Dry July Dropout

I gave it a go.  I really did. And I did well.  For two weeks. 

It just. Didn't. Make. Sense.


Dry July has made over $1.5M this year for the Cancer Foundations of local hospitals.  This money was raised by people giving up their plonk for the month of July, and being sponsored by their friends and colleagues. Sounds like a good idea. Dry out for 31 days, rest my liver, save some money and raise money for cancer.


Except for one thing. My friends, the ones I'm asking to donate, are also the ones who want to drink with me. In the famous word of HJ Simpson: DOH!


This was the flaw in my plan.  What would be in it for them? To have me not drink?  Initially, I thought, I could drive them to and from their Boozy Bashes. Except I had the play on the weekends. No takers.  And I avoided their Midweek Mellowers because I wasn't in the city, and wanted to save money, so no love there.


So there was the evidence. And staring me in the face, after 2 weeks, was the mother of all drinking occasions: An expat farewell.


The US expats do not take it well when one of our own leaves. And it wasn't just one, but a pair.  And not just that it was two.  But who the two were.


There is line from Ferris Bueller's Day Off when Cameron is sick in bed and Ferris calls him to tell him to get up and pick him up. Cameron says, "He'll just keep calling me, and calling me, until I go..."


That is the response when Kurt asks "Pub?" (P p p?) So you go. No matter how tired, no matter how skint, no matter what else you have planned. You go. DRY JULY OR OTHERWISE!

I couldn't bear the thought of not having one. last. drink.


So sorry Prince of Wales (and my liver), I only raised $50 for 2 weeks. I blame Kurt.

 

Day 11 of Dry July

It seemed like a really good idea at the time.

Take all of July off from drinking.

I'm doing the play (shameless plug alert) "Dead White Males" at the Genesian Theatre on the weekends. Nearly half of drinking time gone right there. And since I'm between work contracts, I can save some cash by not going out during the week. Reason number 3, I can raise some money for the Prince of Wales Hospital Fund for Cancer patients.

After 10 days, I realise just how much alcohol is part of my social life and especially the Australian culture. July 2, play performance finishes at 10.30 pm: Hey Jules, we're off to the pub. "Sorry, I'm not drinking." On the third and fourth, I was lucky enough to have two passes "purchased" for me. These "Golden Tickets" allow the participant to celebrate a special occasion (July 4) in exchange for a $25 donation.

So far, these are my only donations. People paying so that I can drink with them. Sad.

This is really hard. My friends like to go for beers after work. They have wine with dinner. They celebrate, well, everything with a rousing toast! Sporting events are an excuse to pop open a few cold ones. Barbecues, dinners out, parties, farewell events all accompanied by an alcoholic beverage.

Dry July has made me a social leper.

Other than that, I feel fine. I don't need a drink. I just feel weird not being able to have one when everyone else does. It's a "not fair" attitude or "Why me?" question.

I'm doing this so that I know that I can. To let myself and alcohol know that I am the master. I think I will be able to pace myself better come August.

Hopefully, I will get a few more donations. But if I don't, at least I will have the satisfaction of knowing that I can and did manage the better part of a month alcohol-free.

Lucky Country

Today is my first ANZAC Day as an Aussie citizen.

This is my home. I chose it. I will likely live out my days here. As an American, I always understood the importance of defending the way of life of your country. The pride of living in one of the best countries in the world, the honour of those who successfully defend it.

For me, it's not just about Gallipoli, but about the coming-of-age of Australia. After WWI, Australia said: We matter! We have a culture! We are a country in our own right!

I don't want to lose that culture now any more than Australians did in 1915.

My circle of friends is a diverse group of mostly expats. We've collected individuals from India to Israel, Sri Lanka to Seattle, Adelaide to Amsterdam. Black, white, yellow, brown and pink. Jewish, Protestant, Catholic, Hindu and Muslim. You can find just about any background in our group.

The reason I stick with this group of friends is simple: We all appreciate each other's background, but we live in Australia. Our values, our culture is based around the mores and values of Australian society as a whole.

We obey the laws. We walk on the left side of the footpath. We watch the football. We hold down jobs. We respect Australia.

There is no better day than ANZAC Day to reflect on the culture of Australia. It's about Mateship, and a "fair go." I welcome everyone into that culture, and I'm here because I think it's the best way. If everyone coming to Australia understood the importance of that, I think those opposed to immigration would have a different view.

One Australia is Multiracial within a single Australian Culture. We can all celebrate our heritage, as long as we live our Australianism.

Get out today to honour and celebrate your Aussie-ness! Thank you Diggers. Lest we Forget.

I'll miss the Bingle

I feel a weird relationship with the BinglePup. Lara and I both got our big break from Tourism Australia. I have been a cricket fan for 15 years, and Michael Clarke fan for five. I know WAGs (Wives and Girlfriends of "famous" partners) whom I have referred to as friends.

I will miss the Bingle. She single handedly changed the public's perception of the WAG.

Look at the competition. Jane McGrath is probably the most famous cricket WAG on the planet. She is a role-model for her actions as a WAG and the accomplishments of the McGrath Foundation due to her experiences and because her husband was a cricketer. She was discreet, brave and humble. Clearly these were not qualities the Bingle exhibited.

While we're at it, how about Executive Director of the McGrath Foundation, Tracy Bevan, wife of one-day cricket hero, Michael Bevan? Tracy, like Jane, met her husband without knowing who he was, and without caring. Through her friendship with Jane, Tracy now carries on Jane's work running the foundation that Jane and Glenn founded, raising millions of dollars for breast care nurses and awareness. Definitely not a candidate for super WAG. Nope.

Lynette Waugh? Survived a brain tumour in 2006, quietly and unceremoniously after husband of 23 years, former Australian captain Steve, had already retired. Nah. Why bother?

Maybe Mel Gilchrist? She survived a scandal to see her through the third child with former wicketkeeper Adam.

Kellie Hayden? She met Matthew when she was still a teenager. Pip Boon? No, she and David have been through too much, including 10 years of retirement.

The only contender was not even a willing participant, but an innocent by-stander of an SMSing scandal. But at least she is now keeping out of the limelight with her rekindled relationship with her former cricket Bad Boy. No points for their names.

So what do these women have in common? They are the women behind the men. The silent troopers who carry on without cameras and endorsement deals. They keep the house running, the kids in school and their collective lives in order. And do you know what else? They fell in love with a man, not a position. Not a social lifestyle. None were involved with a high-profile man before their husband, most didn't even know he was "famous."

Tourism brotherhood not withstanding; good luck, Bingle. My vision of WAGs is better without you.

For more on the WAGs:
http://www.perthnow.com.au/lifestyle/married-to-the-mob/story-e6frg3pl-1111112565843