Inebriation

Hey there folks. Am fairly plastered right now (from uni, no less), and would recommend to you, don't down a bottle of Queen Adelaide Shiraz ('06) within five minutes - 8 standard drinks of red wine - unless you intend on looking like a dickhead the rest of the day, as I currently do. Afterwards I kicked the crap out of myself and took a free-fall into a pile of thumbtacks. It isn't easy being me, you know.

Spreading yourself too thin

In case you were unaware, Tony has friends. Quite a few, actually. A quick glance at my list of Myspace/Facebook friends (always an accurate barometer of popularity, of course) reveals I've befriended practically anyone who's ever sneezed at me in a particularly pleasing way. If you're reading this, odds are you're one of those friends anyhow.

So pause for a moment, dear friend, and ask yourself - who is your best friend in the whole wide world, above anyone else? (relationships don't count. Just your bestest best buddy)
Right? Got it? Good. You may continue.

Odds are paramount that the name you uttered was not Anthony/Tony/Ant or some other variation. You see, it's recently hit me; I'm the true also-ran of friends. The guy who gets the birthday invite and is quickly tucked away in a corner, the guy you don't confide in and rely on, the guy who will not be making any kind of speech at your next social gathering. Put short, I'm your real-life Mario, rather average and everyone's chum, but if you're given the option you'll opt instead for Falco or Marth (Brawl in one month!!)

I suppose I have only myself to blame, I do spread myself rather thin in life, pimping my services out to roughly eight different sub-divisions of humanity, and not to any particularly memorable effect. The amount of parties I miss due to my hectic schedule is fairly despicable, and I know I don't often extend a line to folks on a whim, but wow. Why does my excellence go so ignored?

Look, I realise Jess and I are close. But including her is cheating, because she's no mere human, she's a Jess. Of course we're best friends. But who else is out there? Who is my comrade? My confidant? My BFF? (An amusing phrase because it looks like the abbreviation for boyfriend. Tee-hee!)

So here's what we're doing. TONY IS HOLDING OPEN AUDITIONS FOR THE ROLE OF 'BEST FRIEND'. So come on! Show me what you've got. Make me your 1. Show me the love, and it doesn't even have to be platonic. Just be advised that being Tony's best friend requires an initial loading fee of $15, with an additional $5 charged to your account each week. Ending your services as Tony's best friend will incur a $20 cancellation fee, effective immediately. Prolonged exposure as Tony's best friend may result in irritation around the eyes and nose, use in regulation. If symptoms persist, consult your doctor.

WHILE SUPPLIES LAST!

Communal segregation and the black sheep mythos

Melton may be a great many things, but one would never make the claim that it is under-populated. Quite the contrary, it's crawling with lifeforms of varying value that by and large range from the dirtiest scum to the mere ne'er-do-wells, with your occasional exception to the rule like my sweet self.
It should come as no surprise then that nearly every train that stops in Melton will be packed to the gills with our kind. While other areas might provide a conservative few, us Melton kids come in droves, hastily shoving in and scrapping for one of those elusive seats to park upon. Is it proportionate to our overall growing numbers? Can so many of us simply not afford cars of our own? Or deep down are we just such unyielding fans of Thomas the Tank Engine that we all metriculate into the train station in the hopes of seeing a choo-choo, and the subsequent ride is just happenstance? I'll fathom a guess at 3, because it was an unnecessarily long suggestion and warrants a couple read-throughs.

Tragically for us simple folk, Melton remains without an electric train system. Now I could be a right whinger and flail my arms, citing our growing community and apparent love for trains as reason enough to give us an upgrade, but for the time being, I'm realistic.
We're flanked by Rockbank on one side and Ballan two stops in the other direction. It's almost as if Melton was created with the sole intention of being a near-literal example of 'the middle of nowhere'. Anyone with delusions of grandeur, remind yourselves, our claim to fame is that we have a Wave Pool. Neighbouring Bacchus Marsh has fruit vendors. We're still an insignificant speck in the bigger scheme of things.

So it's not like I'm demanding we go electric quick-smart. For the record, I love V/Line trains. They're comfortable and staffed by friendly people (you show me a Connex employee who isn't a prick, and I'll happily let you in on the meaning of life, as I'll have discovered it long before then). What I do want, if indeed V/Line is our longterm traveling option, is a more efficiently run system.

Melton truly is the red-headed stepchild of the train system (such a statement makes me think of Annie transforming into a train for some reason. Sorry sweetheart, but we don't collect things like ashtrays and art). Trains are unreliable and infrequent; I can't trust the damn things to ever be anything but inconsistent. I leave for work two hours early (a 40-minute train ride from home to destination) because if I wait for the next train, a delay of 15 minutes (a very realistic scenario) will result in my tardiness and no doubt subsequent termination.

I shake my head in utter contempt thinking about trains that whiz right past Melton, yet make a stop in Ballan. BALLAN, people. A locale so devoid of life it'd be a suitable location to film your next Raccoon City disaster without any interruption from intelligent life. Actually, zombies in 'the Ballan time forgot' wouldn't surprise me.
Of additional note, this morning the express train from Ballarat to Melbourne shot past, shiny and on time, practically mocking us as it went by, a deadly reminder of that which we could just not have. If it were indeed a descendant of dearest Thomas, 'Look but don't touch, fellows!' it would have tooted cheekily in its Ringo Starr-narrated voice.
The train we Melton misfits would then catch was eight minutes late, only a single set of carriages and a downgraded older model to boot.

Last night (a Tuesday), I missed the 8:25 pm train and had to wait until 9:55 for the next one. Are you trying to tell me that nobody needs to travel to Melton on a Tuesday night for a whole hour and a half? That's ridiculous; a Connex train line (assuming they leave every 25 minutes, most lines even more frequently) would fit three services in that time frame.

So here's my theory; Australia hates Melton. They fear us because we're different. We grow in numbers and try to get respectable jobs and educations, but are seen as inferior and as such we're subject to insults and disrespect, forced to ride on an older, less cosy train, and left to wait for ages while others are served promptly and frequently. Put short, Melton is a minority. Segregation, lack of rights, all that jazz.
But just you wait. Someday we too will have our say. We're allowed to vote, who knows what's next! World domination, methinks.

PS. The title of this BLOG was originally just 'Communal Segregation', but adding the suffix makes it feel more like a uni essay, which is incidentally what I'm supposed to be doing right now.

Shakespeare's Shorts

Denim. That's right. Shakespeare wears jean shorts. It's a recently unearthed fact that may shock you. Additionally, he wears Bond's jocks. And oddly coloured socks, to boot. ...And the less said about Shakespeare's tatts, the better!

Indeed! I am referring to the imminent oncoming production of Shakespeare's Shorts, my fifth straight production with HTC Youth and what will be the last in that streak of acting performances with the company (GROUNDBREAKING!!!) Iffin you haven't already gotten the gyst, it's sexcerpts from Shakespeare (excerpts actually, but I mis-typed it and thought it best to just leave it for comedy's sake) performed to great success by some of the finest acting talent you'll find in all of Victoria. ...oh, and me, too!

Having had to shift roles due to drop-outs, my talkative friend Iago has been given the old boot to the wayside, to make way for me to take the reigns of the ghost in Hamlet. I'm a manipulative old codger you see.

It's on Friday, 16th of May at 8pm at Heidelberg Theatre Company (36 Turnham Avenue, Rosanna - RIGHT NEXT TO ROSANNA TRAIN STATION) and guess what? It's free! That's right, we're giving performances away! That's how generous we are. And how can you be generous? By coming and lending your old theatre-bound chums a bit of an audience, oui?