Avant garde, no?

*"Look Out, Tarantino! How could you not read on?"*

Hairy Justin was driving through the streets of suburban Melbourne at a speed that even I - someone not known to pay particular heed to posted speed limits myself - felt was somewhat excessive. He was driving very, very fast.

SteveSteve was sitting in the front seat. Vegie and I in the back. All our knuckles were white with tension.

"Uh... Justin?" said Vegie.
"Yeah?" said Justin, turning around to look at him.

"Should you maybe slo-"

A corner was approaching rapidly.

"Nevermind," shouted Vegie hurriedly.

"Okay," said Justin, and looked ahead again.

VREEE! We skidded around the corner, still at an excessive speed. And then another, and another, and another. Our destination was now in our field of vision. It was about time to be slowing down, or even stopping.

Hairy Justin didn't appear to be slowing down.

Hairy Justin didn't appear to be stopping.

In fact, he was speeding up.

He aimed the car at a convenient power pole.


But perhaps I'm getting ahead of myself?

*"Lies, damned lies and the Armour of Valour (+10 strength)"*

I may not have been completely honest with you in the past, dear reader.

I have omitted certain facts.

About SteveSteve.

I assure you, it was absolutely necessary. If you knew what I knew, you would think Steve was 80-97% less cool.

These terrible facts.

Or fact.

And that fact is: SteveSteve plays role-playing games.

And not like we regular normal people play role-playing games... not like "Student-Teacher Nancy & The Naughty Schoolboy."

I'm talking dungeons. I'm talking dragons. I'm talking a variety of multi-sided die.

I wouldn't bring it up, but I did. So there.

No, the reason is this. It was Thursday night. I was sitting on Steve's couch, watching the final of The Amazing Race. I had never watched an episode previous.

But that's not important. We mustn't get side-tracked with these niggling little details. We have a lot to get through, here, people.

Anyway, Steve and I were wondering what he, Vegie and I should do on New Years.

"Well," said Steve, trying (quite unsuccessfully) to balance a spoon on his nose, "there are a couple of parties that we've been invited to. In Melbourne."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah," said Steve... he hesitated, "Um... they're for..." he trailed off into mumbling.

"Sorry, what was that last part?"

"They're the MURP and Korner people."

Vreeeeeep. Woah, slow that train down, Humphrey. MURP and Korner are role-playing groups. MURP is the Monash University Role Playing... Role Playing what? It should be MURPG. Anyway, Korner is like a similar thing, but it's on a corner or something, I guess.

I've hung out with some of these people a couple of times before. Through careful scientific experimentation, I have discovered that I need to be absolutely fucked up to stand them.

But that's what nazi vodka is for, right?

*"Go MAN Go!"*

So, we decided to go to one of the parties. We elected to go to the one at "Mel's" house, as Sha would most likely be there, and now that she doesn't want to kill SteveSteve for dumping her anymore, they get along okay. He had some sort of present for her.

It was the wrong party. She wasn't there. She was at the other party. There were a lot of nerds.

Like, seriously, a lot.

But that's okay, I'm a sociable guy, right? RIGHT? What's that? Nazi vodka? This nazi vodka? Well... why not?

I got very drunk, very fast, and tried to hold a conversation with some guy. I explained how, you know, we were from the country. It seemed pertinent at the time.

He then proceeded to tell me about this guy from Heyfield who was once given A CHOICE by a bunch of jocks. Either he had the shit beaten out of him, or he fucked a pig.

Naturally, he fucked the pig.

You know, at the time, that seemed like a perfectly normal conversation to be having... Looking back through sober eyes, though...

Anyway, the alcohol wasn't quite enough. We'd have to throw some marijuana into the mix.

So we went back to the car, and we did. Quite a bit. And then Vegie had the brilliant idea of walking to the trainstation, and catching a free train to the city.

I thought this was a stupid idea, but I still walked 3/4 of the way with them. At the 3/4 mark, I found that I was having, how do I put this, serious trouble standing up.

Go on without me, I mumbled, I'll meet you back at the party.

By the time I returned, I could stand up, but nothing was making a lot of sense.

And then, from the blur, one fact came into clear focus.

"Hey Cam dude, you don't know ANY of these people."

I decided to employ my normal social technique when amongst strangers, which is to just start talking to someone.

I decided that I'd talk to the person who had told me about THE CHOICE guy. But he was already talking to someone else. About marine biology.

It was, how do I put this, boring.

But I couldn't get out of the conversation now... he was engaging me with his eyes and nods and stuff... including me in the conversation.

Eventually, I found an escape, and went and sat in my car for a while, and listened to the radio... but then it was getting near 12 o'clock. I'd be fucked if I was going to be spending New Year's Eve alone! It'd set the whole tone for 2005. FUCK THAT.

So, I went back to the party, and sat down with some interesting looking people. They were all in their mid-30s. We probably talked about something.

I must admit, I was kind of expecting intelligent tertiary-educated conversation.

What I got was:

Example 1:

Nerd 1: See, the thing about the data that the Hollingswood team collected is that-
Nerd 2: We are the knights that say NI! NI!
Nerd 1: Ahahahaha! What were we talking about?

Example 2:

Nerd 1: See, the thing about the Falkland Islands is [video game reference].
Nerd 2: We are the knights that say NI! NI! NI!
Nerd 1: Actually, that reminds me of another video game.

At around 1am, people started leaving. Eventually, I was sitting alone on the front step. I went and sat in my car and listened to Frenzal until Steve and Vegie returned and knocked on my window.

"How's the party going?" asked Steve.
"It is le dead," I replied, "There has been an exodus."
"LET MY PEOPLE GO," yelled Vegie, for reasons.
"That is cool," said Steve, "We are going to the other party. There will be drugs. Hairy Justin is coming to pick us up."

Vegie and I expected Hairy Justin to be, oh, I don't know, hirsute somehow?

He wasn't. His name is a lie.

We said our goodbyes, got into his car, and took off at speed, and well, you know what happens next...

*"I'm hooked on a feeling, foshizzle"*

VREEE! We skidded around the corner, still at an excessive speed. And then another, and another, and another. Our destination was now in our field of vision. It was about time to be slowing down, or even stopping.

Hairy Justin didn't appear to be slowing down.

Hairy Justin didn't appear to be stopping.

In fact, he was speeding up.

He aimed the car at a convenient power pole.


We hit the kerb at high speed, narrowly missing the power pole, sending the car into the air somewhat. We crashed back down onto the ground. Hairy Justin adjusted the car a little, then turned off the engine.

Knuckles: White with tension. Mouths: Agape.

"Justin," I demanded, "WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?"
"Contact parking," he replied, as if that was somehow a reasonable explanation.

And with that we entered the house of Yestin (whom I had never met) and party number two.

The first room we came into was almost empty. But for the empty bulbs of nitrous oxide.

And the young lad writhing on the ground in a fit of nitrous-inspired ecstacy. And the young lass writhing on top of him, with nary a shirt to be seen.

That was the major difference between this party and the first party: A lot less shirts were being worn at this party.

We walked into the next room. It was also full of empty nitrous bulbs. And also, a bunch of people.

"Hey guys!" squealed Sha, "I'm hooked on a feeling... I'm high on believing.... or nitrous.. hahahahaha"

Then this hot young lass came over and kissed me, blowing nitrous oxide into my lungs.

Hello! Now, that's what I'm talking about. Then it hit me. Woah... that's great.

*Leigh writes: "One time when we were like fourteen; Courtney, Clemmie and Eve spent a good hour trying to convince Nigel Guy and Richard Templecamp to pash, on the grounds that they'd do it if the boys would. Nigel was like Yeah, whatever, which sent Richard spiralling down a path of moral dilemma for most of that hour. Then he finally shouted NO and Nigel was like, Haha, yeah, I was just doing it to see what Richard would say.*

*End of the story? They're both gay now."*

A bit more nitrous, some of it first hand, some of it third hand (ineffective, and really just an excuse to kiss) and then Sha said, "Why don't you second off Steve?" To second, in case you hadn't already worked it out, is to kiss someone - they exhale, you inhale - woah.

Well, there's a few reasons for that, Sha.

1. I have to see Steve all the time. If I kiss him, whenever we see each other, we'll be like, "Oh, man, you're that guy I kissed. Should we maybe kiss some more?" I don't have time to be constantly smooching Steve. I am a busy man.
2. I didn't want to make Vegie jealous. SNAP! No, actually, reason number one was the real reason.

Anyway, then we were sitting in the other room, and I was talking to the chick that had been writhing topless earlier. She was still sans top. Well, unless you count the chain around her neck. On the other end of the chain, was her boyfriend (biologically female, psychologically male). This was the cat who had also been writhing earlier.

During the whole 2 hours that I talked to his girlfriend, he was constantly "doing bulbs." He was totally fucked, to the point where he didn't know which end was which.

It was great.

Anyway, this chick told me absolutely everything you might ever want to know about a person.

I'm talking fetishes. I'm talking past self-mutilation. I'm talking the whole half-naked enchained bisexual gamut.

As she herself put it, "I don't normally reveal so much about myself, but I'm high."

She also told me about her interests, which included medieval dancing.

"I have this great medieval dress," she told me.
"Is it green?" I asked.
"How did you know that?"

She was very concerned as to how I knew all these little details. It was just a guess. What other colour would a medieval dress be?

Anyway, at this point, Yestin came out of the bedroom where he'd been the entire night, sat on my lap, and tried to molest me.

"Hands!" I shouted, "Yestin! HANDS!"

Dude! Don't you get it? God is *down* on that wack unconsensual shit.

Then he laid a challenge down... inre Vegie, he said: I bet you I can get his nipples erect in 15 seconds.

He couldn't, because he couldn't get his fingers anywhere near Vegie's nipples.

"You're just afraid that you'll like it," he said.

Actually, I think it's because we know that we won't, Yestin dear.

"We're from the country," I told him, "We're ultraconservatives. We vote Liberal."

The fondling came to an abrupt halt.

A chill fell across the room. "Get out!" yelled Yestin.

The enchained lass looked at me with disgust, "How could you, man?"

*"And now, in these, the final days..."*

We left in a hurry. It was 5am... two hours and around 15km later, we were back at the car. We had gotten a little, how you say, lost. The fault for this lies entirely with SteveSteve.

With the benefit of hindsight, Vegie should have been in charge of the navigation.

SteveSteve had taken a lot more nitrous than either of us, and I'd smoked a lot more pot than either of them, but what's done is done, right? RIGHT?

It was 7am. I hadn't slept in 24 hours. We drove home. I went into my bedroom. I laid down on the floor, and let the ground swallow me...

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