Bleugh. Saturday morning. Possibly the one thing worse than waking up and taking forever to work out what day it is is when you wake up and instantly know you have to get up. Soon I was showered and breakfasted (spellcheck informs me that is an acceptable word) and off to Flemington.
Work wasn’t too bad, although it was just one of those days where I wasn’t in the mood to do anything. The Year 7 class included a section on slang, which was interesting, as I got to explain the etymological origin of the word “n00b” (from US army slang “newbie”) and how “lol” was an acronym (rather than an abbreviation). Being slightly sick of the type of creative writing produced in previous weeks, I instructed my Year 8 classes to write stories devoid of violent deaths. This was met with much protest. Apparently children are incapable of writing anything under an M rating.
Went home, had dinner, watched South Park. Two Andrews came over (Langmead and Pricop), as we were going to a party. I deleted the Facebook invite thing a while ago, and was thus unaware that it was supposed to be “Vegas themed”. Langaz and Pricop were dressed as a pimp and a prostitute, respectively. The latter was quite disturbing. In an attempt to not totally fail at this theme, I borrowed Maxim’s bow tie and dressed up in my op shop-bought jacket with the plastic golden buttons (the one that Sarah bought). We were also abused by local bogans on the way to the car. Apparently, Watsonia is not the best place to cross-dress.
And then to the party, where I requested some Justin Bieber, to piss everybody off (heh). We stood and talked and ate and drank and pretty much everybody either wanted a photo with or was freaked out by Pricop. Figures. Today’s Photo is him dancing, with Rhys trying to slip him a few notes. I’m surprised he didn’t get assaulted when we left him in the car at the Safeway carpark.