Schoolies Go Home.

Schoolies week. It’s like Surfers Paradise is a healthy prostate and 22,000 school leavers are cancer. It’s a plague, an epidemic, an unholy, unwarranted and unwelcome invasion of stupid and horny boys and girls who can only muster a backbone if in a group of at least 6. It’s 2008, over 20 years of schoolies week is behind us and the best you can come up with from the back window of an overloaded Camry wagon is “yeaaah! Whoooo!”. I fucking hate you you stupid fucking schoolie and if I could run as fast as that Camry, you’d currently be in the predicament of finding a new way to chew food and sit down since I stuffed your head up your own ass! Just imagine how messy a sneeze would be!

What I find sadistically amusing is one of the poor kids has been struck down by meningococcal disease. Oh sweet terrible justice how I love thee. And the symptoms? I can barely type them out because I need my hands to stop my sides from splitting with evil laughter. They include, headaches and vomiting. Well that’ll sort it out then! The measures of prevention include good hygiene and avoiding sharing drink cups! Oh… my… god! Can you hear that, schoolie? Can you hear it? It’s the sound of your worthy demise.

Schoolies week is supposed to be the Australian version of America’s Spring Break. But the imagery conjured from Spring Break is that of tanned bodies in wet t-shirt competitions while schoolies week imagery better resembles a pimply faced Victorian throwing up at a bus stop. Well you wretched batch of smelly, unwashed upgraded monkeys; one of your own has been sacrificed to a Brisbane hospital and the Grim Reaper might just be lurking in that bush you’re about to dry hump each other in. Headaches and vomiting. Yes, it could be the booze, but it might, it just might be Death and his name is meningococcal.

Take the hint. Go home. Live.

Shane’s Anatomy

Alcohol abuse. It’s a serious problem facing today’s society. Well, perhaps face down. In a puddle of it’s own urine. Outside 7/11 at 4am. However, I feel it’s only a problem if you wake up on the wrong side of the puddle or live too far away from a 7/11 or 24hr servo. In my experience, far more good has come from being completely one eyed and legless than harm. Yes, it’s true I can’t hold a lighter steady enough to avoid setting myself on fire anymore. Yes, it’s true my liver has attempted to escape my body on more than one occasion. Yes it’s true my memory has deteriorated faster than Tatu’s music career yet I still maintain boozing it right up is the shiznit. Yes, I’m far too white and lame to churn out words like shiznit and bidness but I care not. And why? Because the last drop of my fifth beer just now was delicious but also inhibition destroying and confidence building! See? Do you see how this works?

Ok well I can sense a bunch of you shaking your head, rolling your eyes and/or internalising a negative response to what I’m preaching. To this I have two things to say. One: Internalise more, no-one wants your opinion anyway. Stop boring everybody with your incessant, nonsensical and sleep invoking miseratic musings. And Two: You’re my facebook friend. And if you are indeed my facebook friend, we’ve shared a bottle of scotch, wine or a carton at some point anyway. In fact, the booze might have been the thing that brought us together in the first place. If this is not the case for you, it will be or you can just go ahead and “remove friend” right now.

Friendships, love affairs, marriages, families, empires… all these things can be made possible by the mutual love of a nerve numbing cocktail or ten. Hell, I’m a September baby for Christ’s sake! Which means I can think of two people who had a pretty kick ass new years eve party nine months earlier! Now excuse me while I crack open my sixth and finish writing my business proposal to open the first ever Alcoholic Exhibitionists club. Don’t worry, it’ll be walking distance to Hungry Jacks.

Yeah, miseratic isn’t a word. Well done. Now internalise that shit like I told you.