11:09 p.m., 02.12.03
Randomness

Some dude just came off his motorbike outside my house. I heard the clatter of it hitting the ground and sliding, and rushed to the balcony.

Several people ran over to help him up - including a really pretty girl that sort of reminded me of the chick in the Chocolate Truffle Heaven ad. Incidentally, that's my favourite ad ever. She's a dreamgirl. I'm desperate to get hold of one of those billboard pictures of her with her arse sticking out of the icecream.

The first time I pointed out the poster to Ya, he said "dude, think of the hygiene. There's be pubic hairs in your icecream," which I think sums up his cheerful anal retentiveness.

And you know what? In the city and the inner burbs, those posters show the divine peachy flesh of her bum - but in the leafier areas like where my folks live, they've photoshopped a chocolate covering over it.

That makes no sense to me. Surely the people who pay higher rent and have expensive houses should get to see that beaut bum for their money, and those of us in cheap scummy studenty suburbs should have to go out of our way.

In other news, I finally caught up with Jay and Nessie last night, which was great.

Jay told us a fantastic story about one drunken night in his late teens, when he'd badly needed to chunder, but was worried he might be seen as uncool for doing it.

Curled up in the corner, he came up with the perfect plan; cupping his hands, he very quietly and sneakily yacked down his sleeves and into his own lap.

It didn't have the desired result however, and his mates all pissed themselves laughing and told him to go clean himself up. So he stumbled off into some housing commission flats somewhere nearby, and made for the basement laundry.

As it was well past midnight, he felt it would be safe to whip off all his gear and plonk it in one of the washing machines - which he did. Now completely starkers, he lay on top of two other washers waiting for his load to finish.

As you can imagine, the rhythmic humming of the machines lulled him into a deep and peaceful slumber.

When he started to groggily wake up, he wondered briefly if he was in a hospital. White light was streaming in through a window, into his eyes, and there were four or five heads circled around him.

They slowly came into focus; five curious and slightly annoyed-looking old ladies, evidently pondering why there was a naked youth draped over their washing machines.

Mustering all his dignity, he rose, opened the washer, removed his soaking clothes and walked calmly to the doorway, at which point he started to run.

I love Jay's stories. He tells 'em like nobody else...

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