Hahaha I love this thread! Tis the orgy thread indeed. Party in my pants people and you're all invited...except for that guy... *gestures at the obligatory dirty, old man who likes to watch young women on the interweb* Yeah you know who you are suckatash!

Anyway, I'm also in Sydney and I know where Andrew is! He's in my pants y'all! Woot! Stop!...Hammer Time. Yeah yeah yeahs!

Far in, apparently Mr. VanWyngarden has a beach house in Oz and erm, judging by the thousands of kms of beach land on the East and West Coasts of Australia (who gives a flip about the South hahah, am I right or am I right? just kidding) he could be absolutely anywhere people! It'd be like trying to find a needle in a haystack, notwithstanding the obvious...the haystack evidently being...in my pants! And everyone is pretty much deserting Sydney for the year end break and do you know where the most popular holiday destination in Sydney is? Thazzzzzzzzzzz right, there's a beeline headed straight for my pants...hahaha I'm not with it tonight, I think it might have something to do with the fact that there are too many people living it up in my paaaaantzzz!

Honestly, even if you were to find him, how awkward would that conversation be? It'd be like:

Me: Hey...erm, aren't you that guy from that band? Wow what a coincedence...*looking like a female Tom Hanks in Castaway - complete with oversized, ZZ Top beard - and wipes sweat and matted blood from brow which developed after visiting ever single beach territory in Australia to track this mofo down* (what I'm really thinking is: OMG I FOUND HIM! OMIGARRD I'M SO GONNA BE UR MUSE AND GIVE BIRTH TO YOUR ILLEGITIMATE CHILD YOU DELICIOUS MANWHORE)
Andrew: Errr yeah (what Andrew is really thinking: HOW THE FUCK DID THIS BOWL OF SHIT FIND ME! I'M GONNA KILL MY MANAGER FOR THIS, HE PROMISED ME THIS PLACE WAS FRUITLOOP FREE! I MEAN THIS BITCH LOOKS *AND* SMELLS LIKE A CRAZY CAT LADY STALKER WHO PROBABLY HAS THESE IDEALISTIC VISIONS OF BECOMING MY MUSE AND GIVING BIRTH TO MY ILLEGITIMATE LOVE CHILDREN, I NEED TO GET RID OF THIS BANSHEE NOW)
Me: I really dig your music. I think you guys are special (Oh gosh, play it cool, play-it-cool, look at the way he's looking at me with that delightful squirm and those tears streaming down his face...I think he's already fallen in love with me and just can't contain it any longer...oh for cripes sake, I should probably stop licking my lips and doing that ear grating Hannibal Lecter slurp/lip quiver).
Andrew: Uhm thanks (Oh my God...mystic referee please help me! Is she doing the Hannibal Lecter on me? I knew she was a cannibal as soon as I saw her...I mean look at those maggots on her beard and that grotesque thing on her neck, good God I think that thing is actually her face...shit, I've gotta run for my very existence on this good Earth).
Me: (looking at Andrew the way Edward Cullen looks at Bella...mmmm fresh blood)
Andrew: *Runs away putting Speedy Gonzales and the Road Runner to shame*
Me: *Runs after Andrew, jumps on him like a wolf and eats him with fava beans*

Moral of the story: There's no point in trying to find Andrew coz even if you did find him, you'd probably have nothing substantive to talk about (that he probably hasn't heard a million times) and he's probably too busy trying to sow his "seeds" into the "plant" of some hooker that he bides his time with til he inevitably marries his prototypical, genetically modified fem-bot-drone (making your chances of muse-hood very slim indeed, unless of course you look like Cindy Crawford and are offended by the stench of intellect). And you'll ruin his holiday and end up eating him and we can't have him eaten coz we need another album.