So last night, I went walking with Gutter Boy, Lady and an unidentified small, monkey-like friend (who may have been based on the Librarian from the Discworld novels). The monkey-like friend, who we shall call Hozay - his name was Spanish but I can't remember it - was frolicking and capering and generally dancing about and being annoyingly vivacious. I decided to join him.
As we capered through the cityscape, I discovered that if I balanced just right, I could slide down the hills on my shoes as if I were on a snowboard, and I could also do face slides and rolls. Somewhere along the way, somebody slipped something into my Powerade and it made me able to fly. So then I was sliding down the hills and lifting off, doing aerobatics over the people and landing lightly in front of them.
Until I flew off the edge of a railway embankment. At which point I soared for an indefinite amount of time and landed in a squelchy part of the Botanic Gardens, where I was found babbling and gibbering by Paul the Wannabe DJ. He took me back to his gingerbread cottage and forced me to listen to him playing bad mixes on his guitar/deck (he had a mixing deck that worked like a guitar - way cool!) until Lady came and rescued me by shrivelling him to a small, dried up little crusty thing with a stare. Watch out for that withering look!
Gutter Boy and Hozay were last seen cavorting in the upper levels of the Botanic Gardens.
Anyone care to interpret that for me? ;-)
In other news, the bus driver who almost left me behind on Monday, went past this morning as I was walking down the road. And he pulled in and waited for me! He gets the Tats Special You're Awesome Award for today.
For those who I met on the way to work this morning - walk up Cuba to Abel Smith, turn left, look across to the south side of the road (about 20m along) and you'll see the Southern Cross. Hope to see you there. *smile*
Also, today is all about the underwear. It's holding my skirt up. The skirt is *counts* OMG 15 years old! O.o *meep* etc.. and the elastic waistband finally gave up the ghost as I was running for the bus. Yay for good supportive panties, I say!
Yes, when I get good clothes, I keep 'em till they die. It's one of the bonuses of making a fashion statement that is basically "Fuck fashion." Boo for this one finally throwing in the towel.
By this afternoon I will have been paid *insert silly amount of money here* for simply turning up to work and doing nothing for a week. My boss, who I spoke with this morning, is cool with this.
We shall call it 'easing back into it gently.'