(no subject)
Well.
As I said on annabel's blog, everyone seems to be having epiphanal-time-of-your-life weeks.
I had a BeaverJam and i gave john his birthday present. Which was half a goonbox. Needless to say, I wasn't going to waste the other half. So we got mangled and listened to good music and then they all went off to dan kelly and the alpha-males and left me at the hosue. That said, they didn't get into the gig and ended up watching from the footpath, and I wasn't alone at home, but still.
Well, I was alone after I drove her home anyway. That was forking weird.
Ever been alone in someone else's (massive and quite swank) house in the middle of the night? Listening to Jeff Buckley and writing aimlessly on his computer which was running through his 999999999 million inch wide TV?
It was pretty weird. And I was stone-cold sober by this time.
Then the next morning w got up and chilled for a fair while. Then i was like "someone better fucking come road-tripping" and then the others got motivated, and we set off. After brief pit-stops at everyones house, we hurtled into the great unknown.
Through Buckland.
We cruised up the coast, and then into Orford, craving food and a swim. We hit the beach, charged into the water, jumped under, then got the hell out. It was fairly cold. The water, that is.
Back at the carpark there was a brief and painful barefoot running race along the road and back, and then it was high-time for some munch. So we went to some fish and chip shop and got some dangerously awesome chow.
Then we burned out of the carpark (there was crazy funk playing, i couldn't resist...) and off up towards bicheno. We went non-stop to there, then drove around with loud porno 70s funk playing and all the windows down and the sunroof open and stuff. With no shirts. While we ate bread.
Yeah. We were idiots and loved it.
After a quick supermarket-stop to buy shupplies, we drove back down to coles bay, and set up camp. There was soup. John and I ate soup sandwiches, while the other philistines had it in bowls. Bowls, can you imagine? Gosh.
Then we went to bed. I didn't have a sleeping mat, and nor did john. One of the most uncomfortable and unpleasant nights of my life ensued. But it was ok. And worth it.
Hilarity ensued in the morning when we tried to eat spaghetti and didn't have a tin opener. I don't like tinned spaghetti at the best of times, let alone at 5 o'clock in the morning after not enough sleep.
Comparisons between said spaghetti and maggots swimming in congealed horse-blood were drawn.
Then I accidentally dripped some on hamish's tent. Then we packed up and fucked off. Pausing only to pay the exorbitant park fee and campsite hire. Bastards. Yeah. So we were kind of feeling pretty low, definitely the bummer-point of the trip, due to extreme heaviness of fees and lack of sleep.
After the biggest walnut orchard I've ever seen, we hit swansea with a vengeance. At 6:23 in the morning. It was goin' orf. SO we got coffee and red bull and went down the jetty. Milled around like bogans without a cause and then packed up and left. With loud funk and windows down. We know how to make an exit.
Then we did triabunna, pausing to laugh at the place where john once bought a rancid cheeseburger with no sauce, and to do the funk-thing past a cafe full of slightly bemused onlookers. Then it was orford, where we spent more time than was healthy. We visited hamish's sister, and i had more coffee to catch up with the rest, then we went and looked for somewhere to swim, but we gave up when it got windy. Then we drove shirtless and Dorito-munchingly to hamish's house. And ate sausages.
And so it was.
Epic.
As I said on annabel's blog, everyone seems to be having epiphanal-time-of-your-life weeks.
I had a BeaverJam and i gave john his birthday present. Which was half a goonbox. Needless to say, I wasn't going to waste the other half. So we got mangled and listened to good music and then they all went off to dan kelly and the alpha-males and left me at the hosue. That said, they didn't get into the gig and ended up watching from the footpath, and I wasn't alone at home, but still.
Well, I was alone after I drove her home anyway. That was forking weird.
Ever been alone in someone else's (massive and quite swank) house in the middle of the night? Listening to Jeff Buckley and writing aimlessly on his computer which was running through his 999999999 million inch wide TV?
It was pretty weird. And I was stone-cold sober by this time.
Then the next morning w got up and chilled for a fair while. Then i was like "someone better fucking come road-tripping" and then the others got motivated, and we set off. After brief pit-stops at everyones house, we hurtled into the great unknown.
Through Buckland.
We cruised up the coast, and then into Orford, craving food and a swim. We hit the beach, charged into the water, jumped under, then got the hell out. It was fairly cold. The water, that is.
Back at the carpark there was a brief and painful barefoot running race along the road and back, and then it was high-time for some munch. So we went to some fish and chip shop and got some dangerously awesome chow.
Then we burned out of the carpark (there was crazy funk playing, i couldn't resist...) and off up towards bicheno. We went non-stop to there, then drove around with loud porno 70s funk playing and all the windows down and the sunroof open and stuff. With no shirts. While we ate bread.
Yeah. We were idiots and loved it.
After a quick supermarket-stop to buy shupplies, we drove back down to coles bay, and set up camp. There was soup. John and I ate soup sandwiches, while the other philistines had it in bowls. Bowls, can you imagine? Gosh.
Then we went to bed. I didn't have a sleeping mat, and nor did john. One of the most uncomfortable and unpleasant nights of my life ensued. But it was ok. And worth it.
Hilarity ensued in the morning when we tried to eat spaghetti and didn't have a tin opener. I don't like tinned spaghetti at the best of times, let alone at 5 o'clock in the morning after not enough sleep.
Comparisons between said spaghetti and maggots swimming in congealed horse-blood were drawn.
Then I accidentally dripped some on hamish's tent. Then we packed up and fucked off. Pausing only to pay the exorbitant park fee and campsite hire. Bastards. Yeah. So we were kind of feeling pretty low, definitely the bummer-point of the trip, due to extreme heaviness of fees and lack of sleep.
After the biggest walnut orchard I've ever seen, we hit swansea with a vengeance. At 6:23 in the morning. It was goin' orf. SO we got coffee and red bull and went down the jetty. Milled around like bogans without a cause and then packed up and left. With loud funk and windows down. We know how to make an exit.
Then we did triabunna, pausing to laugh at the place where john once bought a rancid cheeseburger with no sauce, and to do the funk-thing past a cafe full of slightly bemused onlookers. Then it was orford, where we spent more time than was healthy. We visited hamish's sister, and i had more coffee to catch up with the rest, then we went and looked for somewhere to swim, but we gave up when it got windy. Then we drove shirtless and Dorito-munchingly to hamish's house. And ate sausages.
And so it was.
Epic.