It Only Hurts When I'm Conscious.

I know a lot must have happened lately, because my fingers are kinda stumbling around the keyboard saying "What does this button do?"

First, I'll set the scene.

I'm in bed, and I absolutely stink.

I am covered in sweat, and have the chills like the Flying Nun record label has the chills (ie: totally).

My head is pounding, my legs and back ache, and my level of health is so low I'm not entirely convinced I'm not actually dying right now.

But on the bright side, at least now I have an excuse to lie here, catch up on all your assorted writingses (sic from Hell), and swill orange juice and chocolate chip muesli bars.

That's the thing about me- even when I've been up all night ejecting the contents of my stomach orally, I can still put away an immense amount of food.

I think that when I know I'm going to die, say, when sepsis has overtaken the gunshot wound I'll get in my stomach one day, I am totally going to say to my wingman Greg "Quick! I'm dying! Get me to a hamburger joint!"

But I digress.

The last week or so between xXxmas (uneventful) and New Years (surprisingly fun) has been a blur of various head traumas, heart traumas, and the disgusting knowledge that there are people (and I use that term loosely) out there in the City of Me!bourne, that have no problem not only making up nasty rumours (I beat women, don't you know?), but disseminating them (which is a bit like inseminating them, but nowhere near as fun).

Gross.

I'm glad to say my head is all better now, but I was pretty scared for a minute there, as I just slept endlessly (they say this is normal), although spending 48 hours at a stretch asleep is a bit of a waste of time, (even for me).

My heart is in all kinds of disrepair, after accidentally bumping into an ex girlfriend from four years ago downtown, and who I am a bit ashamed to admit I never came close to getting over.

She wants to leave her boyfriend and get back together.

I had to exercise willpower I never knew I had, in order to politely decline (I belong to all of you, now she knows that).

But oh my god, that was like, the temptation of the millenium, right there, let me tell you.

She looks like MEGAN GALE.

I also met a girl on New Years Day, who loves the following things (in no particular order):

-me.
-farts.
-porn (OMG!)
-getting cummed on (OMFG!!!)
and generally being so all-time hot, that pants explosions are not only par for the course (or in my case 'corpse'), but actually de-rigeur.

Shame she lives in Sydney.

And before all you lovely online buddies of mine congratulate me for making with the hot secks with such a perfect creature, I didn't.

We just talked about it.

She did fart on my hand though, which made me love her so hard, words just won't do.

"So, how was New Years?"

Dude! I'm stoked you'd ask!

Let's get one thing straight between us right now-. I had zero expectations of NYE.

All's I wanted, was to get Greg hooked up with a lovely lady (any one would do), for a midnight pash, and I'm ashamed to admit, I failed miserably in this endeavour.

Greg is the nicest guy in the world, and in my experience, girls don't dig that.

They like guys like me, who blatantly ignore them/say "What was your name again?" after sex/tell them their friends are a pack of total fucklords (especially their best friend)/ Never, ever call...that sort of thing.

Girls like guys who don't like girls...it gives them something to (think they can) change.

So Greg and I made our own fun.

We:

-Went to the Tote and saw the awesome powerhouse of hard rock that is THE BLACKLIST.

-Went to a private party in FITZROY, and laughed at dumb indie kids, and drunk stripey-top wearing ho-bags.

-Went to Cherry Bar and hung out with TENACIOUS D.

-Let me repeat that one- Went to Cherry Bar and hung out with TENACIOUS D !!!

-Went to Pony Bar to watch (read: totally lose my shit over Mel, the bass player from) REMAKE REMODEL. That girl is all kinds of fine.

-Made an appearance at the (God-forsaken) CARLTON CLUB, to meet Sydney internerds from Mess and Noise, and to talk AC/DC tours of days past, with drunk 50 year old lonely guys, who were fucking good sorts actually.

-Sashayed into the DING DONG LOUNGE at 7 am for the recovery party, where I'm positive I contracted ebola off the dancefloor.

-and home to bed after a big plate of vegemite sangas, to sleep for the next 2 days.

My Assyrian friend Ninevah had dropped off 600,000 kilos of Shepherds Pie her Mum had made for me, and I'm trying to get over my sickness so I can eat it.

How amazingly cool are wogs???? (Her words, not mine...relax).

They're just so all-about eating, I adore them.

"Knifey! You're not weighing in at 500 pounds, your'e WASTING AWAY!!! Quick, eat this".

I *heart* The Haddads.

Anyway, I have to go wash the disgusting funk off my body, change the sheets, and crawl back under the covers now.

Hopefully I'll make it back on here without a whole week passing...or me passing.

blech.

I think my house is on fire.

This is knifey, from 'the internet'.