2013 Election Night Drinking Game

Today we participated in democracy and rewarded mediocrity. So tonight, lets sit back and prepare to learn the results the only way Australians know how; with copious amounts of booze. The rules are pretty simple:

Take a fair dinkum suck of your sauce bottle every time:
-K Rudd is seen taking a ‘selfie’
-Tony Abbotts daughters are on screen. One drink per daughter
-Indi, Eden-Monaro or Griffith are mentioned
-Kevin Rudd says ‘folks’, ‘mate’ or mentions that he’s from Queensland
-The phrase “democracy in action” is used
-Christopher Pine is on screen
-An anchor stalls awkwardly for time
-Western Sydney is referred to as a “key battle ground”
-A seat is considered “too close to call”
-Julie Bishop stares at something
-The carbon tax is mentioned
-A three world slogan is used
-Clive Palmer tells us he’s Australian, twerks or mentions dinosaurs
-Someone at your election party threatens to move to New Zealand
-Malcolm Turnbull looks like he still can’t believe Tony Abbott is his leader
-A poll is mentioned
-Bob Katter tries to say something smart
-K Rudd gives a speech that goes 20 minutes too long
-An animated representation of the house of reps gives us no new information at all
-Annabel Crabb makes a cooking related pun
-Nobody from the Liberal party remembers their six point plan

And lastly:

-Do a shot when a former Prime Minister weighs into the debate and offers absolutely no relevant insight.

-Do two shots when a Palmer United Party member wins a seat.

-Do three shots when the final announcement is made. Hopefully by then you’ll be too drunk to care that we either have a Prime Minister who refers to the conflict in Syria as “baddies v baddies” or one whose own party consider him to be the ultimate ‘baddie’.


What I’d rather be doing right now:

Yeah….he’s pretty high up on the list.


Right now, my to-do list is the size of a football field. And it’s full of ‘important’ things I should be doing. Like my taxes. Or packing up my life into boxes to move house. Or organizing the boring details of my trip (who actually ‘needs’ insurance?) I leave in less than a month and have nothing more than a ‘vague’ idea of where I’m going. And by ‘vague idea’ I actually mean ‘no idea’. You see, I really need to get onto doing something about my current situation. But I don’t wanna. All these things are annoying and get in the way of my life. I’m a baby wrapped up in a 21 year olds body. All I want to do is get up whenever the hell I want to, do whatever I feel like during the day then go to bed at a completely unreasonable hour and complain throughout the whole ordeal. Is it really so much to ask for!?
So rather than starting to check off things on the giving-me-anxiety list. I’m going to list what I’d rather be doing right now. After all, I deserve a break after spending the last hour painstakingly comprising my to-do list.

1. Sleeping
Sleeping, whilst one of my all-time favorite activities it’s never something I want to do when I’m supposed to. Ie. at 2:30am on a Monday night, I’d rather stay up and watch 5 episodes of Breaking Bad in a row than sleep. But the second I have to do something odious; like wake up in the morning, sleep is the only thing I can think of. Likewise, when I have to head off to work, sleep is the only thing on my mind.

2. Blogging
Or more accurately, refreshing the wordpress dashboard to see how many people have viewed my page or liked my post (if you’re reading this, please shoot me through a ‘like’. Refreshing the page 100 times and having no statistics change is frustrating. And will probably break my computer. And is the definition of insanity). But I digress. Why bother going out to the post office to pay bills when you can bitch about them online? Or why bother going out to buy groceries, when you can better spend your time writing witty posts about your inability to cook.

3. Looking at pictures of Ryan Gosling
I have some flawless logic for you now so get ready:
If the universe wanted me to be productive it wouldn’t have created Ryan Gosling. It also wouldn’t have created the internet. Or pictures. And it sure as hell wouldn’t have put easily accessible pictures of Ryan Gosling on the internet. The universe (and Google) are conspiring against me.
There. Logic. Boom! It’s not my fault I’m unproductive. It all makes sense.

4. Watching Parliament Question Time
Yup, unfortunately I’m being serious here. It’s an incredibly good way to pass time. And what’s more, you feel like you’re being productive and smart as you’re watching it. Thus it’s a guilt free procrastination tactic. Parliamentarians are possibly the only people slower and less productive than me, leaving me with a feel-good-feeling every time I watch them ‘debate’ something.
Plus (as if I hadn’t already convinced you) question time is comedy gold. Once you get over the fact our Parliament is for the most part an absolute waste of time, our tax payers dollars are going to fund nothing, the leaders of our country spend more time attacking each other than the issues and you stop fearing for the fate of our nation and humanity you start to see the lighter side of it all.

5. Deciding the names of my future children
Now Mum, don’t fret, I don’t want children any time soon. But I’d like to be prepared for when I pop them out, name them, then handball them onto you to raise for the rest of your life. Again, I blame google. So many sites have popped up with baby names. It’s only reasonable that I’m going to go on them and spend hours naming my unborn babies. My top 3 names for boys and girls are:

Boys: Oliver, Nicholas, Luca

Girls: Lara, Ella, Leila

Now, I know what you’re thinking. Ryan should probably have a say in what his kids are called too. But he has a big say in their surname given I will gracefully concede that battle and allow them to be Goslings. So I think it’s fair I get to chose their first names.

6. Learning a new language by watching SBS World News without subtitles.
I’m a big fan of different languages and foreign accents. They excite me. I’m feebly learning Russian at the moment. Watching Russian news in the morning I feel really helps with my pronunciation (this is a complete lie, but it isn’t going to stop me pretending it’s vital for my Russian education.) And once again, I’m being quasi productive and smart whilst procrastinating. It’s genius.

7. Looking at someecards
Yup, I’m a sucker for someecards. Who needs to spend time and effort being witty when you can just memorize the one liners on that site? Or shamefully use an ecard to add humor to just about every blog post (guilty as charged). I can spend hours on that site doing ‘research’. It’s contribution to my IADD (Internet attention deficit disorder) has been staggering. Here are some oldies but goodies:

But at the end of the day, do you know what would be better than doing all these things? Writing about doing them all. And look, I did and something got done! I can now add and cross off ‘write blog post’ on my to do list. Now to actually do something productive…Ugggh

RISKy Business.

Hear-ye! Hear-ye!
Calling all wannabe dictators and born warlords to the table.
Bring out the inner despot in you.
We are at war.

Enter a world where there are 42 territories. Plastic men attack and defend in their dictators honor. The dictators drink, swear and lie more than Kim Jong Il (may he rest in peace).
There’s a land bridge between North Africa and Brazil. And everyone aspires to be Hitler. Although, some would argue capturing Russia is important so maybe not quite Hitler.

That’s right. Welcome to Risk. The board game that ruins friendships.

Risk was invented by the French. Which actually explains a lot.
It’s all about concurring the world, losing what you’ve conquered, losing friendships and then getting really frustrated because you just can’t hold Asia. And everyone keeps kicking you out of Kamchatka.

I found myself playing Risk last night. I know what you’re thinking and I agree: it’s an epic way to spend your Saturday night. Last night was the first time in a long time that I’d played, and upon brushing up on the rules I quickly found myself in the predicament of hating all my friends.
It started off well enough. It takes about 30 minutes to set the game up (I’d advise bringing snacks). You have to roll for who goes first, pick your color, count your troops, hope and pray you get Australia, get your starting territories, become depressed upon not getting Australia, then pretend to build a strategy as you randomly place troops down. You also have to fake like you know what the hell is going on. Quite a process!
By now, you’re committed. And anybody who leaves before the game is over is required by law to be stoned to death. And not in the good way.

Next, each player gets a ‘mission’ card and the mind games begin. Everyone starts guessing what mission card you hold and then quickly forms an opinion on how best you should complete your mission. Without interfering with their agenda or killing any of their troops of course. Now, this would all be fine if it was not for the unwritten rule that everyone needs to scream their plans and ideas at you, at the same time and continuously for the next 2 hours.

After accepting your headache and inability to actually hear yourself think, you start to play. Yes, this is about 40 minutes into the game and no, you haven’t actually stated playing yet. See what I mean about the snacks?
Playing involves drafting, attacking and reinforcing.  Drafting means you get extra men for holding continents, trading cards and just starting a turn. Given the complicated rules (and the amount of alcohol consumed during the set up process) you could do with a calculator just to figure out how many troops you need. Given it’s a minimum of 3 per round, if you get a number smaller than 3, round up.

Next you attack. This is where it gets messy. Friends are lost, treaties are broken and everything goes to the dogs. Your friends call you names that they wouldn’t call their worst enemies. Then continue advising you on the course of action you should take that is in keeping with their agenda. They call you a few more names. You finally choose a place to attack. The attacker (you) and the defender (the person calling you names) both roll some dice until someone who understands the dice part of the game tells you whether you’ve won or not.

Here you take a moment to stop hating your friends and start hating the dice Gods. Your 18 attacking troops are defeated by 5 defending troops. Anger consumes you, your ‘strategy’ falls apart and people are still yelling at you. But that’s just part of it. Your opponent has Canadian snipers, and your rifles are broken. That’s life.

Finally you reinforce. You take a moment to be with your thoughts, mourn the lost and wipe your tears. You send troops from one territory to another in hope you won’t get killed in the next round. You silently pray to the dice Gods and patiently wait 30 minutes until it’s your turn again. All whilst continually yelling at everyone exactly what you think they should do to ensure they don’t interfere with your agenda.

At the end of the day, it’s all a bit of a fun. Who needs friends anyway? Besides, the best part about Risk is stabbing your ‘allies’ in the back.
Help Blue out. Get Red off his back. Get Blue to bash his head against Yellow. Meanwhile take out Black. Worry about inconspicuous Grey. Find Blue has killed Red, and is on the verge of destroying Yellow. It would be foolish to help Blue take out Yellow. He’s got that under control, and would mean you have to clash. Consider breaking treaties. No, you’re a good person. You have been allies with Blue for the last 2 hours, and he has left his backside open, trusting you to defend it. Break treaties. On your turn, you cash in your cards, and march your troops through Brazil. Blue immediately realizes what you’re up to, but it’s too late. You move through South America, destroying Blue’s stronghold. Crippled, he can’t stop your menacing reign of Greeness, and is eliminated in the next two turns. Tears ensue. Expletives are used. And everyone is still yelling.

So, Adolf, how do you propose to take Russia?

So Adolf, how do you propose to take Russia?

The moral of this story: Risk destroys friendships.