Scotty’s Australia Day party was good – it turns-out that it was hosted at his place, so I didn’t feel like I was crashing once I discovered that, although not knowing anyone other than Scott made it a bit awkward.
I also realised that when we used to hang-out and drink together, it was always in a group situation. Nearly 10 years ago I’d spend most nights of the week drinking with a combination of Scott, Con, Gerard and a selection of other guys (usually bar-staff, bouncers or other figures from the clubbing industry), sometimes uni mates, other old school friends, neighbors and often a few people that I’d know to say “hi” to, but would have no clue as to who they really were or why they were there.
As you could imagine, from such a wide selection of people, there were always interesting stories and drunken adventures happening followed by hung-over recovery sessions around the pool. So while we all spent a fair bit of time together, the one commonality was the ‘group’ dynamic. Take the group away and the conversation sort-of dries-up after an hour or so.
This is what happened on Australia Day.
I tried a bit of mingling but that didn’t work-out so great as I discovered I’m really old.
The age factor has never really bothered me too much since I act like a child most of the time anyway and no matter how daggy I am, I still believe I’m ‘cool’ in my own special way (in the same way a blind person thinks they look good when they walk past a mirror).
However I found myself talking to one girl who asked how I knew Scott… so I explained that we knew each other from school and used to go clubbing a fair bit when we were in our late teens through to our early/mid 20’s. It was at this point you could tell she was trying to do some quick maths, then a startled look swept across her face and she said “Wow, that must make you like 27 or 28!” I replied “No, I’m actually 30… turning 31 next month” and she almost fell off her chair.
I think that was the first time I seriously felt like I was a pensioner who crashed a teenagers party.
Despite some awkward silences and some people clearly thinking I was in need of a Zimmer frame, it didn’t stop me enjoying a suitable amount of beer before I decided I’d head home in time for an afternoon Nana-nap 🙂
The rest of the week was, well, a standard work week.
Over the weekend that just flew past, we pimped-out our puppy George.
A friend-of-a-friend gave us a call recently and explained that one of their two female Maltese Shih Tzus was on heat and they were thinking about breading her. But they were lacking in the one crucial ingredient for this – a strapping male dog to step-up to the plate and sow his wild oats.
As they couldn’t find any dog that fit the description above, they thought perhaps our crazy little fluff-ball George might be interested. So, we pimped him out for the weekend in the hopes he can help make lots of cute little puppies that too will resemble the lint a giant may pluck from their belly button.
In exchange for George’s humping skills (which he regularly practices on anything that moves), we’ve asked if we can have one of the new puppies – this time a little girl dog.
So, if George did a good job with the ‘bow-chicka-bow-wow’, hopefully in the not-too-distant-future, he’ll have a play-mate to run around with and continue his legacy of destroying anything chewable that we leave lying around the house.