Brisbane - Where boys become men

Bris-Vegas. Whoever came up with that term, that's the least of it.

It is some place. It's a combination of beautiful girls, cheap beer, sunshine, $2 steaks, and more Irish folk here than in Dublin. 
JingleLad and I did well when we first arrived. We knew our funds were low, so we lived like minky students for a few days. It was pasta, cereal, and cheap sausages combined with a steadfast refusal to even consider the pub. That was easier said than done when you appreciate our hostel is right above the cheapest and arguably best pub in Brisbane. The pints there are the cheapest in town, and just last evening the entertainment for patrons was a wet t-shirt contest. And they give away free food. Honestly, we had to shut our eyes every time we walked by the place.

So armed to the teeth with cv's, JingleLad and I hit the street. I handed out about 60, and he broke 70. Strangely enough, we both got jobs without the use of cvs. I walked into a busy wee pub, had a bit of craic with the gaffer, and 2 mins later I was employed. 
JingleLad sells his body on the streets. Thus far he's raised enough funds for a family sized bag of Doritos. But we've got a more socially acceptable job lined up for him on Monday, working in a call centre. He's going to be one of those people who calls you and tries to flog you stuff, and with the accent and his slight lack of patience, it could be interesting:

"Haw mate... How yi doing sur? Ur yi up fur buying some toner fur yer printer?"

"Excuse me?"

"Toner fur yer printer like? Yi wanting some aye?"

"I have no idea what your saying mate."

(JingleLad to manager) "This phones no working hen, the boy says he cannae hear mi."

(Manager sighs) "Just like the 5 phones before yes?"

Aye it should be a laugh that one.

But anywho, as you've maybe guessed our absence from the pub could not go on forever. So one Friday night after I finished work, we treated ourselves to a bag of goon and had a laugh in the hostel. We then headed out to go galavanting (we left the hostel at 1.30am) and god knows when we got back. JingleLad had a wee adventure of his own. He met some Welsh lads and ended up...... (answers on a postcard please). 
We started with a bag of goon on the Friday night and finished shaking in a pool of sweat Wednesday morning. Those few days are a whirlwind of beer, strange women, and beer. The daftest thing we accomplished during this time was climbing one of the tallest bridges in Brisbane and belting out Flower of Scotland while traffic whizzed by below. Some of the drivers gave us hoots on their horns, no doubt as proud of our achievement as we were.

Met a few interesting chaps as well during this time. One of the best was a random Irish lad, during which the subject of conversation was Australian visas. JingleLad was talking about his adventures in the sticks, grafting away for his second year visa. Traditionally after being here for two years on a working visa you head home, and back to the real world. 
This Irish lad however had been here for three and a half years. He informed us he was on an Irish visa. For anyone unfamiliar with this term, allow me to explain. Irish visas are very accessible, and granted to almost anyone. It simply entails staying in the country until the relevant authorities find and deport you. What could possibly go wrong? 
The lad insisted the government knew he was here, and simply watched his bank account fill up every Friday and disappear by Sunday. A true hero of society, giving his all to tackle the financial woes of the day. We need to get a few of these visionaries to Greece, sort the bother out in no time.

Another thing that happened during our binge. We were in a bar that was hosting the ever popular ladies night. This essentially involved any of the lads that were brave enough to get on stage and strip for the adoring women, amidst much cheers and cat-calls. As we were out with the Welsh boys, we felt obliged to step up and do our best to represent Scotland. 
However, JingleLad and I had our own spin on the stripping. We simply stood up on stage, walked to the group of girls, and mooned them. This did not go down too well with the girls, but we were hailed as heroes amongst all the fellow lads at the bar. And everyone knows, lads banter takes priority over girls opinions. It was in the bible.

And that's how life in Brissy has been going so far. We've calmed down since Wednesday, right now we're both just chilling and watching some very poor Aussie television. Working again tonight which is handy for the wallet, and planning another major Sunday session. I still need to get down to the Gold Coast at some point, and hopefully Byron Bay after that. I'll keep you updated. Meeting the Brisbane RSC on Sunday so that could be notable.