‘Tis the Season To Be Terrified

Curses! I’ve normally completed all of my dreary Christmas shopping in November, but seem to have dropped the ball this year. At the risk of my mental coherence, I’m about to plunge headlong into Melbourne’s major shopping area less than two weeks before Christmas.

Considering how bonkers things can get in major department stores at this time of year, I’m planning on carefully engineering a Crazy Person Hairdo with some hair product, ripping my clothes up a little, then running through the ground floor of Myer with my hands in the air screaming “BARGAINS! BARGAINS! ORANGE PEEL BEACH BALL EJACULATE BATH TUB!” Nobody would bat an eyelid – they’re all too busy violently jostling around, searching out the best deals for themselves.

You’ve got to keep an eye out on those dreadfully cheerful Salavation Army folk collecting money in the city, too. Yesterday I witnessed two women politely decline an offer to donate to charity. As they walked away, they were attached with a frightfully vocal “MERRY CHRISTMAS, then!” spat out machine-gun style from the Salvo woman, which caused them to visibly jump in festive terror.

My work also held their Christmas party yesterday. Not too shabby an affair – against all expectations, there was an open bar, but I tried not to hit it too hard. I’ve been permanently scarred from my first ever experience with a work party/open bar combination – it ended with me confessing my love for almost every female in the room, then asking if I could grope their breasts – and it’s okay, I’m gay, so it doesn’t count. You try walking back into an office after that and see if anyone can work out your real sexuality.

You really can spot the true alcoholics at a Christmas party, though. One of my mates at work is a good bloke, but he does know how to hit the wine. We realised that he was in a complete panic at the open bar closing at 5pm, so we continually provided him with updates of “Oh fuck! There’s only three hours left until the bar closes!” Without fail, this caused him to quickly gulp down his glass of wine in one go and rush to the bar for three more; even though he had ample time to pace himself. Also, you just try talking someone out of riding their motorbike home after drinking 30 glasses of wine; it’s a scary experience.

Now, I’m not normally into recommending music on here, but this one is too exciting for me not to share. Last night I downloaded Spinnerette’s debut EP – it’s been giving me that exciting rushy feeling you get from an artist you immediately know you’re going to love for a long time.

Spinnerette shares more than a few similarities to Queens of the Stone Age – no surprise, seeing as their frontwoman Brody Dalle is married to Josh Homme. I’ve long been a fan of Brody from her work in the Distillers, but Spinnerette sounds even more awesome thus far. She also seems to have risen back to #1 on my chart of women who give me ladyconfusion feelings. Wouldn’t it be hot if I could get with her, then Josh Homme bursts into the room to yell at us both in dismay, then to teach me a lesson he makes me suc–

Sorry, got sidetracked. Here’s Spinnerette’s debut single, Ghetto Love:

If you like it, go grab their EP for $5 (they’re high quality MP3s, so you’re all set).

Tagged as: Beer, Christmas, Drinks, Rock, Threats, Work, Would Turn For