Life & Style Weekend - - OUR SAY -


OK, my party trick is pretty lame. When I was younger, I dis­cov­ered I can turn my eye­lids in­side out. It’s gross, but it al­ways gets a de­cent re­ac­tion. How­ever, there’s one party trick I re­spect and wish I could do – the in­fa­mous “smoke bomb”. The Ur­ban Dic­tio­nary de­scribes it like this: “To van­ish with­out de­tec­tion from a big night out on the booze with friends. It can hap­pen for var­i­ous rea­sons in­clud­ing but not lim­ited to pick­ing up, in­co­her­ence, vomit etc.” As we get older, we want to be seen as fun but there’s al­ways a time dur­ing the night out where you just wish you were back in bed, watch­ing Net­flix. So therein lies the dilemma: do you say good­bye to your friends and risk be­ing called a “party pooper” or do you just dis­ap­pear? The skill in­volved in pulling off the smoke bomb is impressive. So, if like me you’ve found your­self say­ing at a party ‘Where’s Trent?’ and then quickly re­alised the bug­ger pulled off a bril­liant smoke bomb but you’re not sure how he did it, then don’t go any­where. I have found the ul­ti­mate tip to ex­e­cut­ing a smoke bomb. The only way to smoke bomb is: when you ar­rive at a party or event, you have to make a big en­trance. Yes, trip over some­thing, be loud, ar­rive in a he­li­copter – any­thing to show you have ar­rived. If you do this, peo­ple at the func­tion will re­mem­ber you be­ing there and be­ing fun. Then, through­out the night, make your­self more in­con­spic­u­ous by go­ing to the toi­let more and more un­til you fi­nally dis­ap­pear like a fart in a fan fac­tory.


“Hold my beer”… the very phrase sends shiv­ers down the spines of part­ners ev­ery­where, as it sig­nals the ar­rival of a party trick. Usu­ally hare­brained, of­ten dan­ger­ous, the “party trick” has many dif­fer­ent guises. Since the begin­ning of time, peo­ple have been test­ing them­selves, prov­ing their man­hood or sim­ply show­ing off their spe­cial su­per­pow­ers. Booze is of­ten in­volved as the re­quired elixir to prompt or build the nec­es­sary courage for some­one to roll out their tal­ents. Whether you fit your own fist in your mouth, cry on cue or re­cite the en­tire lyrics of Snow’s Informer (leaky boom boom down in­cluded), it’s this unique tal­ent you hope one day could be your ticket to the big time. Feats of strength fea­ture highly in the party trick space and some­times the con­tor­tion of a body part that makes ev­ery­one in the au­di­ence squirm. My party trick du jour is my abil­ity to drink large quan­ti­ties of liq­uid (aka beer) in one go, of­ten re­ferred to as skolling. As a dad, it’s not a skill I am par­tic­u­larly proud of these days, nor do I have the abil­ity or de­sire to train the way I once did. But the cir­cu­lar breath­ing tal­ent com­bined with the ap­par­ent ab­sence of a gag re­flex has earnt me many plau­dits over the years, as was the Aus­tralian way be­fore we be­come over-obsessed with po­lit­i­cal cor­rect­ness. My day did come: the holy grail of the skolling world pre­sented it­self. Chal­lenge: Bob Hawke. Lo­ca­tion: Woodford Folk Fes­ti­val. Beer: Carl­ton Mid. Vic­tor: Bob Hawke... I let him win!


When it comes to a party, you need the right peo­ple to make it epic. I’m not a “classy party” kind of a girl. All I need is a Savvy B and grand-sized dance floor. Par­ties are the place where all the un­sung he­roes lie. On these spe­cial nights, the he­roes among your peer groups emerge. Of course, I’m talk­ing about the beloved party trick. If you’re un­aware of what a party trick is, I thought I’d grab a def­i­ni­tion from the Ur­ban Dic­tio­nary. Barry pushes the keys up one leg of his pants, into the crotch area, and then reaches up the other leg, pulls them out, and hands them back to John. Es­sen­tially this is your chance to show off your best skill. As you can tell, I’m tak­ing a while to get to my party trick, be­cause when we first dis­cussed what we were go­ing to write about this week, no party trick sprung to mind. But, then it dawned on me that I used to do this a lot and there’s a good rea­son why I can’t do it anymore. It re­quired flex­i­bil­ity, de­ter­mi­na­tion, stretching be­fore and af­ter, plus, we needed a med­i­cal pro­fes­sional on standby. The trick I used to do was an at­tempt to sim­ply show off. I used to think I was a con­tor­tion­ist and sim­ply put both my legs be­hind my head. But, then I’d over­bal­ance and I’d whack my head on the tiles. Ob­vi­ously this re­quired a cer­tain skill and a box to try and fit into so I wouldn’t fall over. There is ab­so­lutely no way I could even at­tempt that these days. Aren’t you glad you waited for that?

Newspapers in English

Newspapers from Australia

© PressReader. All rights reserved.