Booze Schooze (Or how I ended up in a seedy joint and why someone offered to do me in the ass)

WARNING. This is a rant with no point to it at all


I think it’s pretty safe to say I’m not a political animal. I hate playing games of any kind, even innocent ones like Monopoly and blackjack. I get tired after too many parties. And most importantly, I lack ambition. Well, I have ambition, just not enough to want to be nice to people I don’t like.

However, as it’s necessary to go for these industry gigs every so often, and because it looks great on my CV AND because I was nominated, I went for one of those dinners.

With Talchie and Grumpyboots, my wingpeople from the mothership, we turned up at one of those chi-chi bar/lounge/restaurants in St Kilda that everyone’s doing nowadays. As we turn up, we’re plied with gourmet pizza and wine and told on no uncertain terms that we have to mingle.

One hour later, we have a five minute speech about our roles, and then it’s back to schmoozing. Talchie, Grumpyboots and I split during the night so as not to seem too cliquish, and kept getting stunned by the sheer aura of schmooze. I’ll have to admit, on the outside, I don’t think any of us were faring any worse than the others. In fact, with the knowledge that we were reallyreallygoodlooking and armed with brilliant smiles and stellar intellect, I may have to say that we were workin’ the damn place. (although in this industry, every person and their manicured dog is reallyreallygoodlooking and armed with brilliant (porcelain veneered) smiles and a 50-50 mix of scathing wit and intellect or just really good looks and a whole lotta charm. The occasional dumb person does slip through the cracks, but I suspect they don’t last very long.

Totally wasted by the ravages of schmoozing and the effects of alcohol, we walked out into the cold winter night…and into the pub right across the road. “Look!” cried Talchie, “none of that pretentious bullshit!” she yelled as the Carlton Draught neon light reeled her in faster than you could say “drinks like a fish”.

We found a pub that looked so greasy it could have belonged in any number of Brit movies about the underprivileged underclass. As the bartender leered at Talchie while she ordered 3 beers, we looked around at the difference between chichichic and downdowntown.

There were toothless old men with tar-stained teeth, and the odd lady who really did look like she could have had a role as an extra in Kath and Kim.

As we sat down to our beers, we were not-so-quietly chatting amongst ourselves when a big, no, GIANT bosomed lady leant down beside our table and asked for money for her company.

We said no, and suddenly realised other things we hadn’t noticed before. Like how there were no other women in the bar. Or how the blackboard on the wall actually said “Happy Hour- Topless Barmaids 5-6pm. Strippers 8-30 through to 11.30 hourly shows”.

Hmmm. HMMMMMMMM.

Grumpyboots kept trying to leave because he hadn’t packed and had a 5am flight to Brissie. I kept trying to leave because I suddenly realised the men really were leering at us and it wasn’t just my imagination.

And there sat Talchie. “BUT I Haven’t finished my beer yet!!!!”

10minutes of hassling later, Talchie got up. But only after some tradie in too-short-shorts (pubic hair sighting would have been imminent if we didn’t avert our eyes) tried to grab her shoulder.

As we walked out of the pub, we tried to sort taxi arrangements. Grumpyboots and Talchie lived in the opposite direction. But as one appeared over the horizon, and Grumpyboots told me to get in, Talchie got in instead….right when a group of 3 other tradies started offering to do us in the ass.

Now I hate to sound all conservative and narrow-minded. But let’s just say that being ass-fucked by a guy I find extremely unattractive and whom I additionally don’t know makes me very unwilling to compromise myself.

So I jumped into the cab as well.

Which left Grumpyboots there, yelling into the cab, One Of You Has To Get OUT!!! And when we both refused, he jumped in mumbling “I’m not going to be left alone to some butt pirate”

Halfway round the world later (to quote a very drunk and grumpy Grumpyboots), I got home, and as Talchie tells it, Grumpyboots was filled with “I hate you” comments about having to travel to get home.

Being the nice, good Samaritan I am, I actually woke up at 5am to make sure Grumpyboots got to the airport on time. And went to work fuelled by a gargantuan cup of coffee. (funny, I just typed copy. I’m going crazy)

I tell you. These ungrateful boys. I call them to make sure they’re up, and not being ass raped and they complain about driving halfway round the world for the favour.