Ok, so I generally loathe the term ‘indie’ or ‘hipster’, but like racist terms in the 1930s, they get people’s attention, allowing us to gather around the hate-monger fire and pretend we are better than people that we are actually just as awful as. I would consider myself a ‘geek’ in the sense that I’ve spent most my life dry-humping the orifices of pop-culture and wishing I could still afford Warhammer.
If you are one of those strutting alpha male John Hamm types or the kind of guy who can pass off “wanna fingerbang?” as a pick up line, then stop reading. This article is for the meek, because blessed are we, at least when it comes to discussing our favourite Simpsons writers (John Swartzwelder!).
Unless you live in the western suburbs (note: for non-Perthians, that is the rich ‘hood) and the police give you a free pass to down two bottles of red and drive home in the BMW your parents gifted you at graduation, then getting home from Perth CBD after a night out can be a bit of a pain.
Perth is a strange little berg so isolated from the rest of the world and you “t’other siders” on the east coast that we’ve developed our own unique dialect. Seeing as my state’s sole love is to dig things up and repave roads, I imagine that in 10 to 15 years time, the city will be nothing more than a giant pit surrounded by cranes, perhaps in the shape of Clive Palmer’s scrotum.
As any Peter Weir fan would know, ANZAC Day is the most revered day on the Australian calendar (sorry, Search for Harold Holt Day). But not many of us can relate to the time-worn faces of the parade, or imagine the sheer tragic horror that is war. I have always respected our veterans, but have never felt ‘close’ to them.
A.K.A ‘Welcome to the Thunderdome’.
It’s one of those nights. You’ve swilled a toxic mix of Gordon’s, goon and God knows what, and you’re in one of those dark drunken murky hazes where the world is sifting through your brain like a bad (is there a good?) episode of Just Shoot Me.
I suffer from bipolar. Unless I’m riding high on some serious up-swings, it tends not to be a very fun mental illness. If there is one thing us ‘bi-polar bears’ love as much as a good anxiety spiral, it’s a good drink.
All of us know someone who has a 100% success rate of ruining nights out. Through a cruel twist of fate, you’ve found yourself out on the town with them. Well, here’s just a little of what to expect.
1. The Brony
This guy has spent the last 37 hours arguing on 4chan about which Digimon is the most bonable, y’know, “if you had to”.