I hate packing. With a passion. I hate having to cram my life into boxes and cupboards and then cut off the bits that don't fit. I'm a squirraler. I hate having to throw away my nuts.

However, come this Sunday, I'll be in Brisbane, where it's warm, and there's my parents and family, including the cousin who's just a younger, male version of me (needless to say, we get on fantastically). I love Brisbane. It's a fantastic city, that just doesn't take itself as seriously as either Melbourne or Sydney. It has a more relaxed atmosphere. It feels like Queensland. What a coincidence.

Anyway, I'll be out of internet contact during those two weeks. Sorry. Just getting you used to the idea.

Meanwhile, there was practically an old-school convention last night. Both J² and J¹ on the premises. A JAFFY Trap was rigged up in my doorway in the form of a shoe on a string, there were shower shenanigans for the first time in a good couple of years, and I haven't laughed in a long time like I did when the 'aeroplane' that was J² crashlanded on Jen's floor. Serves him right for trying to wrestle me into submission. I know his tricks of old.

I miss having the Brute Squad at college. It just ain't the same without the random shit.