I don't know what for.
Seeing the Panics on Friday night changed my life a bit, I think. I'd liked them for a while, I'd seen them twice this year already at festivals, but I guess I wasn't listening properly those times. I don't know. All I know is that at the Zoo on Friday night, the Panics were incredible and everyone should feel this way.
Sam, Heidi and I went searching for houses yesterday. I'm thankful for it, because even though all the houses we saw were awful, it was a very hot day outside and we were driving around for most of it in an air-conditioned car. So great! Not so great about the lack of housing, though.
Emma's Tupperware party yesterday was wonderful. Hahahaha. I actually bought some Tupperware. No, guys, you don't understand, it's this magical thing that chops up things. It's called the Happy Chopper. I'm really bad at chopping stuff and it's incredible. The only problem is that it's TUPPERWARE therefore it's A MILLION DOLLARS but I don't even care. Well, I do, I care, but I'm ignoring it. Emma made honey jumbles and they're so delicious; I ate a lot. There was also punch.
Me: I'm going to drink all the punch.
Pete: I'm going to drink the other half of the punch.
Me: ...
Pete: ...
Me: It's okay. I'll rephrase. I'm going to drink half the punch.
Pete: I'm going to drink half the punch!
Me: There we go.
As planned, Emma and I went out last night all frocked up and wearing heels (so awkward but certainly not as bad as it could have been) and we celebrated the 20th birthday of Stavros at the Fringe Bar. It wasn't as terrible as I thought it might be, but hm. No, it was a good night. We drank champagne and the bubbles went to our heads and we stumbled around for the night with Chris Pollock in tow. We caught a taxi home at around 1:30am and it was a good idea, because this morning hurt. Now I get to the best bit of the post, the bit that prompted me to even make a post, so I could share this with the world.
We were woken this morning at some ungodly hour (8:10am) by a screaming child in the block of units next door. We were both horrified. Nobody would stop this child. "I am never having children," I murmured repeatedly. "At this moment in time, neither am I," Emma would occasionally answer. Anyway. It had been going for a while, this screaming child, sobbing and screaming and all we wanted to do was sleep. Suddenly this guitar strumming started up. "OH GOD NO," we wailed, because surely the last thing you give a screaming child is a guitar to make more noise with. But no. Oh no. It was not the child on the guitar.
STRUM STRUM STRUM STRUM
"Will somebody please shut that kid uuuuuup"
STRUM STRUM STRUM STRUM
"It's been crying like that for ages noooooooow"
STRUM STRUM STRUM STRUM
STRUM STRUM STRUM STRUM
"Please somebody just shut that fucking kid uuuuuuuuuuuuup"
STRUM STRUM STRUM STRUM STRUUUUUM
His melodic tunes saved our lives. It actually worked. But we were too pleased with the song to go back to sleep, so we went and ate some breakfast. Now I am going to have a nap, then I am going over to Emma's place to eat nachos and swim in her pool. BLISS.
