THIS ONE GETS FINISHED!!! After the horrendous display of procrastination following the Lizzy's 18th and Formal blogs, I hereby swear upon my honour that this fucker gets done IN ONE GO! Let us begin.

Last night I went to Ali Gunn's 18th as a plus one of Mr. Fred Shea. As I got him invited to a 1/4 of all the parties I've gone to, as well as tried to get him invited to another 1/4, he owed me one, and came through in spades (after Jeames nagged him incessantly that if he didn't ask Ali if I could come along, he'd be acting like an asshole).

On a quick trip up the street to buy four bottles of "booze" from the corner store around from Fred's house, I dropped in to see how he and Jeames were going. They were fine, but as it turned out, Benji was hung over and sick after the Oklahoma afterparty - meaning once again, a party with all four of us there was not meant to be. I was told they'd pick me up at 6:30 sharp, and I'd have to be dressed in my best. As it was 6:10 when I left, and I hadn't had dinner, I sprinted the way home.

So, it was a dress occasion. Decked out in my best black shirt, black suit jacket, black suit pants, bright yellow tie and white sandshoes, I stepped out of my parents' house not knowing it was gonna be THIRTY FRICKIN' DEGREES that night. Hobart weather has SUCH a sense of irony.

When I arrived with my compatriots, the bouncer at the front door of the Navy club (where it was held) made me open my freezer bag and present all the bottles in there. As I'd brought my school shoes along (in case the sandshoes didn't go down so well) and put them on top of the bottles, it was an exercise in patince showing them to the (really quite friendly) bouncer. However, I would regret a joke (after he'd check the seals and labels on the first three) where he asked if there were anymore bottles and I said, "Oh yeah, there's the bottle I filled with Vodka down the bottom." Awkward pause. He checked that bottle VERY carefully.

I can't remember what happened next... I think it was at this point that Jeames and I peeled away from Fred and went to hang out with Pat, with whom we spent a good deal of the evening. I know that parties are all about meeting new people, but I've always enjoyed just sticking with my mates at parties, or talking to friends I rarely talk to. Screw new people - they're scary and have odd haircuts.

Bodane, of course, was the DJ, with his portable speakers, and his Firewire, and his new-fangled "iPod" contraption. There were many incidents where randoms would unplug his iPod and plug there own in, much to his consternation. It took about three tries to put "Welcome to the Jungle" on, and some PHILISTINE took "Play That Funky Music" off less than halfway through.

Now that I think about it, I might go and download those songs.

Moving on! Being at the Navy Club, the area was quite vast, meaning it was easy to fit a lot of people in. I'm not sure how many people I was expecting, but I'd say "over a hundred" as a general estimate. So it was very loud, very hot (especially under the heavy blazer), and it was hard to dance without flinging out and hitting someone.

At one point I remember everyone linking hands and getting in a circle whilst "Funk Soul Brother" (I hate that song so much... I remember Dylan Moran doing a routine about it once where he said, "So basically, after a while, I started to get the subliminal messages of this song. Basically, a lot of people were waiting for someone called the Funk Soul Brother, and they were all quite excited about him getting there. I don't know why they were excited about him getting there... maybe he had cake?" [how much have I gotten in these brackets? I bet you've all forgotten that this is just an interlude within a sentence, and not a proper sentence unto itself. I guess I could've rewritten this paragraph 'til it looked better and was easier to read... *sigh*]) was playing, and when we had about 30-odd people in there, Nick Harrison shoved me in the middle. Everyone wanted me to get down & dirty, but I opted for a polite bow and running out again. After this, the bald security guard (who was an uptight fuck) cautioned Nick, saying "You do that again, you're out the door." All he did was push me in a circle.

That security guard gave a lot of people grief over the course of the night. When I went out to get some fresh air, he made me go back inside because "only the smokers are allowed outside", and when Fred went to stretch his legs, the guard said, "You'd better be back by 10 or I'm not lettin' you back in." Fred went walking at 8:30.

I have two rather painful blisters on the outside of my big toes from the way I was "dancing" last night. Parodying the dancing style of Elwood from That Musical I Really Like, I was, for want of a better expression, "getting down", and once or twice I was in the middle of a small circle with everyone seeing how far down I could go. I can't describe the dancing really. If you want to see how I was dancing, ask me for a demonstration. I also did the highland jig.

Now, Pat doesn't dance, nor does he appear in photos. So what did Jeames and I spend a large portion of the night doing? Trying to get Pat dancing or in a photo. At one point, while Pat was talking to Maddy & Cat, and Jeames was screaming at him to dance, I grabbed his left hand and tried to force him to do the foxtrot, yelling "YOU DON'T HAVE A CHOICE!!!" He didn't move an INCH.
 
When I first took my camera out, Nic snuck up behind me and yelled "PICTURE WHORING!!" in my right ear, damaging my hearing significantly. When I told him this, he said, "So if I were to try and talk to you again, I'd have to yell really loudly for you to hear it." This was accompanied by a maniacal grin. Jeames then snatched my camera and ran off taking photos of people. But mainly Pat.

Now that I think about it, we were really quite horrible to him.

After all the dancing (though I did pass on Caitlin's invitation to do the Macarena), I had to go into the foyer to do some stretches, 'cause my excrutiatingly bad dancing was excrutiating on two levels... I'm SO glad I'm not a tap dancer. I stood in the foyer stretching for about 5 minutes, then went back in to enjoy the festivities.

When I got back inside, Pip made a start on Ali's birthday speech. And it was... interesting, to say the least. Maybe made a few comments that went below the belt, and I noticed my good mate Fred was absent throughout the monologue. Jeames and I were very sort of... noisy towards the speech, loudly "AW" ing at the sappy parts laughing at the funny parts, and clapping maybe a BIT too loud during the applause. I've always liked those parts of the 18ths I've gone to (all 2 of 'em - well, 4 if you include 18th lunches and LANs), because it's where the best friends can actually tell the whole world what they think of their bestie. I'm quite looking forward to making a speech at Jeames' and Fred's 18ths - I shall spare no mercy.

Afterwards was when we started bumping into people. I said hi to Tim Blacker, had a chat with Cyton Tong (Cyton with blonde hair... OMG), shared some of the mineral water I had with a couple of friends (can't remember who), and bumped into a girl I went to primary school with.

Near the end of the party, I was sitting next to Fred, who was having a chat to someone near the sound system. He introduced us - the fellow's name happened to be Marcus. When we were shaking hands, he asked if I was Marcus Johnson. I said yes. He then asked if I remembered the name Marcus McRae. I said yes - he was my best friend in kindergarten. And as it turned out, the guy I was shaking hands with WAS my best friend from kindergarten, who I hadn't seen in over 12 years.

We sat down and had a chat about what had been happening in our lives since he left New Town. It was... surreal bumping into him, and he kept saying "I can't believe it. I didn't even know you were still in Tasmania!" When I told him it was only the 5th party I'd ever gone to, he called me a "party virgin" and said he'd have to bring me along to some more. Being honest, I'd like to take him up on that.

After a lengthy d&m, he had to get up to a help a friend who'd had a stiletto put through her foot, but not before we swapped MySpace addresses. Fred said, as soon as Marcus had gone away, "We have GOT to invite him to something." It just goes to show, you NEVER know who you're gonna bump into at these sorts of events.

I had this crazy idea that if I went to bed late the night before and slept in, my brain would be adequately prepared for a late night on Sunday. This backfired in EPIC proportions, as multiple times throughout the night I would have to lie down and close my eyes, snatching the briefest excuse of a nap. Each time, Jeames was nearby to whack me several times until I got up again. This got quite painful when the leg cramps kicked in after the dancing.

All good things must come to an end, and the place was thinning out by 11:30. Everyone was outside before 11:45, and everyone stayed around outside the Navy club waiting for their parents to come and pick us up. Whilst waiting outside, Tennick gave a critical appraisal of the outfits worn by Mr. Shea, Mr. Bone and myself. Shockingly, he picked my get-up as the best ("The white shoes, with the black suit, and the yellow tie, on the black shirt... I like that"), though as he'd drunk two bottles/litres/bags (it changed every time someone told the story) of Goon (spelling?) that night I'm not sure his opinion could be trusted.

Everyone hugged Alison goodbye, and when I thanked her for inviting me, I promised to write a blog about her 18th as a way of saying thank you. This was followed with "why don't you just invite me to yours?", and I felt kind of silly.

It was such a beautiful night that I wouldn't have been fussed walking home, but my parents insisted that father come to pick me up. Since Fred lives up the street from me and Jeames was staying at his house, my dad gave them a ride home as well. Now, whenever you offer to give a ride home to Fred, he usually stays around talking to people rather than going to where you're getting picked up, which can be a little frustrating at 12:00 in the a.m. Eventually, Jeames and I managed to drag him away, and we trekked through Hobart to where my dad was gonna pick us up. An uneventful trip, apart from a Greek cab driver leaning out his window and yelling "YOU LOOK LIKE A BUNCH OF HOMOSEXUALS!" as we walked past his car. Ah well - we actually made it past year 10, giving us the last laugh on the cab driver.

Father collected us, drove us home, I took my shoes off and slept. Today I wrote a blog on the 5th party I went to. I don't think I need to do another one for a while. So long everyone!

Pop quiz - what does Marcus James Johnson do when he hasn't even started a homework assignment that was due yesterday morning? Answer? HE BLOGS.

Now I'm very sorry for my random & unexplained absences over the last few months, but for a while I lost my passion for telling the world every juicy detail about my sad and uneventful life. That and I fucked up badly when I made fun of someone in a recent (HA!) post, and had to go to SUCH great lengths to fix things up, so I wasn't eagre to repeat the mistake and have my world come crashing down AGAIN.

Where to start... well, the summer holidays DIDN'T SUCK, which was a nice change from... oh, every holiday I've had for a couple of years. Although Maz was gone for a month, I managed to catch up with old pals Brady Harrison & Ben Phillips. Brady needs no introduction to any (to quote Ivan, "Brady who we used to lock in lockers?"), and as I've known him since grade 4 he's my oldest friend who I've stayed in touch with. Now, I hadn't seen him in about 2 years, and in that time he went Emo - so I was a little scared about meeting up with him. But the first time he stepped through my door and we started playing Perfect Dark (just like the days of Yore...), I realised he's the same old Brady, but with a cooler haircut, better defined biceps, and an awesome fashion sense. The two of us are anime buddies, slowly walking towards having a decent sized library (composed primarily of Dragon Ball Z and YuYu Hakusho) between us. The other friend, Ben Phillips, was a friend from year 9 I haven't seen since year 9, but we caught up in early January, went for an Outzone LAN, and the rest is history.

When Maz got back, I spent most of the rest of summer with her, hanging out and generally taking it easy. Nothing really blog-worthy to mention, or at least nothing that won't lead to me getting the shit bagged out of me by certain individuals (Dreyer, I'm looking at you), so let's pass over that section.

I was, however, crippled with a decent amount of nostalgia for years past, and terror for the coming year, which is my (and many others') last 12 months of scholastic education. I've more or less sorted through most of that by now, I'm still haunted by last year's drama class, which was more like a decent soap opera (anyone spot the oxymoron?) than an actual class - the knowledge that this year we all have to WORK in Drama did little to ease that anxiety. It was more a dating agency than anything else (every girl was either asked out or asked someone out over the course of the year), so when I stepped into the classroom for the first time to see one girl in a class of boys, I nervously looked around, sat in a corner, and tried not to draw too much attention to myself.

As the first lesson rocked around, I couldn't help but shake the feeling that this year's drama would be a bit like the Buu saga, which was the final arc in the story of Dragon Ball (unless you count the turgid non-canon rubbish that was GT). Let me explain this metaphor.

1. The Cell saga resolved every loose plot thread and gave every character a proper ending.

So why did we need another saga that contributed nothing to the overall story, had new characters take centre stage whilst old characters like Piccolo didn't even fight, and a villain that had NOTHING to do with any of the characters or old sagas?

How this relates to me:

I made some awesome friends last year, went a long way to conquering my fear of girls, refined my skills, and most importantly, met Maz. But I failed. So why'd I do a course I failed AGAIN!?

2. All the best characters were gone.

Krillin didn't even get to provide comic relief, adult Trunks was replaced with an annoying kid version of himself, King Kai was in about five pages.

How this relates to me:

The only year 12s doing Drama are me, Knowler, Fisty, and Sonners. All the cool people (Fred, Ivan, Alick, Thibaud, Sarah) are gone, and Maz & Lizzy have left school.

3. The old generation (Piccolo, Vegeta, Tien etc.) were completely superseded by the new generation (Gotenks, Vegetto).

None of the humans fought in the Cell saga, but not even Piccolo did any fighting in the Buu saga, because all the Saiyans (even 6 year old kids!) were stronger than him.

How this relates to me:

All the year 11s are better than I am.

So after a week or so of having my self-esteem ground to dust as my group of four and I (that sounded like bad grammar) worked on The Merchant of Venice, and I realised I'm shithouse at Shakespeare (alliteration ftw), I was seriously considering chucking in the towel and changing to Ancient Civs. So I had a chat to Mrs. Weeding after school one day about how I felt uncomfortable with what I was doing and how I wanted to change subjects. In a (very, very... VERY) rare moment of compassion, Weeds talked to me about how Shakespeare isn't meant to be easy, and Drama is supposed to be an actual subject, not a bludge line. She told me how last year she felt like everyone in our class was against her, and how hurt she was they were stuffing around and not taking her seriously - not to mention all the gossip that was going on, which made her feel left out as she felt they came to Drama to socialse, not to work. The thing that touched me the most was that she told me how much I'd improved over the year - this came as a shock as 90% of what she said to me was either criticism, going off at me for sticking notes on Nathan's back, and telling me not to paint the walls. Contrast this with Mr. Geale, who always told us how good we were rather than launching into this blatant criticism (ala Weeds), which ironically made us into better performers in a more effective way than Geale's positive attitude. And then I realised why I'd put my name down for Theatre Performance in the first place - at the end of the year, I'll play a major role in a production with three other talented (omit the "other"... I don't want to group myself with them. That would be arrogant) young men. For once in my life, I'll have a decent-sized role in a quality play watched by a packed audience. If I don't slog out this year and work hard, I'll never see my dream of 7 years (a major role in a high school play) come to fruition.

If I don't survive in the wilderness for 6 months, I'm just not worth training.

I've had a running joke for a while that Weeds is actually Demon King Piccolo, but using this metaphor, it's scary that I can link her with Saiyan saga Piccolo as well. (Piccolo trains Gohan for the battle with the Saiyans, 'cause Goku and his friends are too soft to do it the right way and bring out his massive potential)

So we toiled away at making The Merchant of Venice (my favourite Shakespeare play - I had a lot of advice to give on interpreting the language and characters) as good as it could be, and I was quite proud of how it went. Weeds' only criticism with my performance was that I made the wrong gestures with my bag of money. That was it. Roland of course managed to tear me to shreds when Weeds said "comments", but that just made me feel like... everyone else in the class. And I had fun watching himself humiliate himself onstage.

In short, I'm gonna stick with Drama, and I regret doubting it to begin with.

Well, I've gotta go - I'll talk to you some more soon!

The leading up to and night of/after the Fahan formal can be broken down into many different episodes, so I'll try something a little different with this one. It got so long it needs to be done in two parts, though I promise not to leave a 2-month gap between this one. This is dedicated to Lizzy, who nagged me incessantly as I was writing it.

THE TIE

On my two-month anniversary with Maz, we went into an op-shop looking for her formal dress. After finding one she was quite taken away with (bright yellow, which is incidentally both one of her favourite colours and the same colour as her name), we decided that the ultimate accompaniment to her bright yellow dress would be a bright yellow tie. However, as multiple shopping expeditions to some of the more upmarket clothing retailers across Hobart would determine, bright yellow ties are apparently in short supply in the late spring-early summer season.

We talked of substitutes, such as a gold-coloured tie, a pale gold-coloured tie, a marked yellow tie of alternating colours, and in the worst case scenario an orange or green tie. However, we held off actually buying a tie until about half a week before the date of the formal itself.

We trekked all over Hobart in the hopes of finding just one tie that would match Marigold's dress in terms of yellow hue and texture, though our efforts were in vain as none of the finest clothing retailers throughout the city of Hobart stocked bright yellow non-patterned ties. Myer didn't, nor did Roger David or Routley's (Routley's only sold shit) – the only store to try was Les Lees.

My father was kind enough to take me to Les Lees to hire out my formal suit – as luck would have it, whilst there we noticed that there were brightly coloured suits in all the colours of the rainbow (those colours being red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and purple, for those who did not watch Play School). Father said in jest that we should hire a yellow suit to go with Marigold's yellow dress – I politely declined. However, when Maz and I went to pick out the tie, we noticed that the yellow suit was the exact same colour as the dress Maz had picked out – so, with permission from the staff, we carried the suit around the store whilst looking for the tie.

As luck would have it, we found ONE TIE in the ENTIRE store that was the same shade of yellow as Marigold's dress – and it had a dirty mark on it, so we got 10% off (taking it from $30 to $27). Mother sent it to the dry-cleaners, and it came out looking beautiful – though one would think the cost of the dry-cleaning bill outweighed the saving of the discount.

THE MERCURY

It is common practice in Hobart that the Mercury (a tabloid, not a broadsheet) is in attendance of formals to snap photos of happy young couples to print the day after. Almost as soon as Marigold and I arrived, we were greeted by a Mercury photographer and promptly snapped with two other formalgoers. Lizzy and Alastair arrived a while after us, and upon finding out that we'd been happy-snapped, Lizzy set her heart on getting her way into the Mercury. After being photographed at least 3 times with Alastair, she was convinced she was getting in the paper.

She didn't. And we did.

All I can say is that I had a great time making fun of her for it afterwards!

THE TABLE

Maz and I sat on a table with her best friend Ana and a girl I know only as Lizzy P. Ana's date John was kind of nervous to be in an environment where he didn't know anyone, and so was I, so we kind of became formal buddies. The food served (beef rib on a sort of barley risotto) was interesting, to say the least; John described the risotto as "the kind of food I'd expect them to serve in prison", whilst Mellick said that the beef had "been through the microwave at least 5 times". Little time was spent at the table, as the food was obviously not the focal point of the night.

THE BAR

The bar was free until the tab reached a certain limit, so people were going for booze and soft drinks left right and centre. Some people were actually ordering drinks, putting them down, then ordering second drinks to take advantage of the free bar. If it hadn't been for the Coke on tap I doubt I would've been able to stay awake during the night.

THE DANCE FLOOR

Alastair was reluctant to dance with Lizzy for reasons that will be explored later, and this was making her quite unhappy. Though he was dancing with me, Gavin and Finnis, so dancing was not off the menu all together. The four of us sort of formed a gay dirty dancing quartet, and we were interchangeable during the songs our dates were off with other girls. As Finnis said as we danced in competition with the pairing of Ana and Marigold, "They're hot – but not as hot as us!"

The band were awesome, and played some pub rock classics that everyone sang along to. This was surprising, as I was expecting a piano, snare and clarinet-style ensemble like you see in the slow-dancing scenes in wedding movies. The lead singer was a dead ringer for our acting mentor Mr. Geale, who ironically was in a pub rock band in his younger days.

Throughout the night I danced with (in order of how much time I spent with them) Maz, Finnis , Alastair, Gavin, and Fiona (Maz's mum). I offered to dance with Lizzy, and I tried to dance with the Doctor, but both politely refused. As always ripping my dance moves straight from The Blues Brothers, I was the resident tap-dancer. Though I did a markedly better job than Mr. Malcomson, who danced by jumping up and down and swinging his arms above his head. He's about 6'5", and is quite well built, so you can imagine the panic his flailing caused on the dance floor. Watching him dance with the Doctor (who's about 5'11" and very, very thin) was remarkably similar to watching an unfilmed dance scene from Freddy vs. Jason.

THE ALCOHOL

At about 11:30, half an hour before we all left, most of us were outside relaxing and having a breath of fresh air. Taking a moment to stretch out and relax on the grass, I was confronted by a very pickled Rebecca Saunders and Edward Salter. Here is how the confrontation played out:

Saunders: EEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeedddddddDDDDDDDD!!! WHO'S THAT!?
Salter: Ugh… it's… MARCUS!!!
Saunders (very angry): Mar-CUS!! … I'm NOT IMPRESSED!!

The wasted couple then staggered off, and I mused that this was the first and probably last time either had spoken to me.

By this time it was around 12 am, so I'll write another blog summarising what happened after we left soon.

Hey everyone. I know I haven't updated in a blue moon, but that's because of these little things we've had after finishing school… we call the exams. And I was so busy taking it easy after finishing last week, I couldn't be bothered updating.

But they're over now, so I am.

Now, I've been having this problem as of late. My blogs have been getting so detailed they take FOREVER to write, so I have wisely decided to do this one in several installments, as it has a lot it needs to encompass.

I went to Lizzy's 18^th on Saturday night, which was the first 18^th I've been to. I missed Knowler's, though it looked so utterly shit I'm kinda glad I didn't go. When I got there, Kurt was sitting in a corner staring at the wall, Jade had thrown up on his socks and was looking for them, while McInerney was staggering around telling everyone how sober he was. Don was hosing vomit off the driveway. Methinketh the partygoers doth drank to excess.

In addition to being the first 18^th I'd been to, it was also the fourth party I'd gone to. Here is proof of how much God hates Marcus Johnson: I'd gone to three parties in my entire life, and then I was invited to two 18^ths on the same night. So, it was a choice between Lizzy's, and my cousin Rebecca's. I obviously couldn't be in two places at the same time, and I didn't want to spread myself too thin, so it was a choice between Rebecca's and Lizzy's. It was a tough call.

Rebecca's had 120+ people going, and it was down at the Sandy Bay Yacht Club. With bouncers. I think it was a pretty swanky shindig. Lizzy's had roughly 50 people going, and was in her backyard. I think it was more "intimate" than swanky. Rebecca is family, and the only cousin who invited me to their 18^th birthday party. Lizzy is the only girl other than Marigold I'd call a friend, but I haven't even known her for a year. Rebecca's was 8-11:30, Lizzy's was 7:30-12. The theme for Rebecca's was "What do you want to be when you grow up" – Lizzy's was "Pretty in Pink" (not as in the John Hughes movie – you had to go wearing something pink).

The ultimate decider was this – Rebecca's would have 120+ people who I didn't know there. Benji, Ivan, Alick, the Fist, and especially Maz would all be at Lizzy's. Given that most of my friends were gonna be at Lizzy's, I ultimately decided not to go to Rebecca's at all.

I messaged Rebecca over MySpace, where I wrote a grovelling, kiss-ass letter trying to explain how I wanted to go to Lizzy's party instead of hers. She didn't log into MySpace for a few days after I wrote that message, so I was left hanging for part of the week, until she said it was all good and I could go to Lizzy's. As Steve Miller said, you've gotta get through Hell before you get to Heaven.

My intended plus one, Tim Green, had cancelled out on me a week before the party, meaning I was going solo. I asked him along because he's older than me and has never been to a (proper, alcohol-inclusive) party in his life. However, he had relatives coming from Scotland the night of Lizzy's 18^th, and like me, he could not be in two places at once. I gave some heavy consideration to asking Jeames along, but decided not to, for fear of hurting Fred's feelings.

For some strange, bizarre reason, Fred was really disappointed that he wasn't invited to Lizzy's 18^th. I have absolutely no idea why, as he doesn't like Lizzy, and he knows Lizzy doesn't like him, so why would he expect to be invited? He kept dropping hints around Benji and I that he was bothered about not getting invited (have you got your invitations, so you know you're invited, has she said when it is, etcetera), but never actually went to Lizzy, since it was HER 18^th PARTY. Fred is one of my best friends, but even I don't understand him sometimes.

I thought about bringing Fred along as my +1, but decided against it. If Lizzy wanted to invite him, she would've. After some deliberation, I decided to bring Jeames along – of all of us, Jeames has gone to the least amount of parties (after yours truly, of course), plus he'd been stuck inside with a broken leg all month. It might hurt Fred's feelings, but there was nothing to stop Benji bringing him along as his plus one.

Benji has been trying for many moons to bring his close pal Louis along to parties and other events, but every time he has the opportunity to ask Louis, something comes up and Louis can't. It gets worse, as Benji has been promising all the girls in the drama class that they'll meet Louis "soon" –it's been the best part of 8 months since the two first met, and the girls are getting decidedly impatient. As Sarah said when Louis missed House Drama (where we owned Benji's ass) – "That boy had better be on his deathbed. Or I will make it so."

Back to the Fred situation – I had Fred, his (now ex) girlfriend Fran and Maz over the day before the party to watch Donnie Darko, where Fred revealed that he and Fran were going to a party that night anyway. This was a massive weight off my conscience: if I'd invited the Shea man, he would've gone to two parties in the weekend, while Jeames would've gone to none. This way, everyone was happy.

True, Jeames had only met Lizzy once before, and she kept calling him "Marcus's friend", but that didn't really matter. Where a party is concerned that promises "some alcohol provided", who gives a fuck if you know the host or not?

Now, as the theme was "pretty in pink", and I didn't own anything pink – save my old school blazer, which I felt was out of the question. So, 'twould be necessary to venture into the wild known as "town" to purchase something pink for the occasion. Lizzy said that anything pink would suffice – even a pink flower on the lapel. Maz said that her dad had a pink bowtie, and I needed to get black suit pants for speech night choir, so I decided to buy a second-hand suit jacket and do the whole tuxedo routine.

When looking for a shirt to wear to my cousin Bryony's 21^st, Maz showed me an op-shop (run by a 1990's Freddy Mercury) overflowing with nice suit jackets at obscenely low prices. We went back to that shop, and found a near-new double-breasted suit jacket for $19 – although we did get into a spot of bother over whether it was black or dark dark blue. As it would be going with black suit pants and shoes, the colour was a big deal indeed. After a while, we decided that since the party was at night anyway, it didn't make a bit of difference.

Jeames lives out in Howden, which is past Margate (I think). Since he couldn't get a ride to Lizzy's joint in Howrah with any convenience, he came over to my place for the afternoon before we went off. Which was pretty cool, since the last time he was over was that gaming day we set up for Fred. Which Fred didn't go to.

Now, I know I rip on Fred a lot in my blogs, even though he's one of my three best friends. Truth is, even though he's a really great friend, he's also a really easy guy to make fun of.

TO BE CONTINUED

Hello, all! After my self-imposed exile from MySpace, I figure I'm pretty much better, but to be honest, I haven't been updating lately because I just feel... burnt out. Two or three times I've tried to write a blog but I've been unable to write the entire thing. In any case, I'll come back eventually, but with end of year exams coming up, it may be a while before I update properly.

I had my practical drama exam today... and it's a testament to how much God hates me that I've had a cold since last Monday. Yesterday it was so bad I lost my voice, and I had to get a doctor's certificate in case it went completely on the day. Thankfully I could speak today, though not 100%.

I think I went okay in my solos, but the group piece may have left something to be desired. I'm not really keen on going into detail about the exam... it's done, it's over with, I don't want to worry about it. Though there was one particularly bad incident where early in the group piece I looked up at the sound and lighting booth and saw Sarah and Benji fooling around with exaggerated hand gestures. I nearly smiled, and I hope to God the examiners didn't see me.

Well, I'm off. I'll be back, but probably not for a while. Thanks for reading, and tolerating my absence.

I used to post blogs on MySpace, but to be honest the whole networking thing was starting to bother me. So, after much nagging from Ivan, I finally decided to get a LiveJournal account. As some of my MySpace friends are switching to FaceBook, I decided "to Hell with these passing fads" and started an account solely for blogging.

f you want to read my old blogs, go to http://myspace.com/fish_spank and add me. Maybe they'll make you laugh. Maybe they won't. I'm not really fussed. So long!