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.

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

I'm a man of few words so I shall be brief.

-end-

Your butt looks like two pringles hugging

So my first week of university is almost at an end. After tomorrow's final lecture, I will have completed the set routine that I will now repeat for the next 5 long, monotonous years. But who gives a FRICK!? I've got more cheerful shit to talk about :D :D :D :D

It is official. Blogging is the next big thing. Ofcourse, it has probably been trendy and popular before this statement, but in my perspective, things aren't trendy until they're embraced by my friends and I.

Recently my fellow ex-collegians Maha, Sam Lee, Imala, Max and Killoran have all taken to the conceptual concept of blogging. Keeping a diary would have been considered absurd and extremely feminine at BBC, but as soon as daily events are chronicled on an on-line median, it's suddenly trendy. How strange, the workings of the inner-man.

Speaking of inner-man, I have noticed my study buddy for the next 4 years Kirby displays symptons of tom-boyishness. Hey, it's great. It's like hanging around with a guy without looking gay. Not trying to degrade your femininity, no nothing like that. I just thought it would be blog-worthy that's all. (dug myself a little hole here....)

So these are a preliminary list of observations I have made so far:

• You're an avid rugby fan
• You're doing engineering
• You DON'T like shopping
• You could probably bash me up quite easily

Today after uni, myself, Imala and Kirby went out clothes shopping ^______^ . It was probably the first time in history of known existence of human kind that 2 GUYS were pulling a GIRL shopping. It may be noted that the 2 guys in mention here are slightly more feminine than the average male (or female), but hey, who's judging?

In conclusion, nuclear fusion.

Make up your mind steel wool. Are there iron sheep hopping around in Scotland?

So, it's official. I'm a student yet again. The intimidating sandstone structure of UQ welcomed a whole state-load of fresh first years on Monday (2nd March), and there were mixed emotions in the air.

It was a mix of:

• Eagerness - from the nerds who get off to study because they have no social life what-so-ever.
• Fear - from those weren't cool enough to do engineering, thus not having any cool friends to study with.
• Resentment - from those who had a kickass holiday and regret not taking a gap year.

I think I personally fall in the latter category. The end-half of my holidays really did pick up, and it's a shame that freedom isn't my bitch anymore. Instead, I'm chained to university's bedpost by assignments and contact hours, getting whipped on my bare ass by sleep deprivation.

But behind my quiet resentment of re-starting my education, there was a tiny flame of anticipation and curiosity of what uni would be like. But before all of this, I had to get to uni first.

For the first time this summer, Kelis and her milkshake failed to wake me. An 8 hour sleep after 42 hours of constant consciousness just doesn't do the trick apparently. I woke on my own accords at a still-ungodly hour of 7am. 1 hour before my lecture began. G-fucking-G.

Never fear, I'm magic, I was punctual for my lecture. I didn't ask to be special. It just kinda happened.

My efforts were redundant though, the lecture itself was pointless and boring, not to mention it was the only lecture I had that day. 9am, back to home.

So is Uni all that it is hyped up to be?? Well so far I can give you a big fat "yea...NO". Hopefully it will pick up next week, or I'm going to have a lovely 5 years of brain numbing monotony.

Drill fork- you can drill and fork....mostly fork

I'm finally starting to catch up in blogging my events. It's Monday and this is recounting Saturday's events....at least I'm not giving up. Sunday was just me working with 36 sleepless hours under my belt so after this, I am up-to-date.

Saturday. Many teens were clenching their ass-cheeks around this time, as fast upon us was the start of our tertiary education. University :C I had actually looked forward to going to uni, but as of late, I had really begun to enjoy my freedom and renewed social life.

Depression was in the air. Maxwell Ross's spider-sense was tingling, and being the legend that he is, organised a pre-uni gatho at his house. We were saved.

Now, after a party, most would blog about the party, people they met, drunk girls/guys they hooked in with or the amount of alcohol they consumed. However, my blog will take a documentary type style, documenting the characteristics and activities of a female asian youth, away from its natural habitat.

Rachel went to Max's dress-up 18th (she is infamously known as Pikachu now), so she was no newbie to the party scene. However one fatal difference was that she did not consume alcoholic beverages then. On Saturday night, she consumed alright. Consumed like a negro at KFC.

We arrived upon the scene of public humiliation at 7pm. Myself and Simon had convinced Rachel to get drunk that night. I meant it lightly. Simon had other plans.

I started off by feeding her light drinks of Smirnoff and Sky, nothing major. There was a 30 minute block of time where I went off to play a game with Shan. Enter Simon. Armed with a bottle of Vodka spirits and a devilish wit, Simon systematically helped her into a state of severe intoxication (something like 10 shots in a matter of minutes O___O ). By the time I found out she was drunk, it was already too late. The nightmare of a night that she would later experience was set in stone from that moment onwards. Her 5 stages of decomposition went as follows:

• Losing sight of her surroundings, wandering aimlessly
• Slurred speech (which I consider severe seeing as how much she usually talks)
• Collapsing of legs + arms
• tri-minutely fainting spells
• OOEEHHHHHHHH *very viciously violent vodka vomit*

I had a drunk girl on the verge of unconsciousness in my arms throwing up the remanents of our mid-afternoon pizza. So sure I copped-a-feel *drool face*. A feel of her HAIR as I pulled it back so she didn't get vomit in it. Her spew-sess must have exhausted her, as she collapsed soon afterwards in exuberent fashion. *plop*

The next few hours, Dr. Yuki and his select nursing staff (ManLok, Alice and Alex) prevented the poor girl from dying of choking, neck braking, drowning (in her own vomit) and herpes. But it wasn't from a lack of trying on Rachel's part. Jesus. When I become drunkenly incapacitated, I just pass out.

The subject passed out at approximately 8:30pm, returning to the conscious world at 12:00pm. I can imagine it would have been startling from her perspective. One conscious minute enjoying a few friendly drinks. The next, waking to a pile of tissues soaking up her own vomit. But she was in good hands. Everyone there hardly knew her, but all were super concerned about her, amassing around her to share their concerns. Thanks to all :)

Ofcourse, there were the inappropriate among us. Notable contributions came from:

• Simon - "Dude take advantage of her while you can"
• Keg - Drunkenly plopping himself down beside her, nearly squasing her frail body in the process
• Campbell - "Let's draw on her"
• Bill - "Oh asians."

Admittedly, I also tried to feed her a dimsim while she was down but it was all in good nature.

Once the party animal rose from her coma, she immediately became demanding. If she wasn't in such a precarious condition, girl woulda got smacked. Jks, we love you Rach. One demand we could cater for however, was a shower. However, although every droplet of alcohol she had consumed now soaked through the roots of Max's garden, Rachel was still dis-orientated, and more unco-ordinated than usual. A shower was deemed too dangerous. Thus, ManLok won the nude-show lottery, and won the PRIVILAGE of 'watching over' naked, wet vulnerable Rach. Whatever went on inside the confines of the steamy bathroom remains a mystery to the rest of us, but I can tell you that it was an awfully long 'shower'. One can only imagine.

Afterwards, the little drunk girl got progressively better, and was jumping about by the time everyone had left =] GG

One might call Saturday night a terrible experience or poor Rach. I think of it more as a rite of passage, a pilgrimage that all youths must take at some point in their adolescent life. In all honesty I believe she was lucky to have got it out of the road at a party full of nice caring friends instead of a gathering of horny rapists. For me, it was nice to experience helping a friend in need, as more often than not, I'm the one dying on the floor. Thanks to those who have helped me in the past. I appreciate it with a new perspective now.

On the downside of this somewhat happy story, Rachel has more recently got owned by her parents in relation to Saturday night. Let us all collectively empathise for Rachel, and I'll personally apologise for your current situation.

SOWWIE LEHCAR :' (

Snip it Doc. Snip it hard.

Q: Do my friends love karaoke?
A: Do people with trichotillomania compulsively pull their hair out?
Q: ....Do they?
A: HELL FREAKING YES THEY DO

Lying on my bed, talking to Wheel's about fakies for the 10000th time, into my 41st hour of sleep deprivation, and posting my 3rd consecutive catch-up blog. Fuck I'm tired T____T.

Friday began horribly. I discovered that sleeping in your toga is not entirely unlike wearing a portable bed. But regardless, Matthew's place is like freaking freezing and my jiblets wanted mittens.

I half-hung overly waddled towards my bus stop, when I remembered my plans of inviting a select group out to some nice pleasent KARAOKE. I was clearly not in any state to karaoke, or interact with humans at all for that matter. But some inner instinct/being coult not resist a session of karaoke.

Met up with Rachel, Kirby, Sam, Maha & his introverted Sri Lankan, and rocking up a fashionable 30 mins late, Killoran. Sam Lee, karaoke enthusiast, decided upon a solid 2 hour session. I handled the bookkeeping matters, and obviously charmed the Korean owner lady, as she gave us 40 mins free time. Maybe she smelt Renkert's doggy on me?

The next few hours, we knocked classic after classic from the charts. Rachel had to pilgrimage to her mosque because she's a jew now and left the party early. lamee :(

Although we didn't use all of our alotted 2 hours 40 mins scream sess, I believe popping Kirby & Killoran's Karaoke cherry was satisfying enough.

We must go again :)

Peanutbutter-Egg-Dirt!

"TOGA TOGA TOGA TOGA TOGA TOGA TOGA TOGA TOGA TOGA!!!" said the un-managable crowd of drunks.

These particular rants were heard throughout the greater part of Brisbane, as the annual Toga Party hit the town again. The crowds congregating at the RE @ 6pm amassed an army not even Leonardis and his 299 could have bested.

The plan was to get pissed at Bill's beforehand (inflation on drinks at clubs/bars omfg @__@). I felt bad for poor Bill. The bloke isn't even 18, but we use his house to get drunk to a party he isn't even coming to. Vaguely reminiscent of Elliot & Keith incorporating JD into their ridiculous foreplay.

So we did. Everyone was glorious in their toga-apparel. I, myself wore a un-fitted white bedsheet, $11 at Woolworths, the fresh food people (subliminal messaging!!!)

The Bill's House piss-up group consisted of myself, Shan, Simon, Felix, Killoran, Imala, America and Fatty. We walked our way over to the RE, looking DAMN SPIFFY in our togas.

It was pretty crowded when we arrive upon the scene, and it was only 6:30! We immediately reeked the benefits of pre-drinks, as all 3 bars had a queue as big as the world's most giant doctor. The vibe and atmosphere was intoxicating enough, but Simon and America were not satisfied. So I joined them on thier expedition to the Woolies parking lot, were we pissed, drank and chatted up woolies staff. Our tranquil peace was pig-raped by the arrival of the fuzz. We legged it back to join our fellow comrades.

Our toga army had multiplied, Catherine and Kym (kath and kim LUL) had joined the fray, closely followed by ManLok, Renkert, Bremner and Nick.

(Sam: "shan!! dont touch there!!!" Fatty: "omg is that a ...!?" Shan: "teheeheehee")

Highlight of the evening came when we discovered the karaoke machine in the corner of the room, with a heavy set line of drunks queing up to embarrass themselves with crowd-favourite-classics. The quartet of myself, America, Killoran and Renkert obviously took the cake though, shouting out an EPIC rendition of WONDERWALL - Oasis. The crowd was going, bitches were swooning and we pretty much JIZZED. IN. OUR. PANTS.

After many cries of encores and women wanting our cocks because we were so talented, we left the RE, leaving behind a legacy I'd say. We decided to go back to Bill's so he wouldn't feel lonely =). We had the usual drink/chat/piss/repeat cycle going, but all in all totes funsies.