We're going to stake night, we're gonna eat it right

Sunday night. My last hours of pressure-less freedom before another butt-raping week of uni starts again. The 48 hours that makes up the weekend seems like a priceless asset when living life like this, and one can only hope that people spend these limited hours to the fullest of their potential. Did you spend YOUR 48 hours in a worthwhile manner?? Yes? Well did you ride a mechanical bull?? THAT'S WHAT I THOUGHT BITCH, THINK AGAIN.

When one thought that there possibly couldn't be a group of friends that had 4 consecutive 18ths in the same month, they obviously hadn't met Tillie, Maddi, Lauren and Alice. Being the anchor to the 18th party race, Alice must have had a few nerves running through her to best the likes of Lauren's strobe lights, or Maddi's....cupcakes. But oh boy did she deliver.

Alice decided upon a Country party, the women would all try look as slutty as possible whilst abiding to the set theme, while the boys would just look like Brokeback Mountain characters. To exaggerate the theme further, we would all camp out on her property in tents and swags.

To invite a good 50 or so people to the extreme country side (2 hour drive) for an 18th is a risky and bold move. But with a person we all love turning 18, a bunch of loyal friends, and to a lesser extent FREE ALCOHOL AND A MECHANICAL BULL, there was never going to be a problem in attendance. Special mention to Tom Clark who trekked the 6 hour journey from Roma. (fuck that).

The party was held at Esk, on the Brabazon property. An isolated lot of land with no neighbours for a few miles. Epic setting or what?? Hitching a lift with Killoran's lovely parents, Myself, Killoran, Imala, Max and Lauren arrived with a sense of eager anticipation and tears in eyes. The latter part can be attributed to me, due to the dawning realisation that Kathy Brunnen wasn't going to be there. My depression was quickly subdued, as we were greeted by a country sunset, bright and beautiful, as if it were saying "Get fucking wasted tonight". The glowing orb sunk into the depth of the horizon. When the final rays of the day's light disappeared, the festivities began.

If the girl's at the party in fact DID go to school, they obviously didn't learn the word 'moderation'. Champagne, beer and cider were all supplied in over-catered abundance, but this did not stop the girls making like little Ethiopian boys fighting over that piece of tree bark they call dinner.

Last night marked the first occasion where I felt regret from last year's performance at LIVE, as I was referred to and remembered as 'The recorder dude', on more than one occasion. Even by Annie Elliot. OH HOT DAMNNNN.

Something as challenging and infertilisation-ising as riding a mechanical bull is hard enough participating in sober, but Albrab waited till everyone was drunk before bringing it out.

Let the retardedness begin.

Notable riders were:

• Sam Killoran - For managing to stay on for a record low of 6 seconds


• Nikki Manche - For being a hot drunk cool bitch


• Ace - For showing us that little people are actually talented at stuff

I secretly pondered how well Laura would go at riding the bull, seeing as rough, jerky, lateral movement is her forte.

Tilly and Claire double teaming the bull from behind

The rest of the night played out like any 18th should, with beats, d-floor, and crossing streams in gardens. When most of the cowboys and cowgirls retired to their respective tents and swags, Killoran, Catherine, Jill, Imala and I totally broke the concept of a 2-man tent, and participated in what can only be described as a hot cuddly country orgy. The shrieks of pleasure and moans of satisfaction could be heard by all, but none of us gave a cows vagina. Eventually our lack of sexual stamina got the best of us, and we all retired to a sex induced coma.

Upon waking up, I had a few important questions that I wanted answered.

• When the fuck was breakfast?


• Why is my tent wet?


• Why is there another person in my tent?

But any who, the rising masses awoke to horrid sounds of a common household tool, Nick Britz, who thought it would be absolutely hilarious if he woke everyone up at an ungodly hour of the morning. I was in the middle of planning an elaborate plan on how to get a cow to eat his penis, when the succulent smell of a bacon, sausage, egg, toast, muffin and juice breakfast interrupted my thoughts. All pettiness was washed away along with my hunger.

All in all, it turned out to be a satisfying party, where ends justified the means. Wishing a very happy 18th Alice, and plead for a re-invitation for next year.

On a more sour note, the hung over Whisperers conceeded 8 goals in a rather embarrasing defeat in our social soccer competition. OH WELLS.

We love you Alice!

Brain damage is ah.....rarely good

So it's been a long week plus day,
since bloggers around have heard my say,
this absense's too long, it must be broken,
though long overdue, my stories are now spoken.

Many things transpired in the passing week,
like finally suceeding my friendship seek,
my facebook inbox continues to pile,
hence me blogging in a poetic style.

Last saturday saw the birthday of Lauren, a friend,
she held a big party, as is the trend,
there I met Taylor, a pretty cool bloke,
not to mention, my mother tongue he spoke.

Lauren's mum is awesomely insane,
she totally rocked out to Fountains of Wayne,
when we chanted "she's got it going on",
the lit up D-floor she dance upon.

These events occured on a Friday night,
but it was just the start of our social plight,
for Saturday night we would all go out,
hit the clubs, and uncontrolably shout.

For me, Shan's house was the first destination,
pre-drinks; to fight the drinks inflation,
but it was kept quiet in a discrete sort of manner,
it was all a facade, to play Hannah Montana.

Then off in Nathan's car, headed for the Regatta,
the entree meal for our Saturday night platter,
drinking and gambling and friends to see,
Nathan got in with a fake I.D.

Then off to the R.E, we made our way,
Birthday girl Lauren, leading the way,
looking tall must be one of Maddi's zeals,
coz she was walking around in 2 foot heals.

At the R.E our fun was resumed,
chatting and singing and alcohol consumed,
and once confirmed we were reasonably tipsy,
off to the valley, to bash up a gypsie.

Off to UJ's, Tilly said its not a club,
but how can I trust one with the intelligence of a grub?
alas I was wrong, a club it was not,
though we drunk and danced and had a nice frot.

A solid hour past, change of venue was in need,
our God Sam Killoran, met our desperate plead,
through a friend of a friend connection,
into the Met we went, without rejection.

We were blessed with half naked dancing chicks,
as well as a Mr Brightside remix,
though the night grew old, weariness creeped in,
and we were all fucking hungry, Macca's for the win.

We pussy-footed around for the good part of an hour,
all we wanted now was a bed and a shower,
so we hailed a taxi from the side of the street,
myself dissappointed, we didnt go to the Beat.

So that sum's up my eventful few nights,
i think i've completely integrated with whites,
on an ending note, some cheerful news,
The Eye-Whisper's made their opponents lose :D

Hopefully this week marks for more frequent posts,
that's if i don't get raped by a horde of ghosts.

Do you mean an Irish brother, or an Irish Brother

The title is actually relevant this time. St Patricks day is upon us, and I am in a last minute rush to find the leprechaun costume that Turk danced in (season 4 episode 14 My lucky charm).

Currently surrounded by a mass of nerdish looking university students whom I expect are all thinking about Kathy Brunnen. Myself on the other hand, being the conscientious little Asian, am catching up on my Maths Lecture notes. This is a result of catching up on my pitiful 3 hour snooze last night during my 8am lecture this morning. My fellow comrades Imala and Tom say they witnessed me moaning in my boredom-induced slumber, and one can only conclude that I too, were thinking of Kathy Brunnen.

The weekend did not deliver the bundle of expectations that I had ordered, but it proved to be sufficient release, as I have not quit my studies and taken up ninjitsu.

Saturday:
Whoever said "You can't have your cake and eat it too", obviously didn't have a car. When faced with the dilema of RSVP-ing to two 18th's on the same night at the same time, I was put in the deep end, and had to sink or swim. Well, brudda swam...bitch.

Pri's 18th was at a Thai restaurant, and a mass of 30 strong had congregated to celebrate her coming-of-age. To most, becoming 18 opens up a whole array of opportunities socially, sexually and legally. Having asian parents however, only thing different for Pri is that now she can vote.

After filling up on free food and handing out tissues to the women who shed tears at my departure, I picked up Renkert en route to Maddi's 18th. My automobile journey up to that point consisted of:
Red Hill -> St Lucia -> Red Hill -> Mt Ommaney.

A feat only possible for one who radiates as much excellence as myself.

At Maddi's I was greeted by a swarm of females, all who had been eagerly waiting my arrival for the duration of the night. At that point, was when I spotted the cupcake table. A cupcake is in theory just a portable hand held prototype of the cake. Thus, when I devoured the bitch in 2 bear-sized bites, I completed my task.
I had my cake, and ate it too.

The journey home to Max's proved an interesting one. I have no shame in admitting that I drive a Toyota Echo, which is pretty much an aborted fetus of a real car. I have no need to compromise.
The point is though, the car seats 5 at best, and even that's a tight squeeze. On Saturday night, the Echo made like Laura Murray and fit in 7 people. This was achieved by Catherine lying across the boys, Imala trying hard not to penetrate her, and yes, KATHY BRUNNEN in my boot. If a car could jizz, it probably did.
Max's house provided the usual entertainment we've all come to expect, topping off a rather pleasant night.

Sunday:
This marked the maiden game for the all-star social soccer team, 'The Eye Whisperers'. We were quietly confident that we were going to make the opposition's vagina's bleed, but our complacency got the better of us, losing to the bloody vagina's; 4-0.
I attribute our loss to Vonji because he's black.

Only 3 hours to go untill my lecture. G-fucking G.

Cookie Racism aside, I had bigger problems

Today is my visit to my invalid comatised wife-blog. I've decided I will have to visit her at least 3 times in a week so that I don't feel guilty.

I said that university life has bee dull, boring, monotonous anguish, but I looked through my camera and realised shit DID happen to me this week. I guess after Max's parties, everything else seems minor and insignificant in comparison. AND O-M-G.

CONGRATULATIONS are in order to Rachel! As all of you who don't live under an un-eventful rock might already know, the talented emerging young photographer WON the NATIONAL photography competition!! NOT ONLY did she get to meet the likes of JIMMY BARNES, but she won a holy-fuck-are-you-serious- 5000 BUX worth of PRIZE MONEYSSS. She has confided in me that she plans to purchase a manwhore or a pikachu with the money.


So yes, alot HAS been happening. Not for me. No. But around me, yes :)

• Simon turned 19!! (bought the sexy lad a beer bong)
  
• Went to Kelsey's 18th (Ty is hawt *drool*)
  
• Officially entrusted with the car
  
• Joined a UQ 7-a-side Soccer team with the BBC boys ('The Eye Whisperers')

This weekend poses to be an eventful one, with the coming-of-age parties for Mrs. Maddi Carpetburn and Pri. Hopefully I'll still be faithful to my blog then.


Rachel holding down her liquor xD xD xD

Kelsey's 18th - the last ones standing :)

Riverside Beers for Simons 19th! ! (I was driving... OTL)

Rachel's Prize-winning Photo =D

Daily and nightly and ever-so-rightly

Like any relationship, through time, the magic fades away. I relate this to my previously roaring fire for blogging, that has diminished to a smoulder. I attribute this to the uneventful nature of university life and the constant pressure to write posts bettering the standards set by my dear friends.

Right now, I analogise blogging to having an invalid coma wife/husband. If you don't visit on a daily basis you begin to feel guilty. Yes, I am TCW.

I hope that the string of 18ths (Maddi, Pri, Lauren and Alice) coming up in the next month will re-ignite the blogging flame, so it can once again become a blazing jew inferno.

What? I'm anti-semetic?

Pork me.

You do look like a prostitute who caters exclusively TO clowns

Romeo and Juliet.

Ross and Rachel.

Every lovey dovey princess x prince romance Disney comes up with.

None of these relationships can BEGIN to compare, with the absolute and unconditional intimacy that is shared singularly now and forever more, by myself and Simon. #^_______^#

*5 years ago*
Arriving upon the high schooling scene was difficult for a young Japanese boy, without a single word of English in his repertoire. He wore battered clothing and carried bruises from the bashing he received the previous night, for over cooking the whale.

He sat alone in a solitary corner of the room during an uneventful drama lesson, without an inkling of an idea about what was going on. Just as the little japanese boy with the poof-ball hat was thinking of committing hara-kiri due to his depressed state, there shined a shining beacon, in the middle, of the room. Was it an angel?? His face shined with the warmth of Edward Cullen, and his soft pale skin radiated an aura that drew tears of arousal to the japanese boy's squinty little eyes. Who was he? The Jap boy thought. His curiousity was answered when the God-like being's voice reverberated throughout the room. "Hi, my name is Jesus."

The squinting eye-line of the little Jap boy met with that of Jesus, put into a trance and salivating due to the sight that beheld him. He had found God. It felt like the start of something brilliant. It WAS the start of something brilliant......

*Present*

Simon 'Jesus' Corbiere, the one-and-only biblical character I believe in, has just revealed to me his exciting new blog. If words could describe the ecstacy one feels when reading his eloquent writing, it would be: 'a Harry Potter novel that concentrated soley on Hermione including scenes like when she would go to the toilet to masturbate or have lesbian sex with Ginny'.

Follow this link, or feel the wrath of an angry Japanese MAN, who would like to remind you of pearl harbour.

www.dancekittens.blogspot.com

This is the word of the Sim. Amen.

Now besides your funny bone being broken, what seems to be the problem?? part 2

Fine, I'm feeling lazy. What are you going to do? Ovulate on me?

To sweeten up our shit-flavoured shit with shit topping that HAS been our week, the wounded and battered troops from UQ raided the Indro Megaplex grounds, to watch ZACH & MIRI MAKE A PORNO =D =D

The movie had an R rating, meaning that retards and Renkert aren't allowed to enter. So squadron Sausage Fest, comprising of myself, Max, Imala, Killoran and Shan met at sixteen-hundred-fifty hours (4:50) to go behold the most eagerly anticipated theatrical event of this still relatively new year.

In stark contrast to my week-old uni experience, the movie did not disappoint.

It was the epitome of HILARITY. At least for most of us......

I tribute this latter half of my blog and the scrubs reference title to my dear friend Shan who is suffering a degenerative disease localised to her sense of humour.

Through the entirety of the movie, the male contingency of our group were wetting our panties laughing like little pre-pubescent girls giggling over the word 'penis', while Shan sat silently stoic, simply saddened & (dis)satisfied. alliterate THAT bitch.

After sloshing our way through the pee-puddles made from pissing ourselves laughing, my investigation of Shan revealed that she infact did not enjoy CLASSICS such as:

• Superbad
• Anchorman
• And all Will Ferrel movies for that matter!

What has this world come to!? If it wasn't for her superior knowledge in scrubs trivia and her love of N64 games, she would be making like a jew and getting her ass burnt.

You live another day.