O2 was brokeback trying-on of uniforms in bibibaba with incredibly suggestive positions and pool where I intelligently missed more times than I hit. And I'm not referring to the coloured balls (though I hit ballball plenty, mostly when she made wonderfully interesting comments about me), but rather hitting the white ball with the stick.

Lunch was more of a brunch in Macs plus a spring roll from 7-11 and brain freeze, since bel and I spent the rest of our time trying to contact some hilarious people, who found it fun to answer the phone with 'who are you? are you sure you're dialing the right number?'

Haha, zach. Very funny.

Naturally, the walk back to school was incredibly colourful, but that's okay since it mostly involved pieces of flowers and fishcakes, I grin. And, being the proactive young ladies of the new age we are, we sat down with drinks to watch while the other og members played bball, which seemed to be tying before fuginn made his grand entrance with a loud cry of 'yo momma's so fat!', a la russel peters. After which was a convo between bel and I that mostly went along the lines of 'fuginn pwned them again. zach pwned them again. and fuginn pwned them YET again'.

Played bluff in the lt, with blatantly lying benyeo and blatantly lying christabel. The difference being that benyeo's blatantly lying all of the time and you have to figure out when he's blatantly lying or he's just being blatantly kiampa, and with bel it's considerably easier. Naturally bel lost, I say smugly.

After which, regardless of the fact that I put together an incredibly valid, sound and non-circular argument about why I should go for og dinner, it was rejected by my mom who violently attacked it with skepticism, which is very much unhealthy, I insist. SULKS.

Wed was a mass-pon RA day, doing maths in the library until way past ra-time and ingeniusly deciding not to go cause despite all things about being fashionably late, and a proven-to-be invalid argument that latecomers are attention-seekers, we were persuaded to stay in the library by the mystical forces of the earth called inertia, which is really not another name for laziness, the lady doth protests.

Out of Order was um in the words of what I gave my mom, was about politicians, secretaries (cheerfully leaving out that the secretary was much like suet in more than just physical ways), bumbling helpers and their spouses and people that won't die and windows that won't stay open and plumbing that are, no pun intended, out of order.

And going home staring mournfully at the taxi meter and feeling my money just trickling into that little black box. The very first time I spent over 40 bucks in a day. Weeps over wallet.