So. The problem with writing (or attempting to write) a regular blog is inspiration, or so I find. I mean, if my life doesn't inspire me enough to write, how could it possibly inspire you enough to read? That's not to say this particular entry is going to be all doom and gloom or anything, in actual fact, currently I'm pretty damn happy about most things. I mean, I could have money, or a thesis written, or a girl, but other than that, things are pretty damn cool, if I do say so myself.
(Warning: current blog is being written by the half cut, worst "I'm-Not-Going-To-Drink-At-All-This-Week" guy ever. Blame Bridget - seriously, I was just trying to be a good friend and help her unwind from a shitty honours exam day... bloody rubber arm.)
Um, right, just been interrupted by crazy departmental American Gus (ooo, plug right here for his (Snuggleuptogus) next dance party thang, The Funktion (a Snuggleuptogus production). Its on at the Strada Bar (next to JPs, will have changed its name to something else by the time this party takes place) on Friday, 7 November, $5 on the door...) and have totally forgotten whatever extremely deep, meaningful and/or drunken thing it was I had to say.
Bar the fact that all is good. Huzzah.
Right, off to download Gomez tabs and sober up for the drive home.
Update: Oh yeah, remembered something. In addition to the previous "Moot Pint," I have another alcoholic glossary term... "Beer Pressure." I've exerted it, you've exerted it, we've all exerted it one time or another. It's the desire, once drunk, to get those around you drunk - especially if the person in question has stated a desire not to drink that night. Cos, I mean, you're having so much fun, how can anyone around you not drink... how can they possibly go through the evening without the comforting haze that alcohol so readily provides? I mean, when you get right down to it, it's quite simply your duty to make sure that they're having a great night as well...
...finds himself, once again, making his way back through the park from deepest darkest Wherever-else-in-Christchurch-he-happens-to-be-upon-waking; passing the businesspeople in flash cars, the joggers, the school kids (running for first period bell), the mothers walking dogs, the ducks eyeing the dogs suspiciously; unsure whether or not the reason he is swaying from side to side (and putting total trust the walk/don't walk lights for a change) is the extreme lack of sleep, or the multitude of beer and shakers that had been consumed the night before (as if the call "To the Poacher!" is ever one that ends well, although it was a Sunday, so where else?); wishing that if this is in fact becoming a pattern, then the least the weather could do is bloody well improve for next time...
Hmmm.
Still, a great day was had by all yesterday. Operation Fukuyama, in which the Political Science Department fought the evil History postgrads using whatever came to hand (paintballs, mostly), was a complete success. We, naturally, ran roughshod over the poor, unsuspecting History crew, with a final score 82 to 43. (Although, as Charlie pointed out, if we actually print that anywhere, they'll just recall the copies and burn them, and that's if the truth ever manages to surface after their initial "revisions.") I was almost eaten alive by a gaggle of angry History girls at the after-bbq for daring to even think about changing the CD. Fair enough, you might say (and serves you right), their house and all (well, one of their boyfriend's house), but I was only looking, and it was a change requested by an actual flatmate... sheesh, some people need to calm down some about the music. :) In the end, the music was changed and lots of dancing and jumping and general mayhem was unleashed upon an unsuspecting living room... until the alcohol ran out, and the move was made to town.
Then from town to Claire's for beer and Trivial Pursuit and beer and attempted viewing of Amelie*, foiled by it being way, way too early in the morning for that kind of carry on. And beer. Turns out I'm slightly more trivial than Katie, but not by much.
So, Sunday in a nutshell ("help, help, I'm stuck in a nutshell!"). Ahem.
My legs hurt, with the running and the jumping and the dancing and the...
*Still my favourite movie of 2002 - can't go past a movie so wonderfully filmed and brilliantly acted, or one in which the colours are so very rich, or one that makes you smile from the very first line, and keeps that smile on your face the whole way through.
(In honour of Tim, who at the current time knows less about what happened to him yesterday than I do, (thanks to the sober honours students who were writing essays at the time he ventured into the department...))
The moot pint is that one drink too far; the unnecessary one; the one you know you shouldn't have had almost as soon as its been tossed back; the one that takes you over the line from being totally drunk to horrendously pissed (or in Corey's terms, from level 4: Intoxicated, to level 5: Disgraceful). In Tim's case, this was probably the Stoli chaser to his double shots of tequila and vodka.
Hilarity ensued.
Other than that, it turns out the Stein is everything I knew it would be. Drunken, loud, crowded, hot, muddy... and really not worth $20. The red t-shirts worked a treat though - great for spotting the other Pols peoples in the crowd, and a nice piece of memorabilia for the year that was. Now all that's left to do is write a thesis.
(Perhaps more news to come regarding yesterday as stories come to light, and/or memories return. All I can say is that I'm glad the stage two papers I was given by Jill at the height of my inebriation somehow made their way to my desk. Lost quite a bit of sleep over that one...)
In totally unrelated news... with me, not at me, I hope. And good to see that this man is actually blogging once more - nice to hear from you Hamish, hope that the rest of your travels are packed with music and big old buildings...
Oh, and apologies to Arc for not making it to Mainstreet - was given yet more stage one essays to mark which had to be done by the next day, so spent the night in my office, rather than enjoying a beer and a chat with everyone.
Shots of stuff, anyone?
A big thanks to Sara, and her magical Montana stylz, for one hell of a cool (if somewhat early) birthday trip into the wild blue yonder above Methven. Hot air ballooning - I rate it highly (ha!). Its an incredibly eerie feeling silently drifting just above the tree tops, close enough to reach out and touch them, their branches not even slightly disturbed by your passing. Or to be travelling along at a fair clip, but to feel no wind as you're travelling with the breeze, being pushed along by it, part of it rather than fighting against it as you do when standing on the ground. And as for the height... I get vertigo when I stand on tall buildings or bridges or other things, but the height of the balloon (up to 3,500 ft in out case this morning) is such an abstract concept. Without a frame of reference like a building or a tree, the brain seems unable to fully comprehend that you really are up that high, and so the fear that would normally be present is gone. And Sara couldn't have picked a more perfect day for the event - a perfect sunrise, perfect light winds, no clouds, wonderfully warm... all good.
So, the next part of the birthday plan? Lunch with one Fat Bastard (Adam) and then maybe a nap in the sun. Mmmhmm, its a tough life.
"US bomb blunder kills 30 at Afghan wedding" - July 2, 2002.
"US gunfire kills three teens at wedding" - May 30, 2003.
"Wedding party shoots down plane" - October 14, 2003.
Yup, some good news to get back in the blogging mindset... Putteridge High won its fifth (count them) game in a row. Fifth! How could such a thing happen? What's more, we won (6-4) against a team that last time thrashed us soundly (something lots-something not), and who are in fact second overall in the league. So we've obviously sorted at least some of our shit out in the last couple of months. Unfortunately, owing to a slow start to the season, we haven't made it into the finals. Bugger.
Still, that just means we have a bye next week and so can go bomb the history department's postgrads back into the stoneage, using nothing but paintball guns, superior hand-eye coordination, the cool hand signals that the ex-army dude in the honours class pasted on the wall, and our almost fanatical devotion to the Pope. Mmmm, paintball.
Other than that, not much to report (is there ever anything much?) except maybe to say that the germination rate for most things (sunflowers, basil, courgettes) is good, and that it's really just the hold out tomatoes (san marzano) that need to hurry their act up on our windowsill. Oh, and that 28 Days Later was somewhat of a disappointment (the main guy's a dick, meaning that you spend half the time just hoping that some stray zombie will eat his brains and put the audience out of its misery), which I hope is not a similar problem for Kill Bill (shouldn't be - Uma Thurman with a sword? The movie writes itself...). Speaking of which, you should all find yourself a copy of "Battle Without Honor or Humanity" by Hotei Tomoyasu - it's the funky music in the Kill Bill trailer which unfortunately isn't on the soundtrack, and the name alone makes it worth getting this track.
Finally met the crazy Irish girls on Friday night. True to reports, they do appear to be somewhat mad (in a cool way), but all in all I think our own Charlie leaves their madness far, far behind. Seeing Charlie and Fi dancing at Micky Finn's the other night was a sight to behold indeed. The other punters had to duck for cover as these two drunken specimens lept madly about the dancefloor, much to the amusement of the covers band, arms flailing and heads banging. A good time was had by all, including random married lady who joined in the dancing fun...
...Which all means that I've managed to make it two full weeks (*gasp* A fortnight! I hear you cry) without getting way, way too drunk and doing something silly or missing my guitar lesson the next day or anything. I have somewhat of an intuit (is this in anyway an actual word, and if so right use of said word?) this will be coming to an end on Friday. Roll on the Stein, roll on the red t-shirts, roll on the next day of lying around the living room watching Ben and Charlie once again battle the Covenant hordes or the might of the Flood.
Ooo, Mum's book comes out in a month or so, so stay tuned - it's damned funky and a perfect Christmas present for practically every member of the family! Oh yeah.
And now, back to your regularly scheduled programming.