Bad News. In our game last Saturday, Riley, most likely, re-tore his ACL. He is pretty confident that it is torn again because it feels just like the last time he did it. Unfortunately, along with no lacrosse, that means he can no longer work/afford to live here so if it is actually torn, he will probably have to get surgery and leave. Major bummer.
This makes lacrosse a little less of a priority. I am tempted to go traveling the east coast for a month or so and bail. We'll see. This is where you all come in...
Does anyone (perhaps a recent graduate or someone unhappy with their current job) feel like leaving the US of A and renting a van and driving the east coast of Australia? I am dead serious. It is supposed to be an amazing drive and I dont want to leave without doing it. Drop me a line at wesmcg@gmail.com if you are interested!
Cheers. Drop Riley a line as well to wish him well. Kid deserves it.
Monday, April 26, 2010
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
A different breed
G'day all. Don't worry, I still do not use g'day anywhere but the first sentence in my blog posts. Well...I guess I mutter it under my breath when the hyper-aussie, ultra-caffeinated, cafe owner next to our apartment greets me with a "Awwwww, G'DAY MATE!" I cant help but say something other than "Yo, Dude."
Anyway, last Saturday was our lax home opener. The game was fine. We started off very slow against Melbourne University. They had a three goal lead at one point despite being far less talented. We stepped it up in the second half and won by 9 or 10. Mr. Kearns posting a 7 goal performance.
It was a great day that started with me coaching my team of under-11 kids at 9am an hour away. This is going to be a regular thing on Saturdays, which is less than preferable, but at least it will allow me to be awake for our 2pm games. It was our first game at home and it was a special day because all three divisions of the men's teams were playing at home, at the same time (Div.2, Div.1, and State League). Think of Div.1 and Div.2 as all of our friends that are around lacrosse all the time and understand it well, but have never played formally or decently in high school.
This led to a pretty large crowd during the games and, perhaps more importantly, after the game in the club house. Everyone hangs around outside and in the bar/club area just talking about the games and fun stories usually involving the very frequent in-game fights. Some of these guys have the temper of Terry Tate the Office Line Backer. Anything can make them snap and absolutely try to eliminate the competition. Very blue collar attitude. Not very lax, but whatever.
2 hours into the post-lax brewhaha, the president of the club got everyone silent to begin some sort of speech. There were about 100 people in the room. 50 complete strangers. After welcoming everyone to the opening of the club house he signaled that it was time to do the post-game analysis and wrap-up...of every team in the club. Funny thing is, my team is the youngest so they start there.
Here I am, 4-5 beers down being told that I have to speak to all of these people about how each of their sons (or daughters as we have a few girls on my team for numbers' sake. gross.) performed in detail.
No one ever mentioned this to me. I know all of the kids by their first names and all I had was a list of last names to go by. Luckily, we won one of our two games so they had something to cheer about despite my lack of preparation. Riley, on the other hand, had to tell the club how his under-16s lost 17-4 and he was forced to discipline them by taking away the chairs they sit on for a bench. Awkward.
Around 9pm, things get messy and they begin to close the bar. That is, unless someone rings "the bell." There is a large bell on the side of the bar that if someone feels compelled to ring, they buy everyone in the bar a drink. I have yet to experience this. Multiple "team mates" have attemtped to convince me that ringing the bell means everyone buys you a drink. It sounded amazing...too good to be true, so I declined. I think, however, that they should have a massive gong if you want to buy everyone a round, and a little tampon shaped bell if you want someone to buy you one.
Everyone typically heads into the city after the club shuts down. Saturday night we went to a Rock and Roll Bar (I capitalize Rock and Roll because this place takes it very seriously). It was a ridiculous place. I half expected Cassandra's band Crucial Taunt from Waynes World to show up. There were multiple people there with fully blown out 80s rocker get ups.
This did not amuse our team Captain (and, I kid you not, convicted felon who has served 4 months time for beating the piss out of someone) named Monster. He is also the most financially successful player on the squad. He works in finance where most everyone else is some sort of tradesman, or tradies as they are called here. After buying about 4 rounds of 15 jager bombs and beers (think $400+), he really hated most of the patrons of this establishment.
10 minutes later, we all get kicked out for being associated with him. Riley and I decided that it was a good idea to hit up Hungry Jacks and catch a tram home while they were still running. What? I never said that it was going to be an amazing Tucker Max story!
We are off to dinner tonight at a place called Captain America's with some people from work. It is an American themed restaurant with great food and tons of random American memorobilia on the walls. Also, the serve Budweiser in a car. A RARE delicacy in this godforsaken land of beers. Hope you are all enjoying your glimpses of the same weather I have and will continue to enjoy down unda!
Cheers.
Anyway, last Saturday was our lax home opener. The game was fine. We started off very slow against Melbourne University. They had a three goal lead at one point despite being far less talented. We stepped it up in the second half and won by 9 or 10. Mr. Kearns posting a 7 goal performance.
It was a great day that started with me coaching my team of under-11 kids at 9am an hour away. This is going to be a regular thing on Saturdays, which is less than preferable, but at least it will allow me to be awake for our 2pm games. It was our first game at home and it was a special day because all three divisions of the men's teams were playing at home, at the same time (Div.2, Div.1, and State League). Think of Div.1 and Div.2 as all of our friends that are around lacrosse all the time and understand it well, but have never played formally or decently in high school.
This led to a pretty large crowd during the games and, perhaps more importantly, after the game in the club house. Everyone hangs around outside and in the bar/club area just talking about the games and fun stories usually involving the very frequent in-game fights. Some of these guys have the temper of Terry Tate the Office Line Backer. Anything can make them snap and absolutely try to eliminate the competition. Very blue collar attitude. Not very lax, but whatever.
2 hours into the post-lax brewhaha, the president of the club got everyone silent to begin some sort of speech. There were about 100 people in the room. 50 complete strangers. After welcoming everyone to the opening of the club house he signaled that it was time to do the post-game analysis and wrap-up...of every team in the club. Funny thing is, my team is the youngest so they start there.
Here I am, 4-5 beers down being told that I have to speak to all of these people about how each of their sons (or daughters as we have a few girls on my team for numbers' sake. gross.) performed in detail.
No one ever mentioned this to me. I know all of the kids by their first names and all I had was a list of last names to go by. Luckily, we won one of our two games so they had something to cheer about despite my lack of preparation. Riley, on the other hand, had to tell the club how his under-16s lost 17-4 and he was forced to discipline them by taking away the chairs they sit on for a bench. Awkward.
Around 9pm, things get messy and they begin to close the bar. That is, unless someone rings "the bell." There is a large bell on the side of the bar that if someone feels compelled to ring, they buy everyone in the bar a drink. I have yet to experience this. Multiple "team mates" have attemtped to convince me that ringing the bell means everyone buys you a drink. It sounded amazing...too good to be true, so I declined. I think, however, that they should have a massive gong if you want to buy everyone a round, and a little tampon shaped bell if you want someone to buy you one.
Everyone typically heads into the city after the club shuts down. Saturday night we went to a Rock and Roll Bar (I capitalize Rock and Roll because this place takes it very seriously). It was a ridiculous place. I half expected Cassandra's band Crucial Taunt from Waynes World to show up. There were multiple people there with fully blown out 80s rocker get ups.
This did not amuse our team Captain (and, I kid you not, convicted felon who has served 4 months time for beating the piss out of someone) named Monster. He is also the most financially successful player on the squad. He works in finance where most everyone else is some sort of tradesman, or tradies as they are called here. After buying about 4 rounds of 15 jager bombs and beers (think $400+), he really hated most of the patrons of this establishment.
10 minutes later, we all get kicked out for being associated with him. Riley and I decided that it was a good idea to hit up Hungry Jacks and catch a tram home while they were still running. What? I never said that it was going to be an amazing Tucker Max story!
We are off to dinner tonight at a place called Captain America's with some people from work. It is an American themed restaurant with great food and tons of random American memorobilia on the walls. Also, the serve Budweiser in a car. A RARE delicacy in this godforsaken land of beers. Hope you are all enjoying your glimpses of the same weather I have and will continue to enjoy down unda!
Cheers.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
What'll It Be Then, Eh?
Hello all.
What can I say? There has not been an overwhelming amount of exciting developments since my last post, hence yet another word drought. Professional writers must lead extremely interesting lives to have the urge to write all the time. The good ones at least. Like Hunter S. Thompson. I just started reading his book Kingdom of Fear, and the life he lives is dominated by eccentric, and sometimes utterly depraved, impulse. Luckily for readers, his favorite impulse is pounding the keys of his typewriter, with outrageous public behavior (usually in a significantly altered state of mind) coming in a close second. As he says, "Morality is temporary, wisdom is permanent."
In an ideal world, this blog would highlight a lavish series of adventures and misadventures throughout the bizarre land of Oz. Unlike Thompson's hay day, the late 60s and early 70s, being broke is a deal breaker. I hate to complain about financial issues, but it is a daily factor in our lives. Whatever, we are still having a blast and we will just be more motivated to get great jobs in the near future.
These days are not without celebration, however. A week and a half ago, I celebrated my 23rd birthday along with 4 other friends from work whose birthday fell within the weekend of the 26th. 5 friends celebrating a birthday together is a very dangerous combination which, should you ever find yourself in this situation, is to be treated with extreme caution. Especially when two of the celebratees are your twin managers born on the 30th who love to spend money.
The night began at our apartment. When asked where I would like to go for the evening, I left it up to the birthday girls with one condition:
"I will go anywhere except for some gay bar that won't let me in because I am not gay and have had more than 3 Bacardi Breezers and a Fuzzy Navel"
My request was granted as we went to a fun bar and hung out for a while without an issue. Of course, as the night went on and the drinks continued to flow, the dames felt the need to cement their status as pieces of meat (some ranking in the prime category, most were flirting with choice at best) by objectifying themselves on a dancefloor at a club. I'm just bitter, girls, we have no problem with you shaking your moneymaker or your milkshake or whatever you want to call it.
As any irrational group of celebrating females (I am being very kind in my terminology) will do, the ladies decided that we should go to a place called "Love Machine." Kill me now. Clearly, this did not sound like my kind of joint, but who was I to argue with a bunch of local girls celebrating another year of good looks departing.
On the way to this mysterious location, I learned that "Love Machine" completely fails to pass any of my aforementioned criteria. It was an exclusive club that is gay on friday nights. Fortunately, it was Saturday night, but...come on. That's like a "bisexual" male attempting to justify his sexuality. Bullshit. If you are, in any way, shape or form, attracted to a dude, you are gay. So we were headed to an exclusive gay club around 1am on my birthday. Cheers.
So we get there and, apparently, one of our friends has set up a birthday guest list. I had one thing on my side. Riley and I were rocking up with bunch of well dressed girls. That means EVERYTHING in the Melbourne social scene. Riley went in first with some of the girls and I was at the back of the line. Massive mistake. I tried to walk in with just one girl. The hostess took one look at me and said. Nope, not tonight. Too crowded. Come back in a half hour.
Fine, I was a little hungry anyway. So we grabbed a quick bite at Hungry Jack's (direct rip off of Burger King). When we went back, the same thing. Come back in a half hour. I was getting frustrated because on my birthday night everyone was inside being gay without me. I let this digest for a little while and went back once again.
Hostess: You again? Not tonight babe.
Me: Really? I just want to know exactly what I did wrong? Am I not gay enough?
(Massive Islander bouncer walking towards me)
Hostess: Sorry we are too crowded
Me: Well I haven't seen a single person in this line for an hour and a half. I think you are just trying to not admit that you are wrong. Or is it because I am American? Huh? (This never works for your reference...)
Hostess: You need to leave right now
Me with massive bouncer looming, but wanting to stay strong: Ya, you would like that you s*** c*** (I was really just trying to cut as deep as possible)
Bouncer systematically "bounces" me and I put up zero fight whatsoever because I am not an idiot.
Happy Birthday! Oh, well. Riley said it was really gay inside anyway.
In other news, Aussie Rules football has started and people are really excited. Its kind of cool I guess. Its just another desperate attempt by Aussies to make something of their own. Its kind of similar to rugby, but less rough and all sorts of weird rules.
We have our first lacrosse game next weekend. Should be interesting. We have a new goalie from Japan who is actually very very good. He would catch blue bullets in his teeth. Its fun to have another Japanese lacrosse player to haze again at this time of year. He is most definitely trained in some martial arts because he blurts out random words as he attacks the ball and when we feed him booze and make him dance in a circle at the bar he does crazy poses.
That's all for now. Happy Easter!
What can I say? There has not been an overwhelming amount of exciting developments since my last post, hence yet another word drought. Professional writers must lead extremely interesting lives to have the urge to write all the time. The good ones at least. Like Hunter S. Thompson. I just started reading his book Kingdom of Fear, and the life he lives is dominated by eccentric, and sometimes utterly depraved, impulse. Luckily for readers, his favorite impulse is pounding the keys of his typewriter, with outrageous public behavior (usually in a significantly altered state of mind) coming in a close second. As he says, "Morality is temporary, wisdom is permanent."
In an ideal world, this blog would highlight a lavish series of adventures and misadventures throughout the bizarre land of Oz. Unlike Thompson's hay day, the late 60s and early 70s, being broke is a deal breaker. I hate to complain about financial issues, but it is a daily factor in our lives. Whatever, we are still having a blast and we will just be more motivated to get great jobs in the near future.
These days are not without celebration, however. A week and a half ago, I celebrated my 23rd birthday along with 4 other friends from work whose birthday fell within the weekend of the 26th. 5 friends celebrating a birthday together is a very dangerous combination which, should you ever find yourself in this situation, is to be treated with extreme caution. Especially when two of the celebratees are your twin managers born on the 30th who love to spend money.
The night began at our apartment. When asked where I would like to go for the evening, I left it up to the birthday girls with one condition:
"I will go anywhere except for some gay bar that won't let me in because I am not gay and have had more than 3 Bacardi Breezers and a Fuzzy Navel"
My request was granted as we went to a fun bar and hung out for a while without an issue. Of course, as the night went on and the drinks continued to flow, the dames felt the need to cement their status as pieces of meat (some ranking in the prime category, most were flirting with choice at best) by objectifying themselves on a dancefloor at a club. I'm just bitter, girls, we have no problem with you shaking your moneymaker or your milkshake or whatever you want to call it.
As any irrational group of celebrating females (I am being very kind in my terminology) will do, the ladies decided that we should go to a place called "Love Machine." Kill me now. Clearly, this did not sound like my kind of joint, but who was I to argue with a bunch of local girls celebrating another year of good looks departing.
On the way to this mysterious location, I learned that "Love Machine" completely fails to pass any of my aforementioned criteria. It was an exclusive club that is gay on friday nights. Fortunately, it was Saturday night, but...come on. That's like a "bisexual" male attempting to justify his sexuality. Bullshit. If you are, in any way, shape or form, attracted to a dude, you are gay. So we were headed to an exclusive gay club around 1am on my birthday. Cheers.
So we get there and, apparently, one of our friends has set up a birthday guest list. I had one thing on my side. Riley and I were rocking up with bunch of well dressed girls. That means EVERYTHING in the Melbourne social scene. Riley went in first with some of the girls and I was at the back of the line. Massive mistake. I tried to walk in with just one girl. The hostess took one look at me and said. Nope, not tonight. Too crowded. Come back in a half hour.
Fine, I was a little hungry anyway. So we grabbed a quick bite at Hungry Jack's (direct rip off of Burger King). When we went back, the same thing. Come back in a half hour. I was getting frustrated because on my birthday night everyone was inside being gay without me. I let this digest for a little while and went back once again.
Hostess: You again? Not tonight babe.
Me: Really? I just want to know exactly what I did wrong? Am I not gay enough?
(Massive Islander bouncer walking towards me)
Hostess: Sorry we are too crowded
Me: Well I haven't seen a single person in this line for an hour and a half. I think you are just trying to not admit that you are wrong. Or is it because I am American? Huh? (This never works for your reference...)
Hostess: You need to leave right now
Me with massive bouncer looming, but wanting to stay strong: Ya, you would like that you s*** c*** (I was really just trying to cut as deep as possible)
Bouncer systematically "bounces" me and I put up zero fight whatsoever because I am not an idiot.
Happy Birthday! Oh, well. Riley said it was really gay inside anyway.
In other news, Aussie Rules football has started and people are really excited. Its kind of cool I guess. Its just another desperate attempt by Aussies to make something of their own. Its kind of similar to rugby, but less rough and all sorts of weird rules.
We have our first lacrosse game next weekend. Should be interesting. We have a new goalie from Japan who is actually very very good. He would catch blue bullets in his teeth. Its fun to have another Japanese lacrosse player to haze again at this time of year. He is most definitely trained in some martial arts because he blurts out random words as he attacks the ball and when we feed him booze and make him dance in a circle at the bar he does crazy poses.
That's all for now. Happy Easter!
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