Only when I got to Australia did I realise how important it was to party. You only arrive at a fancy dress twice with no, or a poor attempt to dress up to realise next time you hire the Darth Vader outfit even if it is a hundred bucks. In South Africa it was the opposite, if you pitched at a fancy dress in a fancy dress you were generally the only dude there dressed as such, and the chicks would think you were weird. Even if you showed them your light saber, in fact especially if you showed them your light saber. In South Africa before you can get “busy” with a chick the first thing they ask is “Will you still respect me in the morning?” In Aussie its the other way around, I ask the chicks before they take me home if they will still respect me in the morning?”
The Aussies also love to party for whatever occasion it is, birthdays, the kids birthday, the dogs birthday, the Queens birthday, Australia Day, Friday, in fact any celebration whatsoever is a reason to break out the VB and the fokken fancy dress.
We decided to have a party out here in the West on Sunday, because it was Sunday and we lived in Aus. Not at our place, scared the cousins wreck the place like last time, so at the local park with all the families and kids picnicking. Low profile, or like stealth if you know what I mean. We are also very responsible so ensured everyone only had 1 drink so they could still drive home.
People were generally well behaved other than the following:
- The Irish got really pissed and starting fighting with each other
- The Lebs picked on lonely geek, who told them to piss off, so the 10 that were went to fetch their buddies and came back by the hundreds in their Leb wheels, with slutty chick hangers on.
- The Zimbabweans started drinking VB out of their veldskoene and grossed out the chicks. One of them had walked there from Bondi in the those same veldskoene, then ended up beating the Lebs with the Veldskoene, all 100 of them. A bit like Samson except he did it with a jawbone.
- Some Dutchman, no idea where they came from, I think maybe Kellyville starting drinking Klippies and Diet Coke, and then wanted to moer everyone in the vicinity. But stood in a circle and prayed each time before they moered them. I think they moered some Lebs too and some trees, and bushes and a Holden Commodore.
- The Kiwis are just plain f$%# strange. They make a lot of noise for people from such a small country, and just don’t mention the f%#$ world cup or sheep jokes. Short country syndrome. They just sat there, helped noone and got very pissed.
The first fight attracted the local police force who informed me as the party organiser to break it up and tear it down, and that they didn’t want to come back. 20 minutes later when the Zimbos then picked on the Kiwis and the Lebs turned up their music all hell broke loose. The cops came back, I asked why they had come back when they said they didn’t want to come back. I think I should not have mentioned the fact that they looked a little like some of the Village People. Anyway, first ride in a cop car, those Commodores are quite comfortable, just a little awkward with your hands up your own ass.
The pic below is of the party. 1 drink per person.
BTW, that is me, the real kaksak with the long hair and beard, sexy man that I am, talking to the short dude with iron guts drinking Voda and Orange. (1,5 l Smirnoff and 2 L cheap orange juice). Dunno who the dude with the camera was, think he was from a current affair (ACA) trying to sniff a story or get a free drink. Last I saw of him, he was passed out under a tree and his camera was gone.
As I said, we know how to party in the West. Another good outcome was meeting Toula, just a little scared of her 6 brothers, but I think I’m winning them over slowly. They didn’t scratch my car the last time I visited or break off a side mirror.