The Veronicas, Max from Big Brother and Myf Warhurst (myfwar-HURST)

INTRO - Irrelevant My security guard mate did not greet me with his regular warmth as I arrived for work tonight. I feel something may be on his mind. If I was a regular day time worker, I would ask him if he is alright. However, it is my strict duty, as a fellow night-shift worker to only talk about working at night, usually with jokes

'NUB PAR' AND END OF INTRO:
A commonly used example of one of these jokes is simply: "good morning!" This is hilarious as it is 10pm, and not morning at all. Regular "day-folk" (as we have come to know them) may use a variation, say, "good evening" when a co-worker arrives at 9:15am instead of the regular starting time of 9:00am.

CONCLUSION: I have recently discovered that having membership cards to nightclubs in Sydney make you a better person. Until last Friday I always assumed that this law of thumb was limited to members of the Cargo Bar/Bourbon ideology, who invariably preach the following:
1. Losers in pastel tsubis (ksubi?)/popped collars/both go upstairs
2. Bigger losers in pastel tsubis/popped collars/both with no female company downstairs
3. Females are usually granted entry, on which level will depend on various things: calibre/lack of male company, looks AND age
4. Ethnic minorities need not apply, unless they are a) Of Asian appearance, but "ok, because you talk like us and play sport"*
- Example 1: Yumi Stynes
- Example 2: Richard Cheequee (former NSW cricketer and rhythm guitarist in Brett Lee's musical side project "Six And Out"
- Example 3: Anyone that works in high-end street fashion retail
b) The exception in a group
- Example 1: The one Indian male that seems to inhabit every cricket team
- Example 2: Akmal Saleh hanging out with Shane Bourke, Tom Gleisner and Fifi Box after filming Thank God You're Here nb Tony Martin and Arj Barker both agreed that a night club was "a bit much for a weeknight."
- Example 3: The singer from Bloc Party
c) Refreshingly not-white, but popular with white people
- Example 1: Jessica Mauboy
- Example 2: Ernie Dingo
- Example 3: Singer from Bloc Party

*Special thanks to Simon Ng for use of that brilliant quote from unnamed ex-student of a school that has a girl in it's cricket team.

... Well, having been given a members card to Vegas, which lives just above Q-Bar, I met up for my scheduled date with The Veronicas on Friday night. Having heard great things from Lowie (unemployed) I was a bit disappointed to here them use the "c" word so many times in each sentence. Apparently they learnt it from a Channel V presenter of Asian descent who, funnily enough, gets the nod for upstairs Cargo on even the busiest Saturday night. My spirits were lifted when I finally (see previous post) got to meet Myf Warhurst (read: Myfwar-HURST) as she was sans security for the evening. The conversation laid itself out in the following way:

Pierced lip Veronica: "James, this is Myf"
Alan Borough's opposing captain in Spicks and Specks: "Hi, nice to meet you"
Simmo's oldest and most loyal subject: "Hello Myf! I know you from television!"

As I watched my chances of being on Myf's team during next series evaporate into the busy smoke-vents of the Vegas Lounge I shrugged, turned, and went searching for a TV personality stupid enough to appreciate the level of conversation that the evenings consumption had left me with.

This didn't take long at all, as just as we spilled out onto Oxford St, after exchanging quick hugs with the most huggable member of Roshambo, we ran into Max, the not-at-all-loveable intruder from BB06, who (and I don't have a fact checker handy, my security guard friend downstairs firmly takes no interest in the cult of the celebrity, and decries the idea of fame for fames sake) I believe pashed Camilla.
My line worked far better this time, and resulted in not only one, but three photos. The best of which I have pictured here.

The Veronicas and BB06s very own Max.

A lesson in not caring.

Having a job that starts at 10pm and finishes at 6am, with only minimal tasks to complete leaves alot of time for getting things done. So far, I have spent most of my downtime in the toilets thinking: "wow, Sam Brett has probably urinated in here". It took me two full weeks to realise that I was in the men's, and that Sam Brett probably saves all her urine for the chest of her older lover. She's very sexually open minded, you see.

I've also managed to make friends with the security guard down stairs. When I ask him how he's been going, he usually replies:
"Good mate, finished work this morning, few bourbon and cokes, few ciggies, read a magazine, watered some plants. Slept like a baby mate." I tried to explain to him, that if he is listing things with commas in between, he should say "and" between the last two: "read a magazine (AND) watered some plants".
He wasn't interested. This is part of the reason we are so close, it is a friendship built on working during the night, and continually justifying to other people why working all night is awesome, and that you wouldn't be doing anything else. When really, people work during the night because the people that are better/more experienced at the job, prefer to work during the day.

Last night, in between listening to licence checks and whispering sweet everythings to my security mate, I decided to write a blog entry. An hour and a half later, I had covered nearly everything: Nina's party last Friday, wanker dress policies at shit pubs in Double Bay that you didn't want to go to anyway AND why Myf Warhurst had five female body guards surrounding her at all times at said party. Alas, blogger.com failed me, and I ended up losing it all. Rather than recreate what I lost last night, I thought I might to a textual tribute to the career of Ian Thorpe. This proved harder than I initially thought, as you really can't do Thorpie justice with text only, pictures are essential. Nevertheless, I did a few "20 to 1" style interviews with people on what they thought about Thorpie, his career, his early retirement AND what his future held for him. The only people that were available to comment were Molly Meldrum, Tracey Grimshaw AND Simmo. Here for your reading pleasure is the only one of the three subjects that really captured what the "20 to 1" format is really about.

TOP SECRET: BCorTM's INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPTS WITH SIMMO RE IAN THORPE'S CAREER.

BCorTM: So Simmo, what does the name Ian Thorpe mean to you.
Simmo: I think it's fair to say, without any reservation, that Thorpie was not only a bloody fantastic swimmer, but also a fine ambassador for this country in every sense of the word.

BCorTM: I hear you are quite close to Ian?
Simmo: Well, I'm not gay like you if that's what you're suggesting. You probably need to leave the interview early to go set up for the Mardi Gras you're so gay.

BCorTM: What about...
Simmo: (cutting in) Where's this interview going anyway. My agent said that this gig would just be a few "kicking arse" quotes, then shots of me saying "Pie-Powerade-Bed". I only came here to plug my book, this shit would have never happen if fucken Rove hadn't cancelled his show. You probably haven't even read Simmotown... Who do I have to root in this city to get some publicity? Fucken Borat has taken all allotted "novelty alter-ego" attention and there is nothing left. Well, fuck this, there are too many unopened beers in this world for me to be fucking around with this publication. You aren't worth me wasting any quotes of pre-packaged suburban cricket vernacular on. Welcome to first grade, I don't think you'll last long.
INTERVIEW END

Simmo was seen later that day yelling "WHO CARES?" at terminally ill children out the front of Randwick Children's Hospital.