Did I win the update race?

Heather is in town, which would mean a whole lot of debauchary was in order if it didn’t actually mean that right now the two of us are both sitting as silent as church mice or the dead baby mouse that Sebby brought me the other day, typing away on our respective laptops. Of course, she has the Internet connection, which means that I am reduced to merely writing down the stories that I want to tell in Notepad, but since I think she’s debugging Hubris, I guess I will forgive her. Somehow I will find it in my heart.

Last night she and I and KateH ate heartily at Chumeez, and I got confused about what city I was in, just for a change. I’m the one who’s supposed to be the visitor, not them. However, because it was my local I was able to guide us to the good food on the menu, rather than the scary alien mushroom dish, although the orange beef was described as “meaty chocolate” at one stage. Now there’s an appealing dish. Before that Karen and I had been drinking bubbly in the hot hot sun, but I wasn’t drunk, more just sleepy. Not as sleepy as the other two, who called it quits at 9pm. I suspect they snuck away for a secret rendevouz, which is like, totally wrong and naughty.

Despite the sleepiness, I found myself thoroughly unable to sleep, and at 4.30am I was staring in horror at myself watching ‘Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner?’ unable to turn it off until I found out who the “celebrity” was (Gary McCormick) and wondering what aliens and foreignors must think if they ever hacked our TV signals. It’s not a pretty image. If we get bombed, I say Suzanne Paul is to blame.

There were vaguely chef-y dreams, probably inspired by the Hey Monkey site, but with added bonus of cute boys, and then I was woken at 11am by Heather calling for brunch. I contemplated sneaking in another 15 minutes of sleep, but then she rang to say that they’d be picking me up so I was good and got my shit together. Heather’s sister Sheryl was driving, so we went to pick up Jessie and then went to Eva Dixon’s out by the zoo. I’ve only been there once before and remember it not being good – like they took forever with the food or something, I can’t remember exactly what the problem was. Probably just too many noisy children or something? Yeah, that was it, I think – I had a mild hangover and it was so LOUD that I couldn’t hear anything my friend was saying and it made me grumpy. That wasn’t the case today, but everyone got their eggs and in fact Heather and Sheryl had finished theirs before I saw a waiter and the counter staff arguing over a plate that looked like mine should have looked, so I got their attention and they finally brought it over, but I had to send it back because suprise suprise, the fries were cold, and I’m not paying 15% extra for cold fries, no siree. Still, the coffee was good.

Then we decided to go to Noizy’s and I managed to bluff my way to finding their street, after stopping off to buy ice cream as a gift. Jessie played soccer with the boys while we gossiped, and then out came the fimo. I made a drunken Frenchman. Do I even need to say that he was drunk? That’s like saying a military solider. In fact, if you’d seen him, in his jaunty beret, I wouldn’t have even needed to say that he was French. But there you go. There was a ridiculous amount of talk Internet and NZm related, so I felt bad for anyone who wasn’t part of that world. I was kind of hoping that Natalie would stop in for a cup of tea, but she was probably drunk somewhere playing pokies. At least I got ice cream in a waffle cone. I’m starting to suspect that dairy and I will no longer enjoy a cordial relationship – unlike Heather and I who are now sitting at opposite sides of my tiny dining room table, and since I now have the Internet connection, I will upload this since I’ve come full circle. Hurray.

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