partying

Usually drunken endeavours and memories but sometimes genuine celebrations.

Prague.

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1

Ok, because I’m too lazy to update my travelpod at the moment, here’s an email I just sent to work (yes, I’m still attached).

Hello all,

yes, it’s been a while. This email will be a bit shorter as I’m on the verge of being physically ill, mainly because I’m in Prague and have been savouring the $2 pints.

I hope everyone is well. I am too (apart from my current condition) and I’ve been meeting people from all over the place (as one would expect, I suppose).

In the tradition of my last email, here’s yet another run-down of my travels:

Dubrovnik: as I said, cool. Worth visiting. Nothing really of great notice apart from the old town which got shelled in the early 90s and rebuilt. I think I mentioned this before. I can’t really remember. Anyway, definitely tick it off if you consider visiting Croatia (or Hrvatska, if you want to be down with the local language).

Kolocep: an Island near Dubrovnik (or Dubbo, as I like to call it). We visited here for a day, nothing extraordinary but it was nice. I hiked for about 3 hours and took the odd photo here and there of the views. Yeah, amazing, I know.

Mljet: Nice, foresty island. Pronounced Mil-yet. I got eaten alive by ants because I slept outdoors in a campground (too proud to rent a tent). The bites have only just disappeared (after about 3 weeks, I had scary black spots on my fingers and everything). I swam in Odysseus’ cave (ask Homer) and literally nearly had a heart attack because I was terrified of the fish in the water. I then had to climb back up a cliff in wet thongs, which is impossible if anyone’s ever tried it.

Split: Goran Ivanisevich (?sp) is from here. Cool town. I liked it better than Dubrovnik. We actually stayed in an apartment owned by a guy called Goran. One day he confronted me in his tight white underwear and a singlet asking for money for the other nights that we’d be staying. It was dirt cheap, though. About $15 a night. By the way, beer is disturbingly cheap in Croatian supermarkets. They even sell their own brand (Konsume is the store, K-Plus is the brand. 2 litre plastic bottle go for about $2.50 Australian). If anyone’s even heard of Gregor of Nin (or his “famous” statue), I’ve rubbed his toe (for luck).

In Split we met a French Canadian girl (Quebec) that I’ve ended up travelling with. My group split (pardon the pun) from her when we returned from Hvar (another Croatian resort island, apparently popular with Paris Hilton [yawn]) and we went to Sibenik.

Sibenik: small but has the largest stone cathedral built without wooden support (or whatever else) in Europe. Sounds amazing but it’s really just a small church. Still, I took photos (ask me if you really care). I also scored free Internet here because no one was around to charge me (even though I looked for someone to pay) and I walked out. Yes, I’m a rebel.

Krka national park: people swim under the waterfalls (they even made it a hydroelectric plant, thanks Mr Tesla). I didn’t swim because I was too scared of the fish.

Zagreb: the capital of Croatia. No one knows that. Well, barely anyone. It’s a nice place, reminds me of Melbourne but about 4 times bigger and with 1/4 of the people. The nightlife was pretty lame (ie, Sydney’s sad, lonely clubs are basically more popular on bad nights compared to a busy night in Zagreb) but I didn’t care that much as I can’t dance and don’t really like much beyond cheap beer and good company (hi, Andrew).

Ok, this is getting a bit long. If you’ve made it this far I thank you for persisting with my writings. If you’re still interested I pity you, but for the sake of sympathy I’ll continue with my journey.

Budapest: Massive, masive city (two cities in fact, which I found strange and didn’t learn until about 2 days before I arrived). Monuments are spaced out everywhere and I bought an AWESOME Spider-Man t-shirt in a supermarket there, then started wearing it as I sat around the Danube. Apparently the night-life is really fun there but my trio failed to discover it. We still amused ourselves and I met some other Aussies, which is always nice. Most are from Melbourne though, which is always a little depressing. ;)

Krakow: Nice, nice city. I had two nights here in a really good hostel, unfortunately there were a big group of Americans staying so I didn’t bother socialising (I had early mornings anyway). I went to Auschwitz, which I thought was very… interesting. It’s very touristy now, unfortunately, so it lost (at least, I felt) a lot of impact. Still, I’m glad I went there.

Olomouc: Billed as “Prague without the tourists”, this place is about 5 hours west of Krakow by train, in the Czech Republic. I loved it here even though I only had 1 night to explore it. An Australian couple ran the hostel I stayed in and although they were somewhat inexplicably timid they still gave us some good advice, so I ticked off basically everything in town within 6 hours. One day I’d definitely like to return, though.

Prague: This is were I am now. I’m staying in an Anglo-friendly hostel called the “Clown and Bard”. Mainly it’s Canadians and Americans but it’s not so bad. ;) The Quebec girl I’ve been travelling with is leaving for Berlin tomorrow so I’m going to have a few nights alone (ahh!). It’s a nice enough city, I guess. I’ve heard so many stories about it but I certainly think there are better ones out there. I’m probably going to end up knowing it better than Paris, as I have to stay here until Wednesday as I’ve booked a flight to Helsinki that evening (for only 120 Euros!). Hopefully I don’t get quite as frequently inebriated as I have tonight.

Well, that’s about it so far. Thanks for reading. I’m sure you haven’t. If you have, you’ll probably have been given a warning for not doing enough work (I’ve heard the rule have gotten a bit strict lately, you poor folk).

As always, I’m delighted to hear from anyone that can be bothered emailing me (but no, this isn’t a desperate plea for attention, even though it may look like it). Don’t be shy! :)

Bah, I’m still dizzy from all my cheap beer. I haven’t used the spell checker on this email so if I’ve made mistakes forgive me. If I haven’t made mistakes it’s simply testament to my meticulous spelling and typing ability. Hurrah for me.

Ok, I’ll stop now, this is getting ridiculous.

All the best!
Ollie. :)

Plush in Parugia

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Our hostel in Parugia was cheap, massive, had an amazing view of the town from its balcony, was immaculately clean and had a funny old man running it (that took 40 minutes to check the four of us in as he checked our passports and stuffed around doing something that I’m sure he thought was important but only seemed to make everything slower). It was also strict, with a cleaning lock-out from 9:30am until 4pm, the kitchen open from 7:30pm until 10pm, the balcony and upstairs area closed at 12am and a lockout at 1am. We called it the Hitler Hostel.

Parugia’s another university town. It’s beautiful and has a vibe similar to Bordeaux. We went exploring up and down the main street on the Saturday night when we arrived, nearly drowning in the sea of young people who seemed to only be walking up and down the road, eating gelato or sitting on the massive set of steps in front of some building that I never determined the purpose of.

We decided to treat ourselves to some pizza and beer on our own set of stairs before we practically crashed in our beds from travel exhaustion. It was probably a good thing that the curfew was 1am as it meant we made the effort to get to sleep earlier than we had been for the last few nights due to partying in Riomaggiore.

Kate’s Lonely Planet had a few suggestions for activies to try in Parugia for the next day. We ignored them and spent time sleeping in the shade by a church while a wedding went underway, then Al and I shared a big fat pizza then had a quiet beer from a vantage point overlooking another part of town. We thought the drunken South American we’d all met on the bus during the day who continued to try speaking to us even though we told him we couldn’t understand him would be the only oddball we’d run into. To our delight, Al and I got to witness an older man who’d come to the same overlook for a peaceful read in the shade. Unfortunately for him, he couldn’t begin without a cigarette. He cheerily walked up to every single invidiual that passed by and did his best to beg for a freebie but time and time again he was refused a nicotine hit. Eventually, after spying two young girls who’d just sat down and lit up, he snuck up towards them using trees as cover until he casually walked past them and asked for a cigarette like it was sheer coincidence that they’d ever met. A little scared, the girls gave in to his request and lit him up. He sat down and contently read, never again bothering to move the whole time we were there.

That evening we all ended up drinking beers on the balcony in front of the amazing view. More people from the hostel ended up joining us and by accident we’d started a mini party. We chatted away the hours with more Americans, Swedes and Brits until midnight when we were kicked off the floor. I’d polished off the perfect amount of 660mL, 0.90 and 1 Euro beers so I walked up and back on the main street to clear my head and made it into bed before the curfew.

Bumming in Bordeaux

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I made it out of Paris with Al and Kate but not before seeing an African albino in a Monoprix shopping centre. He looked a bit like Harpo but with a bigger nose. Weird but cool.

The three of us took a speedy train to Bordeaux which only took 3 hours. We downed a few bottles of low-alcohol cider and munched on lollies, arriving on a sugar high. The rush was required in order for me to carry my 3 tonne bag from the station to Al’s share house without passing out from exhaustion, as I’d already lugged it around Paris trying to find their hotel and then to the train station.

Bordeaux’s a student town and it has a much more relaxed atmosphere than Paris, probably due to the abundance of young adults and the lack of tourists who seem to fill all the Parisien restaurants. We spent the evening relaxing on the banks of the Garonne and listened to Clemént (I think it’s spelt), one of Al’s housemates, playing guitar and singing songs in English, French and even Japanese.

Our little trio took time out for lunch the following day as none of us had had a proper sit-down meal since being in the country. I managed to fluke myself a nice turkey curry (odd, I know) even though it was overpriced like everything else around there. Al suggested we get some chips to share so I bravely went off to order some from the most popular kebab shop in town. Eight people pushed in front of me and the staff working there didn’t really care, then ignored my order of large chips and gave me a kebab with chips in it (which is common in these parts). Too frustrated and impatient and lacking in French linguistical ability to argue, I returned to our table with my head down and tail between my legs before cutting the chip-kebab in half and sharing it with Al.

That night Jibby arrived on a delayed train and brought some violent rain with her. We walked back in the soaking rain, arriving back at the house looking like four drowned rats. I looked more like a drowned rat in extreme agony, as I had previously drank about 600mL of Yop, a yoghurt drink, in about 2 minutes and it didn’t want to sit peacefully in my stomach. It took about an hour in the bathroom and two rolls of toilet paper before I’d recovered enough to be able to return to the lounge room.

The next day I was feeling rejuvenated enough to participate in the organising of our train tickets to Nice. We wanted to have everything sorted out before the party that was being held that evening (Saturday). God knows how many people showed up, but I’ve never seen so many individuals crammed into a house! I don’t know how I ended up doing it (it was probably the beer) but I managed to mingle with the partygoers until the wee hours of the morning when I finally got too tired to attempt speaking in slow, clear and concise English and went to bed.

Sunday was (as is the tradition) a day of rest. We spent most of our day bumming around waiting for the Brazil vs Australia game in the world cup. There were some outdoor restaurants set up down the road, housed in tents, with big screen televisions broadcasting the games so we went to one called The Frog and Rosbif (“rosbif” is apparently a French bastardisation of “roast beef” applied to the English, in the same way we call them “poms”). One of Al’s friends was working there, a guy called John. We chatted to him for a while but we couldn’t get any free or cheap beer so we decided to leave not long after Australia lost.

On the way back we were confronted by a proud Brazilian draped in his national flag (there seems to be a lot of them around France at the moment) who laughed at us when we told him we were Australian then ran off, singing to himself. That night I had a horrible sleep due to the army of mosquitoes that decided to pillage my ankles but I didn’t really mind as I knew I’d need to be tired if I was going to get any sleep on the night train to Nice the following evening.

The night train was certainly interesting. We had food with us to eat and kill some time as it wound its way slowly to the south east of the country. I eventually dozed off but awoke when it was reported that the train had broken down and that it’d take an hour or two to repair. The four of us sat at the train station we’d pulled up at and ate biscuits while we drank cheap sangria after I walked barefoot onto jagged rocks and a bit of train roadkill (wait for the photo). Eventually we got back underway and I managed to sleep in the most uncomfortable positions imaginable for the remainder of the trip until we pulled up in Nice at 10am the following morning.

Coughing.

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14

TOFU GOT DRUNK LAST NIGHT.

I just had to make that official. Boy is he a cutie. The little darling just wanted to hug and squeeze us all evening. He’s still curled up on the couch feeling sorry for himself. I’m playing music to be a prick.

He actually slammed through quite a lot of vodka shots. Probably 9 or 10 along with a little KB, butterscotch schnapps and goon. No vomit. Hurrah!

palmy’s going to give me some videos and photos he took, so you can all spread the news over the intarweb.

I’m planning on going off to get my backpack today. Hopefully I’ll be able to find the MLC centre and pick up a sexy travel adapter because I want it.

Strangely enough, I’ve started to use the to-do list on my mobile phone as a reminder of the other odds and ends I want to get through before I leave in … 15 days! :O Fuck.

This phone burns through fucking batteries. I bought a new one off eBay and it still dies after about 15 hours of moderate use. What the hell’s with that? Maybe I’ll be able to nab another one O/S or just before I leave. Lucky I have a spare battery, but Jesus.

I found out that palmy was planning a surprise going away party for me. Unfortunately I fucked it up by accident as he didn’t realise I had other plans for that day. That’s the risk of surprise parties, I guess. I probably won’t have a chance to see as many people now, but meh.

I have fuzzy hair growing from my head hair down the sides of my neck and it’s quite long and it shits me. I need to tidy up the back of my hair a bit. Fascinating, I know.

Last night we saw an X-box with a controller in a pawn shop for $150. If I gave a shit/wasn’t leaving I’d be tempted to buy it for that kind of price. Tempted.

My hair’s long. I look like a wild man. Maybe it’s the beard assisting. Bushy. Brr. I’m impersonating Ryan Reynolds in Blade 3 but without the vampire slaying. I still have the weapons.

I really should use a dictionary. God damn it.

Blargh.

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This keyboard sucks hairy, sweaty balls. Hot.

Never go wireless, kiddies.

First night out to the Townie for a long time. Just been out with palmy, enjoying getting drunk and smoking Winfields (don’t tell mum). Fuck this keyboard makes me want to cry.

We got free cheese twists from the bakery tonight. palmy paid for a cheese and bacon bun/loaf thingy each, too. Somehow we managed to nab a throwaway sourdough loaf, too. Good times.

I’m drunk. Like the olden days. I really should go to bed as it’s 5:20am. 5:22am to be precise. Meh.

I leave in just over 4 weeks. Anyone going to miss me? I suppose most of you won’t notice, especially since I’ve been somewhat offline lately. Partly pussy-whipped, partly no keyboard. Whatever.

I’m going to continue updating this LJ during my travels, as I’m too lazy to set up a gay travelling blog anywhere else in the meantime. I might check out travelpod, but I’m not that keen on it. Lazy, etc. I’m sure you’ll all be riveted to know what lame shit I’ve been up to.

In other news, my pussy whipping of spending time with Emily is fun, as most men know but hate to admit. Actually, it’s only fair that I confess that I would have updated/been online more if not for my broken keyboard, but that sounds like a weak excuse. Anyway…

Palmy’s addicted to World of Warcraft again. Fag.

I’m too drunk to care and he knows it.

Yay.

I’ve been listening to more music. Synthpop is the best. I’m very into De/Vision and Fischerspooner (just the Odyssey album, especially “Cloud” these days ;)) at the moment. Pirate them if you want a thrill.

Tally ho until the next time, lovelies.

ARGH.

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11

Happy Mardi Gras. I smell like cask wine (since it was poured all over me about 7 times).

I lost my fucking phone tonight. Somehow. I wasn’t even that gone when it happened, I just didn’t notice. Yeah, sorry if anyone tried to SMS me, I think it’s still on the grass of Hyde Park since no one has fucking answered it whenever I ring it. Sounds like Optus is getting a phone call tomorrow.

Joel’s dad tried to kill Ross and I last week with glass. This week he’s been packing up to move out. FUCK WIN.

All the jobs I’ve applied for/had phone calls about haven’t gotten back to me at all.

I’m booking my flight to France to meet up with Benecke on Monday.

I’m getting a 2 year working holiday visa for the UK which only allows 12 months of actual work for ~$200.

I bought a 60 gig iPod and conformed along with headphones worth $300 (but cheaper – thanks eBay [what’s with the second letter capitals?]).

I’ve been eating a wee bit of garlic lately. Makes my breath stink but it makes my soul happy.

I’ve also picked up a nasty habit of being a near-chain smoker when I’m drinking. I know it’s bad for me but I enjoy it, so bring on the downfall.

The other bad habit that’s come to play is that I’m eating again when I’m drunk. I blame Andrew for not having any self control. I can do it solo but not when someone else wants food. Bah.

At least I’m occasionally brushing my teeth at night again these days. How exciting.

That’s all, folks.

P.S. sorry that I only seem to update in the early morning when I’m drunk. At least it makes me more honest. I’m proud I still come across as (reasonably) coherent and with (seemingly) accurate spelling and punctuation. Good times.

P.P.S. go nuts.

Drunk.

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22

Surprise.

Palmy wants some Croation action. Let’s give him some support.

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

:D

I declare my Squirt shirt my official party shirt. Yeah, woo.

I was going to say “hi” on it’s own line, but that sounded too fucked up. hehe

MAKE MORE COMMENTS SO I FEEL SPECIAL, PRICKS.

Just kidding. I know I’m special without your attention.

Summary.

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15

Here’s the weekly wrap-up for all you go-getters looking for the down-low:

Tuesday:

No valentines for me (aww) and I didn’t give any out (haa), apart from those silly ones that people do when they have no one else to pretend with. I had about 27 of those. Mostly with men.It was also my mum’s birthday, so I gave her a call and did all that “good son” stuff. Well, some of it. I guess. I don’t know. I said happy birthday over the phone and had a chat for a while. That seemed good enough to me.

That night palmy and I met up with Emma and Kat at Zanzibar after work at around 12 (yes, for drinks). The two of us got drunk (again) and managed to chomp down on some free savoury finger food that was placed conveniently next to our table. We only started eating it when it was a fresh platter that hadn’t been soiled by the hands of other dirty patrons, of course.

We decided we’d go visit the bakery afterwards for a roll or two and on the way ran into a shitload of police all surrounding one of the buildings that’s being constructed up the road. They were all around the sides and even one cop was on the roof with a torch wandering around the scaffolding. No idea what had happened and they didn’t want to spill any details. I heard some man who was being questioned mention something about something. The details are hazy. I was drunk, ok?

Turned out the bakery was shut, so we went to the 7-11 and I ate my first ever Traveller pie. Delightful, I must say. I’ll do one again sometime.

On the way back home we decided we’d make the obiligatory visit to the Townie and scrounged up enough change to buy a few more drinks there and even have a slight flutter on the poker machines. We won nothing and the only thing of note that palmy earned was a big wet patch on his pants after spilling some of his beer. When we sat down again at the main bar we were unfortunate enough to enter a conversation with an old guy who was missing his middle and ring finger on his right hand so that he looked he was constantly “throwing up the horns”. He kept going on (tongue-in-cheek) about how metal he was because of it and explained that he had them chopped off from a metal press. Everything about this guy was clearly hardcore, so we tried to get him to leave us alone as soon as possible.

Somehow we started mucking around and abusing another woman sitting a few tables away for being soft, right before they turned the lights on and kicked us out. Nothing much of interest occurred in the dialogue, just a lot of name calling, so I don’t recall much of it.

Having decided that the night had not been random enough to qualify as a “Good Random Night” we jumped the fence of the local church and found a hole in the back fence which allowed us to slide down into the schoolgrounds. Fortunately we managed to get under this fence without ripping the living shit out of our clothes or faces. It was kind of fun, pretending we were commandos as we stalked around and trespassed. There was one staircase we jumped off for fun as it was easier than climbing the fence next to it. The drop was about 3 metres but there was a nice, soft flowerbed underneath for us to fall into. So comfy.

As we walked out to the back streets behind the school we found a playground, full of swings and see-saws and slides. This is one of the best things you could ever find at 4am when you’re drunk. We spent some time in there giggling like schoolgirls and having the time of our lives until we began singing Bohemian Rhapsody (since we couldn’t think of any other song that we’d know the words to) whilst bouncing on the see-saw and someone screamed from their front door “SHUT THE FUCK UP”. In horror, we tried to bolt back up the road. Instead, palmy stacked it and ripped his pants along with the skin on his elbow and knee. It was funny.

It was only a few more fence hops to get home but thankfully I got to demonstrate my resourcefulness by using a stray iron bar as a support in order to jump over a barbed wire fence. I think we fell asleep around 5:30am. No, not together. Valentine’s day was over.

Wednesday:

I went to work then went home.

Thursday:

I was booked in to help out Benecke’s mum with the Ravenswood girls again for this website project they’d been working on. I managed to get it finished for them, with their help of course. It was six girls from year six all writing a little piece on new technologies and how they can be utilised as learning tools. They also drew cute little pictures to accompany each page. It was nice to help them all out and it reminded me a little of when I was doing kindergarten teaching for work experience in year 10.Doing something charitable wasn’t the only reason I felt good that day. Mrs Benecke gave me a bottle of wine and Kahlua as a thank you, too. What a nice lady.

That afternoon Lloyd came around and we hit up the white russians, drinking them out of pint glasses. We watched Alien vs Predator and then Cube immediately afterwards as I knew he’d love it (which he did). We spent the rest of the evening just chilling out and webcamming to everyone that would bother watching drunk people act like idiots.

Later on, Ross, Joel and palmy all turned up one way or another and we continued doing whatever we did. Ross gave me a bottle of Coke Zero. I still have it here to fawn over. Joel brought his pots and pans over and started cooking yet another curry (on our stove). It was very spicy but not particularly tasty. I still ate some of it. palmy just played soccer.

I fell asleep at about 2:30am due to exhaustion from getting up way too early that morning.

Friday:

Ross left early in the morning because he’s soft then was disappointed to find out that we were all up by 10:30am. Joel had already gone home during the night and Lloyd was fretting about getting home to do lame shit before he returned to the city to watch a Swans match. He stayed for a while before he fled to watch a couple of episodes of Prison Break while we failed multiple times to burn the episodes onto a DVD for him. After about 6 attempts we finally found out that one file was corrupted and it was completely ruining any attempt to write them onto a disc. Finally we got it happening and we were done.palmy and I walked up to Corelli’s for breakfast after Lloyd left. He paid. :D

That night I went to work and was rather bored then went home to see mum. Dad had already left for the shack with some friends for a good old boys’ weekend. Mum was glad to see me, since she’d just gotten a year older and all. We watched half of season two of Arrested Development together as she needed to catch up in order to see season 3, of course!

Mum also introduced me to the stray cat she’s taken aboard at least temporarily. A very cute young cat that had been hiding under the trailer in the front yard for a few weeks (no, not a caravan). She had named her “Lovey”. She has a microchip that we got the vet next door to scan (very convenient) and he’s going to find out who she belongs to. Mum wants to keep her and I don’t blame her. Cats rock. Even Salesi isn’t too bad around her, considering he’s never had any other cat to share his space with. Still, we’ll see.

Saturday:

I turned up late for work (again) and bummed around with palmy, whinging about how hot it was. Another lazy shift saw us return back to the flat and attempt to psyche ourselves up for going to Vortex later in the evening. Our bank accounts psyched us out, so we stayed in and got a takeaway and finished off the last of the vodka from Thursday night with (you guessed it) more white russians. It was a similar string of proceedings to those of Thursday night, except that we stood on the benches on the balcony for a while practising dance moves by the Hinoi team, to the Hinoi team.At some early morning hour we gave Heli and Krista a phone call because we were drunk enough to forget about the cost. palmy and I spent about an hour on webcam laughing as I sent the funniest/most offensive random pictures I could find from my 4chan folder across MSN. There’s nothing quite like hearing the satisfying cry of a man shrieking “what the fuck? That’s a cock!” in the background when you’re talking to people on the phone.

Sunday:

I woke up and started writing all of this as Heli demanded I have an update before 1pm. I just realised they’re an hour behind me so it makes sense that she’s not online yet at 1:23pm local time. I thought I was just getting a lucky break. Woohoo! Still, I would have preferred another hour of lying around doing nothing, as usual.Later on Kat is meant to be dropping round on her way back from wherever the hell she is down south. Speaking of down south, she had some interesting things to say on the phone earlier but there’s no need to mention anything here. Apparently a band is playing at the Sandringham tonight that another friend of ours from work is associated with (by going out with one of the members, I think), so we’ll probably check that out before netball at 8pm.

It’s weird having a day planned out like that. I’m certainly not used to it.

So.

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15

Who likes alcohol? Me.

Frank picked up a reasonably cute girl with weird bleeding teeth that he reckons looks like Avril Lavigne. Whatever. I suppose he’s at least getting sex. Meanwhile I’m typing this with Byrne passed out on my couch. I don’t even have bedsheets. Whatever.

I’m trying, desperately, to finish off this sherry and lemonade. Yes. I bought a bottle of sherry. $14.35 for 28 standard drinks in 2 litres of cheap wine. Think about it. Yeah, you know it. Mixed with lemonade 50/50 it’s drinkable. Barely. It’s enough to fuck you up if you put in the effort, which is all I need.

Tonight I went to the Marly and Kelly’s pub. I got drunk off Smirnoff Black Ice for the third time in a week. Excellent. 1.9 standard drinks for~$8 doesn’t sound right, though. It’s still fuck-uppish lolly water so I’ll take it. Anything for liver abuse.

Seems like Ross is coming over now, too. At 5:16 am. Hot. Frank reckons we’re gonna go get “the lucifer” from Circulate tomorrow. It’s a big breakfast, including bacon, eggs, hash browns, tomato, sausage, mushrooms, toast, coffee and orange juice. Maybe more, I forget. All that for $13. Fuck yes.

This, of course, is assuming I can rescue Frank tomorrow from wherever he is. I remember how to get back to the place that he’s at (Byrne and I dropped by to admire the free lollypops, pet snake, pet cats and pet dog – the cats were cool) but I have no idea when he’ll be leaving/when to make him leave. Whatever. I’ll sort if out later, when the sun is shining.

Andrew is out at Hunters Hill “getting a good night’s sleep” with Sofie (that’s how he spells it on my phone), his girlfriend. Sure. Apparently he was drinking at Manly tonight and scored a 1 litre bottle of overproof Kahlua from Simba. Thumbs up.

I haven’t topped 2 lines yet on any paragraph according to the current size of the window that I’m typing in. Do y’all dig it? Short and sweet, like my favourite penises.

I really like Mindless Self Indulgence, without having any understanding of what their image/target demographic/anything is. That’s possibly one of the most legitimate fanboi-isms of my life.

Right.