wildcat

I seem to be remembering my dreams more easily these days. Last night I was a young methamphetamine addict by the name of Swagger - no joke - who acquired his drugs from an old woman in a local pharmacy. Additionally, meth was referred to by the street name "Dante." My dreams are getting more and more narrative every night...

My mum visited this weekend, obviously, with much odd behaviour therein. Friday night was getting drunk with her, Michael, her friend Don, Jonas, Brandon, and Russell - first at Swan's, then at the Garrick's Head pub. Apparently my mother didn't know what cunnilingus was, and we had to explain it to her. Stumbled home with Michael at midnight. On Sunday, Michael met the extended family on my mum's side, which was ridiculous and embarrassing. To put it mildly, Michael said that he was amazed I turned out so well-adjusted.

They were attacking wasps with an electrified tennis racket bug-zapper, which made the insects explode on contact. My aunt ordered my cousin around as usual, like a slave. Granny was inexplicable. It went on and on, Michael was a perfect gentleman; then we proceeded to meet up with Brandon, Anna, James and Kelly at Swan's for Jazz, then went to prism for a surprisingly appealing drag show with a lot of cocktails imbibed along the way.

And now I'm back to work for the week. Not too bad. Going to get comics later today and treat myself to some Lotus Pond before the night's shift.