HOLIDAY IN THE SUN...

Dec 30, 2007 14:55

On Christmas Day I had a lot of beers and a few scotches and thought it would be hilarious to take a photo of my arse and post it on Punkas.  I should have known that since I got a phone with a camera on it that was inevitably going to happen.  Alcohol + camera + pervert  = No!  Bad monkey!  I'm bad enough sending lurid text messages.  What a shameful, seedy existence I lead.  I'm still trying to think of a suitably barbaric and medieval punishment to subject myself to for this recent bout of disgraceful behaviour.

While I was down there I managed to catch up with quite a few people.  Caught up with Kerry (nice purple hair bro) and family and their chickens and had dinner and a few homebrews.  He's brewing some mean lager these days.  Very nice stuff.  I walked into New Brighton afterwards to see if Kim's Burgers was still there.  I was shocked to find everything shut.  It wasn't even eight in the PM.  Not even the pubs were open.  It was like fucking ANZAC day or something.  How do these people expect to make any money?  I could have done with a pint or two.  The pubs in New Brighton are seedy as fuck.  Some meth addict with bad teeth tried to pimp me his cousin in one of them about three or four years ago.  Place was dead though.

Went to visit Grant, got the new LUCA which features a lengthy poem of abuse directed at Michael Cullen.  Brutal stuff.  It also features my poem Southerly Front you may have seen here a while ago.

Managed to find my mate Bob.  Haven't seen him for about two years or so.  He was still in the same place so I needn't have gone on such a mission to run into him randomly in town, which was hard 'cos he doesn't get out as much these days.

Saw some impressive punk bands at the Jetset.  Wasn't sure who the one I really got into were, as I was full of beer and chips by that point.  Adding to the hilarity was some guy I used to be in a band with showing up.  He's become an Emo at the grand old age of thirty four.  In the state I was in I immediately nearly wet myself laughing.  He was somewhat put out.  Still, serves him right.  Becoming an Emo in your mid thirties is an open invitation for piss-taking.

The day before I left I met up with my mates Cherie and Kristel.  I've known Kristel since she was this spiky teenage goth girl who used to hang around our house when I lived in the Worcester St slum dwellings.  She's started an all-girl roller derby league.  I've now got the flyer on my wall.  "If you don't like bruises or broken nails don't e-mail us on __________"

As for Cherie, I'd forgotten what a genuine eccentric that lady is.  Can't pigeonhole her at all, she's just really out there.  We were outside C1 and I ordered a beer, which they served in one of those black zip up chiller things.  I made the obvious remark and said, "Look girls, refresh yourself with an ice cold Gimp Beer, straight from the dungeon."

Cherie took one look at it and remarked, "Oh my god.  It looks like Burt Reynold's wetsuit from Deliverance, if Burt Reynolds was a beer," and proceeded to riff on all things Deliverance related.  Mad.

Glad i got to catch up with who I did, as for everyone else down there, see yas next time.
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