I went to a dinner at Anita's house. When I arrived she wasn't there and I managed to make at least three faux pas before she even turned up (she was rescuing David, lost deep in the heart of Collingwood).
How many things do you think would be the Wrong Thing to Say to a room full of Trotskyist Vegans? I must have said them all... my desire for a full time job, a comment of the faddish nature of the rise of dietary needs (tongue in cheek - given my dairy free nature), a comment about my 2010 wedding. A story about a friend's flatmate's horrible pet rats killing a mouse that lived in their house. Sometimes my life is like an episode of Seinfeld.
I'm loving working on my Masters project, I have a person who is willing to supervise my work and it feels like everytime I start working on it I have new and more fantastic ideas - its growing out of control! Like some kind of mutant mushroom putting out more and more finger- like tendrils, feeling their way into the moist, warm loam and growing, GROWING!
There's a big weird mushroom thing in a bakery on Brunswick Street.
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Thanks so much for commenting! You rock my tiny world. For realz, man.