Teretz Syndrome

Saturday, June 15, 2002. 12:11PM

As I haven't been up all that long, this isn't really going to be a log of today, but more a log of the last few days. So far today I have had a shower, eaten some fried rice, followed by a Chocolate Teddybear Biscuit and a few Marshmallows, answered some e-mail, and now I'm here, writing this log.

Spent most of yesterday downloading songs, and trying to study. Got through till around Happy Days (5:30?) when the phone rings, and this guy says "Hi, you don't know me, but my name is Tristan." Well, he sounded like a decent enough chap, so I let him continue, and he went on to tell me that we were holding a surprise party for my good friend Steve, and that I was to come to Flinders Street at 7:00 (in the unlikely event that any of our international comrades read this, Flinders Street is the central train station in Melbourne, Australia, and a common meeting place for young people and the unemployed). Anywho, I made it there (early, in fact) so I crossed the road and bought a coke for McDonalds. Got the letter 'A' (see previous logs), giving me DI RONA. It's strangely addictive this game of theirs...I mean...I do want to know...will the next letters be L and D, giving my DI RONALD, or perhaps an E and a D, giving me DIE RONDA (I know someone called Ronda, though I think I might be spelt with an H...Rhonda). The possibilities are endless. If I get DIE RONALD I'm going to go steal the head from one of their fiber glass clowns. I think they have them in the playground at Highpoint.

Right, back to the anecdote... where was I...oh yes...well, anyway, after a while I found Tristan (true to the sound of his voice, he was a decent enough chap) and the posse. We went to some restaurant, only they were not empty (and there were about fifteen of us) and somebody hadn't booked, so we went to this different place, that turned out to be a quite, refined, Italian place with a spattering of couples sharing, quite, refined and intimate Italian dinners, and they looked mighty peeved to be set upon by fifteen teenagers loudly discussing the flavor of a fetus. Still, we paid the restaurant damn near plenty for the privilege. I stole a bunch of Cosmopolitan Magazine Postcards from their postcard rack (they have Sarah Michelle Geller on them), and drew beards on a few, and acted out no end of lesbian scenes. When to a Korean bar to watch the soccer (the Korean chant for winning the soccer, by the way, is "Hail England...clap clap clap...Hail England." Nutso Koreans). Tim's girl, Evon, didn't want to go to Shaft (a porn bar) with us, so me and Tim carried her in (we were both wearing black trenchcoats and looked quite the dodgy fellows), and when the bouncers looked at us funny, I said "What? This place isn't BYO?". Ended up at Melbourne Central waiting for the train while a whole very large amount of people who we knew walked past. Crazy crazy night. Oh, and chances are the Second Annual Pulp Fiction Party-o-Rama will be on the second.

The time is 12:41PM. That took ages.

Have fun Cats.

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