- The Birdman (Our Lady Peace)

Well, now that Mum's gone home things can only get better. And they did. Last night was decent, as big Villi and I decided to take a well-earned study break (well, for him at least) and hit Shadows (our student bar) for beer. Beer is nice. After I had a few Coronas and he'd had three jugs of Speights, we were both a little tipsy (he had obviously drunk more, but he's also built like a brick sh!thouse and a foot taller than moi) we headed down to Fordes (the debate nerds bar of choice, where no one checks ID and getting hammered is a Thursday night ritual) to join everyone who had finished debating (we weren't in the finals) for drinks. The big man and I ended up doing a duet of November Rain (him on piano, me singing) and would have repeated it if it wasn't from the threats of the guy behind the bar. Tom, my second favourite Irishman behind my step-grandpa (followed by the guy who invented Kilkenny, Mark and then the guy who Invented Guinness) was away, but the bartenders knew us well enough.

Jump Around (House of Pain)

Anyway, I'm actually working on a little rap metal project right now. Once I finish the song, I'll stick it here and Facebook. And I'm reviving my old nickname as MC Shadow. (Yes, I am well aware that there is a DJ Shadow, but DJ and MC are different, noobs).

Killing In The Name (Rage Against The Machine)

And tonight's gonna be awesome. Why? It's the debating society's end of year dinner. And one thing I have learnt about the DebSoc is that any function is merely an excuse to get pissed. Very, very pissed. Thropy down in Palmie, post-Thropy party, mid year dinner, Kornfeld's leaving party, Craig's 21st, even our weekly Fordes ritual. I once opined that the society runs on alcohol and no one argued with me. And it's just before exams, so everyone's looking to blow off some steam. I'm fairly sure that I'll be in terrible shape tomorrow vowing to never drink again. Only to repeat the ritual after exams finish and I have my own leaving NZ party. It'll also be my chance to reunite with Grimwolf, who I haven't drunk with for too long. Although last time was of course on Kings Cross, where he claimed he was black, spat on two cars and propositioned a fat gay dude who accepted. I wonder if he ever got paid, cause tightarse sure didn't buy any drinks the next day at the bar.

Prisoner of Society (the Living End)

So, see you guys later.

Quote of the Week: "Maybe we should warn her. And offer to be her body guards. That's right, bodyguards." That would be Comrade Hank, aka Hank the Tank (the first one is because he's Chinese and taunted me about my libertarian views and the second speaks for itself). Said after I mentioned that I'd probably get so drunk I'd hit on everything with a pulse, especially Gretta, who was right behind him (I knew it, he didn't). She laughed and said she would consider my proposal. But as much as my little head would want to sleep with her, the big head says that she and the rest of the society would never forgive me if I did. But I'm not gonna be here next year, and the little head tends to dictate most of my thought processes. Flirting it is.