Snobbery, Sydney Style
I should have known.
From the second I walked through the door, I had them picked.
It was the way that their heads just didn't move.
You can tell a snob by their reaction when someone walks into a room. The snob is the one who doesn't look up to see who it is.
In this case, there was a table of them.
The incident?
A good mate of mine's family owns a holiday house 4 hours north of Sydney in a pristine lakeside location. His girlfriend's friend happened to have a birthday and my mate was generous enough to open up his house to all their girlfriend's for a weekend away. I got the call up to keep him company over the weekend.
Somehow, though, he was a visitor in his own house. And to add insult, an unwelcome visitor. It was as if he'd intruded on a girls weekend in his own home.
Which brings me to a new endangered species of homo sapiens.
The snob (aka, socialis wankerus)
I've often been out in Sydney and wondered about the psyche of the individual who is seemingly incapable of and completely disinterested in meeting new people. I've never understood such sociopathic behaviour, which I believe is one (large) step removed from defecating on someone's garage floor.
Well, the social wanker now has a group of faces and names.
Have you ever seen a person invite everyone to a party, only to be excluded from the party?
Have you ever tried to include yourself in a conversation, only to have the entire conversation walk away from you?
Have you ever met people who are more than happy to tell you how wonderful they are, but never ask you a question about yourself?
If so, then you have come face to face with a Sydney Snob.
I mean, it started off OK. We all sat down to play a good old fashioned drinking game, with playing cards. Shouldn't be an issue, right?
Well, this card game more closely resembled Israeli-Palestinian negotiations. Line down the middle of the table, both sides talking feverishly amongst themselves, with very little communication and interaction.
Let me say this. There are certain facts in life and one of them is that playing a drinking game with a group of people is a 100% guaranteed ice breaker. One of the most disturbing results of this weekend is that it completely breaks my definitions of the laws of nature. What I once believed to be truth is now a tattered wreck.
Same went for cooking. You'd imagine that with 2 groups of people sharing a kitchen, it would be impossible to avoid bumping into one another and possibly asking a question, or, dare I dream, have a conversation. Once again, apparently not.
My highlight of the weekend? Twofold.
The SuperBitch
The model cum actor. Otherwise known as the SuperBitch.
Me - "What do you do?"
SuperBitch - "Oh, I'm a model and an actor"
(This is snob-speak for 'I'm clearly way too good to actually be in your presence, let alone talking to you')
Me - "Oh yeah, what have you acted in?"
SuperBitch - "Well, the last thing I did was this feature length film called 'Something you've never heard of', it was made by 'Some guy you've never heard of' and had 'Some soon to be washed up actor you'll never hear of' in it."
This last sentence was said as she was walking away from me and closing a big glass door in my face.
SuperBitch had no cause to speak to me for the rest of the weekend ... that is, until I picked up a disposable camera that was lying around and took a photo.
"Hey, that's my camera."
"Oh. Nice camera."
"Stop taking photos with my camera."
"OK, sorry. I've only taken one photo"
"No you haven't, I've been watching. Give it here (takes the camera) ... Look, there's only 9 photos left."
"Yeah, and there was 10 when I picked it up."
"No there wasn't."
------- FAST FORWARD 20 MINUTES ---------
"I can't believe you took photos with my camera."
"For the last time, I only took one photo."
"No you didn't, I was watching you. What do you think I am, stupid?"
Big mistake.
"No, I don't think you're stupid. I think you're intellectually challenged."
SILENCE.
"That's just not funny. I'm going to bed."
Within 2 minutes, the lights were out.
What happens on tour, stays on tour.
Courtesy of shared sleeping space, I woke to the female equivalent of the boys locker room on Saturday morning.
See, owing to the fact that I was invisible to these girls, they proceeded to have the conversation that they would have had had I not been there.
And I discovered the following.
"Chris* has a clit ring. She was told to wait 8 weeks before having sex, but fuck that!! Apparently, it's fantastic."
"Well, Gina* just got her nipple done. I had to hold her leg the whole time. She said it was so painful."
"Wow. When she breast feeds, does that mean that it's going to go everywhere?"
"Why?"
"Well, she's got 3 holes now"
"No, it's like under the nipple"
"Oh."
"Hey, speaking of breasts, did you hear that Lisa* is heading off to Thailand to get her boobs done?"
"Yeah, apparently the hospitals there are really good"
"Yeah, but you hear stories about people who have terrible jobs there."
"Hey Amanda*, how are you feeling now that you've come off the pill?"
"Oh, I'm OK. I've been taking it for 8 years now, so I feel different now I've come off it. You should speak to Erika* about it though. She's came off it after 5 years and she hasn't had a proper period for about a year now."
"How does she feel now though?"
"Well, she's obviously upset because of the damage she's clearly done to her body. Like, when she was taking it, she was clockwork to the day. But now, she just can't have a proper one."
* names changed to protect the identity of Sydney Snobs.
I will never ever complain about waking up to an alarm.
From the second I walked through the door, I had them picked.
It was the way that their heads just didn't move.
You can tell a snob by their reaction when someone walks into a room. The snob is the one who doesn't look up to see who it is.
In this case, there was a table of them.
The incident?
A good mate of mine's family owns a holiday house 4 hours north of Sydney in a pristine lakeside location. His girlfriend's friend happened to have a birthday and my mate was generous enough to open up his house to all their girlfriend's for a weekend away. I got the call up to keep him company over the weekend.
Somehow, though, he was a visitor in his own house. And to add insult, an unwelcome visitor. It was as if he'd intruded on a girls weekend in his own home.
Which brings me to a new endangered species of homo sapiens.
The snob (aka, socialis wankerus)
I've often been out in Sydney and wondered about the psyche of the individual who is seemingly incapable of and completely disinterested in meeting new people. I've never understood such sociopathic behaviour, which I believe is one (large) step removed from defecating on someone's garage floor.
Well, the social wanker now has a group of faces and names.
Have you ever seen a person invite everyone to a party, only to be excluded from the party?
Have you ever tried to include yourself in a conversation, only to have the entire conversation walk away from you?
Have you ever met people who are more than happy to tell you how wonderful they are, but never ask you a question about yourself?
If so, then you have come face to face with a Sydney Snob.
I mean, it started off OK. We all sat down to play a good old fashioned drinking game, with playing cards. Shouldn't be an issue, right?
Well, this card game more closely resembled Israeli-Palestinian negotiations. Line down the middle of the table, both sides talking feverishly amongst themselves, with very little communication and interaction.
Let me say this. There are certain facts in life and one of them is that playing a drinking game with a group of people is a 100% guaranteed ice breaker. One of the most disturbing results of this weekend is that it completely breaks my definitions of the laws of nature. What I once believed to be truth is now a tattered wreck.
Same went for cooking. You'd imagine that with 2 groups of people sharing a kitchen, it would be impossible to avoid bumping into one another and possibly asking a question, or, dare I dream, have a conversation. Once again, apparently not.
My highlight of the weekend? Twofold.
The SuperBitch
The model cum actor. Otherwise known as the SuperBitch.
Me - "What do you do?"
SuperBitch - "Oh, I'm a model and an actor"
(This is snob-speak for 'I'm clearly way too good to actually be in your presence, let alone talking to you')
Me - "Oh yeah, what have you acted in?"
SuperBitch - "Well, the last thing I did was this feature length film called 'Something you've never heard of', it was made by 'Some guy you've never heard of' and had 'Some soon to be washed up actor you'll never hear of' in it."
This last sentence was said as she was walking away from me and closing a big glass door in my face.
SuperBitch had no cause to speak to me for the rest of the weekend ... that is, until I picked up a disposable camera that was lying around and took a photo.
"Hey, that's my camera."
"Oh. Nice camera."
"Stop taking photos with my camera."
"OK, sorry. I've only taken one photo"
"No you haven't, I've been watching. Give it here (takes the camera) ... Look, there's only 9 photos left."
"Yeah, and there was 10 when I picked it up."
"No there wasn't."
------- FAST FORWARD 20 MINUTES ---------
"I can't believe you took photos with my camera."
"For the last time, I only took one photo."
"No you didn't, I was watching you. What do you think I am, stupid?"
Big mistake.
"No, I don't think you're stupid. I think you're intellectually challenged."
SILENCE.
"That's just not funny. I'm going to bed."
Within 2 minutes, the lights were out.
What happens on tour, stays on tour.
Courtesy of shared sleeping space, I woke to the female equivalent of the boys locker room on Saturday morning.
See, owing to the fact that I was invisible to these girls, they proceeded to have the conversation that they would have had had I not been there.
And I discovered the following.
"Chris* has a clit ring. She was told to wait 8 weeks before having sex, but fuck that!! Apparently, it's fantastic."
"Well, Gina* just got her nipple done. I had to hold her leg the whole time. She said it was so painful."
"Wow. When she breast feeds, does that mean that it's going to go everywhere?"
"Why?"
"Well, she's got 3 holes now"
"No, it's like under the nipple"
"Oh."
"Hey, speaking of breasts, did you hear that Lisa* is heading off to Thailand to get her boobs done?"
"Yeah, apparently the hospitals there are really good"
"Yeah, but you hear stories about people who have terrible jobs there."
"Hey Amanda*, how are you feeling now that you've come off the pill?"
"Oh, I'm OK. I've been taking it for 8 years now, so I feel different now I've come off it. You should speak to Erika* about it though. She's came off it after 5 years and she hasn't had a proper period for about a year now."
"How does she feel now though?"
"Well, she's obviously upset because of the damage she's clearly done to her body. Like, when she was taking it, she was clockwork to the day. But now, she just can't have a proper one."
* names changed to protect the identity of Sydney Snobs.
I will never ever complain about waking up to an alarm.
posted by The Groin at 5:19 pm
2 Comments:
Snob Type 4
The --Backpacking around the world and Im not Ameican so I am cool-- snob.
Yes, I am american, but as dave will gladly tell you, that really will give you no clue to my behavior seeing as that I am bizarre to americans as well. I am also very aware of my president, I was actually arrested protesting his actions 3 weeks BEFORE he declared war in Iraq.
I have been traveling the world for years and am currently in Central America on a surf expediton. I am used to having to show people my presonality in order for them to realize I am not your typical american and that I am a good choice for traveling companion.
What is frightening me is that for the first time in my life I am
encountering people from all around the world who are unwilling to give me a chance. This is frightening for two reasons:
1.)Less than 5 percent of americans have passports so when you run into an american outside of america you are by definition encountering a vast minority. We are people who (almost totally) are against the policies of
the current administration and who worked very hard to try and end the Bush problem last fall. Many of us have left the country for the very reason that Bush is the president.
2.) One of the things that has always made backpacking culture so great is that people who are willing to live out of a bag and in low-end places in order to see the world are our own country. We are the United People of the
World. We travel the world in order to see what needs to be made better and so that we ourselves do not live in hypocricy.
Now, more than ever before, Americans who are making the commitment to leave America and search out meaning in the world should be encouraged, not
battered and beaten at every turn. And believe me, I do understand that the stereotype of american travelers is not without some truth and there are most definitely americans who should not have left the country because all they do is annoy everone (including other americans) around them. When you see these people, feel free to kick them in the nuts for me, just make sure that you don't assume too fast because you might just miss a unique World
citizen who just happened to be born in america.
Peace and love to all of you and happy trails.
Permit me to Grab my own Groin for a moment. And apologies in advance for the threadjack.
But I hate Trust Fund Backpackers. (I understand that the Groin and I differ on this point.) TFBs are legion of indistinguishable guys and gals who decide they need to find themselves and decide that the first place to look is the Third World. Now, I have no beef with other kinds backpackers - the kind who pay their own way, who try to develop themselves in a less extroverted way, and don't pack stilettoes. They are interesting people and are interested in the cultures that they visit. The Groin is one of these.
But their younger, parasitic cousins.... ugh. The only "Citizen of the World" was the Maharanee of Baroda. And whereas she certainly had a trust fund, she was no backpacker.
I did the TFB thing when I was young, foolish, bright-eyed and still hopeful about humanity. The old Trust Fund paid for an around the world ticket at around the time of my 19th birthday, and - whoosh - I was transported into a parallel universe populated by other Trust Fund babies living the surrogate life of the swag-guy/gal in "low-end places" and congratulating themselves on their originality in going to dirty parts of the world. Some of them smoke a lot of weed in a profound way. Others fuck sailors in a profound way. Still more make lifelong friends with the ubiquitous German guy with dreads (who's starting in Deutsche Bank in February. But in a profound way.)
Of course, I closed my eyes to the horrible reality of my situation and genuinely tried to involve myself in endless, tedious conversations about "How I've been travelling for 4 months now and I don't think I'm ever going to stop. I think I'm just going to travel forever"" That, and the "Where does the Best Weed come from?" conversation have become the transcontinental identikit of the International Spoiled Brat of Mystery.
Some of these people graduate into the better kind of backpacker mentioned above. But not until a significant amount of personal reinvention, normally including getting a job to fund their own way and realising that their own quest for identity isn't vaguely interesting to anybody else. They cease to be the Trust Fund Backpacker and become a nobler breed. They become less interested in the fact that they're backpacking and more interested in wherever it is that they are.
I don't know to which category Ms Colline belongs. She sounds mature and intelligent, so it is probably the latter. Certainly none of the above was directed at her.
PS How could it be that the Groin goes to a beach house full of girls (including a slashie) for a weekend and comes back whingeing? Is Shtine Time over????
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