Problogue

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1:38am. I should be asleep by now. To be honest, I've been learning the proper lyrics to some of my favorite songs. Having sacrificed all but one night in Tokyo for AWARD Craft, there’s no chance in Westpac I’m going to miss out on at least one karaoke classic. I’ve spent the last few weeks going to sleep with my iPod, conjuring rock star fantasies of me with a microphone, a technicolour establishment and a sea of Japanese awe at my Brendan Flowers performance of Read My Mind. Otherwise I’m sure they’ll have Reckless.

So I’m 24 and sick of the increasing number of people I know saying the same thing over and over. The same names repeated. Santorini. Munich. Amsterdam. I’ve finished AWARD School, worked my oversized arse to get in the top ten and figured the odds aren’t that good of finding a creative director who three months after hiring me would let me go on a half year trip to Europe.

This in mind, I decided to finally book my ticket. In eight hours I’ll be in seat 46D. Alcohol’s free on international right? No? Just make with the peanuts pussycat *left hand pistol wink*.

The last thing you need is another reason to have a staring contest with the screen. Thanks Facebook. But if you’re reading this, you probably know me. I’ll go for two for two and say you like me enough to read this far. Sucker. Wait, don’t go. I’m lonely……………………………….thanks.

My point is this: I’m the guy who does the berries and cream dance for complete strangers. The one who’s naked at the Christmas party humping the leg of an Irishman (“Get th’ fook eh-weh from me yer creepy booger”). And I’m going to Europe. Whatever I can remember happens, I’ll put it down here. Any good places I find? Here. Holes I’d rather forget? I’ll name ‘em here. And most importantly: stuff other people would really wish they could forget? Right-here.

So when you get in the office at 9am and procrastinate for that first hour, make a quick detour via Mortalicious Street for some morning goodies as I *cue the dramatic intro music* Euronate With Europeeans.

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