One for each night, they shed a sweet Light

Happy Hanukkah to the tribe. Or, for those of you of Hispanic descent: Happy Chicanokah.

For my drunkard friends in the Southern Hemisphere (I'm quite certain you know who you are) don't think for one moment that you're forgotten. I've found the perfect menorah for you to celebrate the Festival of Lights - which I'm told is not the same as the Festival of Getting Lit.

So anyway, that's my quota of cheerful holiday messages for this year. Happy Hanukkah to the Jews, and Happy frantic weekend of shopping to the Christians.

A little time in the country, A day or two to slow down

Life is crazy in Hammistan.

My poor little body is not used to putting in 12 hour days at my fantabulous new job. Fortunately, my poor little blog is quite used to putting in month-long waits between posts.

Your understanding of the concept of "fortunately" may differ slightly from mine...

On the other hand, I was treated to some very excellent Australian Shiraz earlier this week. I now understand why Rachy is so enamored with it.

Almost crying underneath the vine

As I mentioned over at It's a Matter of Opinion, I'd like to offer my condolences to the nation of Australia. Look, you guys are generally all right, but there is something seriously wrong with an electorate when a douchenozzle like this is even considered to be a candidate for federal office:

Seriously, even though he was railroaded with that spelling bee thing, you never heard from Dan Quayle again, did you? It was soooo simple, you wallaby-rapists, but No! God help us all, you actually elected the dumbass. Were you all on those vodka IV drips from the hospital or something?

Waiting for her head to explode

I've tried to write about this for a couple days now, and I'm still not sure which angle to take on it. Honestly, I'm not sure if this post should be overly critical, or highly complimentary, so I'm just going to throw some words at the screen here and see where it takes me. What I am sure of, however, is that our friend Rachy is in the wrong damn hospital.

BRISBANE, Australia - Doctors plugged an Italian tourist into a drip-feed of vodka to save him at a hospital in Australia that ran out of the medicinal alcohol it would normally have used for treatment.

"We quickly used all the available vials of 100 per cent alcohol and decided the next best way to get alcohol into the man's system was by feeding him spirits through a naso gastric tube," Dr. Gelperowicz said in a statement.

"The patient was drip-fed about three standard drinks an hour for three days in the intensive care unit," he said. "The hospital's administrators were also very understanding when we explained our reasons for buying a case of vodka."

The patient, who was believed to have ingested the poison in an attempt at self-harm, made a successful recovery.

Three drinks an hour for three whole days. By my math, that's 216 shots wasted on some asshole who wanted to hop the Antifreeze Express to "My-girlfriend-dumped-me-ville." Ladies and Gentlemen, the Australian medical system. Ass-backwards care for spinal patients, but an open bar for the suicidal dumbasses.

...Where beer does flow and men chunder

Well, I sat on my ass for a day too many, and Rachy goes and beats me to the punch about the Goracle's Grand Temple of Hypocracy... I've left my smart-assed comments on the matter over there. It's definately worth a look.

So while it may seem to the novice reader that I'm at a loss for a subject to post about (and thus provide proof of life to both of you reading this) I in fact had a second topic up my sleeve for just such an occasion. Ha! Take *that* you punks!

A week or so ago, I went for a bit of a drive, but when I popped in a my local Stop & Rob to fill up my tank, they were out of my usual Red Bull. So, I grabbed the first thing they had in the cooler... which was Amp. I put that shit back, since it's essentially Mountain Dew with half the water, which only means that it will make me twice as sick. The second thing they had in the cooler was a Coolah, which promised a "Refreshing lemon tang" and "Energy from Down Under."
After cracking it open, the first thing I noticed was that it didn't taste like your typical energy drink... which is to say: acid rain runoff. It actually tasted lemony. (Shocking, I know) Also, it kept me awake, and I didn't die in a firey car crash, so bonus points for that.

Anyway, according to the literature on the can, it's made by Cadbury Schweppes and is "inspired" (whatever the fuck that means) by some Aussie drink called Solo... but I'll be knackered if I can find much about it online. Even the Cadbury website doesn't list the damn thing, so hoo-rah for their Marketing Dept. eh? There is a decent write-up by some soda-reviewing site here, which pretty much says the same thing I do - "It's good. Why aren't you fuckwits marketing this properly?"
Now, given that this lameassed blog is relatively popular amongst the Emus & Roos crowd, I figured I'd let you guys do all my research for me. So I put it to you all: What's the deal with this "Solo" crap, everyone?