and we're back
Well I'm back in business now, after having my computer bamboozled by Trojans/Worms/Mexicanos when a little VPN testing went horribly wrong.
I am now in a position to tell you all about the weekend, despite the fact that by now it has lost all relevance.
Saturday was the usual Boys Club over at Phils house, where we continued to work on getting the 280z roadworthy (with the side-task of making it gangsta). Here we are laying some interior carpet, to distract the authorities from the fact that the floor pan is 90% bog.
Thats why I love this car so much tho, I have an opportunity to attempt all sorts of crazy auto-repair duties on an old busted car that I dont own. First I learned to paint (or how not to paint), and now I've learned interior. I should get badges.
Evening came around and me and JT headed back Northside to get ready for another night at the Normanby. During which time I had the simple joy of driving behind a car that not only blocks out the sound of your own engine, turbo and exhaust, but also the sound of your own thoughts, fears and screaming.
We cabbed it in, and I paid $20, this was the most money I handed over all night.
Chris and Erika were up, and insisted on throwing money (mostly Chris's) around like it was ninja stars in the bonus level of Shinobi. Needless to say, we were all riotously drunk and discussing the mysteries of the human condition.
JT was on a mission which was hilarious. Every 5 minutes he would disappear, then return with a couple of bourbons, which would disappear even quicker. The funny part was that to facilitate rapid consumption, he would scoop out the ice and dump it all over Chris's shoes. By the end of the night there were small snowdrifts popping up around the bar, and I have no doubt someone broke a leg on them that night.
The downside (?) to all this drinking was that the three of us got a bit rowdy. So when the guy sitting near the bar told me off for putting my empty glass on the table, I immediately enlisted my mates help to finish as many drinks as possible and dump them all on his table like he was a puerto-rican dishwasher. He started to arc up a little, but was apparently silenced when I unleashed a series of My Olympia style poses. I think that was when we got cut-off.
4am rolled around and we lurched out the front door in search of pizza and nourishment for the soul. The walk from the Norm to Windmill Pizzas, while normally pretty long, became a magical fairy journey full of side trips up mysterious flights of stairs and down spooky alleys.
The boys needed to get to the nearest 7-11 for more darts, so we caught a cab driven by a man named Simon. Needless to say, the soundtrack to the journey was "Simon Says (Get the Fuck Up)".
Then, lying half asleep on the road that hits Roma Street, Shona rocks up out of nowhere in a shiny silver spaceship (RAV-4) to take me home.
So I have basically spent all my good karma points since about 1998 on one massive, awesome, cheap night. The photos were awesome, and will be here in a few days.
Oh and I got a payrise.
I am now in a position to tell you all about the weekend, despite the fact that by now it has lost all relevance.
Saturday was the usual Boys Club over at Phils house, where we continued to work on getting the 280z roadworthy (with the side-task of making it gangsta). Here we are laying some interior carpet, to distract the authorities from the fact that the floor pan is 90% bog.
Thats why I love this car so much tho, I have an opportunity to attempt all sorts of crazy auto-repair duties on an old busted car that I dont own. First I learned to paint (or how not to paint), and now I've learned interior. I should get badges.
Evening came around and me and JT headed back Northside to get ready for another night at the Normanby. During which time I had the simple joy of driving behind a car that not only blocks out the sound of your own engine, turbo and exhaust, but also the sound of your own thoughts, fears and screaming.
We cabbed it in, and I paid $20, this was the most money I handed over all night.
Chris and Erika were up, and insisted on throwing money (mostly Chris's) around like it was ninja stars in the bonus level of Shinobi. Needless to say, we were all riotously drunk and discussing the mysteries of the human condition.
JT was on a mission which was hilarious. Every 5 minutes he would disappear, then return with a couple of bourbons, which would disappear even quicker. The funny part was that to facilitate rapid consumption, he would scoop out the ice and dump it all over Chris's shoes. By the end of the night there were small snowdrifts popping up around the bar, and I have no doubt someone broke a leg on them that night.
The downside (?) to all this drinking was that the three of us got a bit rowdy. So when the guy sitting near the bar told me off for putting my empty glass on the table, I immediately enlisted my mates help to finish as many drinks as possible and dump them all on his table like he was a puerto-rican dishwasher. He started to arc up a little, but was apparently silenced when I unleashed a series of My Olympia style poses. I think that was when we got cut-off.
4am rolled around and we lurched out the front door in search of pizza and nourishment for the soul. The walk from the Norm to Windmill Pizzas, while normally pretty long, became a magical fairy journey full of side trips up mysterious flights of stairs and down spooky alleys.
The boys needed to get to the nearest 7-11 for more darts, so we caught a cab driven by a man named Simon. Needless to say, the soundtrack to the journey was "Simon Says (Get the Fuck Up)".
Then, lying half asleep on the road that hits Roma Street, Shona rocks up out of nowhere in a shiny silver spaceship (RAV-4) to take me home.
So I have basically spent all my good karma points since about 1998 on one massive, awesome, cheap night. The photos were awesome, and will be here in a few days.
Oh and I got a payrise.