Out for drinks last night for Kat’s birthday. Good fun. We were at the Cricketer’s Arms pub and apparently the rugby was on up the road. The pub is along one of the main routes from Central Station to the stadium. For about an hour before the game the pub was full of blokey rugby fans wearing polo shirts and sporting haircuts that emulate an Astro Boy coif.
They did not like the T-Shirt I was wearing from the Unaustralia conference. I tried to explain what it meant to some intrepid fellows after they made various “wtf?” gestures to each other. They didn’t want to know about someone who had the audacity to wear a t-shirt that provoked the scandal of unaustralianess. When I told them I was Unaustralian, they asked where I was from. One guy couldn’t even bring himself to look in my direction and muttered through clenched teeth about how “Australianess has nothing to do with who is in government.” I could appreciate his transcendental conceptualisation of nationalism but it is ultimately unworkable as a lived relation. Another fellow warned me thus, “You won’t make many friends wearing the T-Shirt.” To which I replied, “I have enough friends already.” That made him laugh. Of course, it helps being a boofhead that is twice their size and who isn’t afflicted with the same disabling charisma of pinched hatred. 😉
Tip: When you get home at 4am don’t try to cook fish fingers under the grill, because you will inevitably pass out waiting for food to cook and a grill will cook, then burn, char, turn to ash, and stink out your little flat while you are dozing. Stick to microwavable foods, because a microwave will turn itself off.