A weekend of insanely drunken proportions.

Indeed it was. I have only just gotten back to wellington from the three days of Lilith's 21st which were, for me at least, almost completely filled with drinking. I even smuggled a beer onto the bus so as I might be able to postpone that hangover just that little longer. Of course, a hangover is like a loan. The longer till you pay it off the more you have to pay. And the bus driver was a fuck. He was the air conditioner nazi, and refused to use my ticket that I had booked on the computer. The computer, for some unknown reason, decided to make my booking for tomorow instead of today, even though I clearly told it to book for today, so I was charged again. Why couldn't he have just let me on and then said that I rode the next day? Oh well. At least I can get the ticket refunded. But I was pissed off that I no longer had any pie money for when we had our dinner stop. At that time, however, the hangover had kicked in, and I didn't want anything that even smelt remotely like meat.

But, as wildly interesting as my bus ride was, even more exciting things have happened to me! First of all, I have a new character to introduce:
Vivi Rotunder: The alcoholic and longtime friend of Lilith who, after drinking far too much, came into the tent where I was sprawled, having also drunk far too much, and hooked up with me.
"Sweet. Vivi's cool." I thought to myself through a mist of drunken. And she is. Cool person. But I am willing to bet this was simply a random drunken experiance. So thats how I am going to treat it. If you want to prove me wrong, be my guest. But the question remains: why doesn't this sort of thing happen more often? This shits great. A drug with no side affects apart from the slight embarrasment the morning sun brings. Kissing people is great. You feel good. I feel good. Why doesn't it happen more often?

Well, next weekend I have another 21st to go to. Perhaps my manly musk is working, and I shall find myself in other plesent predicaments. Or someone else will attain that golden level of drunkeness that makes even me look attractive. This is possible. The 21st is in a bar.