fatvegan

We all (except for some) went to Observatory Hill to watch fire crackers and eat food. I bought lots of food, but didn't really eat any of it. And I didn't drink anything. I was disappointed with myself. So much to carry home.

I know such nice people. They're all great. I had a lovely chat with Helen. And I spoke with Jo French. Cassie, Beth and Amy came. And they brung some buddies. Simon went to Rwanda to see some gorillas. He was impressed that I knew what a Hutu was. He said that Rwanda was pretty relaxed now. The Tutsis chased all the Hutus into the Congo and now are busy there raping Hutu women. It's sounds like everything is back to normal.

Amber showed up. So did Deep Tom. Amber did a bit of a Sheraton, but all very elegantly. At least what I saw of it. It's strange to think that Jem went out with Deep Tom. I've never met him before. If you weren't looking carefully, it would be hard to tell him apart from the thousands of other drunk fellows in the city tonight.

Andy SMSed me, and it arrived almost exactly on midnight. My only guess is that he got Simon to hack the Telstra interchange, rigged it all up to arrive right on midnight, and then SMSed me to test it. No one else could even get a message through, much less get it right on the knocker.

We played frisbee. Our frisbee was pink. We got called faggots.

Tom lost my new orange frisbee. I bought it at lunch time. It fell into someone's backyard.

The firecrackers were the best ever. Lots of new sorts, and while I try hard not to be more impressed by new ones, it's hard not to be. Although I definitely appreciate the creativity and brilliance of the engineers who invent the new ones, so maybe I can frame it that way. But the appeal of novelty is nothing more than some silly evolutionary thing, that is good for helping us invent things, but not good for helping us become content. I would like to be content with firecrackers that never change and get any better.

Mum sent me this email.

Darling Would you mind bringing one of my down pillows in with you please?

Fortunately I'd already left.

Sal didn't come. Which was a shame. Jane didn't come. Which wasn't good either. But our neighbours did. Tim is very funny. And he got much, much better at frisbee tonight. Tom sat on the picnic rug by himself to make sure that no one stole the spot. Libby has funny jokes. Robyn reminds me a lot of Jane, so Jane didn't really need to come at all. Lesley should have come though. And where was Julian?

Helen beat Howie in two arm wrestles.

Guin's father's name is Arthur.

Todd Smithers' father's friends' dog's kennels' roof's tiles are coming loose. Isn't it tops how you can just chain together as many of those as you want. It get's extra confusing when you swap between singular and pluralar. Why do we say plural and not pluralar? It's silly.

I would have liked to go out and do something else afterwards. But most people wanted to head off, so we headed off.

You can head off, and you can head someone else off. At the pass for example.

I don't like it when boys try to draw girls into conversations about subjects they know the girls will think are yuck.

Context is so important. I don't have any huge problem with threesomes. At least not any more than I have with normal casual sex. But in tonight's context, there weren't many things I'd less rather talk about.

Amy sounds like she has a fun job. She gets to drive a lot of diesel 4WD all over the place.

Beth "accidentily" hugged someone else instead of me, and ended up getting his phone number.

I love firecrackers. I wonder what stops them from sending them really really high. Do they just not do it because people wouldn't be able to see them? Or is there a technical reason? And how do they make it so that nearly all the firecrackers burst at the very top of their trajectory? F=MA or something.

I should have a shower.