We'll be here next Saturday, with our guns and our heads held high....

I am sure I have forgotten someone. I just sent a few texts out inviting people to come and have dinner with me on Wednesday to celebrate my imminent departure and it is entirely possible that I have forgotten someone REALLY important and have just made an enemy.
Of course, I have only texted people who will be in Christchurch on Wednesday. I is clever, you see.
So, my point is that if I like you and you are in Chc on Wednesday night come to the Flying Burrito Brothers. Or not, whatever.

Today I bought swimming togs because being the demented retard that I am I left mine in the great state of Zoo York, and I tried on this pair and was making faces in the mirror and my mum said "What do you not like about them?" and I said "THE GIGANTIC FAT BODY THATS IN THESE TOGS!!!"
I am so fat, cars swerve to miss me and run out of petrol.
I am so fat when I go to the movies, I sit next to everyone.
I am so fat, I have my own gravitational pull.

Whoever said "May you live in interesting times" was referring to me and mine, because life is interesting and rarely ceases to be so. Today, perhaps as a result of all the interesting combined with some tired and some hormones and some Holy-mother-of-God I am so fucking sick of the rain-itis I was in a big sad, and was completely miserable and my skin had worn too thin. I went home and said to my dad "I am grumpy and foul" and he suggested a wee lie-down, which did the trick nicely, and while I am not exactly a gigantic ball of fluffy kitten-like sunlight, I am no longer radiating black clouds of doom and despair. Jolly good news.

And finally, I am beginning a rather short and completely un-campaign-like campaign to get our dear Sunshine to come and see The Living End at the House of Blues on Sunset Strip this Friday. The Living End are awesome and doth indeed rock, and I am possessed with an inexplicable urge to leap around like a fool and shout WE-E-E-EST E-E-E-END RIOT!!!!

And that will be all for now, except for the fact that terrorists are complete twunts and I am no longer allowed my handcream on the plane, and am therefore unlikely to be allowed to carry several bottles of duty-free 42 Below Feijoa vodka to sustain me through the harsh winter months to come and will be forced to drink inferior non-tropical fruit flavoured drinks and shall become bitter and die withered and alone surrounded by cut-out pictures of beaches and delicious fruit.