Good Hair Day

Has anyone else been watching the new season of Underbelly?  Have I already talked about this?  Can't remember.  But yeah, Underbelly.  Or if we're being technical about it, Underbelly Razor.  Awesome.  I love that just because it's set in Sydney, I have this weird connective feeling about the whole thing; like it's my personal claim to fame.  Forget that I'm in no way actually related to any of the characters, all of whom lived a good 80 years before I was even born. 
Sydney! 
Sydney! 
It's my claim to fame!
This is exactly the same kind of thing I feel about stuff like the Matrix movies, and Baz Luhrmann.  I know it's ridiculous.  And I don't care.  Besides, I'm pretty sure Baz Luhrmann checks my blog on a daily basis.

So what else was I going to talk about?

I had this dream the other night about a pot plant being run over by a truck.  Which would have been just as boring as it sounds, except that the pot plant was alive - like, it had a face and everything - AND was best friends with one of the guys I work with.  What?  I have no idea.  As in real life I progress into adulthood, my dreams only seem to be getting more child-like.  Hello, irony!  I can only assume this has something to do with my meth addiction.  Kidding, Mum!  Actually I have no idea what this is about.  And what else is new?  If being crazy was an Olympic sport, just about the only thing that could knock my dreams out of first place would be my hair.  Russell Brand knows what I'm talking about.

Speaking of meth addictions, we were at the pub the other day when some woman came up to me and started talking about her ex-boyfriend and his drug habit.  Whaaaat?  I love people like this, because they provide all situations with a 94% chance of becoming awkward.
94%.
That's a real statistic.
Anyway, as everyone who knows me knows, I am a huge fan of awkwardness; I thrive on it.  So imagine my delight at discovering someone who can give it to me on a silver platter:

Woman:  Hi.  Mind if I sit here?
Me: Oh no, go ahead.
Woman.  Thanks.  Nice day, huh?
Me: Yeah.  Yeah, nice.
(Pause)
Woman: So, my ex-boyfriend was addicted to ice.

Not even kidding.
NOT EVEN KIDDING.
Alright, so I'm kind of kidding.  She sat with us for about 10 minutes before the ice-addiction thing came up.  But it was still awkward!  Let's be honest, the topic of ice addiction is always gonna be kind of awkward.  There's really no other way to spin it:

Woman: So, my ex-boyfriend was addicted to ice.
Me: Oh...that's a shame.  But you know what, I bet he had a great personality.

Fail.