Sunday, July 13, 2008

Tough Enough

Thinking for most of the day about the girls that used to play basketball in Penguin made me think that most of them could have beaten me up good and proper, and how that probably makes me look. Most Tasmanian culture is built around manliness and dissing of bitches (sigh), especially on the North West Coast. Not so much in Hobart, because we have North Hobart and Sandy Bay surrounding the city like a pincer movement of alternative lifestyles, much to the chagrin of the meat eating, beer drinking, football loving real man. North Hobart is where the hippies hang out - I'm not sure if I posted before about The Republic Bar, a hotbed of left wing intellectual debate, Pale Ale and Tim Rogers gigs. I think the Republic Bar was once the King Edward - when I first moved to Hobart, I walked past a gun fight outside it, and it had topless barmaid Wednesday. Quite the clientele change. Sandy Bay is where the university is, although it does have the last mom and pop video shop left in Tasmania (for about another week, until it closes) and a bar called something like the Marquess or something which seems like a big warehouse of weirdness and hormones. And Pale Ale. The Metz in Sandy Bay has an outdoor deck, which really isn't something I can imagine appealing to the hardened wizened woman hating real male. And in the middle, where I go out, is Hobart, which has the Mens Gallery. Enough said. And it has a ban on people vomiting, because it's girly. And one of the bars used to have Coyote Ugly Thursday. I guess that's the centre of Southern Tasmanian manliness. But it still seems girly by North West standards.

So I got to thinking whether or not by basic North West coast standards, I was, quote, a real man. The big things in my favour are that I like beer, and football. I have a lot of incredibly ill informed and hopelessly weak held under the light theories about football that I bore everyone with. I'd find it quite interesting to see if I could hold my own against, say, a Mick Malthouse, in a real coaching box at AFL level, but I am still convinced I'm better than him - after all, I'd never have recruited Andrew Williams. Like I said, I like beer - although to be honest, I prefer rum, but it's not really an option on the North West Coast. There are only two rules in pubs in Penguin - only order a beer, and don't beat the locals at pool. And don't be an ethnic, obviously. And, I did play football, although at an Under 8 standard, which was fine since it was in the Under 8s. I'm not sure that I hate ethnic minorities, but I know being Scottish I have to by law hate the English, so that's something. Just finally, I'm completely afraid of revealing any of my emotions to anyone...ever. Oh, and I just remembered, when I watch womens tennis, I just support whoever is the most attractive. So, basically, this is all good stuff so far.

However, there are many problems. Firstly, I'm terrible at pool, although in doubles I am good at setting up snookers. My main problem is my music taste - I love the first Britney Spears album. I think it's a fantastic, fantastic pop album, especially the first 5 tracks. So you can see my dilemma, I can't really go into a North West Coast pub and put this in. I did put Toxic on once at the Welcome Stranger in Hobart (more on that place later) and some Maoris threatened to beat up whoever put it on with pool cues. Phillistines. I know nothing about horse racing at all, and I'm not really interested in learning. I'm accutely aware of when I'm boring people, which is something that very few people on the North West Coast seem to grasp. I don't like dirty jokes, and the real kicker is, I absolutely hate strip clubs. Really hate them. I did, for my sins, go into Hobarts Men Gallery once, and I found it absolutely depressing. There was just row after row of stunned, bewildered males sitting like deers in the headlights, and strippers who just hated them. Now, I'm not one to judge, I read some of my old posts and I seem a little stalkerish at times (hello girl with the blue eye shadow) but if you turn up at a strip club with chocolates or flowers, it's time to pack the tent up on your life.

Plus, not one of the strippers looked like Leilani Kai, lousy kids...

The point is that I'm not really cut out for North West coast pubs anymore, or even the Black Buffalo hotel - I'm just not really blokey enough. I had hoped that one day, I'd retire, be able to refer to the female barmaids as sweetheart or luv, and drink beer until my liver exploded. The Australian dream. But it's just not working out...I might need a new retirement plan...maybe I could take up basketball...

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