Crap.

The hot water tap in my shower broke so that it won’t turn off. I’ve decided that’s a good enough reason to not go to work. I managed to turn off the water main which is conveniently located inside the wall beside the front door, behind a panel held on by four screws that take approximately 2 minutes each to remove. I’m not built to be a handyman.

Heli and Krista have returned to Sydney in preparation for their departure back home next week. Ross wove a web of deceit around all of us so that we all bumped into each other “accidentally” at Subway last night without telling anyone what was actually happening. I was meant to meet up with them again tonight on my break at work with palmy but I’ve graciously decided to let him fly this one solo so that I can stay home.

Staying home is actually going to be more work than if I really did go to work. This place is really quite a disgusting mess. It’s messy enough that it’s just depressing trying to comprehend cleaning the place, if you know what I mean. I suppose I’ll have to make some effort very shortly if I’m to evade the painful whine of my father when he arrives.

I’ve been procrastinating well enough that I have a big fat list of things I’m meant to (and can completely) do tomorrow. They’re all relatively boring tasks, mostly related to tying up loose ends. Things not really worth mentioning except for future reference so that when I whinge about not having done them you’ll understand when I was planning to do it. I hope that made sense.

Today I went on a little splurge on eBay and ordered some accessories for my new (inherited) phone from palmy. Just a spare battery, USB charger, headset, red cover and a car charger for my iPod. AUD$25.28 + $11.90 express postage (including $2 insurance). Cheap. On Monday I bought a data cable for the phone from Hong Kong, too. Now I just have to work out an efficient way to cram it all this shit into my bag. My survival kits rock. I bought a acrylic “unbreakable” mirror that slots in beautifully. Vanity, here I come!

Speaking of bags, I believe I’ll be getting one of these from somewhere. I played with one in Paddy Pallin’s on Kent Street on Sunday. They’re pretty hunky. Oh, the fun I’ll have living out of a bag!

I still need to book accommodation in Paris. Technically that’s on my list of things to do tomorrow, but I figured it’s something interesting to share. I figured I’d spoil myself and avoid hostels for the first couple of nights, just to get familiar with everything and recover from the 29 hour trip. It’d also be nice to have my own room to sink into and cry inside of when I realise I’m all alone and can’t speak French.

palmy’s moving out soon. I don’t know when. Neither does he. Probably the week I depart. I wonder how he’ll cope back at home? I’m sure he’ll complain about it to me. At least when he’s gone I won’t find tools that he hasn’t put back in the toolbox lying around all over the place, or every glass in the flat left somewhere, or empty drink bottles rinsed out and dumped in the sink, or containers of Thai takeaway sitting on the kitchen counter, or breakfast bowls left on the coffee table, or boxes and his uni shit left all over the computer room floor, or other crap I haven’t thought of. I feel better now. I won’t when I still have to take out the garbage on my own again while he’s playing Counter-Strike or World of Warcraft. Don’t worry if you’re reading this palmy, you know I’ll be over it in no time.

Things with Emily are going well. Too well, in fact. It’s really going to suck when I leave. One of her co-workers keeps hitting on her and it’s pissing her off. I got to meet him the other day. He’s a deadshit. I keep thinking his name is Gil. How appropriate.

While I’m on the topic of deadshits, apparently I am. It seems I made (what my hazy memory tells me) a good-natured drunken comment somewhere on the Internet that caused a lot more grief than I expected a standard passing comment to make. Oh well, shit happens.

Blargh.

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.

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.

Poorer.

Paid for my ticket. Just in time.

I bought a bottle of Jim Beam and four litres of Coca-Cola to celebrate.

Alright, not to celebrate. To feed my alcohol addiction.

I’m going to get a new phone soon. I’m not sure whether to get the O2 Atom PDA/phone or the new Nokia 6280. It might boil down to SMS functionality. How sad.

I’ve got this sinking feeling that everyone that would ever bother to SMS me thinks i’m ignoring them these days (not that I’m particularly popular, but you never know what people have been trying to send in the last week and a bit). The other hard part is that I don’t have anyone’s numbers stored anywhere except for on my phone bills.

We played 2 games of netball last night, one for our team and the other was because one team needed 2 extra male players, so palmy and I stepped up. I lost about 4 kilos over the weekend, mainly fluid and mainly because of the exercise, I think. Groovy.

Speaking of fluid, time to drink more, since the drought’s been broken, and all.

Drunk.

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.

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.

Wind.

It’s windy tonight. Well, it was.

I’m bored, tired, mildly inebriated (thanks Margaret River cabernet sauvignon MR02 cleanskin) and lonely. I just found out palmy is staying at his parent’s place tonight, so I have the place to myself. That just makes me feel more bored.

Today I was meant to write a lot of emails and deposit a cheque. At least I bought washing powder. Now I just have to go to the effort of putting my clothes in the dryer.

My main achievement was having a shower. The runner up was meeting up with Winesoc people for dinner up the road (hence the wine). I ate a beef panang. It was tasty.

I hate being tired but wholly awake and bored. I feel like I should be doing something. Something important. That something is probably sleeping. I don’t think eating all these Natural Confectionary Company lollies is helping me approach slumber. Oh well.

I really wish I had a jaffle iron. It’d give me an excuse to buy cheese. It’d give me an excuse to eat more toasted bread, too.

Here’s my prediction: I’m about to find a song that makes me look cool to display as my current music; pick a current mood that sounds vaguely accurate; post this entry; sip more wine; stand up and put my clothes in the dryer; walk downstairs and eat more lollies (I placed them there tactically); sit around for a bit on my PC again and then finally, perhaps, watch a movie on it.

Wow.

Triple.

Alright. I’ve put these all off for too long. Let’s get into it, then. There’s a lot to read about.

Saturday, 21st of January, 2006 – Michael Harris’ buck’s night.

I wasn’t really sure what to expect with this. I was invited along way back in late August/early September after I caught up with the man I affectionately called “Bongo” during high school for a delicious barbecue dinner. The plan (which was revealed to me approximately 4 days before the actual event) was:

  • participate in a manly session of paintball during the morning
  • clean up and drink beer at a barbecue in Turramurra
  • go to “prestigious” strip club Men’s Gallery
  • continue drinking at bars in the city

I waived the opportunity to attend the paintball and barbecue due to needing the money from work (and being too much of a wuss to weasel my way out of the shift) and went home to change clothes while everyone else was in Turramurra. Having never been to any exotic dancing establishment before that anyone would remotely consider describing “clean” I thought I might gussy myself up as an attempt to make myself appear presentable. It turned out that a collared shirt and non-ripped jeans made me look overdressed.

When I arrived outside the club I was met by my old friend Vincent. He was patiently holding vigil while I walked from the bus stop at the QVB. Following him inside I was slapped by a $50 entrance fee – a sum I was prepared for as I was under the impression we had our own function room hired with some pre-arranged food and drinks. In reality, our function room was a table towards the front with a small “reserved” sign dropped on top of it; the drinks were $7.50 for a bottle of VB and $9 for Toohey’s Extra Dry and the food was four plates of party pies.

Fortunately, half of the group decided to take dear old Bongo into a private show for the pre-9pm price of $65. This provided me with a golden opportunity to achieve my $50 of value from the club by devouring as many party pies as I could before anyone else got back to eat them. I think I got through about $20 worth. Not too bad.

We were inside the place from 8:30pm right up to 11:45pm. It doesn’t sound like long, but when you’re sitting in a room (literally one room, check out the photo on the site) full of silent men (almost none of which you know, let alone speak to often) doing nothing apart from drinking, hiding their erections and waving fake “dancer dollars” around in order to fool themselves that they’re actually appealing individuals it feels like an eternity. Especially when you’re sober, hanging out for your pay cheque that doesn’t arrive for another week and sober since the drinks are ludicrously priced.

Value was added to my experience, thankfully, when Vinnie bought me a scotch and coke and a decent cigar. I’m an easy man to please. Alright, it was fun looking at a bit of flesh, too. There were certainly some sexy women dancing but most of what I would describe as “talent” were just the regular waitresses. Oh well.

After we finally left no one knew what to do next. Everyone was stone cold sober and almost out of pocket due to the cash they’d been throwing around willy nilly. I was strapped and I’d only spent the $50 on entry. All I wanted to do was drink and forget that it had all happened. Instead, everyone bitched and moaned about where to go and we ended up sitting outside Bar 333 for 40 minutes trying to get in, only to fail due to our group constituting what is known as a “sausage fest”. This meant that we had to jump onto the back of a large group of girls that randomly turned up in order to preserve the hallowed 1:1 male/female balance inside the club.

Inside was boring. Boring and expensive. Expensive to the tune of $8 shots. I bought one in desperation and fortunately scored a glass of champagne after someone ordered some for a toast. No one spoke inside the bar, either. I was having so much fun I almost sunk to the new low of going up to unaccompanied girls and starting a conversation in order to escape the sheer and utter boredom of being there. I probably would have, if I was drunk. Instead of getting my mack on I politely (and honestly) told Harris that I was tired and broke and would be leaving. He didn’t seem to mind and neither did I.

As I began my hour long walk back to Newtown, I sussed out every pub and bar along the way to see if, for some unknown and unexpected reason, I should bother going inside on my own. Every single place looked unappealing for various reasons. Eventually I made it back to my flat and ended up falling asleep in my chair for 20 minutes while I maintained my boredom on IRC at 2:45am on a Saturday night.

This Saturday is the wedding. I still have to buy a wedding present.

Thursday, 26th of January, 2006 – Big Day Out.

This day started literally at the beginning of the day – midnight. On a whim, I’d swung by to pick up Benecke, Frank and Byrne from Byrne’s place in Hunter’s Hill after work. I was also driving Andrew as we alternate who drives to work. The lads wanted a lift into King street and were already mildly intoxicated from three bottles of cheap wine. Not one to spoil a party, I happily obliged.

We met up with Kate and Jibby at Kelly’s hotel and continued to drink until the lights were turned on and we were kicked out. Typically, we’d planned ahead and stashed a few empty pint and schooner glasses inside people’s jumpers and hand bags and succeeded in smuggling them outside. The only disappointment in this subterfuge was that our grand plan of concealing the cups inside empty Smith’s chips packets was foiled (pardon the pun) when a waitress decided she’d pick up our bag of glass. God knows why anyone would pick up a non-empty packet, but she did. Bitch.

After a brief encounter with the police outside the Town Hall hotel due to our gang bashing of Benecke which resulted in his shoes being thrown across the road after dumping him on a particularly uncomfortable looking bench, everyone went home. Andrew and I foolishly stayed up playing FIFA 2006 or some other game, I can’t remember. We didn’t get to bed until about 5am. I’m not sure why, really.

The latest dotmaen, RenoZuken, or Dylan, or Dilly Bag, or D-Train, or various other D names was due to arrive around 9am or thereabouts. He was on time. This meant that palmy and I had to get up, shower, purchase vodka hip flasks, purchase leukoplast tape, purchase sunscreen and make it onto the train bound for Strathfield in order to get to Homebush at 11:30am in time for the festival. We were on time. Everyone we were meant to meet there wasn’t.

Eventually we all got our tickets (thanks, nachos!) and pushed our way into the front of the queue to enter. This was a success. Another success was smuggling in the 11 standard drinks worth of vodka that we had purchased that managed to remain strapped to our legs under our shorts, courtesy of some tactical leukoplast wrapping. The failure came when we lost most of the hair on our upper legs when the time came to remove the tape. The moment of sadness was brief as palmy and I both finished the entire contents of our vodka bottles within 45 minutes. Most of the day after this (ie, practically all of it) was a blur. He’s a rundown of the key events that I can recall in another convenient list (I reserve right to have the events out of order due to the fact that I was off my tits):

  • dancing in the boiler room (this is where we drank our crunk juice)
  • running around drunk trying to get to the front of the mosh pit for Mudvayne
  • having my shoes nearly ripped apart halfway through Mudvayne’s set (which I was thoroughly enjoying, mainly due to the fact that the alcohol had made everything other than the beat of the music incoherent – perfect for moshing!)
  • going back to the boiler room to dance on my own for a bit since my shoes wouldn’t have survived re-entering the Mudvayne pit and no one else had left
  • waiting around the Wendy’s to try and find people and instead having 3 random people ask me to do them completely different small favours (all unfortunately non-sexual)
  • eventually having to hunt down who I was looking for at the other end of the showgrounds
  • trying to keep palmy alive after he almost passed out from jumping around too much at Mudvayne
  • getting 2 beers at a time from the Toohey’s Extra Dry tent
  • standing around the outside of the green stage for 30 minutes during Sarah Blasko’s set waiting for Jibby to find me whilst I drank both my beers and spoke to a lady about her camera
  • getting more beer at the Extra Dry tent and finding that a chicken burger had revitalised palmy
  • going off to see the Kings of Leon and scoring a dubious cigarette
  • squirting sunscreen over half of the crowd and getting away with it, bar the fact that a security guard held a hose on me for 20 seconds (this may have been during a different band, I can’t remember)
  • running off to catch the last part of Henry Rollins’ spoken word at the green stage and being upset that I didn’t get to see Soulwax
  • going back inside the main arena and queuing up for Franz Ferdinand while they were already playing then being at the front of the line to get into the mosh pit for what would have been the White Stripes (Iggy was playing on the other side)
  • leaving the queue in boredom only to return again and push up to the front of the non-moshpit crowd for Iggy and the Stooges
  • going back outside and falling asleep for an hour, missing the White Stripes
  • blindly following palmy’s green shirt towards the boiler room through the crowd in the dark after being awoken
  • dancing topless inside the boiler room until the place closed down
  • having my shoes finally ripped completely apart whilst boarding the train :(

When I say it like that it sounds like I didn’t really do much. It felt like a lot at the time. I’m sure more things happened, I just can’t remember but I suppose I was rather out of my head, so I can live with that. After we got back to Newtown we returned to Kelly’s and stole another 3 pint glasses then stayed up for a few more hours in the flat.

By the time I went to bed, I’d already turned 23. It was a very happy Australia day.

Saturday, 28th of January, 2006 – palmy’s housewarming.

Originally, palmy wanted to have his housewarming the very first weekend that he moved in. I told him no. Instead, we had it this night.

Both of us had work that day (I always work Saturdays) during the morning and early afternoon, so I frantically began cleaning up after we got back to the flat (virtually a solo effort, naturally). I can’t be bothered listing all the names of the people that came, but there were a considerable amount.

I suppose I may have still had a lot of alcohol sitting in my system from Thursday. Either way, I managed to deceptively get myself very drunk off white russians (what else?) or perhaps it was from the beer I sculled with some others from our newly-acquired pint glasses. Fortunately I didn’t get so drunk that I became sick. Just the way I like it.

Basically it was just a fun party with the odd highlight here and there. Some to do with me, some without. I’m not going to spoil the fun and fess up to my antics – that’s what everyone else can gossip about ;). Instead, I’ll mention that Simba somehow broke my computer chair in the most amazing way I have ever seen. He ripped the handles clean off as if they were cut with a laser. I was so impressed I wasn’t at all annoyed. I suppose it helped a little that he handed me $50 out of guilt, too. Nothing else was broken, no one fell off the balcony, no one threw up in our bathroom (I think people threw up in Joel’s next door) and palmy finally got to fully christen his new bed.

In the morning, after everyone else had left, Ross drove me to McDonald’s for breakfast. During our meal we challenged each other to take our shirts off and continue eating. We sat there quietly, topless, chewing away when a young man walked in from outside and gained our attention by calling to us. We turned to face him only to find that he, too, had removed his shirt and joined in on our fun. He then proceeded to offer us both ice and coke. Unsure of how to react to any aspect of this situation, we smugly said, “no, thanks”, before returning to our food. To apply a little icing to our stupidity of eating in Mickey D’s shirtless, I returned to the counter and ordered some hotcakes for Ross and I to share (I’d had a craving for weeks; I think I’m pregnant).

As we left I decided to test out the local drug dealer and asked him if he really had any ice and coke. He held up his drink cup and let me have a sip of his ice and coke. Ironically, the ingredients in Coca-Cola’s post mix are probably more brain-damaging than most other illicit substances. I smiled as I drank because thinking of this made me feel like a hard man.

It took me two days to summon up the energy to clean the apartment. We still haven’t taken the trash out.

End of stories!

What a long entry! I wouldn’t have bothered reading it all.

P.S. we killed the biggest, meanest, toughest fucking wolf spider of all time tonight. Eventually. It only took half a can of Pea Beu, one dozen splats with a floor swiffer, eight twists and grinds with aforementioned swiffer and a lot of courage and patience to finally kill the bastard. We dropped him off the balcony.

P.P.S. I’d like to mention that I’m no hater. I don’t mind insects as long as they stay outside. They’re only fair game for murder when they come inside. This is my territory, after all.

Diet.

Dear diary,

today I got up and couldn’t find any pants. I had to wear a pair of Ross’ that he’s had lying here for ages but I couldn’t do them up properly.

After an hour I had found pants and went outside after applying my new Gillette deodourant which during application feels like it’s not going to work. I walked up King street to express post ‘s mail from Air Services and spent $10 for the privilege.

I continued north to the superior IGA and purchased a few more vegetables and beek stock cubes to use in the Kick Start Diet soup that I began preparing upon my return. I felt very culinary as I chopped and sliced and occasionally diced copious amounts of vegetables and threw them in my big bubbling pot full of water and crushed tomatoes. It’s been simmering for a few hours now and I’ve just turned the heat off altogether. All the ingredients have softened up but haven’t gone soggy – just right in my opinion. Now I’m just counting down the hours until I succumb to my hunger and ingest upon the capsicum infused tomato based vegetable soup.

Today is fruit day. has gone to work with I think an apple and a handful of grapes. The soup wasn’t ready in time for him so he’s going to have to suffer and devour my work when he gets home. Tomorrow is vegetable day. The real test. I know I’ll be able to handle it, hopefully he can too. Fortunately I’ll be at work with him during the night so I can help him resist the temptation to eat something else. At least we’ll be able to have that beloved jacket potato when we get home.

Joel has taken my mouse and mousepad next door. Now I’m using keyboard shortcuts and the Windows Accessibility option that converts the numeric keypad into a makeshift mouse pointer. Unfortunately it doesn’t explain how the mouse buttons are meant to work on it and I’m persisting with trial and error. It’s better than nothing, that’s for sure.

I want more money so that I can hire someone to clean for me. I never would actually do that, but it’d be comforting to know that the option is feasible.

We bought 2 bottles of Kahlua and 2 bottles of vodka for $100 yesterday. I think we saved about $40 or so. Not too bad. We have something to look forward to at the end of the week, now.

BAM.

I went out with palmy, Joel, Ross, Heli and Krista last night. We did pretty well for ourselves considering we didn’t leave until 10:30pm on a Thursday. It was rather fun, including a lot of piggybacks, running arse slaps and fighting inside poker machine rooms. The major highlights included having a beef kebab from Istanbul on King (kebab run) and getting a Triple Buck on that Buck Hunter game. I was leading the scores by a big margin when somehow Joel pulled out his own Triple Buck (second one I’ve ever seen after mine) and beat me. Fucker.

We also watched Kung Fu Hustle and The Rules of Attraction. Both were fun. I’m a great reviewer.

I bought myself a Logitech Dual Action gamepad. Now I can slam dunk with the best of them in NBA 2006. It also means I’m free to swing around as Spidey whenever I feel like it. Exciting time ahead. I actually bought it last weekend but I just thought I’d mention it now as a surprise.

I hope I got paid last night. I should probably check the old Netbank. Give me a second. Yes, I did. Awesome. Now I can spend it all on my rent and bills. This is fun!

Last night we got our first noise complaint. I’m gonna blame palmy and say he had the TV up too loud. It took him less than a week. On top of that, Exetel just forwarded us an email from NBC alleging that he’s downloading a movie illegally. Strike two.

Oh boy.