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Saturday 25th January, 2003 - http://turkeyphant.livejournal.com/
Last Saturday.
Oh, I had the most fun I have had for ages. Possibly the best night I've ever had here that was actually genuine. I was sitting in the Vine (that's the computer room, you jargon-lesson jockers) trying to read Livejournal whilst avoiding the scourge of people peering over my shoulder. In walked Val and proffered to me a Pez from his newly demonised dispenser that had been ravaged by flame under my instruction.

I showed him goatse, and he allowed me to blag a visit back to his room for a drink.

Thus, that Saturday evening, I went back to Val's room to drink his beer. We were taught a drinking game by Eric, which Hinnerk adapted. Hinnerk is an incredible German genius guy - a real budding Noam Chomsky in every way. He makes humorously superb rebuttals in debating. Thus, I mocked him for going to Cambridge (or somewhere) to read stupid economics.

Us four fellows (Eric, Val, Hinnerk and myself) readily entertained ourselves for the remainder of the evening in a similar fashion. Bonus rounds during the quarters marathon included the synonym game, the antonym game, the etymology game and the definition game. Much fun was had by all. I remember that we were all very confused at one point when, for no apparent reason, we all failed to find the coin that was currently in use, despite much frantic-calm searching. Eventually I think we were forced to continue with a pound coin displaying a lamentably low coefficient of restitution.

As time wore on, the music got worse (tended toward rap) and Val wasted more money on his is-she-isn't-she expelled chick who, last I heard, was residing somewhere in Africa (about halfway down and to the left). He collapsed on his bed and, soon after, Hinnerk dementedly attacked my scalp with a heavy-duty bible/hymn book/thesaurus. We presently relocated to Eric's room without having to say anything. And I thought nothing of it. And then remembered that Hinnerk is very much like TD. Rather eerily similar, in fact.

And so, we finished off the crate and washed it down with vodka in Eric's bedroom. Not a lot happened. I think we tried to play The Streets so I could hear The Irony Of It All but we got bored when Mike Skinner appeared not to work his magic as effectively as remembered. A brief stint in Hinnerk's room allowed me to survey his hacking platform (urgh, Windows) and peruse his bookshelves (suitably Chomsky-with-a-politics-hat, as I suspected - almost scarily so). Back to Eric's and not much happened again. I believe it was decided that the fools would venture out for a "fag", and that is why we were pretending to creep around the corridors at roughly one am.

"Wow, we're totally wankered, dudes!!!!!!!!!11oneoneone"

"Shhh, it's quite late."

"Ja, sure. Like fucking Mr. Dath will come round now-"



Somehow, I managed to make a feeble excuse and staggered back to my room to lie wide-awake, trying not to throw up. I learned the next morning that Hinnerk was left to deal with the mess. The Dathbomb's aftermath. We met around nine in the laundry room after showering to sort out a contingency plan and basically absolve myself from as much blame as possible. Hinnerk had a scheduled "talk" with Dath but, as it turned out then and following, I walked away absolutely blameless - completely unquestioned by Dath. Seems my unglazed eyes worked their charms yet again.

Still, back then the worst was yet to come. I'd woken up stupidly early, and my genes of awesomeness this time failed to spare me the most heinous brain-shearing hangover of all time. As per usual, we walked out across the crisp frosty paths and headed to the cathedral education centre for the alternate-Sunday's Sixth Form Talk. It was to be spoken by that pompous textbook-writing physicist, Dr. Allday. And I thought I hated that man when I learned how close friends his Mac and prostate are... Despite his laboriously slaved-over silly equations and amateurish PowerPoint presentations, I learned only one thing from that lecture and accompanying eternal question session: Allday != hangover cure.

Anyway, that was how the second day of my now-infamous dead-time weekends started. I'm sure this place should be a lot more depressing than I'm currently able to make it. Maybe given time?


Apart from that, nothing much has happened. I know; again. We all had a huge discussion about world politics and theology with the house-Muslim, Abdullah, one night. But, so soon after the Saturday, that got cut short again - we were totally busted by Dath screaming at us to sleep. Still I've had many other fun times and late-night chat with various 6as over the last few weeks. Topics have ranged from seduction of Asian chicks, to Jackass stunts, Japanese alphabets and freestyling to human beatboxes and a chronology of Jordan branded Nike trainers. Also, as Eric never seems to go to sleep just like myself, we have become intimately acquainted with his bottles of spirits and Ocean Spray. This recreation too, I guess unsurprisingly, does not seem to mix well with double Mrs. Browning - quite possible the most inanely mind-numbing woman alive.


It was only a couple of days later, after counting up the empty cans and taking photos by blutacking auto-timer cameras on the ceiling, that we realised quite how much alcohol mighty mighty quarters had helped us to consume. Between us four, we had made our way through about forty cans of export lager and survived to tell the tale (except Val). It gave enjoyable memories.


And then, on Monday evening, I came back to find the whole house assembled in preparation for receiving a rather irate bollocking from Mr. Dath. Being permanently stoned as he is, Eric had only just noticed that his laptop had begun to seep out urine. Indeed, it is just what you are thinking - sometime over the weekend someone had urinated within his personal computer. No matter how irresistibly funny I immediately found this news, we were all assured it was a Very Serious Matter and there was much talk of expulsion, DNA tests, confessions, video cameras and policemen. The general mood was not a genial one.

You would have laughed, right?

    mood: bored bored
    choon: The Cooper Temple Clause - Did You Miss Me