Bonjour people, another wee update of life in Bris-Vegas. Off work today so just been chilling out by the lagoons, which are the artificial beaches smack bang in the middle of the city. It's not a bad place to spend a day, and naturally in the sunshine there's plenty for the red-blooded male to gaze upon, trees and suchlike.
We were dragged into the pub the other night, and decided to try our hand at the quiz. The main prize was a trip to Fraser Island, although that of course required you to answer the majority of the questions correctly. Realising our chances of achieving this were somewhat remote, we decided to concentrate our efforts on winning the prize for the best-named team. In a pub full of like-minded miscreants, we knew our effort would have to be pretty risqué to win. After a few brief suggestions we settled on an idea, and so 'The Joseph Fritzel Supporters Club' boldly entered the quiz arena.
As our team named was announced to roars of laughter, we thought we had it in the bag. We were debating what shots to purchase with our winning bar tab, when all of a sudden our doom was announced. A few brave gentlemen had adopted a truly charming name, and were worthy winners of the competition. Should you ever be in need of a legendary shout in a pub quiz, feel free to copy this particularly poetic title:
'If Your Old Enough to Crawl, Your Already in the Right Position.'
Boomtown. Fantastic team name. Unfortunately they never won the quiz, although safe to say they swooped the bar tab with aplomb.
That same night in the pub (a planned quiet one I'll admit) developed into a few small incidents worthy of mention. A brief time after the quiz, we were drinking away and the banter was flying. For some unknown reason, the topic of discussion turned to the subject of war, and the nasty nature of it. Never one to miss an opportunity, JingleLad gave our German companion a slight ribbing for WW2, and the misbehavior during such. A bit close to the bone I thought, but you couldn't deny the comic effect of every 30 seconds JingleLad saying "Naughty Naughty!" in a Borat voice. He's a funny man, but unlikely to be the Scottish representative to Brussels anytime in the near future.
In all seriousness though, the German lad who was with us is one of our good friends, and the second person to be absorbed into this blog. We'll refer to him as BorrusiaSaan throughout, and he may well feature heavily as he's planning on getting a flat with us two.
I'm confident if you avoid the spew and odd patch of blood on the floor you'll feel right at home in our gaff. What a charming abode it shall be.
Aye anyway, so we headed out that night. To say we were on a budget is putting it mildly. We had about $2 between us, and with a pint costing at least $6, you needn't be Stephen Hawking to calculate we couldn't afford a drink. So there was only one thing for it, a full night of minesweeping! For those of you unfamiliar with minesweeping, it involves basically acting like a jaekie all evening and stealing any unattended drinks for yourself.
Now don't get me wrong, JingleLad and I were not proud of this, it was not our finest moment. But really, what would you do in our situation? It's not as if we couldn't go out, that would be silly.
So we had to spend a full evening on the minesweeping. And if your going to do it, you might as well do it well. There is an art to this activity. JingleLad and I are somewhat experts at it, and I hate to admit I say that with a small degree of pride. I would say times were bad, but that's actually not too outrageous in comparison to some other stories I've heard from fellow backpackers.
If I can drift slightly off-track for a wee bit, allow me to tell you a tale I thought was particularly amusing. BorrusiaSaan, JingleLad and I were walking about the famous Coles (supermarket) one day when we bumped into one of our crazy Welsh compatriots from the hostel. The lad was waking about the shop munching away on a chicken leg, nothing too mental there. We said our hellos, and he chummed about the shop with us for a bit. During this 15 minute wander, he helped himself to a kebab, a chicken sandwich, an apple, and another chicken leg. Absorbed in our debate over whether or not we could push the boat out and get non-value beans, JingleLad and I never really noticed this and it was left to the ever astute BorrusiaSaan to question the Welshman's intention of paying:
"Fuck no lads! I'm a bit skint right now, so I just comes in here and has a little bit of a wander and some food yeah. It works out better than paying for it eh!"
So with that in mind, I feel a good bit better about the whole minesweeping thing. It's still not ideal, but I'm sure when we have some flexible income we'll pay back those drinks with interest.
Just a few other brief stories to update you with. I managed to get battered off a keg of beer, which I hail as an achievement even for myself. I was downstairs in the work one day changing a keg, happy days so far. Then the horrible bugger threw a bit of a tantrum and squirted a good three pints worth right in my face before I eventually got the handle down and shut it up. I was shocked, drenched, and upset, and promptly threw a solid right foot at my nemesis to teach it a lesson. This was a minor error of judgement, and it is safe to say the keg came out of that situation a great deal better off than I did. I was left standing meekly in front of a fan trying to dry off nursing a throbbing foot, not really feeling like the smartest man alive.
And in the last update of this chapter, I attended a Movember party just a few days ago. This was a smashing affair, the usual drink and music combination again working out well. It did however mean I had to keep the tash for a few days longer than required and get a few funny looks, but those were nothing in comparison to what I got upon heading home from the party.
After a few beverages, we all get some odd ideas in our head. The one that entered my mind that Friday evening was especially stupid. I decided it would be humorous to quickly shave my tash into what could only be described as a Charlie Chaplin tribute (or a Hitler mo if you will). Funny at the time all agreed, many pictures were taken and a few suggestions I might not be quite the full shilling. It did not however make for a pleasant 2 hour journey home on public transport, with more than a few criticising looks aimed my way. I elected to employ a solid measure of self defense, put the Prodigy on the iPod full blast and bark/slobber at anybody who looked at me too long. Before long those old women kept their eyes to theirselves, and I was off in search of Mr Gillette. All in all a good night though.
That's about it at the moment, the 3 of us on the flat hunt pretty heavy just now. Also, it looks as if I will definitely be visiting New Caledonia, and two other nations out on this trip, but that's an update for another time.
Pretty different to the normal Christmas spirit out here as well with the constant sun, feels more like we should be gearing up for music festivals. But remember folks, it's not really Christmas till they're wearing Santa hats on RedTube!
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