Office Parties

Last night there was a company shindig, which I declined to attend (despite the temptation of free food and drink, I decided that the thought of making small talk with soon to be ex-colleagues from the Swedish office I’ve never met just wasn’t for me). This morning, the office is full of the casual and familiar banter that is always in abundance after work nights out.

It got me thinking about the “ghosts of office parties past” and how incredibly drunk I used to get at them. It was after a string of them that I made the decision to no longer

drink myself into a stupor at company events. Here’s why…  

Flavour of the Month

After the success ‘No-Spend September’ had on my bank balance , I’ve decided that each and every month shall have a catchy catch-phrase that will lead to a significant improvement in my day-to-day living.

Therefore, October is ‘Sober October’.  Despite a few sneaky bevvies at the start of the month (it WAS my 10 year high school reunion after all!) I’ve been alcohol free. 

Whilst I have been craving wine more than anything else this month, I have to admit that the significant reduction in my waist line has made me wonder whether I should give up my nightly glass of vino permanently.

But then I tell myself to stop being so silly.. a life without wine?  Well that’s no life for me! 

Bring on November.

I’ll Have One Phone Breathaliser Please

Hangovers always make me reflect on life a wee bit. 

Yesterday I reflected on money, men and other mysteries of life.  The main questions I would like answered are a) Where does all my money go?  Despite my frugality I am still always broke.  b) Why is it that its always the men you really want the ones that aren’t that interested? And why is it that I keep sending text messages when I’m drunk to boys that I am mildly crazy about.

I’ve been doing this for years now. It started when I was in London.  And since then has escalated to the point that as soon as I have had a glass of white wine I feel the urge to say something along the lines of “I want to be on you” (I’ve PG rated this for you – usually the language involves mentions of licking, doodles, nakedness etc) to a boy that I fancy.  And the more I fancy them the more I send them.

I know that boys don’t like it that much, but what they never understand is that its almost involuntary.  I’m like an alcoholic.  Have wine, must drink.  Have phone, must text.

One day, when I finally succumb and jump off the anti-iPhone bandwagon, they will have surely developed an application to stop drunken texts.  I await this day with anticipation.

Recovery

I went out last night. It was one of my very best friends birthdays so we went out to celebrate.

The problem is with these sorts of occasions is that there is the expectation of having a good time and that puts all sorts pressure on you.

Don’t get me wrong, I had fun, I think.  I’m not sure I remember.  But I had a high expectation was not fulfilled.

I’m also disappointed in my behaviour last night. Most of it is blacked out.  I don’t remember how I got home.

I’m looking forward to next weekend and the possibility of a DVD marathon with the birthday girl.  I think these days thats’ my sort of night out. 

Sometimes I think that perhaps I am too old for this.

The Most Fun You Can Have

Today I ventured down to the Gold Coast to see my very good friends Ali, Andre and baby Indi.  As always I had a lovely time, and that child is a delight to be around and makes my biological clock start to tick tock.

Saturday we went to Dreamworld (A theme park a’la Thorpe Park or Universal Studios for my overseas readers).  I am adamant that a waterslide, rollercoaster, hot dog and children’s TV characters combined is the most fun a girl can have without Vodka and boys.

Whilst lining up for another go on one of the most awesome waterslides EVER, my childlike enthusiasm could not be contained. One of the boys who was with us asked me how old I was.. but I do not mind.  I was enjoying myself immensely. 

When your weary or feeling small, when tears are in your eyes.. forget crossing that bridge over troubled waters. What you need is to shoot down into a massive cone of water on an inflatable tube. 

It will put a MASSIVE smile on your face. 

Simple Pleasures

Simple things are putting a massive smile on my face lately.  And this weekend was a weekend of simple pleasures. 

Some childish fun with ice skating and happy meals.  An afternoon spent chilling by the pool with good company. A night out dancing, drinking and flirting with good friends. A day recovering with some laughs and some fried food.  A text message from a boy I fancy. 

Topped off with an english muffin smothered in peanut butter. 

Life does not get much better than this really! 2010 = A good year!

2000 – 2009: A Decade In Review

Today is the 2nd of January 2010.  The second day of the year and the second day of the new decade.

The “Noughties” was a decade of change for me.

2000: Year 12, don’t work as hard as I should have but received good grades nonetheless. Am awkward looking, all legs, ass and arms as boobs have not yet arrived.  Awful fashion sense.  Very sad to leave school.

2001: Started university.  Studying (to my dismay) business, when would have rather been studying at NIDA or similar.  Think about leaving but decide to stick it out as was the easy thing to do.  Hoped to make lots of new friends at university, but found that it was as cliquey as High School.

2002: Year two of university.  Change my major from Tourism (pft.. what a joke) to International Business.  Decide that I want to travel. Obtain drivers license and first car – a 1987 Toyota Cressida with blue velour interior. Pa dies. 

2003: Final year of university.  Finish degree successfully, but having not tried nearly as hard as I should have.  Finally hook up with boy I had had crush on for year.  Boobs arrive. 

2004: Embark on a camping trip of Europe and see things I have dreamed about seeing all my life. Travel to Dublin, France, Spain, Andorra, Switzerland, Austria, Italy, Corfu, Germany, Liechtenstein. Set out on my new life in London but quickly find that it was more expensive that I thought and had no chance of getting a decent job.  Return home with tail between legs.  Get job in Real Estate.  Turn 21.

2005: A bleak year where I realise coming home from London was stupidest thing I had ever done.  Despise my job.  Take up Latin Dancing and quickly become very good at it. See Meat Loaf in concert. 

2006: Have nervous breakdown and run away from Sunshine Coast.  Arrive Terminal 1 Heathrow 19th June.  Bum around for awhile.  Go to Prague, Liverpool. Live in a hostel. Have heaps of fun drinking.  Hook up with lots of boys.  First cold Christmas. Work in a bookstore.

2007: Meet THE-Ex and start a disastrous 2 year love affair destined to end in tears.  Travel to Amsterdam, Dublin, Croatia.  Get a job in television.  Meet some of the best friends I have ever had. Spend Christmas in Scottish Highlands alone as THE-Ex was off cheating on me on a ski trip. 

2008: Move out of hostel into The Vale.  Ditch THE-Ex.  Meet the loveliest boy in the world, who I treated terribly.  Travel to Turkey, Oktoberfest, Copenhagen, Sweden, La Tomatina Festival and all around the UK.  Meet some more of the best friends I have ever had.  Do good in career. Start seeing THE-Ex again.  Leave London in a blaze of glory to return home.  Turn 25. Job prospects look bleak.  Very depressed end to the year.  But best New Years Eve ever.

2009: Go to Perth, have heart broken by THE-Ex again.  Spend a miserable 6 months on the dole due to the Global Financial Crisis.  Granny dies. Get job in supermarket.  Meet some friends at job, but find my soul slowly dying from mindless, monotonous job.  Turn 26.  Pleasant Christmas & New Years. Finally get a career job to start on January 4th. 

So that’s my decade in review.  Bring on the next decade, which there still seems to be much debate as to what we are calling it.  The teens? The tens?  I hope someone decides soon. 

New Years

So last night was fun.  Still an overrated evening, but was just as enjoyable as any other night out. 

It probably ranks in the top 5 best new years. But last years still beats them all.

Ridiculously hung over today and not at all coping with anything. So am going to watch Series 9 of Friends and feel sorry for myself in bed.

Oh God, I’m Too Old For This

Last night I went out with an old school friend for dinner, drinks and a general bitch about life and gossip about our fellow graduates.

We drank ALOT. Bottles and bottles and bottles of alcohol. Today I am recovering. And you know what.. whilst I still enjoy getting dressed up and going out with my friends. I am too old to be going out on the Sunshine Coast, and particularly too old to be at Fridays.

When you are 18 (up to the age of about 20) it is great going out. Its great waking up with strange entrance stamps up and down your arm. It’s nice to walk around with them and be smug to all your underage friends and saying “look at me I went out last night!”. Today, at 25, they make you look a little trashy and you spent 15 minutes in the shower trying to scrub them off.

When you are 18 it is easy to recover from a hangover and a 2am return home. Many night I was out until 3 in the morning then off to work at 8.30 on Sunday Morning. Today, at 25, a night out renders me bedridden for pretty much a full day. I stumbled out of bed at about 11am this morning in search of vegemite toast. Then went back to bed and felt sorry for myself. It is now 4pm and I have just ventured out into the company of my parents, who are taunting me.

When I was 18, texting wasn’t a huge thing.. mobile phones were only just getting en vogue. Now I spent most of my evening wasting credit on texts to my friends across Australia and the UK professing my love for them. Thank the Lord I removed my ex’s number from my phone. I’ve learnt my lesson there before.

When I was 18 and heading to Fridays, there seemed to be a variety of age groups that went from just legal to middle age people. Now it seems that I am the oldest person in place and spend my evening watching young girls tottering around on heels they cannot walk in.

So yes, I think that perhaps I am too old for the Sunshine Coast party scene. But I did have a good time getting absolutely hammered and dancing to Mr Jones.