leaving base camp

So I ventured out Friday night. After, mind you, some dude from Couch Discount Warehouse approached me with a flier at my window, and I completely freaked out and told him to Step. Away. From. The. Vehicle; in a manic sort of “Fuck!” kind of way – I went to a drinks do. I purposely ensured I knew no one there, only the host.

Ended up playing – and winning – yeah – Shithead against a bevvy of boys all evening. Men, well most of them, are so predictable. It's rather hilarious when you have a heightened sense of awareness at any rate. I was essentially pretty stoked, I made new male friends and they were all clustered around me at a table playing Shithead, all evening. No girl is going to complain about that, I mean come on. Heaven really. I met an exotic Italian, an interesting freelance writer bloke, and a dude with Please speak slowly...I don't understand Idiot. on his shirt – and Whale was a great host. You can't really ask for more. You're the chick, you're surrounded by men, you're playing a sometimes-ace hand at Shithead, you're wearing your knits – only because you're being very feminine - and for some reason cardigans are turning you on - and yet, it's all happening.

On Saturday I went to Dick's farewell. Now Dick is definitely my favourite ex - like ever – we're mates and all that – and we had a great dinner then a proper frollick in his jacuzzi until the early hours, playboy mansion party-style. Why is Dick going to Australia for 6 months? It sucks – out of all the ex's, why does my favourite have to leave? I mean, he's the one who looked after me after my smash and grab and break up, and now he has to go. Ironic really, yes.

The party was nice, though. And bearing in mind, I don't really leave the house unless I'm really sure it's gonna be a) safe and b) safe with people I actually want to see.
We ended up in the jacuzzi into the early hours of the morgen – me, Moogs, Dick and a few others. It was a good party. Drinking a mojito here and there and wearing a white bikini. Yikes. Thing is, I've seemed to have lost 5 kgs over the last 4 weeks, so yeah, I didn't feel too bad about stripping off.
Although I did run into his dad whilst saying, “Moogs I'm getting my skanties on! Oh hey Mr Dick, remember me?”

Ah well, I really wish him the best. Good luck with those Kangaroo Jockeys and Sheep Shaggers big guy.

In other news, my scarf is a fucking wonder of life, the thing has a personality of its own. I should approach Sowearto and other shops to sell my scarves. I don't need a pitch, the product literally speaks for itself.

Oh and last night....well. If I could tell you, I most certainly would. The most obscure and yet hedonistically weird thing of last week has taken an interesting turn. Maybe it's time to start a new blog. Because this, my friends, would knock your socks right off your very toes. It leaves me wondering. And questioning. And Oh My God-ding.