Oh dear, the critical review of the party did not leave the impression I was hoping for. I honestly believed I was on my best behaviour. However two reliable witnesses have testified that no, I was far from my best.

Let me preface this with a quick precis of my day yesterday. I wake, 7:00am, it is my birthday, yet I have decided to move flats. I collect the hire ute. I lose my phone. I move all garage items to work. I find my phone, after a large amount of stress, sitting on the nature strip in Marrickville. Well fuck me. I spend the rest of the day moving a decreasing amount of stuff (All praise to B for that, oh and the bastard burgulars) from the aforementioned flat. It is now 7:20pm. I am late, which shits me fiercely. I hurriedly shower, collect the requisite 3 cases from the bottle shop and arrive with Robo and Freeman.

The first few beverages dissappeared rather quickly. I meet some lovely people, all from interstate though. I remember dancing, as is my wont from time to time. I guess the first moment that casts doubt on the situation is when I find myself and cohorts leaving, at which time the hostess decides to join our expedition into Newtown. Things that make you (or him) go hmmm? Concluding the night, I remember laying behind a car (there was no grass) and well, passing out. At some stage said hostess manages to find me, orgainses a bed at her place in a suspicious looking t-shirt. I wake early (6:00am) return the hire ute and spend the rest of the day cleaning my soon to be vacated flat.