My Weekend Review
It's now coming to the end of what's been only my second weekend in a long time. I've only had two weekends in the last 65 days. Sure, one of them was 58 days long but in terms of numbers two is not a very high one.
As weekends go, this four day one can best be expressed as a parabola function, positive, with a negative factor a little higher than its positive factor and a (4/11) marked in red pen evaluating just how well I think I did in expanding my metaphor using knowledge from year 12 maths. Wow, that was 3 years ago.
3 days ago was Thursday, and off I went in my recovery from the 2 days of uni i'd experienced in the 3 days prior to that. Numbers aside, the weekend did follow a rather up, down then up again pattern.
Thursday I slept in, ate some carbs, burnt some carbs... I think I coded something, then played and lost 2 games of basketball. After that I decided to go to Uni where apparently something called "the tav" was happening. So I went there with Chow. Pornland were playing there, and I didn't know who they were but I was told to dress as a porn star anyway so after trying to decide whether or not I should cut the arse out of my jeans (I eventually decided not to) I put on my sailors hat, padded my crotch slipped on a white shirt and some blue pants and away down the hill I went.
I don't recommend driving down hills with 3 socks in a ball being pressed against your crotch by the forces of gravity. Arriving at the tav, and then after waiting for 30 minutes, I finally entered it for the first time in my academic life that spans three years now. My first thought was 'Wow, pornland are a rock band'. Chow and I had a couple of beers and I met a few people and I began to think that maybe it would have been ok to cut the arse out of my jeans because I actually wasn't doing any sitting down at all. Chow and I stood and watched Pornland who were ok but who kept interjecting their set with references to their impending break up. Yelling 'break up!' at them didn't seem to hasten that process and they still had songs to go when I decided to investigate the bathroom situation and plotted my most direct route as being just through the dance floor.
It was at this stage of the walk that I was interrupted by a drunk Dusty yelling my name from a circle of people near the dance floor so I was temporarily distracted. Sensing my distraction, my padded crotch or perhaps both a girl from this circle then accosted me and suggested firmly that we should dance to pornland's last song ever in South Australia. So I danced, forcing my brain to try and remember all the things I learnt from the last time I danced with a girl in public, which was probably about nine months ago. Alarmingly this list didn't really contain much about 'what to do when dancing with a girl' in it, but the opposite would easily be said about the 'what not to do while dancing with a girl' portion and so I succesfully didn't do any of that. This seemed to work in my favour.
Leaving the tav later that night with Chow, who'd also made friends during the evening, although with a far less female companion, I commented that the tav was probably somewhere I should have started going to more earlier, and that I was probably going to continue padding my crotch everytime I went out. Chow wasn't quite as enthusiastic about the last part, possibly because I succesfully tested his catching reflexes by throwing my sock ball at him right before I got in the car to leave.
On Friday I went down to the gym at uni and spent the afternoon playing basketball, and this was quite an enjoyable time. That night I went to see the Vascoe Era and Regurgitator, who were about as good as each other. Vascoe Era exceeded expectation, Regurgitator played their new crap to below expectation levels. Possibly because I didn't pad my crotch that night, but it wasn't as good as previous.
I woke up Saturday morning, turned on Fox Sports and what I originally thought was highlights of Ricky Ponting's innings was, in fact, Ricky Ponting's innings. Then I waited around for basketball. I got to the stadium 10 minutes early with the rest of the team in time to learn that the stadium selection had been altered for the day, and so we got to the actual game 10 minutes late and the game was quite a let down. Paying $7 to play on a three-quarter court with a one-quarter umpire duet against a team of dirty (literally) dudes who we would've beaten quite soundly had we actually had the correct stadium details to begin with was a downer. What's worse is that the league seemed to have gotten 'competent umpire' and 'player's sister' muddled up when selecting an appropriate referee. Already feeling disgruntled, I watched the Bulldogs get destroyed by Carlton which was even more depressing. God, I think this was the first time I've ever found The Phantom Menace to be attractive viewing.
By now my spirits were deflated. Then slightly lifted by the receival of a text message from a girl, then deflated again when I accidently replied through habit by sending "FLIRT" to her phone. To this I got no reply, and as time passed I assumed I'd done bad, so two hours later I sent "STOP" but alas... The rest of the night was spent at Josh's where a lot was said but a lot less was done. I went to bed as a local minimum of man.
But on Sunday the sun was shining, it was a beautiful day. I walked to work reasonably carefree, then played basketball for Grant's team where we won. Then into the evening, after remembering but then accepting that a lot of women send sms with grammar skills that would dissapoint an international student, Kat and then Dusty assisted me in using my phone to talk to a girl. Well, in actual fact they told me exactly what to write and after questioning the placement of every character in the message I would send it ensuring they would take responsibility for whatever came of it. Then I went to bed ready for another hard three day week at uni, and with dreams that next weekend won't require a mathematical description in order to sum it up. And also dreams of a Tomato and Cheese Twisted Delight from Baker's Delight because they are really nice.
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The woman with the fake tan stepped into my office, sat across from my desk and lit a cigarette.
At least, she would, sometime in the next 20 minutes. Smelling the future has advantages, but precision isn’t one of them.