Geddit India

Attending sporting events for me is a little like watching rubbish movies. I try to avoid doing it at all costs, but if for some reason I must watch it, I like to make the best of a bad thing.

Case in point – watching Backdraft? Make a drinking game out of it. For every ‘Goddamn’ or ‘Son of a bitch’ uttered by Mr Kurt Russell, take a drink. If you get both in the same sentence, drink your whole drink while dancing around the coffee table yelling “Don’t you die on me you goddamned son of a bitch!”

Although, thinking about it, I would put Backdraft under the Awesomely Craptastic Movies banner, so that was a bad example.

 

I digress.

 

For a friends birthday on Sunday I attended a cricket match. I never used to understand the appeal of watching a bunch of unfit men scratch and fumble their balls all day, until last Sunday.  I realised that the whole point of attending sporting events is to let your inner bogan out.

 

If you try to tell me “But Nords, I don’t have any inner bogan in me, for you see I am a refined sophisticate”, then I shall call Shenanigans. Reasons being 1) You’re reading this blog, and are therefore amused by base humour and vulgarity, and 2) everyone has a bit of bogan in them. Whether you’re a big bogan (sport a mullet, own a ‘good stubbie holder’ and are called Waaaaayne) or a secret bogan (enjoy watching Border Security behind closed doors), trust me, you have a bit in you.

 

So on Sunday I allowed my inner Bogan to enjoy the following:

 

• Booing the police when they kicked out the shirtless drunk dude who started a Mexican Wave.
• Cheering the police when they let him back in 10 minutes later.
• Sneaking in a bottle of cheap tequila and making a nasty cocktail out of what was available at the hideously overpriced kiosk. I bent over and bought some Solo and weird-assed flavoured vitamin water. Do not recommend. This blend was so bad I ended up adding more tequila to make it taste better. Also do not recommend.
• Getting free glow-in-the-dark bracelets from one of my least favourite pubs in Melbourne. What an Irish pub is doing handing these out on a Sunday night I don’t know – all I knows is when I’m drunk, if something’s brightly coloured, free or edible I am all over it like a rash. I also know when I woke up the next morning it looked like a glow worm had exploded from too many ecstatic tablets.

 

My newfound love of sporting events means that I also accepted an invitation to attend the Australian Open in one of our supplier’s corporate boxes. The bogan in me wants to know – How many ‘in ya box’ jokes is too many? Only time will tell little Wayne, only time will tell..

 

 

Tags: sports