Avant garde, no?

My Friday Night started off with a HUGE MASSIVE WARNING SIGN: Alcohol is bad.

I was trying to sleep until a decent hour... like 11pm, but I got woken up at 6pm by a certain sibling who needed me to pick up her boyfriend from the Commerical, where he was well smashed.

Poor cunt could barely stand... They'd had some sort of work breakup, and he'd been drinking since 12 - JESUS!

I got him into my car and he said, "I love you Camby... you know why? Cos you're a good bloke."

He had a hot dog. I said, "Mate, why don't we lose the hotdog?"
He says, "Lose the hobgod?"
I say, "Yeah."
He says, "Hokay... buh bye hotdob" and he throws it away.

We pull out and are driving for about 30 seconds when he says, "Wherdafucksmyhobdoggone?"

Rightio, son.

Anyway, this should have sent me a message: ALCOHOL IS BAD.

Luckily I chose to ignore that message and get smashed with the lads.

Vegie has to move out of halls at uni (tertiary education - pah!) cos:

A. Holidays.
and
B. He's going to Tasmania with SteveSteve on Monday or some shit. I'm like, "What the fuck? You just GOT BACK from Tasmania." They say, "Dude, that was over a year ago."

Whatever.

Anyway, we had to finish off all his leftover booze...

First, there were the cans of ouzo and coke.

I'm going to take a guess at why these remained.

It's fucking ouzo.

It tastes like liqourice.

I like liquourice.

And I like liquor.

But I don't like them in the same fucking thing.

Ouzo is... Ouzo is... Why the FUCK do people drink Ouzo?

Because they have run out of every other alcoholic drink.

Then, into the cask wine.

Fun times.... fuuuuuuun times. I vaguely remember experimetning with how many pool balls we could fit in our mouths. I may have been photographed making gestures that will ensure I can never be prime minister....

Oh well, I guess I'll have to settle for taking the country by force.

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