What a Night
If you weren't at the Cuba St Carnival yesterday, you should have been. Big crowds, awesome entertainment and plenty of stalls. The rides, well, I went on one and that was enough for me. But they had a ferris wheel, a "scream machine" and one of those things that spins you so fast that you're pushed back into the metal mesh walls - fantastic for drying a load of laundry.
The parade, once it started was good. Colourful floats, plenty of music and a huge variety of costumes and ideas. In fact, I would've enjoyed it if I didn't have a crazy woman leaning on me, elbowing me in the back and stating the obvious right into my ear (loudly, of course).
We ditched a little early, before the parade finished, but walking down Taranaki St on the way to my apartment was possibly the best thing we could've done because we got a good look at all the floats and things without all the hanging around.
Dancing pineapples FTW.
But, sadly, a couple of (disgusting) vodka shot later, I had left my key inside my apartment. I, unfortunately, was in the stairwell when I remembered to check I had my key. And that, ladies and gentlemen, instigated my long walk home to my parents house. Where I was fondled by some retard while everyone was packed in tight along Courtenay Place, contemplated sleeping inside the Mt Vic tunnel (would've, but the noise was terrible), and slobbered on by an extremely excited dog.
But I'm back now. Inside. $60 later.
In 20 years, this is the first time I've been locked out by my own stupidity - how long is it going to take me 'til next time?
The parade, once it started was good. Colourful floats, plenty of music and a huge variety of costumes and ideas. In fact, I would've enjoyed it if I didn't have a crazy woman leaning on me, elbowing me in the back and stating the obvious right into my ear (loudly, of course).
We ditched a little early, before the parade finished, but walking down Taranaki St on the way to my apartment was possibly the best thing we could've done because we got a good look at all the floats and things without all the hanging around.
Dancing pineapples FTW.
But, sadly, a couple of (disgusting) vodka shot later, I had left my key inside my apartment. I, unfortunately, was in the stairwell when I remembered to check I had my key. And that, ladies and gentlemen, instigated my long walk home to my parents house. Where I was fondled by some retard while everyone was packed in tight along Courtenay Place, contemplated sleeping inside the Mt Vic tunnel (would've, but the noise was terrible), and slobbered on by an extremely excited dog.
But I'm back now. Inside. $60 later.
In 20 years, this is the first time I've been locked out by my own stupidity - how long is it going to take me 'til next time?