Pool Intentions/Crusty said yes is totally my new band name

I have just returned from a barbecue-cum-pool party at Milly's, and have a lovely case of sunburn to show for it (I promise I used suncream, mummy, but the water washed it off).

Yes, we spent the afternoon frollicking in the piscine (sea-water, not chlorine, don'tcha know?) and then had some lovely grilled meat. There is an Ozzie innovation which I really want to import to British swimming pools called 'whirlpooling'; basically, everyone runs a caucus race until the currents created cause everyone to trip up and be flung around wildly (someone has nearly drowned both times we tried it). I think the old public baths in Edinburgh could benefit enormously from adopting this activity, and it would mean fewer old people and children would show up to spoil everyone else' swimming experience, lest they get caught in the elliptical exodus.

On top of this, I stumbled upon a marriage proposal whilst returning from the city the other day: someone, nick-named 'J-lo', had written out an elaborate love note in chalk for their darling 'crusty' along their walk home (some of which corresponded with mine- I admit to taking a detour to read all of it), leading right to the front door, where I like to imagine J-Lo was waiting with champagne and 'kiss me' blasting on a stereo. I was going to film it and put it on here but a) I thought it was probably a personal thing and b) it was just too long for me to film on my phone- this thing was a friggin' love epic. Incredibly romantic and actually very well punctuated- I sure hope Crusty said yes, there's a keeper if ever I saw one.

Finally, Aspen and I visited the National Opal Museum on Tuesday, which for some reason was Dinosaur themed,

except for one part where there were loads of molluscs hot glued onto the wall (which I didn't photograph). Anyway, I'd love to say I now know more about Opals than anyone could ever possibly need but it really wasn't that informative.  If they weren't a museum, I'd say they just wanted to sell opals.

Tender Lumplings everywhere

Dear reader,

it's that time of year again, all hallow's eve. Or, more accurately, it was that time of year four days ago. But, better late than never, so I will display for you the assorted delights of the Yarra Becostumed Discotheque. I am, obviously saving the best for last, but I'll take you through the runners-up first, cos I'm a tease.

Jason as Dr. Lectre.

Cass as a vamp(ire).

Ellie as a fairy, Jason as an alchie and Cass as a nutjob.

Aiden as....himself but fat?

Shane as Bane Al Ghul.

Smeargle as Slender Man.

Aspen did not wear a costume.

Martin as his mother.

Manthy as Amanda Seyfried in Mean Girls. It's ironically skimpy, see?

Alec as an abortion doctor.

Milly as a nurse.

Logan as Not-Joker. 

Jason gives a lectre on the stupidity of having autumn  decorations up when it's spring in Australia.

The 'Pinata'.

Jess as Corpse Bride.

 Click 'Read More' below to see the bestest hallowe'en costume ever.

First world problems

I am facing an essential dilemma, and one I would genuinely appreciate opinions on, so please leave a comment telling me what you think.

So, I was just asked by an Aussie friend to show them a picture of Esmond; I searched on my computer and found exactly one picture. I then searched on Google and found exactly one picture. That's two that I have access to; one for every year he's been my friend.
I know I'm being precious- I still know what he looks like, I still have the memories that photos are meant to invoke, and, most importantly, I'll see him again, and can take pictures then if I so wish. But I got to thinking: I have few pictures of my first term in Edinburgh. Or my second. I uploaded them to Facebook and then deleted them from my hard drive, supposedly to save space (notably my flight details for Belgium are still on there). Now I no longer have Facebook, access to those photos is gone. And this is where the dilemma comes in: I could easily reactivate my account, download all the photos I have stored on there, and then redeactivate it (remember how I snuck back on a few months ago to create the cast page?*). The problem this creates is that my Facebook page is finally gone for good- I don't get updates, or pleas for my return, and if I want to reactivate my account then it will take a full 24 hours (I've done my research); if I reopen it, however briefly, I go back to getting invited to crap I wouldn't go to even if I were in Edinburgh, people who blatantly haven't paid attention to anything I've said for the last five months writing to me as though I'm their best friend...all the stuff I've come to resent. I don't want to seem a contrarian- I freely admit that Facebook is a brilliant social tool, just not one I can allow myself access to, and so I have to play up its negative aspects. But this isn't even really a problem- I can just ignore it, I'm a big lad. The problem is the moralizing that inevitably accompanies this move.
See, I feel I shouldn't need the photos; I reiterate- I still have the memories. But even memories need stimuli, they rarely come unbidden. But then, not all my memories are positive ones- do I want to go remember all the bad stuff that happened over those two years? On the other hand, if I somehow forget all the bad stuff, don't I run the risk of making the same mistakes? However, there are some extremely positive memories, which I want to hold onto, some of which are probably already starting to fade, if my inability to remember names or events are any indication (which is kind of scary).
But then, I come back to the idea that I shouldn't need the photos. I'm meant to be living in the moment. And I don't mean that as in a 'this is a philosophy I'm espousing at the moment' kind of way. I genuinely think it's healthier to focus on where one is currently than where one's been/where one's going. I want to live that way. I want to be healthy. I want to be able to let stuff go, not hold grudges, not be bitter and resentful. Leaving has helped with this, but it can't do all the work- I have to make a concentrated effort not to dwell on things I can't change.
But the photos would make me happy...I think. Or, at least, they'd sate a thirst. But then, sating some thirsts can just lead to bad habits (alcoholism springs to mind)...

This goes on and on. And on. And I never reach the end. I don't know what to do, I don't know which argument to listen to, and, unusually, I don't know what I want. So, I beg you for your opinions- I implore your wisdom.

*And somehow failed to get any pictures of Esmond. Alack.

Hammered, Tanked, Wasted, Plastered, Canned, Sloshed, Housed, Juiced Up & Crocked

Dear reader, I know you hold me up as a paragon of virtue and decorum. I know that what you are about to read will destroy your faith in humankind, ie. me. But I must be honest with you, reader, otherwise this entire blog is just a pointless exercise in onanism for me.
And none of us want that.
So, I'll level with you, reader, treat you like an adult and tell you things that I hope you're mature enough to understand.
I got absolutely wasted last night.

Not quite as wasted as this.

I wouldn't normally use 'wasted' when I can still, with relative confidence, remember what happened the previous night. And I can. Every. Sordid. Detail.
Allow me to set the scene; it's Milly's birthday today and she decided to host a party in her parents' house, about an hour and a half away from Yarra, as Kookaburra flies. I drove up with Aspen, Manthy, Jason and Smeargle, and we were all pretty tightly packed into the back (Manthy gets carsick and so got to sit in the front.)
It was hot and uncomfortable, but I was excited and we passed the time playing twenty questions (we all got stumped over Michael Caine, who, did you know, has won an oscar? Smeargle did.)

Suave mother, ain't he?

Anyway, we arrive, after a minor drama over a tollroad and the accidental taking thereof, and pile into 'the unit' (a second building built on the main land of Milly's house) where the party was to take place. We settled in, watched a little TV, snooped about the house and then the business of presents began. I read Milly  the poem I wrote (an acrostic), Aspen and Smeargle gave her drawings, Logan got her a USB, Alec got her Fifty Shades of Grey and Cass got her a potato. I believe it was around this time I took my first drink; I'd purchased some vodka with cranberry (40%) and Manthy was kind enough to give me some raspberryade with which to to mix it.

Above: my bloodstream, last night.

I was drunk within minutes, and I don't mean tipsy, I mean drunk. There's a video of me singing along to Nelly Furtado's I'm like a bird from about twenty minutes after this drink. I was the first one drunk and I don;'t know why cos it took me about two hours to get drunk after TWWOO, and a lot more vodka (I remember I was halfway through the bottle when it was pointed out I was even heavier on my feet than normal- I'd had maybe a quarter of a bottle when I was three sheets to the wind last night.)

Can you tell?

All I could do was be thankful that I was happy, TWWOO drunk Rory and not miserable, Bedlam drunk Rory. I participated in all the games, danced, sang, made people laugh and was generally agreed to be the life and soul of the party; some people, notably Adrian with whom I duetted on Circle of Life (lifting Jason as an impromptu Simba) and Cee Lo Green.

I see you driving 'round town with the girl I love!

Sadly, it wasn't all sweetness and light- I managed to smash a glass with my bare hands (but didn't cut myself)- just by banging on the side of it, in the manner of a speech. Luckily, I wasn't the only one and I did learn my lesson and managed to avoid punching the TV placed precariously against the dancing wall. I did start to sober up shortly after this incident, and decided I didn't want to face the rest of the party sober, knowing what I'd done (it was about ten o'clock at this point); so, I deliberately re-intoxicated myself.

Really didn't take that long.

This might have been a bad thing to do, having already broken something in my drunken state, but I find it hard to regret, since I went right back to singing, dancing and generally living it large.

Large and in charge.

I remember drunk pass the parcel, with questions instead of prizes, and how I fashioned a hat and gloves out of the discarded newspaper (after building myself a nest).

Made from 100% recycled materials.

During this game, Ellie said she wanted me as her child; I was also declared most likely to appear of Sixty Minutes (a news talk show) and go to jail, so I had to do two dares: one tell a story about someone in the room (I chose to make Martin a fairy princess of Oz) and do an interpretive dance entitled 'the death of the butterfly', which I'm really hoping wasn't filmed. This was filmed, for some reason:

There was a Milly trivia round, where I insisted we be called 'the Periwinkles', still not sure why, pizza, which I devoured and with which I managed to avoid a hangover (in the stead of weetabix, see) and a deep, meaningful conversation with Logan and Jason where I opened up about my depression last summer.
All in all a really enjoyable night in a part of Australia I hadn't seen before (Check out 'The Mornington Peninsula' page for photos taken from my walk there this morning, WARNING: there are a lot of photos).

MillyxCory VictoriaxCory IxAudrey Hepburn

I'm gonna mix it up today and write this post as a songfic.
***
They had walked a long way to reach the bridge. Milly had promised it would be worth it. Milly had copper brown hair which went down to her waist; like a hotter Kristen Stewart.

She was walking with her friends Victoria Jason and Martin and the secret love of her life Cory.

Moonriver, wider than a mile

The bridge spanned the river which seemed to go on forever- it was so wide it made the Amazon look small.
"Neato!" Said Jason who was American.

"Bonza!" Said Martin who was Australian.

"Crikey!" Said Victoria who was Australian too but she was secretly looking at Cory and not at the river like the rest of them were.

Cory didn't say anything because he was the strong and silent type and not prone to stupid exclamations.

I'm crossing you in style

"We should cross it." Said Milly who was also Australian.
"Neato!" Jason said and eargerly ran across to the middle of the bridge.

"Bonza!" Said Victoria and Martin together and zipped across.
Cory didn't say anything and walked across the bridge demurely and coolly.

Someday

"Someday I'll tell Rory how I feel" thought Victoria.

Milly thought it too, even though she couldn't hear Victoria's thoughts, not being psychic.

Old dream maker, you heartbreaker

Victoria dreamt alot about Cory who she knew would break her heart if she ever told him the truth. Milly was the same.

Whereever you're going, I'm going your way

The friends all followed Cory to the centre of the bridge and looked at the river. The moon was reflected in the water and was beautiful.

It was not as beautiful as Cory who they would all follow to the end of the earth but it was still pretty "Neato!" as Jason said.

Two drifters off to see the world

Jason and Cory were both foreigners to Australia where they were currently. Both were new there having come from other countries. They both were seeing the world having left their countries and come to Australia.

There's such a lot of world to see

But neither of them had seen all the world.

Victoria and Milly thought they saw the world in Rory's eyes.

We're after the same rainbow's end

Both Milly and Victoria knew they both wanted Cory and that neither of them could have him like a rainbow.

Waiting round the bend

Martin decided to leave and wait for them around the corner.

My Huckleberry friend

Cory was Huckleberry. Beautiful and Huckleberry.

Moonriver and me

"I feel one with this river." Said Cory deeply. "And with the moon. I feel like a...moonriver." He said Huckleberrically.
"Neato! Said Jason.
***
Hope you liked it! Please comment! XXX

The only one he ever feared

Finally updating from the ol' Y to the A-RR-A; I've borrowed a charger from Jason. So, what's been going on since I last upadated y'all? (Esmond now reads as well- SQUEE!)
Well, I saw a possum during the day. It was humungous! It just ran out in front of me as I was walking to the bus stop on wednesday morning; it scampered up a tree and then sat there staring at me and urinating. I hope these two actions were not related. I also visited a 'chocolate restaurant' with Millie, Victoria and Martin- the furniture wasn't sculpted from chocolate, as I'd hoped, but the waiting staff were so 'comme ci, comme ca'.
There was a party in Games room 1 last night- a brilliant opportunity to observe the Australian student in its natural environment; turns out they drink alot and challenge one another to 'Aboriginal-offs'. Guess what that consists of.
I watched the opening ceremony of the 2012 olympics in rec room 2; I was the only Brit there, and so had to apologise for the shortcomings of said event- although I personally thought that Mary Poppins vs Voldermort was not only inspired, but also nucking futs. And I don't know if that's good or not.

How do you say 'jumped the shark' in olympiad?

I wasn't gonna watch, but then I realised that London 2012 is, unfortunately, going to come up alot in the future, and now, when it does, I'll be reminded of that warm 'winter's' day, sitting on the faux leather sofas with my ozzie mates and ripping on Danny Boyle. I think that's about as fun as the olympics are ever gonna get.

For anyone.


Ever.



So now they can stop showing it.





Please.