What's a poor boy gotta do? (if he wants a girl like you)

Somewhat amazingly I managed to awake simultaneously both drunk and hungover. Currently cooking myself a big ass feed of bacon and eggs and hot brown toast just dripping with delicious butter and regret. Sweet strong coffee made with chocolate milk. I roll my own cigarettes. In this country it's not an affectation, everybody does it. We're like cowboys. New Zealand, it's kinda a weird place, when you think about it. There are like six native english speaking countries and we are one of them. In American movies New Zealand is often used as a synonym for “the ass end of nowhere”, some place very remote and far away and irrelevant. Just where the hell is New Zealand anyway? The seventh Australian state.

I worry occasionally that I may have crossed the line (some time ago) from merely being harmlessly eccentric to actually full-on absolutely bugshit crazy. Every second post I write seems to be about how much I like Sass. People were hassling me. I guess I kinda deserve it.

Anonymous slapped a sticker on my jacket, it sez: “Introducing, FUCK IT ALL!”

I don't mind really. As per usual I totally failed at macking on to any chicks. I don't really mind, and, like the sign says, fuck it. All in all I think the night went fairly well. Didn't get in any fights, didn't cause any trouble, hopefully wasn't too obnoxious.

I was actually aiming for charming, but I often fail at pulling it off.

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Hopefully people will tell me if I cross too many lines, I might be a big scary tattooed motherfucker but anyone who knows me will say I'm a big teddybear.

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Completely blended in at the gothic ball.