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« The Jason X Identity | Main | Foreign Languages »

Don't Go Out with Australians

Australians are crazy motherfuckers.

Do not try to keep up with them. I did. I regret it.

Last night we went to the horse races just outside London. I drank too much, of course, and started instructing everyone on how to pick a winner. When I say “everyone”, I mean Directors, VPs, and a President and CEO of my company.

I decided the winning combination was this:

  • The horse’s tail must be wispy, not limp. The more wispy the tail, the better.
  • If you can somehow tie the horse’s name to Satan, you have a winner.

This, of course, was bullshit. The kind of bullshit I spout with deadpan seriousness that everyone buys into. But the cherry on top was the fact that I kept winning every race. I picked the horse based on this bullshit criteria, and won time after time. The drunker I got, the more I won. The more ridiculous the pick, the bigger the winner. I don’t know how to explain it. It just was.

Then, the Director of Finance for the U.K. came to me and asked me my opinion. I was drunk off my ass, picking horses based on made up criteria, and the Director of Finance for the U.K. wanted my opinion.

Naturally, I recommended Spank the Devil. This horse fit my criteria better than any horse I picked previously. I backed this horse with more fervent conviction than I had with any previous pick.

And yet, the DF decided to go his own way. Why the fuck would he do that? I had won every other race. I was on fire. Spank the Devil was my slave.

Well, the DF’s pick won and Spank the Devil came in dead last.

That’s when I threw in the towel and hit the town with the Australian visiting from the Sydney office. Big mistake.

That motherfucker hit five bars and threw back so countless drinks, and I, in my drunken wisdom, decided to try to keep up with him.

The rest is a blur.

I woke up this morning at 9:30 a.m. when someone’s assistant woke me up with a phone call.

Mr. Mulhausen was wondering if you were coming to the meeting?

Holy shit. I was a half hour late for the last meeting in London. I looked around the room and noticed the place was trashed; the couch was turned over, the chairs thrown aside, everything up was down. I don’t remember a thing. I threw some water on my face, applied another layer of antiperspirant, and threw on some wrinkled clothes from my suitcase. Then I made my way over to the office.

Unfortunately, there were only about 15 people in the meeting, so I couldn’t slip in unnoticed. For the next two hours, everyone referred to me as “Spank the Devil” and had a good laugh at my expense. I’m sure looked like shit.

Mulhausen didn’t appreciate my tardiness, but the local GM thought I was a funny American fucker and recommended I be promoted immediately. So did the visiting Australian, who, by the way, looked as fresh as a daisy, that fucking good day mate motherfucker.

I’ll tell you one thing. These blimey fuckers are very serious during the day, but at night, they take you out and fuck you up.

I like it.

Tomorrow, early, we take off for Berlin. Sauerkraut and Hitler. Should be interesting. I’ll let you know how it goes, of course. No strange or foreign pussy yet, but I have high hopes for Spain and Italy. Low expectations for Germany…

Reader Comments (3)

Yeah, Aussies are mean drunks! Sounds like you're having a blast Jason! Blair must be missing you.

March 11, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterTech Babe


March 12, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterI Agree

I play a horse racing sim game... the Aussies kick ass all the time, and they play drunk usually. They are the funnest people on the planet! Here's hoping you get some foreign pussy to regale us with!

March 12, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterWinter

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