I met up with Stu and Michelle last night, we gobbled down some EXCELLENT marinaded beef ribs with steamed vegies. Stu and Michelle weren't sure if I was a vegetarian or not and checked to make sure I wasn't eating the beef ribs to be polite. Trust me, if a vego were to wolf down ribs like I did I'd say he should readjust his philosophy. Stu and I then went out on the tiles to meet up with some Pommy mates of his at the Zanzibar in Newtown where all the 'hip' young people like to 'hang out.' As is quite common with these events it started out quite normal and got progressively weirder as the night went on. I drank an alcoholic beverage identical in flavour to Dr Pepper, which I love, and I now have only the vaguest recollection of what was in it, although I'm fairly sure beer was key ingredient. Stu and I had to explain and to a degree defend the Australian greeting "howyagoin?" to an unconvinced English girl who doubted the sincerity of the question. Soon after I pretended to be Danish when requesting a song from a DJ with a very dodgy Avid Merriam accent. Returning to the Zanzibar we spotted a girl looked the spitting image of Emma Thompson. It took us ten minutes to think of Emma Thompson's name. I went over to remark on the curious similarity and was taken aback at the purest of Oz accents flowing from her mouth. Like hearing Prince Phillip say "howyagoin?" The night ended up with me declaring my undying love of flight and explaining that I had started to prefer planes to girls. That might have been drunk talk. Everywhere we stumbled to it turned out to be five minutes before closing time as if the barman had seen us coming but taken pity on us enough to serve us one last drink. Eventually I put my indefatigable beer sandals on and staggered off in the direction of home before flagging down a taxi for a $10 cab ride home with a driver who asked my if I knew the way, when I wasn't sure if I knew my own name. I really hope my liver specialist isn't reading this.