversation with Alex Perry, a top Australian designer and one of the resident bitches on the judging panel of Australia's Next Top Model.

At one point I said "You know, I'm still waiting for you or Sarah [the host] to ask me to co-host Top Model next year."

Without missing a beat, he responded "The last thing I need is another tall bitch standing next to me on TV."

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why he has one of the bitchiest jobs in the world. Because he really is that good at it.

Haven't Done That In A While

As silly season stumbles on, we here in Sydney are forced to attend more and more events in the lead up to Christmas, often resulting in some hideous scenes. Such as: me on Saturday.

I went to a picnic at 2pm, figured a few beers wouldn't have any sort of impact. Then met up with some family friends for a few wines, because it was only polite. Then there was a dinner party with some sort of unidentified 'punch'. Which means by the time I arrived at a friend's birthday drinks at 10pm, I was slurring and having trouble standing up. I have no idea why it exists and don't remember when it was taken, but this photo seems apt:

Sign of the Times

Obviously I'm quickly sliding into old age when all I can bother to organize for my birthday is a relatively small lunch at a great little restaurant.

While I acknowledge that I'm not completely past my partying days, the absolutely horrendous weather assisted in keeping our post-lunch celebration to a few drinks at a nearby bar before we headed home during a break in the rain.

Thanks for making me feel even older, Mother Nature. You bitch.

Turkey Time

Just a quick mention that we had a Thanksgiving dinner at my place on Saturday night. And once again it was a collection of individuals so diverse that I have no doubt that the Pilgrims, had they seen this particular celebration, would never have left their state of constant persecution in the Old World.

If nothing else, at least this one didn't devolve into a trashy Euro-dance party. I'm looking at you, 2010.

Bitch Still Crazy

She's still here. And she is still crazy. So here you go:

I am personally judging you for not thinking about any of this before you made the very public move of changing your name on Facebook, for the world to see. Love away, crazycakes.

Anyone else dying to see the other 24 lessons?? I wonder if they're just combinations of the other days of the week. "You can NOT have both Monday and Friday nights.", and so on.

Honey, I think someone has spiked your multivitamins with LSD. Based on your Facebook status updates, anyway.

WHO SAYS THAT?? Pretty sure 99% of white girls would never say something so idiotic.

I'm not sure if this is racist, pretentious, or both.

Or in your case, just show him your Facebook profile.

Nothing like a bunch of comments on your Facebook status to fill that gaping hole of despair in your life, AMIRITE??

See You In Hell

Actual conversation at the polo last weekend, that a friend just reminded me about...

Friend: So I'm doing this thing where you go out to an immigration detention center and spend a few hours with refugees, it's really rewarding!

Zander: Oh that sounds really cool. I mean I like the idea of charity, but I struggle being around sick or poor people. But I think I could handle refugees!

Friend: Uh...okay. Anyway, if you're interested, it's on Sunday mornings and...

Zander: Ooh, Sundays? I golf on Sundays.

It Has Arrived

Here in Australia, we have what's called "the silly season". It starts around Cup Day in early November, and then with all of the Christmas parties, birthdays, BBQs, a few public holidays and so on, we effectively don't sober up until after Australia Day at the end of January. I really don't know how we cope.

So this weekend, I hosted sunset drinks at my place on the Friday, went to watch the polo (aka pay zero attention to the sport being played and judge everyone's outfits) and attended a surprise birthday party on the Saturday, and then had lunch, golf, and book club on the Sunday. And it was relatively relaxing.

Forgive me if I go quiet this week - since I am clearly not satisfied with the ridiculousness of the Australian holiday season, I have my annual Thanksgiving feast on Saturday which requires me to host and prepare around 6 dishes myself. Updates on what I ruined coming next week.

My Favorite Things

Because I'm not Oprah, my favorite things aren't thousand-dollar gadgets, and you aren't getting a god damn thing from me. Sorry. But being the 99% (the better, cleaner end, to be clear on the matter), it's the little things that we have to find value in.

For example, my favorite internet ad would probably have to be this one:

Let us count the ways that this is amazing:

• Apparently you won't just look 10 years younger, not just 20, but THIRTY YEARS. I love how overboard they went with that claim, to the point that even a mentally challenged teenager in the midst of a serious heroin trip would pause and think it was ridiculous. Maybe if a 27 year old uses it they will end up looking like the lining of their mother's uterus.

• Hey wait...I work in Ryde. And it's a person IN RYDE that has this secret. Shit, I better click on it. Except wait, everyone in Ryde is kind of poor, fat and ugly the last time I checked, and I don't want to look at them. It would be far more appealing if they'd claimed it was some old forgotten trick from some island in the Mediterranean. Better yet, I'm guessing they paid extra for that ad feature.

• Oh, did you see the image? Because apparently what we're talking about is a face lift. As in your face will peel off and you will have a completely different one underneath. Because THAT'S HOW SCIENCE WORKS.

• It only costs $5. Then explain Lindsay Lohan, Courtney Stodden, and the numerous other rich assholes who can't even seem to try and look their own actual age. Guess they just haven't seen your ad yet!

All I can hope is that whoever is responsible for these will end up in bankruptcy court or prison within the next 6 months. Until then, thanks for the laughs.

Best Tuesday Ever

In all the Halloween excitement, I almost forget that it is followed closely by Cup Day. For those who haven't seen what is likely an annual post on the topic, Cup Day is the first Tuesday in November, when the entire nation leaves work around noon to have a long lunch and then continue drinking themselves into oblivion all afternoon. Just because some horses race against each other for 2 minutes around 3pm.

Yes, this is a real thing in a real country. Go figure.

The best part was how in the evening I met a few friends for some more drinks, and one of them brought along an American guy who had arrived in Sydney from New York that morning. I'm not sure if that will make him thoroughly excited about moving to Australia, or insanely disappointed when he realizes that we only binge drink like that on Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays.

Halloween in Sydney 2011

Once again, it was time for my favorite night of the year, the always epic Halloween in Sydney 2011. The great thing about Halloween is that people never stop coming up with amazing ideas for how to impress us, creep us out, and make us wonder if they really have nothing better to do with their free time.

In any case, here are the photos...

First up, me as Inspector Gadget, and my co-host Laws as Poison Ivy. Both costumes were her idea, and I can admit that at least 4 hours of my life were devoted to building that ridiculous hat. I should also mention it started to fall apart within 2 hours of arriving at the bar. Awesome.

 These guys needed a photo together, as they both fell into the "TOO SOON" category. (Steve Jobs and Gaddafi, for those who hadn't figured it out already.)

It's not a Halloween Party until people have dressed up like a couple of your favorite childhood characters and then proceed to get insanely drunk and ruin the image for you forever.

Accurate AND really creepy, thanks to those red contacts in her eyes. Also, I like that she's holding a vodka soda. My primary thought throughout watching Black Swan was that she could have benefited from a drink.

Winner of Best Costume for 2011, as decided by the 10 people I surveyed in a drunken stupor.

Worst. Nun. Ever.

And of course, a Viking, a Hippie, and a Nun singing along to what I'm sure was a song about the size of a woman's ass.

Halloween, I miss you already.

Wowsers

Tonight is the big Halloween party. I can't divulge my costume until afterwards, but I will say that I've already hinted at it. Photos to come in a few days.

Step It Up

Almost forgot this one, but when I was in NYC my brother was telling me how his friend almost got into a fight with a guy at a party. My brother's friend had decided he didn't like the guy for some reason, and they were having a heated exchange. And then, according to my brother, they had a dance-off.

No, really.

The best part is that I can't get a satisfactory explanation for how you go from threatening to punch someone's face in, to seeing whose got the best moves on the dance floor. I'm not sure there would ever be a good enough explanation for that, really.

In any case, his friend apparently fell through a glass table while trying to do a handstand, and that's how the fight/dance off ended. He got served.