The one at the Shag

J and I got up rather late after an intense drunken PS3 session that lasted until 5am. We decided to head somewhere close and settled on one of my old favourites – the Lucky Shag. We had a fairly good possie on the water and were well on our way when a cruiser pulled up to the wharf in front of us. A couple of wealthy looking gents tied it up and jumped off to head to the bar for a couple. They left their trophy wives (who seemed past their used by date) on the craft.

We continued drinking and realised a fair bit of time must have past when one of the wives started pointing to her watch towards the gents. Paying no attention they continued drinking. A little more time past before the less irate wife decided to hop off the boat and talk to the men. Joining the men she proceeded to share a drink with them.

A little while later it became apparent that they were rather drunk when the 2nd wife came back to appease the 1st. As she crouched down and leaned on the boat to talk to her, the boat began to inch outwards and she hung on helplessly as it arched her over the water. Our shouts had become in unison “Fall, fall, fall, fall”, as it drifted further. Just as it appeared the inevitable would occur the mooring lines became taught and the gap grew no further. She managed to scramble back onto the wharf to our disappointed cries. I guess to settle her nerves she went back to the men to drink some more and we continued on our conversations.

A short while later she meandered back to the boat and we repositioned our stools for a chance to see her second attempt. The crowd had grown a little larger by this stage and we again rose up in unison “Fall, fall, fall, fall”, as she knelt down it appeared she had an epiphany that this method was flawed. Thinking she wasn’t going to give the crowd what it wanted she rose to her feet and moved towards the back of the vessel. She decided to leap down a drop of around a metre onto the Marlin board and landed with what looked like a prefect stick befitting a Chinese gymnast. It appeared to us in slow motion as her hand thrust out to catch the rail, swiping more air than Barbara Streisand, she took a few steps backwards before plunging into the water.

The boisterous cheers that ensued I had heard only once before after those immortal words “ and the winner is….. Sydoney”. Her sunnies had been lost as she waded to the boats ladder. By this time her husband had made it onboard and they both failed miserably to bring her into the boat. A full 10 minutes passed before she had been dragged out of the water to receive her standing ovation. The heckling was rampant as a rather embarrassed boatful of people made there way into the evening.

The one back in Perth

A fleeting visit through Perth to catch up with everyone was on the cards. An accurate account of the weekend is hard to attain because of the state I spent most of it in. Arriving at 3am I went back to my old apartment to try and kip for a few hours before the onslaught of the weekend was to occur.

I went into Tiger Lils around midday to meet up with Hols and the Diver for a few to catch up, before shifting to ‘negies. Hols was already asking about the ‘red buses’ as we consumed some beers and had a spot to eat. By the time others arrived we were pretty well on our way. It was the Worms birthday and in order for him to catch up a rather large portion of shots were bought in his direction – his night ended shortly after. J decided to high-5 everyone in the bar but instead of following through would draw his hand away and tell the other participant how much they sucked. This was a game that he found hilarious although I believed the random strangers caught in the prank disagreed.

It was towards the end of the evening that we realised most of our party had exited. I decided to exit myself and was greeted by a phone call from LD. He sounded a little more sober than I so I grabbed a Mac and Cheese and proceeded over to his place to continue the festivities.

Arriving back at Chelsea I was greeted by the sight of a very drunk Worm who had passed out on the couch. LD and I proceeded to make the Mac and Cheese a decent size Nacho’s. It was while we were devouring this that we heard a large thud and looked around to see an accusing worm on the ground looking at us as if we had something to do with his falling off the couch.

LD and I proceeded to catch up over a couple of games of Mario Kart. About an hour later that we realised the Worm had been missing since his fall. A quick search ensued resulting in us finding a very drunk Worm enjoying a kip on the loo – head in his folded arms on the bench to the side and a bellowing snore from his lungs. Unable to wake him initially we had a pillow under his head before he regained consciousness to stagger to his bed.

Our night ended in a fit of laughter, especially at the thought of how much fun showing the photo evidence of this event would be the next day. The quote from the Worm summing up it up the next day: “With friends like you guys – who needs enemies?”

The one at Oktoberfest

We left for Oktoberfest on the Friday morning in order to get 4 good days of drinking in. The girl stayed at home as she doesn't drink beer so I was rowdier than usual. The first day/night was rather story free so I will jump to day 2.

Day 2: The opening of Oktoberfest is apparently a highlight of ones drinking life. Having seen it before I was not all that keen to get out of bed at 6am to try and head for the tables. Instead we slept in and let the others in our apartment make the early dash for glory. This was in itself a brilliant idea as we rocked up and jumped on there table anyway (with the beers not being tapped until midday). The extra 4 hours sleep meant we lasted well into the night.

For some reaon the Running Man decided to make a game out of drinking out of shoes. The shoe was removed from the unsuspecting victim (usually by force) before beer being poured inside and then drunk by the victim. While hilarious it also conjured up thoughts of where the shoes had been. Towards the end we had a massive crowd of locals who rather enjoyed our game and joined in our shouts of "shoe shoe shoe shoe" everytime we nabbed someone new. We had a few variations on this game "Thong thong thong thong" and "boot boot boot boot" which appeared to be just as popular.

At the end of the evening we played a carnival game where you shot at pineapples with a little gun. It was a rather fun game until I shot one, only to see it get stuck in the pineapples fronds (is that what they are called?) The attendant was a little embarressed when I started proclaiming "Shenanigans" at the top of my voice. He knocked over the pineapple claiming fair shot but I wasn't satisfied until he bought me off with a squeak toy.

Day 3: Hangover in tow we headed back to the main arena and found ourselves in the Hoffenbrau tent. An oversight on my part had left my boxer shorts on. Soon they were ripped off and thrown at the pig (a giant pig hanging from the roof - covered in underwear). The only consollation was the marks the next day around the running mans torso from where I busted his jocks.

Towards the end of the day a group of germans came and sat at our table. I eyed off the expensive looking boots of the female and asked if she would like to drink out of them. She said a polite no and her friend said she had paid €850 a day earlier. This led to me being rather surprised when later (after several pints) she offered it up for service. The roar was in unison from the crowd as I filled it up with a whole stein. "Boot boot boot boot" as I began to chug away before realising what the whole stein was in fact a litre where it was passed around the table for everyone to sample the expensive wears.

As the eveing closed it became a messy affair - especially after a group of girls (lets call them kiwi bitches) and one bloke tried to muscle in on our table. They were politely told to be as seen as the kiwi army and reluctantly gave up. A little later they came back and a pair of undies was thrown at (a nameless girl that was travelling with me, is from Melbourne who used to work with me offshore and has been referred to as Cans). She didn't stand for it and in one of the most hilarious scenes - jumped the barrier to confront the KB's. It took me a while to pick myself up from the laughter and follow her over to break it up. Some friendly Italians had rescued her and chased off the KB's. After promising not to mention the story to anyone (who really reads my blog?) we proceeded home. In between my fits of laughter, I harrassed anyone implying "keep those undies in your pants or I will unleash the cat fighter onto you"

The one at the F1

I wasn’t sure I would make this one as I was flying with Alitalia who a few days earlier said they would be cancelling flights. Fortunately for me that didn’t include mine.

I arrived in Milan on the day of the race and luckily for me the bus / metro and train tickets appeared to be free (well actually I never bought a ticket and nobody stopped me). I had tried for a helicopter to the track from the airport (that at £60 was a bargain) but unfortunately because you landed inside the track had to have your ticket with you and I was meeting my Kiwi mate at the track to grab it. Nevertheless I managed to leg it there and arrived a couple of hours before the start. Once I met the Kiwi we entered the track and had to walk near on 20 mins to our seats – in misty rain and boggy mud.

For those that know the track we were situated on the right hand side of the first chicane after the main straight. I would like to say ‘seats’ but alas it was just a bench.

I was a little dubious at how the F1 would pan out at Monza - the home of Ferrari. It is a very fast track and the field usually spreads out with little overtaking. It was rather exciting that Vettel was on pole, and even more amazing he had done it in a Toro Rosso. The fans were mainly for Ferrari but there was a strong contingent of Brits there barracking for Hamilton.

The weather was a light drizzle that kept the track saturated and extreme weather tyres were compulsory. This made for better viewing as there was more overtaking and spins than usual – a fair few in front of us.

I think we were the only ones on the track that were cheering for the leader, Vettel the whole race. The majority of fans came around by races end and applauded the achievement of his win. It was good to have a walk around the track after the race and feel the closeness of the atmosphere. We watched the presentation and walked half the track before bailing to the pub.

Unfortunately the next day I could not get an early flight home so endured a day around the city. I rather liked the place and can certainly say it was probably a shoppers paradise (which was confirmed by the girls excited reaction after I showed her some pictures I had taken of the Prada store).

I toured the city anyway taking in the sites. A lot of the monuments and buildings were covered in scaffolding for repairs but in true Milan style (I presume) they had giant billboards covering them with the latest fashion.

At the end of the day I found my way to the Ferrari store. Admittedly I felt a slight chill entering (kid in a candy store style) at the range. You could pretty much buy everything and anything with a Ferrari logo (although I didn’t see a kitchen sink). A few of the noted Ferrari items were: Key chain (€45), golf balls (€40), snow skis (€2600) and a replica F1 steering wheel (€12,000). I picked up a pair of green leather shoes for €80 which I thought was a bargain.

A final thought on Milan: While the city contained some rather ridiculously attractive women (discounting the quality boney models), the men seemed rather old and certainly didn’t bathe.