The white stuff… or goods.

It’s snowing! After winter! Yay? Yay!

It only took since November, but finally Tallinn is covered in a thick white blanket. I’d take photographs but I’m lazy. Well, I’m not that lazy, I’ve worked some wonders on the hostel recently. Excuse me while I pat myself on the back.

Cooking has become my passion, unfortunately I’m shit at it. Still, I can’t get enough of it. I always enjoyed watching cooking shows before, now I just lurk on cooking forums and recipe websites and watch any videos I can download to do with cooking. I’ve actually been making too much food for myself and it feels like I’ve put on a little bit of weight.

The desire to lose weight is the reason I decided to start running a few weeks ago. I still haven’t actually done it, but I did decide to. One step at a time. I am a procrastinator, after all.

Looks like the Tartu hostel might be soon underway, as the owners are going to sign the papers next month in order to buy the building. From what I’ve seen it looks pretty cool and pretty well located. Woo.

Maris and Britt left in a rather underwhelming farewell. No tears or anything. Just a goodbye and off they went. Suits me, really. Long goodbyes are never nice. By the way, I’d kill for an ice cream.

I think I’ll enroll in a cooking class, then run to each lesson. Then run home. I hope that’s possible. Then again, I don’t know if Estonian cuisine is something I really want to learn. Hopefully they can just teach me the basics of food preparation and cooking techniques.

Perhaps it’s just time I got a life.

Fidgeting.

I’ve gotta get myself a Russian visa…

I’ve also got to determine a place to go to on the 11th of July. Berlin, perhaps.

Em and her dad are hitting up Germany in the next few weeks, so I’ll most likely go along. Maybe a week early.

I’m still feeling homesick, in a weird way. It’s probably because I don’t know what to do at the moment, so just going home sounds very tempting. Then again, it’s mostly the food that I miss… I think?

Fuck it. I don’t know. I don’t really care. Blah blah blah. I’m not even sure what I’m saying.

Anyway. Tallinn’s still nice. The sun never sets here now. It’s pretty trippy. Really buggers up your body clock. It can be 11:30pm before you realise it and then you’re still not tired.

There’s still so many Australians around here. It’s kinda funny.

I’m gonna make cheese and salami toasted sandwiches now. I might have a beer, too. Rockin’.

Fuck Easter

Isn’t it meant to be a holiday or something? Christ knows.

Yes, I said that intentionally.

I already wrote about my Friday morning in my previous entry. I got up early to check out even more bastards who were going to Helsinki on the 8am boat then succeeded in getting the laundry back in order. I had to sacrifice my bed for a Japanese guy named Shutaro (I think) who really wanted to stay with us even though we were overbooked.

Shutaro was desperate to do some shopping and get a belt. Adamant, you might say. He also shared with me that he’d never been backpacking before and this was his first trip to Europe. This meant he had plenty of questions about the best ways to protect your wallet and passport when you’re travelling. I gave him all the hot tips I could.

The afternoon was spent hanging around Lai street, mainly. We had to lurk around waiting for 7 people to arrive for Viru. By the time they arrived at around 12 all of the staff were reasonably intoxicated. I gulped down my second double gin and tonic while waiting for their credit card transaction to clear then led the posse of Aussies down to their beds only to drag them out of the building and take them to Juuksur.

The evening became more and more hazy with people disappearing and scattering off throughout the night. Eventually I ended up in Levist with a very sleepy Valerie who’d only just gotten back from Riga that afternoon and some Scottish girl called Lisa who I think was staying on Uus street, but I’m not sure. We finally dragged Val off the table that had become her bed around 6am before stopping for a smoke at Lai street. Lisa wasn’t sure where her hostel was and I was going home to Viru. I couldn’t be bothered working out where she was going or giving directions so I ended up throwing a mattress on the floor of the common room in the hostel and letting her crash there while. I had to sleep on the tiny green couch because Shutaro was curled up like a foetus on my bed.

Unfortunately, sleeping on that couch gives me head spins when I’ve been drinking. I don’t know why but it always happens. I had to drag myself up and towards a sink so that I could force myself to vomit in order to paradoxically settle my stomach and head. It worked.

After a solid and refreshing 2 hours of slumber I was awoken by guests wondering where they could get some breakfast. Being the professional I am, I rolled over on the couch and gave them a recommendation and full directions, even managing a smile. They left and I dozed off for another 5 minutes before starting my day.

Fortunately, the morning was rather uneventful. Too uneventful. I was unable to leave the building or even take a proper nap as I had to make up a few different rooms and then wait for a guest who was arriving directly at 1pm. Or so she said. By 6pm she’d arrived and I was finally given the chance to go outside. I chose food and company over sleep, although I did end up with Valerie again and this time her friend Emer who was visiting. We ran amok all over town. Kinda.

Apparently I have a great smile and some Estonian kid wants to get a photograph of it. Flattering to hear but it’s not really what you want to be stuck with at 5am in Levist. I survived the ordeal and the three of us ended up in Old Club, of course. Poor old Val was finding her eyelids unbearably heavy and kept nodding off in the corner. Somehow I was on a second wind and felt fine. Emer was somewhere in between.

The big tough bouncer of the bar kept poking Val to get her to wake up. On the third strike he practically assaulted her, grabbing her by the harm (although it may as well have been her hair) and ripping her out of the seat and kicking her out the door. It was simultaneously one of the scariest, bizarre and hilarious things I’ve ever seen. We were too shocked to react. It was a good sign to wind down the night, so I walked back through some really cool morning snow that was falling. Before bed I had to clean vomit off of a toilet so that it’d be nice for all the guests to shit into in the morning. I got to sleep after 7:30.

Hoping to get at least 3 hours sleep proved to be a pipe dream. Shutaro kept waking me up asking me various questions before departing into the big wild world. I managed to get by on auto pilot until around midday when Ewan, one of our new volunteers, brought some guests down and then we left for McDonald’s to get some grub. I picked the shortest queue and lined up. Our cashier was about as green as you can get and continually balled up everything he did, even dropping my Big Tasty as he was putting it into a takeaway bag, meaning he had to ring up a new one. 40 minutes later we headed off to Lai street to enjoy our greasy McSludge.

The heavy food and lack of sleep combined to make me fade out of consciously at any given moment. Again, late guests were keeping me from getting any rest. They arrived two hours late at 5pm. Not too bad, really. I escorted them to their rooms in Viru and was greeted by a guest and her buddy who was some random prick from another hostel who’d helped himself to our Internet and kitchen. Normally I’d go off at people like that but our guest had a special type of booking that we’re trying to get good reviews for, so I let it slide. How’s that for fair? Money talks, I guess.

Stumbling around checking the kids into their room wasn’t so difficult, or unbearable. What really made it fun was to be made aware that the second toilet here was blocked. Completely. There’s already one that I can’t unblock because I’m too retarded and so now we were basically done for. With determination and grit, I wrapped my hand in a plastic bag and managed to get myself elbow deep in the bowl and wrist deep in the S-bend. After a bit of poking and rummaging around we were again flushing with great success.

I tidied up a little and then hopped onto my bed for a nap. Within minutes two of the Aussie girls started bickering with each other. I walked out to see what was going on and one was locked inside her room because the mechanism has decided to break while the other was standing in the hallway wearing nothing but a towel and surrounded by confused American kids who didn’t know what to do. Using a spare key solved the problem and I then had to wait for the girls to get dressed and calm down before experimenting with the lock and teaching them how to use it for now until we get it fixed. No worries.

Finally, I lay down to take a 2 hour siesta. Within 40 minutes someone was knocking on my door. The kids who’d arrived late had snapped their key off inside the lock of the door. Yep. These locks are designed and installed so that you can’t actually open them with credit cards or even unscrew them from outside the room. Normally I’d have just gotten a professional to come in or something but it was 8pm on Easter Sunday and on top of that I don’t know what the Estonian word for locksmith is.

We tried getting the broken piece of the key out with tweezers but to no avail. We even experimented with a bit of brute force and probably would have succeeded, except that the door itself and door frame would have been completely destroyed if we’d kept trying. Thankfully, there’s a frosted window between that room and another one which we managed to somewhat open. Unfortunately, while we were in the middle of rearranging beds and breaking through windows and walls, the four young students from Hong Kong came back and caught us red handed making a mess in their room. They weren’t upset, just very confused and startled. Their reactions were even worse when I told them I couldn’t give them change in Euros.

The guy staying in the room with the broken lock was rather lanky and lean so he slipped through the crack between the window and the wall and unlocked the door from the inside. He was Spanish and couldn’t speak a word of English but he knew what he was doing when he unscrewed the lock on the door and literally took it apart, tumblers and all before recombining it and putting the lock back together in the door. He even left a spare part out. Nice.

I’d given up napping so I planned to quickly use the toilet before hopping into the shower. Someone else took the advantage and locked themselves inside the bathroom for an hour so I was stuck plodding around waiting to clean myself. When I’d finally started washing and enjoying the lovely warmth my phone rang from inside my jeans. I stood in the cold air, naked and with water pooling around me and answered. John had arrived.

If I was smart, I would have stayed in that night and slept. I was too fed up with my day though to surrender like that, so I went out for a few drinks in Nimeta and Molly Malone’s. We stayed watching the cricket until Australia won and ended up going back to Lai street for some food, since no one was fucking serving. John whipped up a bit of Irish tapas and I was back here in bed by 2:30am. An early one.

Now, I’ve already gotten up at 7am and 8am and then 9am today for brief stints. Everyone’s arrived, I just have to tidy up some rooms. Oh and the laundry.

Emily’s coming back here this afternoon. The ferry should have left Helsinki about 20 minutes ago. On top of all the other crap I’ve gone through this weekend, it all got magnified because we’ve broken up.

Need a rampage

I’m getting a bit of cabin fever lately. Been locked up inside this building for too long these last few days. Mainly from my own laziness and lack of inspiration to walk outside.

Today though I haven’t got much choice. Flat out cleaning. Making beds, doing laundry, folding laundry, vacuuming, mopping, scrubbing toilets, unblocking toilets, taking out garbage, cleaning mirrors, dusting. It’s not hard work per se, just takes a lot of time to do every room. Yep, every room. Everyone checked out today. There’s nothing quite like the adrenaline rush of trying to make a bed before the next guest arrives. It’s this fast-paced lifestyle that keeps me staying here.

Things are so fast paced that neither Em nor I spotted someone swiping my nice headphones when they were in our room and now someone’s stolen the sign to the hostel from inside the locked gate. Great success. I suppose that’s karma paying me back for stealing all those bottles of mustard and pepper shakers from various restaurants over the last few months. It’s not really fair, since I stole them for communal use rather than personal gain. Not that you can gain much from a sign that has our address written on it.

Emily’s gone to Finland for a few days to get her Eesti visa and to catch up with Heli. Thanks to the Suomi train system she’s probably going to come back with two mortgages after paying for the train tickets to Savonlinna, Helsinki, Lahti and back. Not to mention the visa application fee. I hope the Finnish people prosper from the generous tax subsidies her financial injection into the economy will bring about. It’s not cheap keeping trains looking and smelling so nice.

Someone left half a hip flask of whiskey here in the hostel for free. I’ve been eying it off. So far I’m winning. Now I just need to eye off this tumbler glass and then combine the two in a direct assault on my face. Ok, maybe not my face but the most suitable orifice on it.

To be honest I’d rather be drinking my delicious O’boy but milk isn’t here and whiskey is. Mmm.

Thursday roundup

That’s right, another randomly timed summary of my world’s events. Are you ready to feel the rush?

Good. Let’s get to it then.

Firstly, hostel related: Viru’s looking rather spic and span, all the rooms are beautifully colour-coordinated, clean and inviting. The sun’s shining brightly through the windows all day long and keeping the place warmer than it should be thanks to the combination of solar radiation and central heating.

The king of the couch is back on his throne, everyone’s checked out for the day and that laundry’s hanging up to dry. Tomorrow we’re getting more guests and it should be a piece of pie.

Nightlife: I can’t recall if I mentioned going out on Monday night. Well, I did. In the manner of all true good nights out it started somewhat spontaneously. Some cheap beer and a half dozen foosball games in the hostel with John kept me occupied for an hour or so and then we went out with Val and Ben while poor old Emily slept on the couch for night shift.

Levist was on the agenda, as always. We stayed there until it closed at around 3am, meeting and greeting some drunk and blind drunk locals. I received the privilege of listening to a 30-something bitterly intoxicated Estonian regale me with his tales of learning kick boxing after being beaten up by Russians and having a tooth knocked out, at least that’s what I think he was saying, since I could barely understand him. He also tried to channel with me telepathically or something by sending out energy from his palm to mine. It reminded me of the guy that tried to hypnotise me then collapsed on the floor and passed out. I’ve gotta keep away from these hippies.

Some girl that lived in a monastery (seriously) also joined up with us for the night. We headed for The Old Club of course, as it was late and it was Monday and we had no other option. As expected, by that hour we were speaking nothing but bullshit. Money got wasted on pissy flaming B52 shots, twice, to no effect. I just couldn’t get decently inebriated. It could have been due to the quantity of food I’d eaten for dinner that dear Emily cooked for me. Probably.

Around 5:30am the slightly toothless Estonian arrived in the bar with, of all people, a recurring hostel guest: Portuguese Miguel. Things felt tense for a few moments as we’d told Toothless that we were going home and we’d had a slightly awkward relationship with Miguel of late so we weren’t sure what to do. We did the normal thing, a pleasant acknowledgment and a civil nod of the head. They were in a group with some others and sat somewhere else and we didn’t have to move. We were happy until 6:30am when we left and wandered home.

Plans: Em and I are going to Vilnius on Monday or Sunday. We’re going to be down there for a few days. Em’s adamant that we have to be somewhere else for our 1 year and I’m too scared to argue. Hopefully Simone will have some free time to show us around, local style. Em wants to check out some little forest cottage that Livijus told us about as well, so if time permits that’d be really nice, too.

Miscellaneous: I read this earlier today. It made me laugh.

Cracking Hollywood’s code.

The system designed to protect next-generation DVDs from pirates has been cracked. Even the hackers are surprised at how easy it was…

Bumming in Bordeaux

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.

Oz to Eiffel

I got up early enough on Sunday to check out the eastern side of the area that I’ve been staying in. It’s not particularly interesting.

After a few hours of plodding around, I skipped into Cafe Oz to watch Australia vs England in the rugby. I made my €6,50 pint of Fosters last about two-and-a-half hours and ended up sitting next to some old farts and some local rugby players. Local as in Kiwis and Aussies (including chubby-face himself, Matt Dunning) who played for French clubs that turned up to watch.

I didn’t wait for long after the full time whistle to leave and walk all the way back to the Eiffel tower. My feet were already sore by the time I got to the ticket queues but it wasn’t long until I was feeling giddy and nervous due to my fear of heights. The view is genuinely astounding but that’s all it is – a view. A view from a tall, brown hunk of nicely-patterned metal. I circled around a few times taking photos but it wasn’t too long until I got bored and descended. I walked back to the hotel once more and nearly had my feet fall off.

Supermarkets and clothes shops aren’t open on Sundays and the supermarkets close at 8 or 9pm every other night. I had no food or drink so I bought some more beer and snacks from a convenience store and lounged around my room (yet again) in my underwear watching the football (or soccer, if you like). I had to slightly shut my bedroom window as a man opposite could see directly in and admire my pasty, sweaty physique. It failed to perturb me too much, as I eventually drifted off into sleep.

Montmartre

I haven’t even updated my own journal, yet here I am informing all of you about my antics! Talk about getting my priorities mixed up.

After my last update on Saturday I went wandering past L’église Saint-Eustache, taking a few happy snaps of it and the surrounding gardens. Not much else happened during the day apart from my purchase of jellybeans and beer to keep me entertained as I whiled away the afternoon and Parisien humidity in my hotel bedroom.

That evening (although it was still as bright as a typical Sydney day at 3pm) I blindly walked in the direction of Montmartre. As I went back past Gare de L’est and Gare du Nord I walked through a quaint market filled with fruit and vegetable sellers, cheese stalls, butchers and fishmongers. The fish stunk from being exposed to the heat for the entire day, causing me to gag as I hurried past them.

There was an increase in commotion and commuters further up the road. I turned into a densely crowded street of what appeared to be predominantly tourists walking by a carousel. My curiosity forced me to investigate.

They weren’t there to ride the carousel. They were there to marvel at the Basilique du Sacré-Cœur (Basilica of the Sacred Heart). It sits high upon a hill overlooking Paris. Definitely something one has to see for themselves as no words can describe it, inside and out. I spent some time listening to people pray as I sat on a pew with Jesus looking down at me from a dome above the altar. I’m sure he wanted me to purchase a souvenier coin from one of the vending machines surrounding the church’s exit.

I returned to the road and the ubiquitous French restaurants, passing by a cemetary that I would have entered if the entrance wasn’t on the direct opposite side of where I stood. The Moulin Rouge had to be somewhere. I knew it. For some reason there didn’t seem to be any street signs to give me clues as to its location. I was about to give up and check my map but resisted defeat.

Deciding it could be time to get some food and perhaps (on the off chance) find something interesting to do, I walked south, past the cemetary, into an area named Clichy-something. It was humming with activity. That’s if you call eating in restaurants a humming activity. Spotting two dressed-up young Frenchwomen walking by, I (in an act completely out-of-character, I assure you) began following them in the hope that they were going somewhere interesting to do something interesting. My discreet prowling lasted for about 30 minutes as I shadowed them off the main roads and eventually into a back street. They disappeared inside a non-distinct residential building and left me alone and lost with nothing to show for it.

I spent an hour walking back home via yet another direction only to return disgusted with the lack of Paris’ nightlife on a summer Saturday.

Tick.

It’s almost time.

Almost.

Fucking Visas. Fucking UK faggot fucks. Bah.

I have a strong coffee here. Mmm.

I finished working at SDS! How dramatic. On my Wednesday night shift we had some cake and I got a card along with a Lonely Planet city guide to London and a travel journal about some guy’s journey from Bombay to Beijing by bicycle. An odd choice considering my destination but an interesting read nonetheless, I’m sure.

On the Friday I got another little card from the people that I didn’t see on Wednesday and a packet of Big Red chewing gum. I’ve got a hankering for some right now, in fact.

Em and I went to see X-Men 3 last Thursday. The critic’s consensus on Rotten Tomatoes is 53%. That’s probably a little lower than I’d give it. It’s certainly more shallow in regards to plot and character development than the previous two films. It seems like they’ve used the last film as an excuse to slap in as many characters as they can without making them interesting at all. Anyway, read the site if you give more than 3 sentences worth of a shit.

My folks had a going away party for me on the weekend, too. How nice. I ate a lot of food and enjoyed a tasty banana cake. I also took a lot of photos with my new camera.

My new phone has also arrived, I’m going to transfer the data across from the one I’m using now. They’re the same model but the one palmy gave me drains the battery in under 24 hours from virtually no usage. Oh well.

I’ve bought an exercise book to write in while I’m away. I’ll publish the good bits online along with the other crap I get up to. Whee.

Yo.

Hi.

Miss me?

Didn’t think so.

I swapped the fucking Atom with dad’s old Nokia 7250i. I’m much happier. I may end up getting a Nokia N80 when they become available instead of the 6280. Woo.

I may also need to actually buy a digital camera. It depends whether or not I get the N80, methinks.

In other news, I’ve wisely decided to start going out with someone two months before I leave the country. Dumb idea, really, I know. Still, a little drama always keeps things interesting. Her name’s Emily.

In a budget-rescuing exercise, palmy and I have started buying goon en masse for our “drinking habit”. On Sunday night we had 136 standard drinks worth of cask wine lined up in our fridge for the low-low price of $56 between us. They’re a great resource for drinking games.

My manorexia is being ruined by all the food I’ve been eating lately. I’m going to have to resist. I don’t feel bad for eating food, I feel bad for eating too much because I know I don’t do enough exercise. After having put as much weight on as I did a few years ago then managing to lose it all and more I simply refuse to let it happen again. It’s hard when you have no self control when it comes to flavour. Meh.

We lost netball on the weekend, even though we won 3 of the 4 quarters (so we get bonus points). Typically, the quarter that I didn’t play in resulted in a score of 20-4 to the opposition. The advantage was too great for us to recover. I certainly enjoyed beating up the female goalkeeper from the other team who seemed to think it was my fault that I kept running into her whenever she deliberated stepped in front of my path to block me. She didn’t look too happy when I pushed her off me simply by raising my arm up and shifting all her body weight downwards so that she staggered and nearly fell to the floor. The other highlight was when she kept pushing into me while I just stood there and held her off until the umpire called her for contact and I got to shoot a goal. Apparently after the game she ran straight off the field and complained to the management that the umpire wasn’t picking up any of my “dirty” play.

I wasn’t dirty, I’m just good. ;) Silly bitch.

Time’s running out and I need to get myself a UK visa. Thursday. Always Thursday. The weeks are going so quickly now, it’s freaking me out.

I went to my cousin’s 21st at the Harbord Diggers Club on Saturday. Even my mum said it was boring. I had more fun driving there and back. I also blew $40 on the poker machines in there out of sheer boredom. Think about that for a second.

palmy rolled his ankle after netball a week ago, then completely stuffed it last Friday when he went out dancing after breaking up with his girlfriend. He didn’t get it looked at until Sunday and by then it had swollen up to about three times the size of his opposite foot, with brusing all around the toes and heel. The ligaments are swollen and sticking up, too. Fortunately he got a massage from a physio student at work to clear it up a bit but he’s going to need to do some more work to it.

Last night was the first night in about a week that I’ve gotten a proper sleep. I crashed at 12:30am and didn’t bother getting up til about 1pm. I’ve picked up a sore throat and cold in the meantime, so I’m working on getting rid of it through lethargy.

Damn, I have to catch up on my Naruto and Bleach episodes. Berserk, too. Good times ahead.