Get out of here, you disgust me.

Due to popular demand and also nagging, I return. Coo-ee, what to report to the discerning purveyors of words on the internets? Contact me via PO box 99 in your capital city.

I flew down from BrisVegas to Sydney on the weakend, completing what shall be known in future generations as one of the most successful visit to a domestic university undertaken by me, simply by elimination. I had a brillo time, and met a smashing bunch of chaps. We quaffed lashings of ginger beer, and ate great hunks of fresh bread. I leart a lot of things, some of which were about QIT (as us in the "BIZ" call it). It's hard knowing a fat lot of nothing about a topic, especially after being top dog in another area (mostly due to a lack of other dogs). Nevertheless, I shall pursue it with a youthful vigour, until I am withered like the coherence of this paragraph, and indeed myself at this point in time and juncture.

Touched down in Syd, was graciously picked up by Mike, and headed down to Gold's gym off Oxford St to pump that which is lesser pumped in that vicinity. Had a lovely dinner with the Uni crew in Glebe, and was serenaded indirectly by Belly Dancers. I was sure they'd do it for free in my case, but I slipped a twenty into one fine lass' pants elastic just to be sure, and topped it off with a reassuring wink slash leer. However, as we reclined and indulged in the delights of the navel, mere decimeters away my dear Pommy friend Pete was hosting a bbq. The bold amongst us headed up to Pete's at a later hour, to find Pete both drunk and hilarious. Two things of note occured on this fateful eve:

• Dan, an aggressive drunk, decided to try and break my finger off, and damn near succeeded. He severely sprained my finger, and it's only just become usable now. I am going to use this as majority factor for the lack of an update, although this grants me but a short reprieve, being the kind of excuse that only works once.
  
• Pete got his end wet. He rang me several times the following day to discuss this, and wanted to get drunk again to celebrate it. He kept saying "I AM AWESOME". Though I would've loved to celebrate such an auspicious event, I didn't feel like getting blotto on Sunday evening.
  

Anyway, I'm back in Sydney on a mysterious mission for an unspecified amount of time. Such a simple lack of organization gives me an air of intrigue that sends Jimmy Bond green with envy and also scurvy. Au revoir, suckers!