I have a bong-over to be sure. Joints at P. Street, joints at M. Street. How’s a boy supposed to keep a clear head about him, when all those around him…um…er...
I feel like crap today. Oh my poor aching head!
Yeah I feel like shit too, and have just arrived home in Dingaling! said Tom.
Then, today, it was my work Xmas lunch at New Quay, followed by drinks at Telstra Dome.
20.38. I’m fucked! Too much beer! Ah! Which way is up? Bloody hetros!
That was followed by drinks at St Arnu, followed by dancing at Fiddlers, just across the road.
Once my shirt was saturated, I decided to call it a night. Andrew thanked me for dancing with Set, as then he didn’t have to.
I called Manny as I walked up Bourke Street. He later said that he couldn’t understand a slurred word I said.
The night was lovely, people every where.
SMS. 21.15. Tom, thank Christ I can dance, doll! Thank u gay brothers!
SMS. 21.19 Tom, my shirt is saturated! I hate that!
I got home at 10pm.
Mark called to say hello. He said he was having trouble with his emails and could I send him a test mail.
WTF! Really? Now? Does it have to be... oh... um... yeaaa rightio... um. Is that my computer? I'm surprised I even answered the phone.
Subject: Hey-ho
Friday night on the terps. Groovoise! Hick! I could vomit now, but I wont. I don't think. Oh... oo!
Christian
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