So after handing in my final piece of course assessment, I managed to take some time to do that thing people call living.
Of course, part of my concept of living is catching up on episodes of TV shows I haven’t been able to watch.
Speaking of which, I just watched the latest Doctor Who episode and I’ve decided to write an open letter to Neil Gaiman.
Dear Neil Gaiman,
Please write more episodes of ‘Doctor Who’. That is all.
Kindest Regards,
Paul D’Agostino
P.S. – If you do not write any more episodes of ‘Doctor Who’, I will hate you forever.
P.P.S. – Just joking. ‘Sandman’ is the tits.
P.P.P.S – Although, I have to admit that I watched the TV adaptation of ‘Neverwhere’. Was it made for $5 and spare change, or was the cheap aesthetic some sort of ironic ploy?
Back to other non-TV related news.
Welcome to Wednesday. After 13 hours of sleep and finalising my previous blog post, I headed into uni for my rigorous two lecture schedule. It’s really hard to pay attention to things that you don’t really care about at all. That said, one lecturer gave us a whole bunch of handy hints for the exam. Close attention was paid. Knowledge was attained. Yes, this was learning at its peak, people – when you boil it down it means caring enough to listen and absorbing the information that is necessary for you to do well.
Wednesday night was a co-worker’s birthday gathering. Upon arriving in the city, I parked right near Nihonshu (colloquially known as ‘My Bar’) and stopped in to shoot the shit with my good friend Evil who I haven’t seen since approximately March of this year. Speaking of which, I really need to organise an official Sake Night (it’s an official thing, seriously) gathering. Long gone are the days of ridiculous bills and epic stories of drunken fortune… I mean, I’m not going to have a Field of Dreams moment in relation to the bar I frequent(ed), but it’s about time I got the band back together.
Moving on.
A few of us grabbed a bite to eat before meeting up with everyone for drinks at a place called China Red, situated somewhere in the bowels of the new Bourke St/Little Bourke St arcade (just near the underground JB for those of you playing along at home). After some random conversations with the SportsCo employees regarding the best place in Melbourne to eat traditional Swedish meals, we headed in.
Now, allow me to preface my experience dining at China Red with one thing. After consuming their tasty food, I was violently ill for the next 30 minutes. And it wasn’t some sort of delayed reaction, about 5 minutes after eating I was screaming at the ants and finding out all sorts of interesting things about my insides.
I don’t necessarily believe that the food made me ill, because the other 4 people I was dining with had no problems whatsoever. Nor am I advocating some sort of smear campaign against China Red, because that would be spiteful and inappropriate. They have freakin’ touchscreens to order stuff on for crying out loud and little graphics of where your food is at.
After a considered amount of deduction, post-vomit, I narrowed it down to one item of food I ingested after getting home from uni as being responsible for my fit of forced evacuation… Leftover pizza. The cold tomato sauce base, the cheese, the everything. It just makes sense, dammit. You have scorned me once, pizza, you foul temptress of deliciousness. Mark my words, I shall not forget this.
Once all that had happened, I was completely fine to carry on. Strange, no? Most people would call it a night at that point, but I felt fine.
Maybe I haven’t said this enough about my co-workers, but I am so blessed to work with such a varied group of amazing people. What is clear from the aftermath of Wednesday night is that a big drinking night was well overdue. I won’t go into too many details, but many drinks and good times were had by all. It all went down at 1806, a place that makes wonderful cocktails, but has a thing or two to learn about midweek patronage. If you have a large group of guests who had already given you more than 80% of your nights takings, treat them well. Secondly, getting a bug up your arse when it suits you for no reason other than your suspenders being snapped on too tight does not give you the right to arbitrarily cut off all of said group from drinking more, especially those less intoxicated, or those who were not intoxicated at all – eg – moi.
Thursday was a well-earned rest day after uni at home. Seriously, I was trying to figure out what on earth to do with my time now that I had some spare. Relaxing, basically. Taking it all in. Watched Inception on blu-ray. My goodness, what a visual and aural treat, especially when cranked up on 5.1 surround sound.
Our cat Vash has made a habit of seeing me off every day, regardless of where I’m going. Where I park my car in the driveway, he will follow me to the car, jump up on the mailbox and watch me drive off. This has happened 4 out of 5 days this week.
Friday was an early day at the Hive. I had gone to bed at a reasonable hour and managed to leave home and get to work super early. When you start at 7am and you get to work at 6:30am, you kind of think to yourself… Why? The night consisted of good times with friends. Before heading out, though, I watched a National Geographic doco that was all amateur footage from the Japan Earthquake and Tsunami. Holy shit. I was not prepared to watch that. I watched because I was curious and then I wound up morbidly depressed. All the horrors and footage just seemed so… surreal. Having been to some of the places as well didn’t help. Watching Sendai just being wiped away, I damn near cried. I almost bought a ticket to head back over there after watching it, but decided against such an impulsive move.
Saturday… Not in a park… I don’t think it was the 4th of July… Now that I’m done referencing a Chicago song, after work I caught up with another mate of mine I haven’t seen in a while. He had some big news, which was great to hear (but I shan’t share due to me wanting to keep all you stalkers at bay) and we hung out and watched Aliens. I have to say, that film (now being 25 (!) years old) has really held up well over time. I could quote Bill Paxton (now of Big Love fame) till the cows come home, even though I would only let them come home if they apologised for what they did. Cheeky things think they can just saunter on home after I randomly quote Bill Paxton… I think not, ye dastardly bovines!
In fact, I will try and quote Aliens at random points throughout this week, I think. But the key to quoting it randomly is ensuring it is contextually appropriate. More on this in the next entry, no doubt.
Well… That’s it, man. Game over, man. Game over!