Pirate Parties and Puke
After a few weekends of nun-like confinement, I actually had a busy weekend.
Starting on Thursday night, Paul and I were invited to the Christmas Party of the logistics company Paul does tech support for. We went to The Barnyard for Those Were the Days- The 60’s tribute musical. Actually, let me rephrase that. We were picked up at Paul’s place and bussed by hired couriers to Gateway, picking up staff members along the way. Staff members, may I add, who jumped into the car with a cooler box of booze and started dishing out drinks. At the Barnyard we were treated to a free show, free food, free drinks, as well as R50 Pavilion gift vouchers each. After my EvilCorp experiences of 2004, it was weird to be in the presence of a company where people actually are treated well and enjoy working there.
Nothing much happened on Friday evening. I sat at home sketching the next Girlz N Games (with dialogue I am still agonizing over), eating popcorn and watching Pearl Harbour, for the second time. Although the love story was shite and the ridiculous Doolittle Raid seemed to be tacked on the film as a way to save American face, the Pearl Harbour bombing was really depicted well. And the film does really have the best ever depiction of WWII aerial combat I’ve ever seen in a film.
Most of Saturday was consumed with preparation for Ashley’s pirate party, and then getting to Ashley’s place for the party. Apart from the howling wind, Mark and I tucking into uncooked bacon snacks, and Ashley trying to kill us with little tubs of jelly in vodka (please note, not vodka in jelly) it was a really nice evening. The food was great, the fire was hot, and it was great seeing everyone again after something like 3 weeks of seclusion. Highlights of the evening included Ashley coming up to Gareth’s girlfriend, Denbeigh, and exclaiming repeatedly ‘You’re so normal!’
Below, you can see some pics from the evening, with everyone dressed up, and Patrick wearing his… erm… booby prize.
Sunday day was extremely lazy. I was supposed to be working on my presentation, and I did do a little summarizing, but the bed was so-oo comfortable, I just needed to close my eyes for half an hour.
The plan for Sunday had been to meet up at Pavilion in the evening to have dinner and make use of the vouchers we won at the General Knowledge Quiz back at the beginning of the month. But Natasha was apparently sick, so, seeing at G and Shirley had just got back from a weekend away at Umdloti, and it actually was G’s birthday, we were invited to a very last minute braai at his place.
It’s here where the puking part of this update’s title comes into effect- after downing several Spiced Gold and Cokes as well as Snake Bites (half cider, half beer, with raspberry juice), followed by braai meat, G disappeared into the bathroom for about half an hour. When he did eventually emerge again though, he was his normal self. And it was really a cool evening, with much chatting and some truly awful Charades attempts by G’s sister Paula and her fiancé.
Unfortunately Paul still has the pics on his camera so I won’t be able to post them up here for a while.
Last night Paul commented that he’s considering doing his Masters next year. I really hope it’s just one of his fads and that he begins to see clearly. Paul is a wonderfully hands-on guy. He has no need for his Masters apart from a few points if he wants to emigrate anywhere. He’s not an academic; he doesn’t want to get into academics. He’s a miserably fucker, impossible to live with (or even see) when he’s overburdened with academic work.
Besides, he’s been studying straight for 5 years, before which it was 12 years of schooling. He needs a break and to start concentrating fully on his business. A Master’s Degree in Computer Science is just overqualifying him in the IT job market as far as I’m concerned. Honours is enough to distinguish you.
Anyway, I try not to be like Jackie in That 70’s Show, always pressurising Hyde. So, if Paul brings up his Masters with anyone reading this, try to gently persuade him that it is not a good idea. I don’t know if I have the right to tell him it’s not a good idea.
Anyway, I’ve been in a pretty grumpy, snappish mood today (for some unknown reason every member of my family has asked me 3 times what time I am going to university tomorrow, and today, despite me not leaving the house). Probably my moodiness is because I have to do my Media presentation tomorrow, and I was sick of the project by last week Monday. Once again I need to plead with anyone wanting to study Media at the University of KwaZulu-Natal to please consider doing it in Pietermaritzburg. Durban is hopelessly disorganised. I contacted the course administrator this morning at 9am to find out details about the presentation (length, topic, time and venue). I received some vague details and was promised I’d be phoned later with more information. I did receive that information, but at 4:30pm.
So tomorrow I’m going to be at university all day- for my presentation in the morning (after which I have to sit watching others), and then my last (thank God) Eng 102 meeting where we go over marks and decide what borderline failures to pass, or fail. Because we tutors apparently really know the students *snickers*.
Starting on Thursday night, Paul and I were invited to the Christmas Party of the logistics company Paul does tech support for. We went to The Barnyard for Those Were the Days- The 60’s tribute musical. Actually, let me rephrase that. We were picked up at Paul’s place and bussed by hired couriers to Gateway, picking up staff members along the way. Staff members, may I add, who jumped into the car with a cooler box of booze and started dishing out drinks. At the Barnyard we were treated to a free show, free food, free drinks, as well as R50 Pavilion gift vouchers each. After my EvilCorp experiences of 2004, it was weird to be in the presence of a company where people actually are treated well and enjoy working there.
Nothing much happened on Friday evening. I sat at home sketching the next Girlz N Games (with dialogue I am still agonizing over), eating popcorn and watching Pearl Harbour, for the second time. Although the love story was shite and the ridiculous Doolittle Raid seemed to be tacked on the film as a way to save American face, the Pearl Harbour bombing was really depicted well. And the film does really have the best ever depiction of WWII aerial combat I’ve ever seen in a film.
Most of Saturday was consumed with preparation for Ashley’s pirate party, and then getting to Ashley’s place for the party. Apart from the howling wind, Mark and I tucking into uncooked bacon snacks, and Ashley trying to kill us with little tubs of jelly in vodka (please note, not vodka in jelly) it was a really nice evening. The food was great, the fire was hot, and it was great seeing everyone again after something like 3 weeks of seclusion. Highlights of the evening included Ashley coming up to Gareth’s girlfriend, Denbeigh, and exclaiming repeatedly ‘You’re so normal!’
Below, you can see some pics from the evening, with everyone dressed up, and Patrick wearing his… erm… booby prize.
Sunday day was extremely lazy. I was supposed to be working on my presentation, and I did do a little summarizing, but the bed was so-oo comfortable, I just needed to close my eyes for half an hour.
The plan for Sunday had been to meet up at Pavilion in the evening to have dinner and make use of the vouchers we won at the General Knowledge Quiz back at the beginning of the month. But Natasha was apparently sick, so, seeing at G and Shirley had just got back from a weekend away at Umdloti, and it actually was G’s birthday, we were invited to a very last minute braai at his place.
It’s here where the puking part of this update’s title comes into effect- after downing several Spiced Gold and Cokes as well as Snake Bites (half cider, half beer, with raspberry juice), followed by braai meat, G disappeared into the bathroom for about half an hour. When he did eventually emerge again though, he was his normal self. And it was really a cool evening, with much chatting and some truly awful Charades attempts by G’s sister Paula and her fiancé.
Unfortunately Paul still has the pics on his camera so I won’t be able to post them up here for a while.
Last night Paul commented that he’s considering doing his Masters next year. I really hope it’s just one of his fads and that he begins to see clearly. Paul is a wonderfully hands-on guy. He has no need for his Masters apart from a few points if he wants to emigrate anywhere. He’s not an academic; he doesn’t want to get into academics. He’s a miserably fucker, impossible to live with (or even see) when he’s overburdened with academic work.
Besides, he’s been studying straight for 5 years, before which it was 12 years of schooling. He needs a break and to start concentrating fully on his business. A Master’s Degree in Computer Science is just overqualifying him in the IT job market as far as I’m concerned. Honours is enough to distinguish you.
Anyway, I try not to be like Jackie in That 70’s Show, always pressurising Hyde. So, if Paul brings up his Masters with anyone reading this, try to gently persuade him that it is not a good idea. I don’t know if I have the right to tell him it’s not a good idea.
Anyway, I’ve been in a pretty grumpy, snappish mood today (for some unknown reason every member of my family has asked me 3 times what time I am going to university tomorrow, and today, despite me not leaving the house). Probably my moodiness is because I have to do my Media presentation tomorrow, and I was sick of the project by last week Monday. Once again I need to plead with anyone wanting to study Media at the University of KwaZulu-Natal to please consider doing it in Pietermaritzburg. Durban is hopelessly disorganised. I contacted the course administrator this morning at 9am to find out details about the presentation (length, topic, time and venue). I received some vague details and was promised I’d be phoned later with more information. I did receive that information, but at 4:30pm.
So tomorrow I’m going to be at university all day- for my presentation in the morning (after which I have to sit watching others), and then my last (thank God) Eng 102 meeting where we go over marks and decide what borderline failures to pass, or fail. Because we tutors apparently really know the students *snickers*.
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