A MONTH IN THE LIFE OF MILLWOOD (PART ONE)

Well.. This is what it's come to. It seems my blogging apathy has hit dizzying new heights. So, in a vein attempt to regain some semblance of control over the situation, I am sadly about to subject you to one of those "and then this happened, and then we went there, and we thought were going to go here but we didn't, then we did.." style entires. I really am sorry. But, desperate times call for unpleasant measures.

It's been an interesting month, to say the least. Some predictable lows, and some rather surprising highs. Obviously the return of Big Brother falls into the latter category, and I was pleasantly surprised to see that the "all looks, no brains" approach to last season has been abandoned for a far more interesting and diverse collective of housemates. For starters they've introduced the token Asian, and an apparent world first with a mother and daughter combo, who've both had boob jobs. Golden. But more on that later..

Our story starts a month or so back, and on fairly shaky ground. The initial plan was to go out for a few quiet drinks with a mate. Over a series of phone calls and bafflingly bad decisions, this gradually transformed into "let's hit the city and pick up some hot chicks" with a group of bong-smoking, white-supremacist acquaintances from primary school. I know what you're thinking.. "Oh Millwood, off on one of his white supremacist rants again." Ah, so quick to judge. But I'm afraid you can't argue with shaved heads, tattoos, and conversations where the themes of American History X are heartily endorsed. So, the evening had trolley poll written all over it. I won't bore you with the trivial details, but essentially by midnight we found ourself at Transport*, and I had spent the preceding hours thinking through the scenarios I could use to escape.. Grandma is ill, think I forgot to feed the parrot, strange feeling hungry parrot is pissed and trying to kill Grandma.. But no dice.

I had become embroiled in a discussion about the injustices of being denied entry because you're wearing a wife-beater, when I realized there was only going to be one civil way out of the evening.. I approached the closest strangers, who happened to be a pair of girls sitting at the table across from us. I gave them a brief rundown of my situation, and asked out of compassion if they could just pretend to know me for a few minutes, so as I could regain my composure. Three hours later, I'd abandoned the idea of returning to the group (who had left to find a place where the chicks were hotter), and was having a fantastic time. We tackled all the big issues; Billy Ray Cyrus, '80's music, and guys who wear pink polo shirts. I didn't end up getting home 'till around 6, and was in a fairly unfortunate state for work the next morning, but ended up having an absolute blast. I'm not suggesting you can always depend on the kindness of strangers, but I do find it comforting to know that even the most brutal of evenings may only be a table or two away from a great night.


I know, terrible photo. Particularly considering I'm the middle. As the night progressed though, it seemed Tanya (actual middle) was somewhat inspired by our discussion about pink shirts, and she took it upon herself to track down one of these creatures and see what makes them tick. Brave girl. But in the wash up, it seems that all Pink Shirt needs for a satisfying night is "some good beats, some good beers, and some good ladies."


Amen brother. Stavros was quite the ladies man too, as I watched him try a variety of moves on our girl. Collar up, collar down, purchasing drinks, all the classic dance moves, and even a somewhat credible story about his lucrative job in the packaging industry. Luckily she was able to resist his charms though, and managed to find her way back to the table. Just in time to continue an in-depth analysis of the works of Adam Ant.

Now, I realize you're probably thinking.. "Pretty boring story Millwood.. Why on Earth would you blog about this?" Well, you're a tough crowd. But I think anyone who's ever found themselves stuck amongst a group of rednecks hell-bent on scoring ass and starting punch-ons with German tourists at seedy backpacker hostels can appreciate the relief of finding escape from the situation. And let's face it, we've all been there at some point in time. Right?

But enough.. I don't want to give you anecdote overload. I'll post Part 2 shortly; in which Millwood discovers the hidden powers of Cold Chisel, the unfortunate effects of Absinth, and the nerdy world of meeting fellow Bloggers.

* For those readers from interstate, Transport is the likely equivalent of your local bar / pub which has that stigma attached to it.