Sunday, June 20, 2004

Ahhh. A really nice engagement!
Behold the couple for whom happiness should be most deservedly bountiful -

"And yea' so it came to pass that many did converge upon the family homestead of "she-who-is-deserving-of-much-happiness", and there was much eating, drinking and merriment, and dogs!" (The behaviours of the latter prompted me to wonder what it would be like if humans had a better visual indicators of mood. Nah - we'd probably figure out how to fake a wagging, and then someone would realise they had a new body part to pierce, then there would be just stupidity and tail extensions, or dockings based on some religious reason or "premise of health".)

"Whip it" (by Devo) was played on the radio as we travelled back homeward. It must be a good omen. (Being Nich's favourite song.)

The world is full of omens - some more obvious than others, and not necessarily sinister!
Although, what omen my woeful misdirection through the backstreets of West Auckland held, I have no idea.

Co-pilot Hansi "The Norwegian", and I, had plans to sneak up on the longhouse of the Auckland Norsemen, where they were SUPPOSED to be staying the night. We had practised yelling very loudly in the car on the way, and (at 1 a.m.) were well prepared to scare the snot out of them in a sneak attack. But nobody was there!
Ah well. The wusses must have gone home to be warm and comfortable... ;) Some people have no appreciation of the efforts of others to mount surprise attacks in the middle of the night.

Wibbly wobbly woo, no more scare for you.

Now, I am at home again.
Current Score - Flat 32, Kirby 1 (i.e. it is somewhat inclined to being untidy). Tomorrow I shall mount an all-out assault on the floor, followed by tactical dispersion of the dishes in the sink. I shall interrogate my clothes in a harsh process of washing, until tidiness is yielded unto me. Bedding shall be beated, dust torn from the carpet by a monstrous device, and then I shall proclaim this flat to be my nation, my victory. I shall call it Penguinia. I shall print my own currency, the sardine shall be the national bird, and the weather shall be mild.
I am worried about the fridge. I suspect there are wegetables that have massively destructed, somewhere up the back.

Now I shall just write a little more blether until my bed is sufficiently warmed over, for it is cold here. I can see why the guys opted not to hang out at the longhouse all night...

Happy happiness, Nich and Kirstin! Snoochieboos to you both, and goodnight!

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