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Thursday, July 15, 2004
Oh my God. Could this holiday be more pointless and dull? I haven't done anything at all. What do most people do whilst on holidays? Like, I suppose staying at home and relaxing is like a treat or something. How quaint. I'm going c-c-crazy, man! I haven't even been to a beach house! Like, what's the point in having them if you just leave them to go to waste like that? I don't even think I've even been out of the city. Good lord, I'm so totally urban. I mean that in a bad way for a change. Normally being urban is far more preferable to being associated with those weird-ass rural people. It's like, boohoo citrus crops boohoo water boohoo Telstra all the time. Whatever. Don't you people have like, hobbies or something? Actually, I was a bit worried about that little citrus scare, as I need limes for my mojitos and stuff.

But this holiday has sucked. The stupid painter has been here, so I can't work on my tan (which is what I really wanted to do, as I'm looking totally Anne Frank circa 1945 in complexion at the moment) without feeling like a prize ass. Stupid painter. He already gives me the stink-eye when sees me stumbling about on my way to my "morning" shower at about one, so I doubt he'd be too impressed if I went straight from my shower to getting down to business by the pool. Like, can you just paint and quit judging me already?

Well, he can't complain about it today, I totally got up early. I had to have a stupid morning tea thing with my grandmother and some of her tennis friends for some reason. Sigh, how pathetic. My social engagements so far this week have included Buffy repeats on Fox, and a garden morning tea party with a whole lot of old women of which pearl-clutching and Chanel featured prominently. I did run into my Olympian cousin though, and he asked me to come to his celebratory cocktail thing tomorrow night, so that will be fun. His friends are all ripped to shit and are hawt. I wish my friends were better looking. Although I sleep with enough of them already, I guess. Sigh.

Actually, this weekend past was quite fun, I guess. Valley Fiesta is always rather amusing. All the ferals who usually party in the City come out of the woodwork and populate the bars, providing the rest of us amusement at their totally uncouth drunken antics and bogan sex appeal. I mean, seriously. Those common chaps in their deck shoes, blue jeans and button-up City Beach shirts can look hot. And they tend to have the tightest anuses (anusi?) as well. Not that I associated with them this time, unfortunately. I only got into the Valley quite late, and by the time I got there the queues for clubs and bars were massive. Like, seriously, even the crappy bars where no one normally goes were packed out. And Dawei does not wait in line. So I hooked up with a friend who lives in the McWhirter's apartments, did the classy wine thing, and then we charmed our way into the Bowery and had some fucking bitchin' cocktails. Was a pretty good evening, in the end. I didn't even have to get a cab home (I slept with said friend... in the non porno bodily fluids way, of course).

But God. This is just like normal. Shouldn't I be doing something, like, holiday-y-ish? Man, I'm so bummed about not getting to Melbourne or Sydney.