"Oh Jesus." "You better believe it man, nobody fucks wit de Jesus."

Back when Mark Wahlberg was Marky Mark, here's how we used to make the party start
We'd MIX in with Bacardi Dark, and when it KICKS in you can hardly walk
and by the 6TH gin you're gonna probly fall and my preDICtion is you're gonna probly barf.

Oh Eminem.

I haven't posted since last Sunday, and that is bad for 2 reasons. I don't want to be a weekend blog warrior, and also it's going to make me look like an alcoholic, cause you know what usually happens on saturday. . .

But seriously, last night. It was game on, I could make about 6 entries out of last night. Suffice it to say there was some loud drinking, partying, and what traditional folk might refer to as "carrying on". Although I would argue that things got carried off last night, maybe even off and away. Bobber was here, Will was in full effect, Alaina was over, her housemate Katie and Dano her boyfriend were here. . . Jay - on fire. His character profile will be coming up in the near future. Some car bombs were done, Dano and I ripped some live guitar for better or for worse, especially when the harmonizing to Chris Isaacs started. Jeez, where have I been without knowing how to play that for so long? Pretty sure there was a didj session and some djembe-ing as well. . . then when everyone was sufficiently smashed to just call it a night, we up and snowball fought our way all the way to a keg party. We yelled above the crowd and made outrageous claims all night. Bob tested Will's limits with insults, and I wore an apron that I found on the way in that said "Kiwi Bloke" on it. I put it back on the way out.

After we got home, Will, Jay and I realized suddenly that we had a huge Hate on for our old coffee table, which was now a broken pane of glass and a wooden frame. We pulled it out from under the new one, dragged the whole assembly outside, and in a matter of angry office space fax machine seconds, we reduced it to glass shards and wooden splinters. "PC Loadletter, what the FUCK does that mean?".

Then, when we realised it was 3:15, after taking some pictures of the passed out Mack who was now home, we took some more shots of the slingshot aiming at his face (empty of course, jeez) and Will hauled him off to his own bed. Good old Mack. Pretty sure there was an ego contest between Will, Jay and I to see who could dump more water on one spot on the floor. Jay got the most, yes, by dumping a salad bowl of water on the floor - but I wouldn't say any of us were really winners in this game, since we all have to wait for this puddle in the carpet to dry . . . Think we also left a huge penny mark in the wall from the slingshot. Tonight I'm going to make the wise decision of bringing my spud gun from home. Sweet.