Excitement.

I am heading off to a posh wedding the weekend after next and I reckon it’s going to be a hoot.

Back in the days when I worked in the coolest muzak store in the world we had staff that would come in on Thursday nights, for good old “late night shopping”, and Saturdays for our busy period. These staff were called “Saturday” casuals. Which is a bit silly, being that they worked Thursdays too.

One of my favourite casuals was Daniel-san, a skinny uni student who was into

(Soccer, not dodgy decorative lights)
and

and

But now Daniel-san is all grown up and is getting married.

So not only do I get to see Dan for the first time in FOUR years but I get to meet his lovely lady, Bianca. And it’s here in Sydney in a posh spot on the harbour. And one of my besties, Ragel (not her real name, can you tell?) is flying down from Brisvegas for the weekend to be my hott date.

So excited.

Ever bitten your tongue?

It really fucking hurts.

Last night I walked to the other side of the tracks for bolognaise, beer and wine with my luff Netts.

Today in my seedy state I was so excited to have KFC chips that I shoved 4 in my mouth and CHOMPED down.

Mmm chippies

Unfortunately I chomped on the side of my tongue and now I have a little flap of skin hanging off the side and it’s all swollen and sore and I am having trouble speaking.

I can’t even scream at the shit contestants on Australian Idol with my same fervour.

Therefore…. Beer+wine+hot chips+piggery=bloody sore tongue.

Oink oink.