This, too ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Oh aye, title. I miss my MP3 player. A couple of chilly days, and the skin of my hands starts to crack, again. This damnable country has broken my weather-resistance entirely. How's things? I haven't spoken to a lot of you in ages. Even the ones who live just across town and what not. Last night I was late for the pub quiz. I wasn't going to go at all, but after a couple of beers were hauled out of the fridge I sort of drank myself into the mood. But then I couldn't rush, because, hey, they were Peroni, and what's the point of spending more than you can afford on a once-in-a-month sixpack and then necking it? Mm, Peroni. Who the hell taught the Italians to make a decent beer, anyway? Anyway, I ended up being assigned to the under-staffed team, which was at the time two-thirds Irish and dead last with less than half the quiz to go. I arrived in time for the TV round, and consequently was bugger-all help. On the bright side, having won three of the last four $100 prizes, I have seemingly convinced Singaporeanbargirl that I must have plenty left on my tab, and didn't end up paying for anything all night. Might have to quit drinking entirely when she goes home, or some fucker will, you know, charge me for it. For the record, France IS bigger than Ukraine, if you count the overseas departments, and, really, why wouldn't you? Also, Belize has way more colours on its flag than has South Africa, if you count the seal, and, really... Still, I liked the defence from the South African guy who didn't give the answer they wanted (which was South Africa). "I don't recognise that flag." Oh. The weather has me ever more irked by ridiculously bad Aussie drivers. I wonder who exactly puts down the roadmarkings in this country. It must be foreigners, because the natives seem to believe that they're mostly for show. I was getting close to pitching a bottle of ketchup at somebody's windscreen, yesterday. Learn to drive, or don't fucking do it at all. If you happen to be a traumatised monkey, no matter how shiny the huge pile of several-years-behind-everyone-else-technology with a billion horsepower may look to you, just use the tram. Ta. What else has happened, lately? Mum phoned to talk about Meatloaf. Sister's off to Uganda. Dad's still cycling back and forth across Great Britain. Oh, shit, rental inspection thingi tomorrow. I have to pretend to be a Vietnamese girl, or just go the pub or something when they're around. Maybe both. No? Hm. Speaking of, the brother's girlfriend nearly gave me a heart attack, today, when I went to get a CD to play on his laptop. Turned out she'd just helpfully stored my collection where the vacuum cleaner lives, for some reason. Commentary on my taste? I dunno. Mart for the first time in ages, today. Stu implies that maybe I need a haircut, the kitchenstaff all seem to have changed, and Girlwhosenameicantremember is also reading Murakami. Man, why am I sweating so much? Weird. Sharingsharing. Ah, feck this, I'm going home to drink my last Peroni and possibly make a half-arsed attempt to tidy ahead of tomorrow's inspection. 5:55 p.m. - 2008-07-10 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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