openings

i'm tired, aching and a bit pissed. I'm also grinning like a fool. The pub is open and trading and its all mine. Happy Christmas folks. I'm going to bed.

stuck in the middle

we're meant to settle on the lease for the pub today. But as the clock ticks towards 3pm that looks less and less likely. The landlord seems to be selectively AWOL - unavailable to sign lease transfers and the like, and mysteriously close when it comes to picking holes in insurance proposals. Still theres no reason for him to hurry. As a matter of fact there might be some reasons for him not to. The existing tenants, from whom I'm buying the business, don't seem to have the scratch to pay this months rent. If he stretches the process out another week - not difficult seeing the lawyers start loading up the BMWs and heading for Portsea and Lorne by Tuesday arvo in readiness for the Christmas break - the poor buggers will be in full breach of the lease.

That leaves the landlord (if he chooses) in a position to change the locks and sell the business to me directly - a situation that wouldn't faze me personally but would be horrible for the poor girls in the pub. I might be reading more in to the guy's actions than there is, but I do have a sneaking suspicion something may be afoot...

Partyzone

lize's Christmas do on Friday night was a god almighty fucking bore. It was at a reception joint with a couple of other office Christmas parties, no free booze and some pretty staid punters. The lads entertaining sounded like they'd laced their Milo with opiates. Their piano muzak version of the Wind Cries Mary nearly had me in tears, for all the wrong reasons. General consensus around our end of the table was of an overwhelming sickly sweetness in the case of both the fish and the beef. A pre opened bottle of red and some confusion as to what actually constitutes rum didn't endear the barstaff to our group either. That said, Lize's work colleagues are a nice bunch who all seemed to find it equally dull. I think Lize misses the bar Christmas parties that always exciting even though someone always seemed to end up in casualty or having to make bail for a bar manager.

The upside of the quiet friday was we were very chipper heading off the Lize's family Christmas the next day. Held early due to imminent births and interstate trips for a couple of siblings, the day was a tremendously civilized excercise in nice drinks and lovely food. Red wine aplenty, duck, goose, turkey and ham with all the trimmings, pudding and rum cream constituted the main fare. Lize and I made a big jug of our current fave cocktail, comprising vodka, chambord, grand marnier, cranberry juice, fresh basil and cracked pepper. The Bing Crosby got a good lash on the ipod and the party didn't wind down till midnight.

pub time

it's getting close. If the vendor is sufficiently organised, the transfer will take place on Monday. The powers that be have deemed me to be a person of good character (chortle, etc) and approved the license. Suppliers are poised to deliver truckfuls of liquor and my nervous energy is building. Fingers crossed.

Before I get into the pub there is the small matter of surviving the weekend. Two Christmas parties (one for Lize's work, another with her family), a shitload of present shopping and the stocking of the larder with various seasonal treats and beverages must take place. I've got everything but time.

the boys in the NYPD choir...

weren't singing Galway Bay today. They were too busy seperating two warring parties of westies at 6pm on a monday arvo outside Safeway. Some spilt Red Bear cans and a bit of blood on the footpath. Happy Christmas!

Lize is well into the festive thing. Our house looks like Santa's grotto but tasteful and the girl has been a decorating whirlwind the last few days. Still, it took her four days to find the R2D2 i snuck into the nativity scene. She also bought a "cute" set of antlers for our poor bastard of a dog. I was was going to launch into a long and confused diatribe on anthromorphising poor wee animals but he looked so uncomfortable and pathetic and her eyes were all shiny so I let it go. She's also making christmas crackers with booze in them (a good thing) and stressing about presents (a bad thing).

Me, I'm looking forward to my pub, ruminating on what marinade I'm going to use on the ham and looking forward to getting off my box on Christmas day.

drogging blunk

alright kids, so I've had a few.....

- That joke isn't funny any more is the absolute peak of the Smiths output, both musically and lyrically. Likewise the tune Build presents the Housemartins at their peak.

- Listening to one song by the the Beasts of Bourbon will leave you feeling dirtier than a week staggering around the fleshpots of Patpong.

- Buying a pub is easier than it sounds.

- Cooking your wife a piece of grilled atlantic salmon with a greek salad will get you more loving than a fat wallet and a Ferrari.

- Playing the stockmarket is like throwing money into a poker machine with alzheimers.

- Blogging is like wanking with the curtains half closed. You want a few people to notice, but not too many. And certainly no-one you know.

- Ecstasy is the opium of the masses. Opiates are reserved for genuine fuckwits.

- In a restaurant order your steak rare if you prefer it medium. In pubs, if you like your steak rare, order chicken.

- White wine is for the ladies and fish fanciers. And poofs.

- D minor is not the saddest of all keys. A minor is far sadder. And easier to write in.

- Fat people hate their belly being touched. Seriously.

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