A guy cheeses for the camera as birthdee plays with tissues she wiped her puke with. Home/BOAT QUAY
The birthdee's body must be enveloped in one's own puke (in ezan's case, mushroom-laden puke) including crevices such as nostrils and armpits. This might hinder breathing problems, snogging possibilities but certainly facilitates body odour.
One must also start singing flawlessly to The Wannadies (other songs must be approved beforehand by the committee) while pretending to swim like a super sized seal on the pavement.
A girl cheeses for the camera as birthdee expresses her gratitude for making her drunk later that night. Home's steps/BOAT QUAY
The usual suspects eating cake. Home's steps/BOAT QUAY
I miss these people, but our lives are drifting apart. We have our jobs, school, boyfriends, family and for nini - she's even been blessed with an angel.
A year ago when we first met, we had so much fun despite the crap we had endure. Often though we found ourselves drifting into personal hells, meandering towards graves we hand-shovelled ourselves.
Home club became a haven to converge and after a few hey hi-s and the bai-jagah's nod of free entry, we'd join the floor to dance, forget and sing out loud to Morrissey as amplified noises and fag-filled air choke our sanities. It was a way to take a holiday from ourselves. Now, a year on, visits to Home are infrequent. We have Baby Day Out in place of Poptart. We drink teh and talk about wedding doorgifts. Are these signs of maturity or of us having to grow up too soon too fast? Have we lost the touch to live and fuck free?
2 comments:
yikes! we have turned into makciks!!! eh but we are still oh-so-cool okeh. kita groovy makciks. er.. ok enough nini. i think i suck at convincing myself that i have aged gracefully, or that i'm still young at heart somehow. aku dahhhhh tuuaaaaa! hahahaha!
hey hey where didja go? haha.
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