I am actually amazed /ashamed I can remember so much. I only nearly vommited once....
Friday night was Christmas drinks with some of the people from work. Only six of us made it, well not everyone was invited, it's a bit of an exclusive club actually. One went early leaving 5 of us. We started upstairs at the Corner in Richmond. That was an interesting place, and for a while I thought I had violated the dress code for not wearing my cowboy hat, fairy wings or checked shirt (in any combination). There must be a tear in the fabric of space and time at this place, because pretty soon there was a line for the men's toilets, but there was none for the women's, it was really strange.
Hopping in a taxi in Swan Street we made our way to the Imperial in Spring Street, me and my mates traditional pre/post footy pub. More general drinking antics occurred. There we found people parading around a cardboard cut out of their company's CEO, I got to shake his hand. The only bad thing to happen was someone knocked a beer over onto the chips, so there were soggy beer flavoured.
At some point we left and headed down Bourke towards that fake brittish pub on the corner of Exhibition. It was full and they wouldn't let us in, or somethign like that. So instead we went to the Portland Hotel in Russel Street. It was here that I revealed to my colleagues just how bad I am at pool, even sober I'm no good, but this was just embarrassing.
On the way home I stopped off for some much needed late night nourishment at Hungry Jacks and still managed to make it to Flinders Street in time for the train, which was waiting patiently for me. I found a nice quiet seat on my own and proceded to listen my iPod. Then out of nowhere a large group of very happy, yet very drunk people descended on my oasis. AF ew of them were very rowdy, singing "Let's dance to Joy Division" by The Wombats (the rest looked rather under the weather). It was at this stage that one of the girls commented to me "you can write about this in your blog". Unless she reads my blog and recognised me from my photo on my blog, she doesn't know how correct she was. After they all got off at Westgarth, it went quiet again.
So there you go you go girl on the train, you got a mention on my blog.
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3 comments:
Reminds me of when we were a chairlift in Singapore, sharing the capsule with an elderly Indian couple and their daughter, and her father asked, 'Will you put these photos up onto your blog Shanie?'. I felt tempted to ask for the blog name, just to see our Australian heads blocking some views.
Oh goodness! I hope nobody asks me to write about them on their blog. Not only is it likely that they're not worth it...but it's altogether possible that they don't realise what a bastard I am.
Andrew, it would be quite a strange coincidence for you to stumble across the photos of the back of your head in Singapore one day.
That is a call you'll have to make at the time I guess Reuben. I'm not particularly sure if these people were worth it, only it was such a random sort of thing to say I thought I would call her bluff.
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