as promised

Well then, so long and thanks for all the fish, tourists and free boat trips!

Late, but right on cue,

- Pary ζ.

high spirits

Looking back, I probably should be disappointed at what has transpired over the last few weeks, but I am steering more towards elation, and it's not because of drugs, I don't do that. I am 100% drug free, just ask the Olympic testing crew. The summary of these transpired events is as follows:

One.1: The Dive Master traineeship is no longer on my radar of "Things to do" or "Things I am doing" thanks to spending an hour in bed at 5:30am (not asleep...) with the cogs of my brain in motion, contemplating whether or not I should go through with the second "trial" that was offered by someone who apparently has staff with worse memories than mine. I decided not to and somehow convinced myself I didn't want to do it this time around anyway. I also managed to come to the conclusion that suspicious things occur on that boat, which is why everyone's memory makes a goldfish look retrospective. I would have thought I'd fit right in, but I must have forgotten to show up, just as they forgot who I was, which country they were in and why they ALL smoked.

Two.2: Fear of success? I checked Google and it turns out to be a real and valid phobia, which I now claim to have. Or at least I did, but I like to think I'm cured now, which means I have to get out there and succeed. What if I did? What if it isn't enough?? Too bad and succeed some more, pussy. Admittedly, I still think grand success is a scary thing - people start expecting things, then you could get caught up in your own success and become obsessive until you reach a stage where you ultimately fail. Much like gambling, I sup hoes. Nevertheless, I am what I am and striving to be what could and should be.

Three.3: Marriage. Hah, just kidding, I'm not staying for marriage, ladies, unless you have a VERY good offer I simply CAN NOT refuse. Until then, I'll enjoy (hot) backpackers, promiscuous affairs and Milo. All of the above? Now there's an off-her I simply CAN NOT refuse.

Intermission: I should point out that the first event is the only event referred to in the opening paragraph when I mentioned "transpired events" that should have lead to a feeling of disappointment. The other events (and those yet to come) are just part of the time between, where nothing happened but everything. With that clarified, stay in school, eat healthy and dress to impress yourself.

Four.4: n/t

Five.5: Townsville, brother, cousin and lots of alcohol. My brother and I took a 4-day trip down to the dirt patch they call Townsville and THEY call the capital of FNQ, which is like calling milk the flagship product of dairy (who cares?!). The bus ride down was far more eventful than the bus ride up, featuring Jade, the Cairns girl and Anita the German tourist with a cute accent. There were some rude american girls too, but nobody cares about them, or at least not as much as they care about their allocated seat numbers on a bus that's half empty. Now, without going into excessive detale, we were drunk for half of the holiday and by holiday I mean, for me, time not at home, as opposed to time not working. Vodka was my damage; Swedish vodka, the good stuff of Absolut in my honest opinion. During the alcohol periods, I had a complete moment of clarity and shaved to facemark the event, after which I proceeded to celebrate in town with cousin and brother, who was underage, but shutup already. We were testing the level of security, and clearly they fail, which worked out awesome. As awesome as some in awe can be.

That's it, there is no more; come once and leave with your hand prints on the door.

While I'm in a bit of a transpirational mood, I had a look through some old blog posts and noticed this as a comment:

I read over your blog, and i found it inquisitive, you may find My Blog interesting. My blog is just about my day to day life, as a park ranger. So please Click Here To Read My Blog

While I'm flattered to have a park ranger read my blog and take the time to leave such a well written and clearly authentic comment, I can't help but wonder how my blog can be considered inquisitive. I don't recall being unduly curious about anything, except maybe what it's like to have sex with a red head and a brunette at the same time, but never in the form of a blog post! Ignoring this, I have spent many a minute pondering what gave the idea I'd be interested in "just" the day to day life of a park ranger. Maybe if it mentioned the day to day life of kicking arse inappropriately or a park ranger with one arm and the ability to converse with nature, THEN I'd be a little interested, if not inquisitive.

Thanks Anonymous non-troller, you make me happy. I look forward to your next comment, because even if it's not really you, I will always remember you being unknown to me. Always, my friend.

Soaring,

- Pary ζ.

Waste a day, spend another,
Ask me how I am,
I'll just say myself.

strike three

After trying all week, I finally get a chance to begin the traineeship. Turns out, nobody on the boat admitted to remembering who I was, which is suspiciously unusual, considering I am me. Bah, like I've said before, the sea does things to you. Must be the salt.

Regardless, I go back for a paid "trial" this time. Then I should be able to start proper; I'll make damn sure I carve my name into their skulls.

On another note, I ran some errands today, which resulted in a stop at the petrol station, the same one I attend whenever I need petrol, oddly enough. That's not really exciting. What is exciting had red hair. Now, attractive women aren't so rare that I have to include them in posts, but when it's an attractive redhead woman, it's something to tell your friends. So today my fantasy of having a threesome with a brunette and a redhead became more realistic. Before this fine spotting, I was convinced that were very few attractive redheads. Not to mention un-bitchy ones.

It was a very welcome disproof!

Overall, a good day and a sound five-minute blog (flog).

- P ζ.

when the boat's a-rockin' ...

Check this out - two posts within a month. Am I on fire or what? I hope "or what"; not particularly fond of being on fire, unless of course I want to play in the rain. People don't wonder why a grown male is rolling in the mud when he is on fire. No, they panic, scream, run over and wonder how he got on fire and why he is having fun. Disclaimer: Don't do it naked or at home.

Speaking of rain, I am waiting patiently for my future to get started. That future, or at least part of it, is a Dive Master traineeship. Funny that it is has the word "ship" in there somewhere, considering I spend 11 hours or so out on a boat in questionable weather. I survived the 4-day trial and consider myself right to continue on, despite being a veritable tugboat to Asian and Indian tourists who can't quite swim, particularly in 30-knot winds. Surprisingly, I didn't drown. I wonder if they'd have trusted me if I said:
"Hey, just so you know, this is my 3rd day out here and my first time in the reef, swimming under these conditions. Ever. Plus, I am pretty unfit. Lets see some fish!"

Probably not. Nevertheless, I did a good job of being a human ferry. Enjoyed it too, even if I did take in a fair bit of sea water thanks to the waves that just had to go over the snorkel again and again. My lips were like soggy salt and vinegar chips. Would have been interesting to set up a kissing booth for the hot female tourists in bikinis - "taste the sea!"

What would ensue is of course rated R, featuring bad innuendo with salt, mouths, swimming, fish, snorkels, goggles, boats, ocean, motion and waves.

Wait, did I say I enjoyed something to do with employment? I did! This bodes well land lovers. The pay during the 90-day course isn't anything special, but it's not an exceedingly difficult thing you're actually being paid for; boat work, swimming, bikini-clad hotties, all that jazz. I consider it like getting money for studying. Yes, money for studying - wouldn't that be a great thing?!

Of course, at the end of the day... or 3-months, you end up with a very good opportunity to do quite a bit. It's like reaching the point of a tree where all the branches, uh, branch off from - you can take any route you want to become a leaf and eventually fall down in autumn to become compost for the rest of the forest. Disregard the leaf bit. Or leaves. Whatever.

Anyway, how cool is it to have Master in your title?! Greg Page, Dive Master. Of course, nobody has to know Dive Master is just an entry-level qualification. Like a ticket to get on board a plane; sure you're going somewhere, but you best buckle up sonny, because you aren't in Municity yet!

So tomorrow I make a phone call and get ready for a new experience! Good times ahead, unless of course, for some reason, I get the boot and aren't allowed in. Can't see that happening. I washed dishes, damnit. I washed them and enjoyed it! Mostly because it's so much more fun when the sink isn't quite stationary. In fact, anything you do on a moving boat in rough seas is so much more fun. It's like been drunk. On that note, I theorise that if you were actually drunk on a boat you would be able to cancel the motion out and be completely stable. You could go to the toilet, with both you and the boat moving, in perfect opposing harmony, and viola, you're shooting straighter than an arrow that somehow defies the laws of physics and doesn't move in a parabola.

Jack Sparrow is onto something with his crazy love for rum.

Where was I? Oh yeah. If I don't get in, somehow, I'll have to scowl, take my papers in a somewhat aggressive fashion and say, "Well then. So long and thanks for all the fish, tourists and free boat trips!"

Ha!

- Pary ζ.

good versus me

It's been, what, a year since I last posted? Something close to that time, at least! Otherwise, I update too frequently... or not enough. Nevermind! It's been quite an assumed year, I must say. First off, I am once again unemployed - between jobs - after realising my previous job (read: previous entry?) was more like a fuck in the arse than an actual investment in time. What I mean is, damn that really sucked towards the end. Sucked, as in, vacuum cleaner on high kind of sucked.

I am also single once again after a rather lengthy relationship. Imagine six times one month. I know, it's crazy for me, which is why I I'm currently wondering what the hell happened. To my time, that is. Although it has been rumoured I am unable to secure more than one date on with any given female - an interesting concept, I must say! Also, probably true, but mostly due to the fact I have, or had, an unforgiving mistress called "WoW."

I just recently cut back on my time with her, though she still calls and shows up naked at my doorstep. Crazy woman. Hot, but crazy. Why are women crazy?! Wait, don't answer, especially if you're a woman. I am not sexist, I am just a sex. That's right, I said it.

To other news now and that is the current state of my hair. No, forget that. I HAVE A NEW COMPUTER! I am typing on it as we speak... or, rather, as I type. I intend to marry it if it is possible to marry objects. On that note, if it is indeed possible to marry inanimate objects, I will end up supporting polygamy quite vehemently. In any case, this machine in which I type on is one sexy machine. Imagine... a computer that is incredibly fast and sexy. Then imagine this computer, which is even better by a good factor of imaginary numbers (no, not the square root of negative one or his cousins).

But that's all old news. So, I got unemployed, a haircut and a new computer. Big deal! The biggest news of all is, um, is...

Hey, I'm looking into a diviing traineeship again, after missing the application date by a mere day or two. Damn newspapers. Why don't they scream at you with this kind of information? You know, personalise this and that?

The future is bright anyway! Possible diving traineeship, moving into a luxury apartment with a buddy who just got a transfer from Hampshire (uh...) to simaltaneously be with his girlfriend I happened to play cupid and introduce him to and to get away from Hampshire shenanigans, or lack thereof. Good fkn times!

In summary and conclusion: I have many pairs of socks available that I intend to wear during the next week while I busy myself investigating various things that include, and certainly should be limited to, though actually aren't, bikini-clad women bathing on beaches without any intention of having sex with anything (?).

- Pary ζ.

swingin' good times

So I'm in the mood to write and I don't care what. You want a rant? Fine. Controversial political opinion? Yeah, not gonna happen. My ideas are too much for this world. Anyway, as I said, I'm in the mood to write. What exactly puts me in the mood, I hear you ask. Well, it requires one or more of the following:

1. Something cool to write about
2. Good music
3. A door in my mind to open up without a bouncer

Though, for true masterpieces (or total random) you need to add lack of sleep. Much like now. I'm running on 3 hours, with an 8-hour shift under my belt. Literally, if I wore a belt and felt inclined to put my roster there. I might just do that one day, when I could be bothered putting a belt on. People would comment on my new style and it'd be like highschool all over again when I cleverly wore my timetable inside my hat for quick viewing. It was a growing trend before hats became uncool.

Speaking of hats, I like the one I wear at work. I made a new style with it. I call it the "helmut" because it looks like a helmut. An aerodynamic helmut. For speed, because when I work, I work fast. Ish. And that's all you need to know about it!

Speaking of knowledge, here's one.

You know, it's funny how in an era where technology rules pretty much everything, save for 2/3 of the world. Ok, let me try that again. In an era where technology rules that which rules the world, you'd be surprised how desperate some are to cling onto older, messy ways. Like writing with pen and paper. I know, I know, it's great to use pens and such. Assuming you're handwriting isn't like mine, in which case it's as great as a non-great white shark. But seriously, we have word-processers, or, if you like, an infinite supply of paper on a computer screen. Don't be a smart arse and talk about Printing. That's the point I'm making. Printing is the final step; the efficient use of paper. When it's all been edited/deleted/mutilated/copied/pasted/corrupted and ready to come out into the real world. In theory. Of course it doesn't ever happen like this, but you get the idea. It doesn't matter though, because you're still utilising what you have available instead of forcing yourself to be traditional and dirty a perfectly good sheet of paper with your scrawl.

That'll do for that argument. I want to keep going, I really do, but I'm afraid of the irony that might appear. Keep your pens and paper, but don't be stupid and think it's better one or the other. Before you say it, I never said using the computer was better. I was merely arguing against the idea that "writing with a computer is bad."

Arguing with three hours of sleep... I'll get it!

Stay cool, unless it's snowing.

- Pary

wtfology

So, like, it's been awhile. You know what, how about we forget about dates and look at at the title. What does it say? Updated Never? Thank you. Now, let me continue with this update, since today is never.

If someone asked what I've been up to since the cyclone wreaked havoc on my humble city I'd most likely say "Nothing," because I couldn't be bothered explaining what I've really been up to, which is an extended and fanciful nothing. First things first; I have a job. Well, I've had a job for a few months, but you didn't know that. It's been a long time since I worked, and to be perfectly honest, I'm lovin' it (fuck off McDonald's, it's not your trademark!). I guess that happens though. You take a break from something you don't really want to do, then you enjoy it more once you start again. That is, until 6 months later when you hate every day again. Imagine going back to school. I'd be way too cool for that now, with all my worldly experience and suave. Even the teachers would swoon.

Secondly, I haven't touched a drop of alcohol all year. I'm now the mascot for Alcoholic's Anonymous. Turns out, you don't need to lose brain cells to enjoy yourself. Who would have thought? Probably not those losing brain cells... it's a vicious cycle, you see. Vicious like something with sharp teeth and a bad temper.

Thirdly, nothing.

Fourthly, I am still addicted to tea. In fact, it's worse now. I still refuse to change my accent though, so don't ye be worryin' yaself, lass.

Fifthly, I have come to realise I want to have sex with alot of things, mostly inanimate. For example, I want to have sex with eyedrops when they relieve my dry eyes. I also want to have sex with Led Zeppelin's song, Kashmir because it's so sexable.

Sixithly, I have come to realise, with the help of someone else, that I may be a little obsessive compulsive. See, I do little things that aren't necessary. I might wipe a bench 50 times, then keep wiping it every 5 minutes because it has somehow become dirty. Excuse me while I tidy the already tidy desk and straighten items in the fridge for no reason. Patterns are fun and make mind happy!

But enough about me, lets talk about the little girl in some 3rd world country who is waiting for your call to sponsor her. For just $365 a year, you can make no difference to her chances of living past 20!

Holy shit, Pirates of the Caribbean sequel thing came out yestertoday. Naturally, I'm going to go and watch it at the earliest convenience. I yearn to see Johny Depp again, that stud. I'd have sex with him. He's inanimate, right? ...

Anyhoo, seeing as it IS 3:14am (pi time?!) and I am rambling, I should depart and head off to the bedroom for some sleep. I'd hit it.

- Pary

mending fences

Lets take a trip down memory lane. It's quite a fitting phrase considering the story begins on a road where I was driving my car, strangely enough.

.It's Friday afternoon
and my mother is now safely on her way to Brisbane for a feminine vacation with her girl-pals. Because of this, it's up to me, the non-drinking driving license holder, to pick my brother up from work. That plan is executed without a problem. That is until my brother informs me of a little predicament.

.Sigh
he didn't return the warehouse keys and instead took them home with him. This isn't good because he doesn't work the next day and I'm pretty sure the store won't fare too well without the amazing ability of keys. So I take him back. We're halfway there, travelling smooth, my car appearing to be in good shape compared to previous drives, when a cockatoo decides now is a good time to fly low and blind across the street. With two distinct thuds it went down in a curtain of its own feathers. Sad to say, it wasn't quite alive as it would have hoped.

.Traffic must go on!
i silently mourned the loss of the bird, wandering why it would choose to fly so low. It wasn't until I drove past the scene that I realised it just wanted to join his feathery friends on the other side, feeding in the grass. I swear, they eyed me suspiciously. I was almost relieved to notice no trace of police or other authorities and I was almost disturbed to notice I'd care less about hitting a person...

.But really,
"there's a cyclone on its way," I'm told by my weatherholic brother. This is interesting because we haven't had a cyclone in a few years. It's also interesting because I had no idea it existed.

.Driving 101
There's a Stop sign on the last intersection before the turn-off to our house. I have many experiences with this particular Stop sign - stalling, near-accidents - but none quite as random or unexpected as what happened. Of course, I stopped at the Stop sign, as you do. Now, imagine for a second that you're running and take a 3 second break. When you begin to run again, your legs hardly move and you just stop. Completely, utterly, cannot-move-again stop. That's what my car did. It was working fine, if not better than it has in a while, right up until it literally stopped halfway across the intersection. It was the perfect scene for a movie. Only things missing were screaming idiots in the car and something that you wouldn't want to stop near. Calmly, my brother and I pushed the inert vehicle off the road, to the amusement of another driver who, ironically, had stopped at the Stop sign.

.Sigh II
it's hot. It's midday hot - the sun being at its zenith in the sky and baking the ground. I'm sitting in the car contemplating the heat, having sent my brother out to walk the 500m to our house. He returned some minutes later with good news.
"RACQ are on their way."
"Cool. You know, we could have pushed the car home..." I said in a rush of thought.
"I was thinking that but couldn't be bothered turning around. You know when you can't stop running because you won't be able to start again?"
I nodded, thinking of water.

.Then the bad news
well, not that bad. I mean, it was just that the wrong intersection was logged to RACQ. I still imagine them turning up to the intersection down the other end and wondering where the hell this car was. That or they'd be shaking their head and muttering something along the lines of: "Another ditcher."
In any case, it was soon fixed and so we waited.

.And waited
dogs barked, residents came and went. Some even ventured out and peeked at us with annoying curiousity, as if seeing a car broken down off the road was the highlight of the year. The headlines in the paper would read "Car stopped at Stop sign" and there'd be interviews, scandal, rumours. I'd be quoted as saying "Water" and "I cannot confirm nor deny that I was the driver who hit that cockatoo."
Sitting in the car gave me time to reflect on an event that still boggles my mind. A helicopter crashed - yes, crashed - up the road from where I was broken down. It's odd because it happened on the street behind my house yet I didn't hear a thing and I never got to see it because they wouldn't allow sight-seers. It gave me the awesome idea that you should be granted VIP access to exciting events that occur near your house. Like helicopters crashing in the middle of the street or cars broken down off the road. I was disappointed to notice there was little commotion around my predicament. Stupid curious residents.

.Sigh III
"it's either the immobiliser or the ignition. Try starting it in a few hours: if it starts, it's the ignition. If it doesn't, it's the immobiliser." the RACQ guy informs me. I started it a day later. It was the immobiliser.

.Wouldn't be without them, would you?
RACQ. The mobile mechanics, so to speak. Some are questionable, others are genuine. Either way, the idea is you call them, they come to you and (hopefully) get you going again. Could be a flat tyre, dead battery, retarded driver, whatever. You can subscribe to them and it's easier (and cheaper) or you cannot. On this fine day, I was towed home. I've never been towed before and was given a C for my effort. I almost caused my car to be ripped apart. Kick arse.

.It's Monday morning
i can sense the weather at 2am. It's been coming all weekend and you notice the subtle changes - the still quiet before the storm. Birds silent and waiting, the air dead calm and deceivingly peaceful. Last I checked it was going to miss us by a hair on the map after it appeared to be making a determined path straight towards Cairns. It was a waiting game; you know it's there, you know it's coming and you just wait. I noticed the first breeze at about 2am and from there it started with gales that I could sense more than hear or feel. I looked outside at 3am and was surprised by the wind. It was so close.

.4am
i made for bed, only to realise everybody was getting up. It was here. A weekend of waiting and it was here. I sat and watched some TV, made a last cup of tea and listened to the winds ravage outside, peaking and calming for hours. It wasn't until it was light enough that I could see the true awesome power of the most devastating winds. Trees were thrown forward, bracing against the onslaught of raw nature. The powerful winds were like explosions, not a constant stream. As if some giant was taking periodic deep breathes and letting it loose over the city. The fence was the first to give in. The neighbours on the side the winds were coming from have open yards, leaving no interruption to the exploding winds and as such, the fence was subject to the full force of every breath. Some pieces made it across the yard, others were trapped or stayed on the ground. A small shelter recently built was torn apart and ravaged by the maddening winds. One piece was blown into the neighbours' yard on the opposite side. I'd seen nothing like it and it fascinated me. I was awestruck everytime the relatively calm winds were replaced by explosive gusts that ripped and tore at everything in its path. Every so often I'd try and imagine winds that were double what I saw. Winds that were present further south, a mere few hours away. I couldn't comprehend it. I stared as the fence blew back and forth, resiliently holding its ground - for the most part - against the intense, demanding weather. It was strange watching something so sturdy being thrown around by an invisible force. That's what struck me the most; you never actually see the wind. You just feel it and see everything else feel it. The fence wasn't going anywhere, its strengthed lied in its newfound flexibility and aerodynamic approach - toppled over and angled into the wind instead of withstanding it. Of course, you wouldn't think that when you watch pieces break off, or when you see the winds tear at it.

.Like a baby
it was hard to tear my eyes away from it all, but in the end I had to sleep. Power had at last flickered off and I had yet to rest. I crept into bed despite the now familiar explosions and howling of the winds outside. I closed my eyes and thought about the tennis ball that hadn't moved an inch the whole time I saw it. I thought about the fence, the trees, the power, the heat. And then I slept.

.Power
we had none for 2 days. On the first night, I drove out to fetch food. Takeaway was the obvious choice but every place was either closed or too busy. We (my brother, his friend and I) settled on a KFC located in town. It wasn't as bad as another shop that had traffic in the drive-thru. We waited.

.And waited
people everywhere. Police, hobos, tourists, everybody. The line crept forward at a painful pace. I was willing to start a scene that would disrupt the whole queue so my brother and his friend could sneak further up as I distracted everybod. I realised it wouldn't be such a good idea if I was arrested, seeing as I had the only means to get from Point A, crazy town to Point B, home. I noticed the girl in front of us was in what appeared to a work uniform. She seemed gothic and just as I was deciding whether she was or not, the girl turned to me and it was confirmed - black mascara, poetic-reading eyes and a forlorn expression. At the counter she rested her head in her arm. Tired, I thought. Long day at work.

.Think again, genius
she fainted right in front of me and the guy in front. As a guess I'd say drugs or epilepsy - she was shaking on the ground. I stared dumbly at her and realised I didn't know what I should be doing. I'd already failed Heroism by letting her fall unhindered. The police came to the rescue. I love it when authorities are around like that.
"So, why didn't you do anything?" a curious someone would ask.
"Oh, the were there and I figured they'd do a far better job." I'd reply.
Of course it's not like that. It's just an excuse to justify your own lack of action. Then again, what do you do, untrained and inexperienced, in a situation like that? In my, and everybody else there's, case absolutely nothing. It's too unexpected. Somebody gets shot and you'll just freeze and think "Holy shit." for a period of time before your rational thinking kicks in and you do something, if somebody hasn't. Some are slower than others, some have the advantage of training or experience and some just freak out. Most of the time, you'll wait for somebody else.

.Philosophical meal
i got home, was thanked for letting my brother's friend tag along to get himself food and reflected. The thing on my mind most was the gas lamp right beside me. It was like a heater and light all-in-one. I ate the fresh chicken and the not-so-fresh chips in silence, cursing the power for being out so long. On the drive home I could barely recognise the streets I'd seen thousands of times - no street lights and deformed trees do that. It was like driving through a ghost town, or one of those suburbs that are built around a highway.

.btw
i drove my mum's car. Mine was broken down outside during the cyclone. It even had a piece of someone's shed to keep it company. Oh, and a window was partly open, so my wallet had grass and water on it. Joy.

.what now?
we start mending fences.

noah's ark

Last week and me. Actually, who cares. It rained today; really rained. Not that lousy drizzle that's been teasing my for weeks during random days, but the hardcore, intense "your hung out clothes just got rained into the mud and your house is now floating on the rivers that were once streets." Or something like that. It was no biblical flood, but it was sexy. As sexy as falling water can be, which isn't really that much, unless you're into that kind of thing. If you are, you're a little strange. Get help.

Hopefully it continues so I can stand on a rooftop and shout false prophecies to the masses of bewildered people. Apparently there's a cyclone brewing, which means a first in years. Now, cyclones I don't mind. What pisses me off is how the power always goes out, and usually after the main event is over. It is the single most annoying thing ever. Besides peppercorn hidden in food. And some other things...

No power means no aircon. No aircon means no cooling. No cooling means a freakin' hot, stuffy night because, naturally, fans don't work either. So, it leaves me to run outside and sleep in the cool rain to catch some kind of fatal condition that ends up being cured because an angel was watching over me. Riiiiight.

Really, I love the rain and I love cyclones. But I hate no power. I want to walk around in a loin cloth and say "Yeah, I'm from the future. There's no power." when it happens. Why? Because I can.

Alright, now about last week. It was lame. No rain. Here's a list of things I did:

- Party that sucked
- Sucky party
- Stuff

And I drove around with some mates to get food because the driver was losing his license in court the next day, which is kind of funny considering he's going overseas for 6 months in a week. I wonder if people in London are as excited about rain as I am...

On another topic, this week has been pretty damn good. I'm not going to explain why, because that would mean thinking about the various reasons, when really there's only one or two. So, suffer the ambiguous paragraph while I yawn.

Useless fact #16475: Before this post, I had 2 others that really did suck and had to be put down. I was mostly talking about how funny it is when people try and talk over really loud music. Generally the receiver nods and makes the excited face.

Hint #1415: A party does not equal loud music and alcohol existing together in a space the size of an average bedroom. Learn to spread out.

Here's the weather forecast:

Sometimes... it will rain. Goodmorrowing!

- Pary ζ.

clock-blocked

This is, like, the first time I've, like, posted with checking when the last post was. Like, it doesn't feel any different but, like, it is. Because I like to liken things to likely events of likelihood. Ok, so like, I'm gonna stop saying that word that begins with "ell" and ends in tears.

Alright, lets move on to the real part of this text-adventure. No no, not that type of text adventure. Back ye basement geeks! Thar be naught but insanity in these parts. Where was I? Or more importantly, where wasn't I? Oh! I wasn't on a boat checking out a possible new career, that's for sure. I am serious. I went to bed at aboot 2am last mornight. I had to be awake at aboot 6:30am, so I could be at the wharf by 7:30. Of course I ended up 15 minutes late, courtesy of my extensive face-shaving and one-quarter-awake shower. Good times.

Anywayzzzzz, I congress... or digress. Whatever. From there I packed my posessions into a small Nike(TM) bag and was off like a squid in the sun. It was raining. On the way I thought about believable excuses for being late that didn't involve parents, animals or strangely coloured fruit. I decided to go with "I was born late and am forever doomed to defy the time-keeping tools of man."
I also decided to put my socks on at a red light, which didn't turn out so well after I stalled the car.

Naturally, or unnaturally, I ended up at "the place" where I used my observation skills to discover "E" wharf. Of course it was far down the opposite end, because apparently the alphabet goes EDCBA (Try and pronounce it as a word... Heh.) from right to left. My next challenge was to find a boat called "Ecstasea." Turns out, it was humble little yacht and nobody was there. So, I had 4 hours sleep (actually less, because I swear I saw every hour on the clock), drove in the rain, stalled the car, walked in the rain, all to see a boat that was really. Quite. Devoid of human activity. Kick arse.

The moral of this story: When it comes to anything boat related and it's raining, assume the skipper is getting drunk in some sleazy bar. Less disappointment. Also, no putting socks on at a red light. Or stockings. Although if you try it (and are female) do not hesitate to send a video tape into pervert@probablyinjail.com

Now, all day and night I have had an insatiable hunger for, uh, food. Wait, that's not really worthy of being put in, because it's an afterthough. I could go back and delete it now, followed by this and the last, but... I... just... can't... do it. And in other news, I got a haircut. So I look neat and tidy.

"You're an artist and I am your masterpiece!" I said to the hairdresser, who wasn't busty or super hot, much to my disappointment, even though I knew who was cutting my hair. Hm. Maybe I should have joined the lady passed out on the table out the front of the shop next door. I'm sure she had alot to say.

And so, it is 12:38am, I am too tired to even feel tired and I'm not sure anything I say/type makes any sense. Well it does, but I'm still not sure. I think. Holy shit, there goes a llama!

Ciao now and take a bow. Ok, that was so lame I'm going to cry and laugh at myself crying.