Avant garde, no?

Hey look! It did!

Greetings from Zelandia Baru.

Firstly, everyone talks fucking weird.

Secondly, I don't just mean the accents.

The trip was okay, I guess, if you like annoying little Aryan children running around the aero-copter, screaming and laughing and prancing etc.

Little fucker.

Then I got to New Zealand.

I was all, hahahaha, the sniffer dog is going to smell the leg of my pants, and it's gonna be all, "Hahahaha! You smell like drugs, motherfucker" but I got out of there in time, and then the customs guy was all, "What up?" and I was like, "Nothin' much, homie." and he was all, "Well, walk on through, my brother."

It was cool.

Which is not to say that I was smuggling drugs into this fine country... my clothes just smell like drug use is all.

Anyway, then I was all, arrivals lounge here I come, and Leigh and Courtney and Harriet were there, and I was like, "What up, foolz with a zed?" and Courtney and Harriet were like, "Is that Cam?" and Leigh said, "Yes." and they were all, "Hey Cam."

It was cool.

Anyway, then we all piled into Leigh's car and Leigh was like, "I'm driving" and Courtney was like, "I'm in the front seat singing cabarety musics" and Harriet was all, "Would you like a drink, Cam?"

And I did. She was a lonely drunk no more.

Anyway, some stuff happened... there were pigeons and irishfolk and other stuffs, but then we got to Palmy North, and it turns out that Palmy North is dead on a monday night, so they sent me home to my hostel, and I was all, time to sleep, even though it's fucking 8:30 to me or something, and then I had a dream that Courtney and Harriet were busting out some rhymes.

No, for real. They were in a hip-hop posse, and they did some sort of rap battle on my punk ass, and it was really good, but I don't remember how it went.

The End. Full stop.

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