Brainfreeze, Brainfry and Thunder Thighs, Thunder Thighs?

Howdy, ha ha, hi there.

Oh its been a while and I haven't been far. I haven't strayed further than ten kilometres from my nest since I last pretended to speak through the application of my fingers onto the keyboard. Physically. Externally. But mentally, internally, well haven't I travelled far. Mental gymnastics we could call it, cerebral stretches, hummph, one two three, hwaagh, four five six. Where were we? Oh yeah, mental gymnastics.

I'm pretty quiet here during the week. I read and surf, eat food, sometimes work, but not often, watch movies. There is a new bar in Copacabana, the first one that we've had, ever. It's called the Fubah, which apparently is old Army parlance for, "Fucked Up Beyond All Hell", Fubah. On a Friday they put on a happy hour for the tradesmen, and with the slightly reduced beers we get meatballs and corn cobs and chips, little snacks to sweeten the deal. So we usually go there for a few beverages (pronounced Bev - er - ah - jez) and then onto whatever comes next. Lately there have been lots of different things coming next, but the common thread linking all of them together is alcohol and drugs. Lots of the latter and lots of the former.

Beer, wine, cocaine, champagne, ecstacy, tequila, LSD.

Someone I know had some acid and went up to the local shopping centre with their shirt tucked in, just to test their mental strength. He saw heaps of people that he knew and just barely held his shit together. Thats the most popular misconception with acid, its not this wonderous trip where you see brilliant snorlaxes and dance with great swans coloured in pink. You just lose your shit. This guy, who may or may not have been me, describes it as thus:
"Imagine running up the front of you, from pubis to sternum, is a corset. This corset is done up with shoelases. When you take acid the shoelases unravel, undo, and if they give way the corset busts open and your sanity rushes out like a big screaming banshee, waaaaaaaaaah, and the poor cosmic traveller is left sucking his thumb in the nude in the middle of the shops."
When the acid wears off you go back to normal, for the most part. That is, unless your one of the unlucky ones, who stay there. Well this guy in the shopping centre said that he was held on by one strand of the last shoelace, and there were moments when he wanted to just scream, run, pretend to be an airplane, eat kids. But he didn't, he held his shit together.

Cocaine. Cocaine's greatest effect is that it makes you want more cocaine. It also makes you want beer and cigarettes and to talk and screw and then fifteen minutes later it wears off and you feel pretty shit. All in all, totally overrated. That said, I don't know many people who are able to say no to a line offered to them. It's not good, but it tricks you into thinking that it's good. I've never bought cocaine.

Ecstacy is ok. Its biggest problem is that it will keep you awake, it will keep you wanting to be awake, and can be quite moorish. Most benders are fueled with ecstacy. If you're having a drink, you can have a half a pill and that will keep you going, without any really noticable side effects. You'll probably drink until four in the morning and pass out and wake up feeling pretty good. If you have two at once and then a few more throughout the night, you'll stay awake, make jokes, get weird, go to Kincumber pub as it opens, wake up on the kitchen floor as your brothers are getting ready for school on Monday morning. Then you'll come down while the surf is really good, and spend the next two days trying to explain to yourself, via the conduits of your younger brothers, what a bender is, why you do them, and why they shouldn't.

Thunder thighs? I was dating a girl with short legs. They weren't big legs, but because they were short they were a little thick. Anyway, I was with one friend at the Bowling Club and it was just the two of us, and we found ourselves both text messaging instead of engaging in conversation with eachother. I had a plan. Let me send his text and he could send my text, and neither person knew who it would be sent to, so keep it random, and we were allowed to write anything. I wrote a story about how someone at work kept on stealing my vegemite sandwiches and it was making me so mad, and I wish, just pray, that one day Tommo would get his own vegemite sandwiches, love Jeff. My friend wrote, "Hey Thunder Thighs, when am I going to get to smash your box again". Thunder Thighs. And I don't need to tell you who that was sent to.