Wednesday, January 03, 2007
Noo-year's Day! It gave me considerable pleasure to wish people a prosperous 2007 in the American fashion, that is, emphasising the "new". I did this a lot on New Year's Day. I shouted this a lot.
On New Year's Day the magazine had a party at St Jerome's. It was a financial disaster. Seriously, I fear the magazine will be going out of business in 2007 unless something truly revolutionary happens. Like us finding a crashed plane in the snow which is filled with cash.
But strangely enough, it was a really great party. Sitting around in a bar, catching up with friends, having some drinks and listening to some great bands, is a wonderful way to spend the first day of the year. Also, once it became evident how much money the magazine was losing, I took John Belushi's advice and started drinking heavily. I had two Red Stripes, two ponies from Reuben and Elaine's longneck and three longnecks to myself. I was talking all manner of dreadful crap with all manner of people, such that I can't really recall to whom I said what. (I do remember holding forth on dandyism at one stage.)
By that stage I had run out of money, so I stumbled to the ATM and purchased a tinnie with my newfound riches. But then a bunch of my friends left en masse to go to some handsome young men's house. I didn't know who these people were, but the house was just around the corner from mine, so off I trotted, still with my unfinished tinnie in hand. Then I got a call from Penny saying she'd forgotten a bunch of stuff when she left, so I went back to the bar to get it, and then took the tram to my house to drop it off before I continued on to the handsome young men's house.
My other friends, who were equally drunk yet had purchased a slab of VB on the way to the house, hadn't noticed my absence until they all got there, by which time they assumed I wasn't going to show up. So they were overjoyed when there came a knock on the door and it was me, still with my St Jerome's tinnie clutched fiercely in one hand. It is quite astounding, retrospectively, that I remembered the address. The handsome young men busied themselves putting suitable music on their iPod, then ponced about to The Cure with each other.
After I finished the tinnie, I went into the kitchen of the handsome young men's house in search of other things to drink. I opened up the fridge and, for some reason, a bottle of salad dressing caught my eye. It occurred to me that this was what I really wanted to drink right then. So I had a couple of little sips out of the bottle. It was delicious. Like salt and vinegar chips without the bothersome chip part. I slipped out of the living room several more times to sip from the salad dressing bottle. When I left, I even ducked back in for a little dressing for the road.
So that was how I finished up the first day of the year. Drinking salad dressing from the fridge of a complete stranger. I have no idea how much of it I drank. Imagine if these poor guys want to make a salad tonight and go, "Hey, what happened to all our salad dressing?"
On New Year's Day the magazine had a party at St Jerome's. It was a financial disaster. Seriously, I fear the magazine will be going out of business in 2007 unless something truly revolutionary happens. Like us finding a crashed plane in the snow which is filled with cash.
But strangely enough, it was a really great party. Sitting around in a bar, catching up with friends, having some drinks and listening to some great bands, is a wonderful way to spend the first day of the year. Also, once it became evident how much money the magazine was losing, I took John Belushi's advice and started drinking heavily. I had two Red Stripes, two ponies from Reuben and Elaine's longneck and three longnecks to myself. I was talking all manner of dreadful crap with all manner of people, such that I can't really recall to whom I said what. (I do remember holding forth on dandyism at one stage.)
By that stage I had run out of money, so I stumbled to the ATM and purchased a tinnie with my newfound riches. But then a bunch of my friends left en masse to go to some handsome young men's house. I didn't know who these people were, but the house was just around the corner from mine, so off I trotted, still with my unfinished tinnie in hand. Then I got a call from Penny saying she'd forgotten a bunch of stuff when she left, so I went back to the bar to get it, and then took the tram to my house to drop it off before I continued on to the handsome young men's house.
My other friends, who were equally drunk yet had purchased a slab of VB on the way to the house, hadn't noticed my absence until they all got there, by which time they assumed I wasn't going to show up. So they were overjoyed when there came a knock on the door and it was me, still with my St Jerome's tinnie clutched fiercely in one hand. It is quite astounding, retrospectively, that I remembered the address. The handsome young men busied themselves putting suitable music on their iPod, then ponced about to The Cure with each other.
After I finished the tinnie, I went into the kitchen of the handsome young men's house in search of other things to drink. I opened up the fridge and, for some reason, a bottle of salad dressing caught my eye. It occurred to me that this was what I really wanted to drink right then. So I had a couple of little sips out of the bottle. It was delicious. Like salt and vinegar chips without the bothersome chip part. I slipped out of the living room several more times to sip from the salad dressing bottle. When I left, I even ducked back in for a little dressing for the road.
So that was how I finished up the first day of the year. Drinking salad dressing from the fridge of a complete stranger. I have no idea how much of it I drank. Imagine if these poor guys want to make a salad tonight and go, "Hey, what happened to all our salad dressing?"
