Well it's been a while since I have posted. And this time it's because I have actually be fairly busy. Finally. Last week I worked atleast 65 hours and yesterday I worked 13 1/2.

Currently I only have one job because as of yesterday I quit my temp job because it wasn't very reliable, and was only a little bit a week. This way I can work atleast 40 hours a week at Molly Mallone's (the pub i work at). Hopefully I will get some pictures up of the place. It's really cool. The people are really cool and there's a ton of international workers. A few kiwis, another Canadian, an American, a few Irish, a handful of English and some German people. The other day it happened that I, a Canadian, served a Budweiser (American), to a Belgian, in an Irish bar, in New Zealand. It was rather amusing.

I also heard an advertisement on the radio saying that the typical New Zealander goes to the Irish pub after work to drink an Australian beer to drive home in his German car to watch American TV on his Japanese made Television while eating with his cutlery that was made in Taiwan. I thought that was applicable to Canadians as well.

Currently at the pub they have me working door as well as working in the bottleshop doing retail work, and they also shoved me behind the bar one night, and since then I've been a bartender as well.

Last week we had a slight problem with some gentlemen who were quite intoxicated in the bar. The barstaff informed me (I was doorman) that they had cut two of the guys off and to watch them. Two seconds later, one of the guys somehow got a drink and so I took it off of him and told him he had to go. As luck would have it, he was bigger than me by atleast 20 kilos. So were most of his friends. And then good old Murphy's Law decided to pipe in and inform me that this was a chunk of a rugby team. Ok. He's aggressive. Ask other doorman to come help right? Right.....Wrong. My radio wasn't working. Great. The manager sees this and tells them to get out. He is a few inches smaller than me and skinnier. They laughed. They focus back on me. I worried. Then one of their own, their biggest man, tells them that I'm a real (insert expletive) and that they don't even want to be there. So they agree and leave.
The moral of the story is ... rugby players are like cockroaches; if you see one or two, there are bound to be three or four times that around.

Anyways, it's now noon and I should get out of bed and make something of my day before I go back to work tonight.

Take care everyone.

Paul