If my memory serves me correctly

How time flies. It's now April and I've hardly posted a thing except for a couple of whiny posts about how much of a bitch Vay is sometimes, and how I'm just sick and tired of it all.

Well, I suppose that's what you get after months of living it up at the Hotel California. And now it's like we're coming down from some drug-induced high, the climax - god I love that word - of which was that wild little adventure we had up at the Gold Coast, back in February. That was 2 months ago, and I haven't even blogged about it. Not that it wasn't blogworthy or that I was extremely busy, it's just that I couldn't be half arsed. Still, it's nice to know I'm not alone in my procrastination, eh Anney? Alright, so she's actually been genuinely busy, but still, the point is, I'm not the only one procrastinating.

Anyway, everytime I look up my notes in the little notebook, I get this sense of nostalgia, like it was so long ago, and bugger me we've been there and done that. And what with my memory being as it is, it's a bloody miracle any of it was written down at the time, and, more importantly, recalled, with any sense of clarity.

Bah. I suppose you've waited long enough. I better get this shit down in blog form before I forget what the hell my notes were about, and besides, someone's gotta set a good example for Anney.