Things I don't understand about America

So as you know, if you read this blog regularly, I spend almost as much time in the good ol’ US of A as I do in my homeland of Down Under. This is through work, but also through my belief that you could spend a year in America and still not see it all, or have seen it properly, so I just keep going there on holidays whenever I have a chance. To date I have been to fifteen states, and while that sounds like a lot, it’s really not when you realise there are 35 more to see! But I’m working on it.

Anyways, since spending so much time in America, there are a few things I have found perplexing about this magnificent country. Some things I find truly confusing, weird, unnecessary or down right strange, so here is the definitive list of things I don’t understand about America (and just so you don’t want to go and blow your brains out after reading this, let me assure you it will today be devoid of any references to gun control, free healthcare and lower tertiary education fees. Maybe I’ll write about that another time…or maybe I won’t in case Jodhi Meares-like devotee’s jump all over me again).

 

Why is your cheese orange? And why are there so many different types, and why do they almost all taste exactly the same (and nothing like cheese in Australia tastes)?

Why do you let dogs stay in hotel rooms? And why must you bring them onto aeroplanes, into clothing stores and into shopping centres? It’s unhygienic and gross, and unless it’s a service animal I really don’t think it belongs there.

Why are you obsessed with drying your clothes in a tumble drier? Why can’t you just hang them on a clothesline in the sun?

Why does your chocolate taste terrible? (Cadbury and Lindt > Hersheys by a miiiiiiillllleeeee)

Why do you buy so much bottled water? Every time I go to Vons or Walmart or Target every single person is wheeling out a trolley full of 64 pack single serve bottles of water. You know you can refill the one water bottle you have right? Or just keep a jug in the fridge and fill up a cup from it anytime you are thirsty right?

 

 

Why are all your national monuments and select national parks free entry and why hasn’t this brilliant idea been adopted in other countries in the world?

Why do you wear foam platform thongs/flip flops? And why do you think these are fashionable? They are hideous. Haven’t you seen how the rest of the world wears Havaianas? Your platform flip-flops make you look like you belong on the set of a 1998 teen movie.

Why have you not abolished the use of drive through ATMs as a tiny way of perhaps helping the obesity cause? Every time I see a drive through ATM I feel like I’m looking at the definition of laziness.

Why do you say carmel instead of caramel? Is this just certain people’s accents gone whacko?

Also, why do you say kabob? It sounds so strange.

 

 

What is up with half and half milk? First time I heard of this I assumed it was milk that was half full cream and half skim, but then an Auckland flight attendant I work with one time made me try a glass of this stuff and I realised immediately I was wrong, and that it is in fact half milk half runny cream AND OMG WHY WOULD YOU EVER DRINK SUCH A THICK CONCOCTION THAT LEAVES A VOMIT INDUCING FILM ALL OVER THE INSIDE OF YOUR MOUTH AFTER YOU’RE DONE DRINKING?

Why are there so many places that offer to cash cheques for you? Why can’t you just go into a bank and do it there? Why do you need a third party to do it for you? Why is it easier to go into one of these dodgy looking shop set ups on most city streets than to just go into your local bank branch? Do these dodgy looking places give you the money immediately and the bank makes you wait or something? (and PS…why do you even still have cheques?)

Whose idea was it to make cinnamon flavoured chewing gum? No…just no.

Why do your Subway stores not have carrot to put on my sub?

Why are you still pre metric? It seems like you are literally the last country on earth to use Fahrenheit, inches and pounds.

Why do you call capsicum ‘peppers’? The first time I heard of this I imagined a hot, spicy, chilli type vegetable, when in fact it was just a green capsicum – possibly the most unspicy, unpeppery thing there is.

Why is your Mexican food so good and so readily available? And why has this trend not yet reached Australian shores?

Why do you omit the word ‘of’ all the time? “He’s been in Texas a couple months” Is it laziness?

Why haven’t you got rid of tipping yet? It is such a pain in the ass. Example: my taxi fare is $35, and I give the taxi driver a $50 note. He then gives me back $15 and then I have to give him a few dollars of that fifteen back as a tip. ARGH SO MUCH TOO-ING AND FRO-ING. Not to mention the poor man who drives our crew buses to and from the airport who not only has to load 21 crew member’s numerous pieces of luggage into the back of the bus but has to stop 21 times in the middle of it all to accept each crew members tip they give in way of thanks. Why can’t his company just pay him what he deserves?

Why do you still have pennies? I got back from a recent double banger of two trips in 10 days to LA for work and emptied out my wallet onto the bed when I finally got home and counted no less than 28 pennies in my pile of change *pulls hair out* I know I could put these all in a tip jar, but even though they’re annoying, they’re still money to me and I am too tight with and worry too much about money to even give 1c away when I could painstakingly count out fifty cents worth of pennies and hand it to a cashier at the local In’N’Out. But still, they’re a pain in the butt (but I’ll keep them anyway – like I said, money’s money.)

 

 

Why are you obsessed with eating turkey? And why do you so often put turkey in something when it should definitely be chicken? Like in a club sandwich? A club sandwich should definitely be bacon and chicken, not bacon and turkey!

Why do you not find cheese in a can gross? For reals, why?

Why is maple syrup bacon a thing and why do you offer to put it on my hamburger?

Why do so many people buy peeled baby carrots that are in containers with hummus or by themselves at the supermarket? These carrots look drier than the skin on my hands after I’ve been working in the galley on a 16 hour Dallas to Sydney flight.

 

Despite all these weird and perplexing things, I still love you America, and can never get enough of visiting you. I love your friendly people, your amazing array of food (pre-packaged baby carrots aside), your breath taking landscapes, your top notch museums and your sick theme parks!

 

What do you find weird about countries you’ve visited? Leave me a comment and let me know!

Jorgs

A Fortunate (Travellers) Life

Oh my goodies dear readers, I have not put in an appearance in soooo long. I’ve been a bit busy (lots of travel, situation: normal), a bit down in the dumps for reasons I can’t even put my finger on, a bit too busy with crazy full work rosters and also just zero-ly motivated to write anything at all.

But now I am back. Sure is nice to have a span of days off that lasts more than five minutes! And the number one thing on my to do list was blog. In capital letters. Second only on the list to my mountains of laundry (of which I did three loads this morning and my washing basket is still not empty…I think some things are just going to live in there for life and never get washed. Clearly I never wear them anyways).

Like I said, I have been a little down in the dumps lately and I couldn’t even tell you why, because I don’t know myself, but yesterday as I was feeling sorry for myself on the way home from an eleven day stint at work, I began thinking of things I should be grateful for, and things I should appreciate as a ways of slapping myself out of my self pity mode.

And of course my mind immediately turned to travel (again, situation: normal). I had a think that even though the last two years of my life have a lot of the time been pretty shithouse, I am so fortunate that the rest of the time I’ve been able to travel to some freaking incredible places, and have some pretty incredible experiences and met some bloody incredible people, and for that I am forever lucky. Heck, ever since I started travelling overseas seriously in 2009, I have gone to some amazing places.

Some places I have been to are true bucket list experiences. Some were bucket list worthy and I didn’t even realise they were until I was there. That they should’ve been on my bucket list all along. Visiting Anne Frank House in Amsterdam and actually moving aside the bookcase and climbing up the narrow staircase/ladder to the secret annexe where the Frank’s hid from the Nazi’s for two years was an example of this.

But further than that I have climbed the Eiffel Tower, scaled the Sydney Harbour Bridge, sailed through the canals of Venice on a gondola, been inside the Statue of Liberty, walked the Freedom Trail, stood amongst the snow on the highest mountain in Europe, toured Wimbledon, walked through Kensington Palace, touched the Berlin Wall, been mere metres from dolphins in the middle of the Ionian, watched the sun rise over Angkor Wat, seen the largest sitting Buddha in the world in Hong Kong, walked across the Golden Gate Bridge and back again and done the same with the Brooklyn Bridge, taken a helicopter over the Grand Canyon, toured the iconic Sydney Opera House and Radio City Music Hall, been stunned into silence at Pearl Harbor, walked the Las Vegas strip, felt infinitely small next to the enormous rock faces of Yosemite National Park, stood in front of the White House, walked amongst the ruins of the Acropolis, thrown a coin into the Trevi Fountain, toured through Changi Prison, ‘held up’ the Leaning Tower of Pisa, explored an Amish town in rural Pennsylvania, walked over the remains of Pompeii, snorkelled in the crystal waters off Thailand and Vietnam and driven across Australia.

How can I possibly think I am not leading a fortunate life when I have done all those things? And when I can continue to do all those things almost on a monthly basis due to my job, the fact I spend 99% of my money on travel and due to this terrible affliction I suffer from called wanderlust?

I can’t. I am very lucky. I may not have heaps of friends, a boyfriend, my own house, be free of a HECS debt or living a life of luxury, but I have my passport, a camera and a thirst for adventure so what else could I possibly need?

And I’m going to write about every single one of those adventures, plus a few other random things I come across or have an opinion about, so keep coming back to visit my blog and I will be updating as often as possible for you all.

Your grateful traveller,

Jorgs

 

Worshipping the sun and the sea in
Nha Trang, Vietnam, earlier this year

 

My Fantasy Dinner Party Guest List

So the other day I was watching the Friends episode where Ross ditches Isabella Rossellini from his list of five women he’s allowed to sleep with. And don’t ask me how but it reminded me of a list I’d made ages ago in my phone of all the people who would be on the guest list for my fantasy dinner party…and I thought it’d make a cool topic for a blog post!

*Note: You will notice most of the guests are athletes, musicians or actors. Also, the list is pretty long and most of the guests are Australian. But hey, it’s my list, not yours.

The definitive list is as follows…

Lisa McCune – Australian actress, singer, theatre legend and according to me and my friend Nikki, a national treasure. She is my favourite actress, and I have followed her career for a very long time. I also live in the suburb next to the one she grew up in – good conversation starter?

 

 

John Farnham – Australian singing legend. Because he has been my favourite singer since before I knew what music even was. Every Christmas it was cassettes of his latest album under the tree, and later CDs that still today are in my car to pop into the plyer whenever I feel like a bit of The Voice. I know every single word to every single one of his songs, and it is one of my greatest disappointments that I am 29 years old and still have not been able to afford to, or had the opportunity to, go see him live in concert. I just know one of these days he is going to retire for good and I will have missed my chance (wahhhhhh!). I once worked in a bar at one of his concerts, so I could HEAR him singing in the distance, but I couldn’t see him (double wahhhhh!).

 

Carrie Underwood – American country music singer. One of the most successful of all time, and certainly the most successful person to have won American Idol. Seems like a genuinely lovely person, and her music has helped me through many a bad day.

Paul Barry – Australian journalist, author, current host of Media Watch, Walkley Award winner. Asks the hard questions, has had his business card stomped on by Alan Bond and written many a scandalous book on the Packers. Pretty sure we could talk all night about his experiences in print and television.

 

 

Liz Chetkovich – Gymnastics Australia’s High Performance Manager and the brains behind the establishment of the highly successful women’s gymnastics program at the West Australian Institute of Sport. Because me and my friends who follow gymnastics in this country call her Queen Liz – I think that’s enough of an explanation as to why she makes my list.

Nastia Liukin – American gymnast, Beijing 2008 all around gold medallist. My favourite gymnast of all time. A huge inspiration.

 

 

Rob Sitch and Jane Kennedy – husband and wife comedy duo who are 2/4 of the Working Dog gang. Creators of The Castle, Frontline, The Dish, The Hollowmen, Thank God You’re Here, The Late Show and many other television shows, books and films. Since they’re married I’m counting them as one person.

 

 

Tony Wheeler – the founder of Lonely Planet travel guides. I’ve read his book, but would kill to just sit down with him and ask him even more about how Lonely Planet began.

John Marsden – author. Even though I’ve read a tonne of books since high school, the Tomorrow series remains my favourite series of books of all time. I have read Tomorrow When the War Began about 30 times since I discovered it at 14. I’ve read the other six books in the series almost as many times.

 

 

 

Tina Fey – comedian and creator/star of 30 Rock, Mean Girls and the author of Bossy Pants. Everyone loves Tina Fey. She is just COOL. We could be best friends.

Paul Kelly – Australian singing legend, a true poet. Farnsy and Mr Kelly are almost equal to me, but because I’ve listened to Farnsy since birth and I haven’t done that with Paul Kelly, Farnsy *just* inches him out. But I still know every word to every one of Paul Kelly’s songs too, and have been lucky enough to see him in concert with Neil Finn in 2013 (it is the best concert I’ve ever been to, no question). In my opinion Paul Kelly is one of the greatest songwriters Australia has ever produced. His lyrics are like poetry and his music comforting and familiar. I cannot celebrate Christmas without playing How To Make Gravy 574385783496593 times. I just can’t.

 

 

Claudia Karvan - Australian actor, director. Because she is just cool. One of the coolest people on television. And one of Australia's greatest actors.

 

 

Bruce McAvaney – sporting commentator. Is there a more iconic Australian voice than Bruce’s? I know he is made fun of, but I love his voice. It’s part of my childhood. I would talk with him about Sydney 2000 and all his other Olympic experiences for hoursssss.

 

Judith Lucy – Australian comedian. My favourite comedian EVER. I would sit her next to Rob Sitch and Jane Kennedy because they have already made a few shows together and talking to the three of them at once would make my head explode – in a good way.

 

 

Stuart Diver – survivor of the 1997 Thredbo landslide. So much respect for this guy. I have read his book 3 times, and feel so inspired by the strength he has showed not just during the 65 hours he was stuck in alpine conditions before being rescued, but also through the loss of two wives and still be able to soldier on today. What a champion.

 

The following people almost made the cut…

Bryan Brown – Australian actor

John Wood – Australian actor

Ashleigh Brennan – Australian gymnast, four time Commonwealth Games medallist, 2 time Olympian

John Adam – Australian actor, theatre performer. For the eye candy.

Nadine Garner – Australian actress, singer.

Ric Birch – creator of the Sydney and Atlanta Olympic Opening Ceremonies, among others.

Meryl Streep – actress. Because why wouldn’t you invite Meryl Streep to your fantasy dinner party?

Bridget Sloan – American gymnast, 2008 Olympian, one of the greatest NCAA gymnasts of all time.

Alec Baldwin – actor. The male version of Meryl Streep.

 

 

Who would be on your ultimate fantasy dinner party guest list?

 

Your host,

Jorgs

 

 

*Thanks interwebs and google for the pictures. I promise I'm not stealing them and claiming them as my own.

A Traveller’s Education

Last week I spent five days in Singapore with Mumma Jorgs, and since it was the first time I had travelled with her in about eight years, I realised a couple of things – namely that I have a whole education in me now thanks to my extreme case of wanderlust. I suddenly knew how to do things in Singapore that my Mum didn’t. And what’s more, she was relying on me for it. It was like the roles had been reversed, and it was so odd, as all the other times I’d travelled with her I’d been much younger and she had been the one who had figured out how to get places, how to fix problems, how to get back on the right road when we got lost, how to handle dodgy taxi drivers. But now, it’s me.

It feels good, but scary. Just like that time, at barely 22 and so incredibly young in so many ways, I stepped onto a plane bound for London and left little old Perth behind for three months. I was beyond scared, but also beyond excited. No doubt my parents were worried (especially my Mum, who is a chronic, chronic worrier) that something terrible would happen to me, or that I wouldn’t be able to tackle the challenges travelling occasionally throws at you, but the second I stepped onto that plane and away from familiarity and comfort was the start of my traveller’s education.

Travelling teaches you things you can’t learn in school, or in university. Only the wanderlusters can step into the massive train stations of NYC, London, Paris or Hong Kong and feel confident they can tackle the routes that splay out on the map like veins through the body. Only wanderlusters learn to have the balls to politely but firmly ask for their passport back from a customs official in an airport who wants a bribe in exchange for giving it back. Only wanderlusters can add three nights of two minute noodle dinners and three mornings of free hostel pancakes and know it equals a $300 bridge climb in Sydney or a paraglide in Austria and that it is definitely the right answer to that mathematical equation. Only wanderlusters can have their minds expanded through the meeting of other travellers from far away countries, of other religions, of other races, of greater experience and become better people for it. Only wanderlusters can be so resourceful and quick thinking that they can track down their travel buddie’s dropped mobile phone on Hollywood Boulevard with just a few short phone calls and a bus ride.

In Singapore it was me who found and booked our hotel, made sure it was a good location, figured out the best way to get around and explored the recommendations given to me by friends and fellow crew when deciding what we should see and do during our time in the country. It was me who navigated the complex subway, with its huge escalators and dizzyingly big stations when my Mum just wanted to take a taxi because she saw it as less intimidating and much easier. It was me who educated her on liquids, aerosols and gels and the Smartgate machine at the airport.

And all these answers I had, I had gained through firsthand experience during my travels. Of course it helps that I am now a flight attendant and travel for work every week, but I learnt many things about travel before I even ever entered that profession.

I feel sorry for those who have yet to have the opportunity to learn on foreign soil and in tricky situations. I hope y’all get the opportunity soon. I feel sorry for those who think they don’t need to get a travellers education or who don’t want one. And I applaud and encourage those about to set off on an adventure and start their own traveller’s education – as nervous and apprehensive as they might be, when they return, whenever that may be, they will return a different person. A person able to tackle so much more than they could before they left and a person who will be so much more confident within themselves and compassionate, accepting and open to and of others.

I have a buddy who is about to set off on such an adventure in the coming months, so this blog entry is dedicated to her. Follow her journey as she attends a performing arts summer school in London and then her adventures through the rest of the UK and Europe by following her new blog at https://teashakespeareandthetraveller.wordpress.com/ .

Until next time wanderlusters,

Jorgs

How many wines does it take for one little yogi to roll her car?

Today I’m throwing it back. Throwing it back to last year, when I got into an argument with a celebrity on Instagram. After the backlash – but also just as many positive, supporting comments – about my binge drinking posts on this blog, I feel spurred on to continue to voice my opinion on things I don’t think are right. I’m not the type to just let these things slide by, as I have principles, and this is how I got into the argument in the first place.

Mid last year many of you may have heard of a certain female active wear ‘guru’ who rolled her car in a classy Sydney suburb after drinking a few too many wines one afternoon in North Bondi. Maybe you didn’t hear about it, but if you lived in Sydney, as I did at the time, you definitely would’ve. The media were all over it like a rash. And rightly so.

Anyway, said celebrity rolled her fancy schmancy Range Rover and damaged several other cars. Thankfully, nobody was hurt. Later, due to I am sure, her well known name (and former – heavy weight – married name), her status within Sydney society, plus the ease with which she could afford to pay an excellent mouthpiece known for getting celebrities ‘out’ of situations like this in court, she was let off with barely a slap on the wrist. This was despite previous driving offences, and despite the fact just a couple of courts away in western Sydney, a man was in for the same offence and got a far harsher penalty than Miss Yoga Pants.

Sometime later she posted a picture on her Instagram account which depicted a hand holding a pair of scissors, cutting off the ‘t from the word can’t. Pretty disappointed at the light sentence she had been given, and not willing to sit back and watch herself and many other celebrities get off so easily as if they are more ‘special’ than the rest of us, I could not help but write a comment on her picture that went something along the lines of ‘I can….drink and drive and get away with it.’ (who am I kidding, those were the exact words. I won’t forget how satisfying it felt to write them and hope she would read them and feel a little remorse).

Well watch out. What happened next was much more than I had expected. Many of Miss Yoga Pants hippie dippie yoga loving chia seed inhaling devoted followers commented, making up excuses for their guru and her actions, insisting it was ‘okay that we all make mistakes’ and continuously stating how much they still loved and adored her. Plenty of people jumped on my band wagon also, standing at my back supporting my stance on how seriously she had not taken what she had done.

Miss Yoga Pants herself, known to be media shy, people shy, everything shy (yet she is a former swimsuit model…go figure), even hopped on and began making excuses for herself in reply to my comment. Miss Yoga Pants stated she had only had a few wines that afternoon and had eaten. She stated her previous run ins with unpaid parking fines and never receiving her traffic infringements in the post were all someone else’s fault, and that she hoped I would forgive myself and live with peace and harmony.

Vomit. Get a grip.

Miss Yoga Pants herself is a whisp thin person, whom I can pretty confidently say four wines would knock around pretty solidly. She definitely didn’t eat enough to balance what she drank (but she made sure to remind me she’d followed the ‘government legislation of one drink an hour’ but then went on to admit she hadn’t thought far enough to realise this recommendation varies according to a person’s weight). She insisted it was near on impossible to live in Sydney and never get parking fines (well dang, how did I possibly live there for two years and never get a single one?! I must be soooo lucky!). She insisted old unpaid fines were a result of mail getting stolen from her box for ten years (never heard of a lock love? Or god forbid a secure PO Box that will only cost you $200 a year? Pretty sure you could afford it).

I played on for quite a while. Maybe you, dear readers, haven’t noticed yet, but if you do dumb shit, I’m going to call you out on it. That’s what you deserve if you’re going to do dumb shit. And that’s what I felt needed to be done on this Instagram post. Her and her devoted yogis were insisting it was all right that she could’ve killed someone. That it was all right that she’d been able to get away with next to no punishment, making her believe she could go on and do it again and again, just because the law had made an exception for her because she is ‘famous’ and can afford a really good lawyer.

Well I sure have a problem with that. Who cares to place a bet that she didn’t personally apologise to those whose cars she damaged when she rolled her shiny 4WD? She barely showed up to court, putting on her wounded bambi look for the media pack when she did eventually show up (late), and insisting she had been victimized and hassled for years just because she used to be married to one of Australia’s richest men.

Cry me a river. She had had her licence suspended six times in seven years! All the problems she pumped out into her Instagram comments and to the media were easily resolvable but which she thought she was above because of her celebrity. Blaming her assistants, recommended alcohol intake levels for her weight and height, blaming everything and everyone but herself for her inexcusable actions.

As if I wasn’t going to call her out on that. I am truly sick of seeing football clubs covering up the dumb shit actions of its players, Cronulla’s favourite bogan bikini model continually get her licence suspended yet still driving around like she is someone special, actors to boxers to NFL stars being perpetrators of domestic violence yet still showered in money and fame, all the while their despicable acts behind closed doors going blissfully ignored.

What made Miss Yoga Pants think that she was any more special than anyone else? What made her think it was okay to do what she did? What made her think one tiny lamb chop would counteract a whole afternoon of drinking when she probably weighs barely 50kg? Why was she making excuses for such an inexcusable thing she did?

I really would’ve liked to see what the devoted yogis had to say about their guru had she actually killed someone – a very, very real possibility, and one she is very lucky to have escaped. Would they still have been singing her praises then? I bloody hope not.

Miss Yoga Pants has been in the news a lot this past year, and not just for the Range Rover rolling incident. My little stoush with her garnered a write up on ninemsn and the Daily Mail, of which I was not expecting, but which I was glad for, as I think it highlighted just how much of a dumb shit she’d been, and she deserves to have her wrists slapped so much more than what they have so far been. I wish nothing but negative publicity on someone who’s going to do stupid things like put innocent lives at risk.

You can see readers, why I dislike drinking more and more with every passing day. The examples as to why drinking stupidly just keep getting thrown at me, day after day.

What a shockingly bad decision she made with the fuel of those wines. Of course, you cannot blame the alcohol all the time – many people can drink and be mature and intelligent enough to make the decision not to drive, no matter how drunk they may or may not be. But Miss Yoga Pants made a poor decision, and while we all do indeed make poor decisions from time to time, we all also should own up to them, apologise, rectify the situation as best we can and take proper responsibility for our actions - not blame the rest of the world for our stupid acts. Alcohol is a part of too many road accidents and fatalities.

If you make a dumb shit decision, as I stated above, there will always be someone there to call you out on it. Because you deserve to be called out on it.

I’m sure many think I sound like the fun police here, and maybe that’s what I am. But imagine if it was your car she banged up? Imagine if it was your sister or brother that she hit with her car? Wouldn’t you be calling her out on it then too?

 What were you thinking Miss Yoga Pants?

Seriously, what were you thinking?

Jorgs

Note: for the detectives out there who might go hunting on Instagram for this argument, you won't find it - as Instagram deleted my comments after I was threatened one too many times by the hippie dippies.

When you’re still not up for Happy Hour

So apparently I offended some readers with my last blog entry. I’m not sorry. This is my blog, and it’s about my opinions, and this is where I’m allowed to have them. I only care about offending my family and friends, and so far they have all sided with me on that post, so I needn’t worry that they’re upset by what I wrote.

And it seems that ever since I wrote that post, every day since I have been inundated with more and more reasons to dislike people who drink excessively. The reasons are just being hurled at me constantly, reinforcing everything I wrote as 100% spot on.

For example, last week I witnessed a group of drunken douche bag rugby players hassle a young woman to the point of her being in tears. They were wolf whistling, trying to touch her up and making many a suggestive comments, among other things. They were relentless at it. They were only doing this because they were drinking – I had talked to them previously and all seemed like all right guys before they started getting on the piss. Thankfully their team manager shut them down when it came to his attention that they were being dickheads, but to me it only proved once again that not much good comes from that kind of drinking. It also did not help their cause at all – everyone around them just rolled their eyes and whispered ‘typical rugby players’. The stereotype that exists out there that rugby players are hard drinkers, won’t take no for an answer, think they’re untouchable (or that their club will protect them) and think they’re god’s gift was only reinforced time and time again that day. They did not do themselves any favours in the eyes of others. But they didn’t care. Like I said, they think they’re gods. They had no shame, saw nothing wrong with what they did, all because the alcohol they drank and the way they egged each other on as a result, hazed over their good judgement.

I don’t give a toss if you feel I’m judging you for being an excessive drinker. Maybe that’s what you are, and you just keep making excuses for your behaviour and continually talk yourself into thinking it’s ok. What’s more, I don’t care if you feel I’m judging you – because I am – because you are the ones that judge me way worse for only being an occasional drinker. For being someone who doesn’t enjoy drinking to the point of passing out. For being someone who doesn’t think it’s funny to have such a crazy night that you have unexplained bruises the next morning from stumbling round in a drunken stupor. For being someone who doesn’t think it’s cool that your $200 dress got ripped and you label it in a Facebook post as ‘must’ve been a good weekend if your dress gets torn to shreds’. No, I don’t think that’s cool, and yes I am going to judge you.

This kind of drinking is a terrible culture that exists in so many sporting clubs and workplaces and within friendship groups. And I think it needs to change. I know it won’t, but my opinion is that it should. Label me as unfun all you want, but as a commenter pointed out in an article linked – though it didn’t explain his argument very well – drinking is the second biggest killer in Australia. One day hopefully that will hit home.

When you're not up for Happy Hour

Today I’m turning serious guys. I’ve been wanting to write about this topic for a really long time, as it really gets on my nerves, but I haven’t had the motivation to tackle such an infuriating topic in the written form until today. And then last week I got a push to write it now more than ever after I saw a Facebook post from a colleague about it. So today I’ve come to the library, hoping for some peace and quiet and a nice corner nook of a desk to settle myself into to get blogging.

Well, I got to the library, but there are no desks left (maybe because my local only has three…what the hell?) so I’m sitting on the floor because that is also the only place there’s a power point as I forgot to charge my laptop before I left home, and let’s face it, I’m going to write much more than 17% battery will allow.

So anyway, today’s topic is alcohol. Or rather, people who drink it and are douche bags when doing so. I didn’t used to dislike these douche bags as much a few years ago. Maybe there are more drunken douche bags now than there was then, I don’t know. Maybe it’s because for the last few years I have worked in what I am positive is one of THE most alcohol drenched industries one could possibly ever work in.

Now, I do drink. I do. I don’t like beer or wine, or most types of cider, but I do drink. Give me a mixed drink or a cocktail or some strawberry lime Rekorderlig and I am a happy camper. But I don’t enjoy going to pubs and clubs every Saturday night and getting off chops so completely that you spend the whole of Sunday on the couch nursing a Maccas cheeseburger. I cannot tell you how many snapchats I get on Sundays that depict exactly this, usually accompanied by the caption ‘never drinking again’. Yet the very next Sunday up appears an identical snapchat from the exact same person.

Now I know this makes me sound like a party pooper who’s no fun at all, but I truly don’t care. And I do think I am still a fun person. Maybe I sound like one of those ads that used to appear in Dolly when you were a teenager that was all ‘you can have fun without alcohol or drugs’. But honestly, I don’t find it cool at all – nor do I find anything associated with it cool (like war wounds from when you fell drunkenly into a gutter on your stumble home, the fact you lost your licence because you were caught drink driving). I do understand that crazy nights with a few drinks can create some of your most amazing memories and times with your closest friends – nights you’ll never forget. And I am all for that. But why do people take it so much further than that? And scarily enough, why do they do it multiple times a week?

Then last week I came across a Facebook post from someone I know who linked an article about giving up alcohol and then proceeded to make a comment alongside it about how much he loved drinking alcohol, how confident it made him, the friends he’s gained because of it and the social opportunities it provides. He then went on to say that despite this though, he didn’t like the cost, the hangovers and the way he feels drawn to alcohol in order to fit in. He also admitted, after several of his friends commented on his post that they had given up alcohol permanently or at some point in their lives for a while, that he had not gone without alcohol for more than a month since he was 13 years old.

I nearly fell off my bed. I know I was a late comer to the party having only had my first taste of alcohol when I was sixteen, but not having gone without it for just a couple of weeks since he was thirteen (the age he first tried alcohol does not bother me…it’s very normal actually I think) up until this day, well, I found that so, so sad. It was amazing that he felt this had to be an accompaniment to every single weekend or Friday night.

Of course he is not the only one, and I am not trying to single him out. How many articles do you read in the media that are about losing weight or feeling healthier and the first thing they recommend you do is cut down on, or cut out completely, any alcohol? They write it like it’s so common for everyone to drink every week. And they write it because it’s absolutely true. I’m not judging you if you have a glass of wine or a beer after work each night. The point of this entry is that I’m just judging you if you are one of those people who do your drinking excessively. Why do you feel the need to do this? Why do you need to go so far? Why do you have to write yourself off every Saturday night which in turn renders you practically vegetative all day Sunday? Do you think such excess makes you cool? Do you also think this on the Sunday when you’re feeling like dog shit? Or do you regret it? And if you regret it, why do you then go and do it again next weekend? If you don’t regret it…why don’t you?

I know a lot of people drink for social acceptance, like my buddy mentioned above, and I understand that, and even sympathise a tiny bit. Many workplaces and industries have a culture where drinking is just the norm. You are seen as abnormal if you don’t drink. I know this, because I work in such an industry. It’s alcohol DRENCHED, and because I am not a huge drinker, I often am excluded from or forgotten about during many crew get togethers. Being a flight attendant who doesn’t drink is like someone working at Vogue who doesn’t like fashion, or an AFL footballer who doesn’t take drugs (yep, I went there). You’re seen as weird, and like you aren’t putting in the effort to get to know your work mates, for the single reason you don’t want to go out boozing with them all night (and EVERY trip) and spend all your layover allowance on drinks. So I can absolutely understand ol’ buddy above when he says drinking brings him social acceptance. Certainly it’s easier to make friends when you’re a bit tipsy. Heck, you even make friends with the girl standing next to you in the toilet queue when you’re drunk. It can be fun, looking through those wine goggles. Everything seems better, and you do have heaps of fun. I’m not denying that. I’ve been there, done that myself. I just never take it to the point of excess like so many people around me seem to do.

Why does every social occasion need to be centred around alcohol? Why is it more common to hear someone say ‘let’s go out for a drink’ than ‘let’s go out for icecream/coffee/fish and chips’? I know I know, it’s so normal to drink. So, so normal. But if someone chooses not to go it as aggressively as you, if they don’t like shots, or they don’t like the taste of wine and they choose not to drink the way you do, why do you look at them oddly? Why do you exclude them? If alcohol brings you social acceptance, and you feel people only like you because you drink, how do you think the people who don’t drink feel? Can you imagine how unaccepted and left out they feel? Take a moment to let that sink in, and maybe next time someone says they are not up for going out drinking one weekend and would prefer to do something else – a movie, a road trip, a day on the beach – you will stop and think for a minute and think hey, yeah, I’ll give that a go. At least you won’t be hungover the next day, and you’ll still have money in your wallet.

It’s a dangerous thing for some workplaces to have such a culture, or even just your friendship circle to have such a culture, I think. If you take away the alcohol, who are these people? Not who you thought they were. Perhaps not even people you’d ever associate with normally. Maybe they’re not fun or exciting when they’re not drunk, but hey, that is who they are underneath – sober – and that is their true personality, so get to know it.

If someone prefers to spend their Saturday night with a copy of Sleepless in Seattle in their DVD player, a packet of chips and a hot Milo as opposed to your pre drinks, bar hopping, a 4am Maccas run and a 5am crash into bed, don’t be thinking they’re not cool enough. Don’t judge them as losers and think they’re uncool just because they don’t want to drink as excessively as you. Chances are they’re so opposed to it (at least in part) because of the huge deal you make of looking down upon them and because you won’t accept that they just don’t want to do things the same way as you sometimes.

If you want to drink go right ahead. I’m not saying you can’t, or shouldn’t or anything like that. I am opposed to drinking to excess, and I am opposed to people whining about how they feel so shocking the next day (hey man, you did it to yourself), and I am opposed to excessive drinking that leads to stupid or criminal acts (but that’s a topic I’m going to write about another time). I also realllllly hate those people who preach their ‘mindful eating’, kale smoothie, yoga loving, chia seed, acai bowl weekday lives and then go and get smashed every weekend, whilst still trying to sell their wholesome clean eating mantra to those around them.

Please, just take a moment to think how it would be if you didn’t drink to excess. If you treated everybody in as friendly a way as you do that girl in the toilet queue at that bar or at that music festival. Because people who don’t drink so excessively just want to be accepted too, and not forced to become some kind of binge drinker just to have someone to hang out with on Saturday nights. I am not saying I am perfect. But I'm also saying I don't need to be forced to drink just to be considered perfect.

Your occasional drinker,

Jorgs