Warning: this entry is long and rambling, in keeping with my current hap-hazard state of being. I would handcuff you to the chair and make you read, but the restraining implements are somewhere in a box I haven't unpacked yet, along with the porn and the chicken crimpies.

Last night I was stuck with a dinner that was cow or young cow. Not liking cow, I suggested a trip out for sustenance, and thus the Trip was born. J¹, K^y, Bubbles and I piled into a little red car called Caesar (after the number plater - CZR).

First, to Ijong Street. Bubbles remarks that it's amazing how ex-ressies are referred to in college. Fred and other past residents move into a place in Smith Street. Immediately, that house is known not as "Fred's House" or even "103 Smith Street" but just as "Smith Street". We're going to Smith Street. He's moving into the garage in Smith Street. Have you seen the new curtains in Smith Street? Well, we go to Ijong Street, to the house where J² now resides with a bevy of young maidens. Well, they're younger than him, anyway. Bubbles leaps in through the living room windows and almost lands on a small rat that has a part-time job as a dog. We come in through the door, like the sad and sorry mundanities that we are. A tour of the house followed, admiring the newly acquired furniture of the girls, and the lingerie that K^r had sent J² because she bought it in Sydney and didn't want to take it home to the parents. A beautiful corset. I am officially jealous. J² played us the goth-punk-dance remix of Theophilus Thistler, the one that the girls don't appreciate. We discussed R's intense TMBG fetish. The rat-dog got excited. We left.

Thence to the glorious student Mecca that is Supabarn. J¹ gets a trolley and I know this is going to be an epic shop. We all have newly acquired fridges to fill, you see. These things happen when the usual suspects leave college for the holidays and can't take their hefty appliances with them. We tear up and down the soft-drink aisle. Bubbles hunts down tinsel. The eventual pile of Tim Tams is impressive. Thank heaven for Indulgence Packs. We surged through the checkouts, K^y's peaches looking decidedly out of place amidst the chocolate, caffienated carbonated beverages and chips. Hail the conquering heroes as we pile back into the little red car, Bubbles and I playing cheerleaders in the back seat.

Next stop, Maccas, for the original purpose of the entire crusade. We wait in the drive-thru queue, listening to fake Latino dance music and swapping amusing Christmas gift stories. I tell the one about when my father gave himself a bottle of gin, gift-wrapped and tagged: "To Me from Himself." We wonder about the purpose of the second window in the drive-thru, but can't figure that it has any use at all. We eventually decide it must be for an exotic dancer to keep the patrons amused. I decide that this is a good career move, and something I would like to do. Everyone is very supportive of this decision. We get the food and leave.

Home, James, not sparing the horses. A stately progression to J¹'s new room - complete with double bed and a TV that's nearly as big. I eat. We discuss the relative merits of XXXX and Extra Dry (beer, for the uninitiated). G^j forces us to watch the last half of Hocus Pocus. We show tremendous restraint in not killing her. We make suitably MST3k comments for the duration. Finally being free of the silly movie, we launch ourselves into Turok: Rage Wars. Three hours later, I'm still playing and it's midnight. Enough, already. I leave them to the end of Boomerang (top contender for the worst movie ever made, in my opinion) and come back to my room. Jump online to see what's up. RP for another four hours, interrupted by A, completely off his face.

And that, my friends, is why I'm so tired today.