Fuck. Fuck fuck fuckity cuntbuckets. There. Seems to work okay when I’m not in the airport.

Here are my favourite photos. I didn’t get any of my nana’s funeral because the removalists didn’t pick up my stuff, meaning I had to miss my free uni flight. (I am well pissed off about that - Backloads.com.au: they are scum.) So instead of photos from nana’s funeral you can have a blank space where I wait for removalists:

Okay, here are the actual photos:

My computer box - apparently it’s good for English people and Rubics Cube players but not pirates. Ripped off, I say.

Here is a V-Line train out of Spencer St Station, now known as Southern Cross Station.

The West Gate Bridge. I <3 this photo - it’s so very Melbourne.

The room where I did my talk. It went well, I think. I have resolved to write only papers that have sex appeal, but so far it isn’t working.

The dingy hotel backpackers’ lounge.

The noisy hotel backpackers’ room.

A supercool arcade machine called ‘Ad Lib of Wind’. I think you play it by farting.* Those Japanese…

At my family’s place. The shit that went on with these people needs a whole other post - suffice it to say it was a lot more fun and interesting than I had expected.

Me, in a mirror at Ross’s family’s place in Essendon.

I took a 2-leg trip back, wanting to use at least some of the uni’s airline ticket and get a free Quantas sandwich. This was at Sydney airport, where a lunatic wandered back and forth in front of the windows laughing to himself and carrying a little telescope. He was such a stereotypical lunatic I expected men with white coats and big nets to come running after him.

*This is not even remotely true. It’s a purikura machine with a fan on the front.