Play, rest and work

(To rearrange a slogan.)

I hate catching taxis. Let me rephrase that: I hate paying to catch taxis. Nevertheless, it was necessary to do so thrice within 24 hours...

Friday night was MV's farewell at the Macquarie Hotel, where everyone was at their friendliest, the funk/soul band was smokin' and an excess of the micro-brewed Dark Bier rendered me unsuited for a slow ride on a bus without a lavatory.

Saturday morning, I was nauseous to the point where it was hard to keep down water. To maximise my damage-control time, I waited until the absolute last minute to leave for SC's. Hence: another cab.

A session of "Expedition To The Demonweb Pits" (not "Queen Of Spiders" as I erroneously stated earlier) took my mind off my body until it was time for SC, LC, LPO, TC, JC and I to trek to the fish'n'chippy. The healing properties of a battered saveloy and potato scallops drenched in tomato sauce, chased with 600ml of Fanta (it's 5% fruit, you know), cannot be overstated.

"You've come good, mate," said LPO, as we packed away our books and dice. "When you first arrived, I wasn't sure if you were gonna be able to sit at the table."

I repeat this not to advertise my Wolverine-like regenerative ability but to explain why, rather than heading home to bed, I hopped a train to the CBD to scoff a yasai don (tofu, mushrooms, vegies, egg, rice) then meet CM and AM at the Entertainment Centre for a crucial basketball game between my Kings and the Perth Wildcats.

Couldn't have enjoyed this more. Not only did we grind the enemy beneath our high-tops, 109-77, the lion mascot inexplicably removed his head to reveal a Gene Simmons KISS mask and danced to "Rock And Roll All Nite". Fharlanghn knows why. Also, CM and I had ourselves in hysterics commentating on a hyperactive kid who was running round the stadium, waving his giant purple and yellow flags in a semaphore only he could understand.

Escaping the city afterwards woulda been a problem even for Snake Plissken. It was Mardi Gras, the throng was of New Year's Eve proportions, roads were blocked and buses diverted. What's more, I didn't experience any of the intended positive vibe - only broken glass and aggro. After one too many jostle, I flagged a taxi that was forced to drop me in Randwick via Kings Cross then Bondi Junction.

On Sunday, I issued a stop-work ban. Spent the whole of it sofa-bound, watching our mostly pathetic display against India in the cricket (broken in the middle by the phenomenal "UFC #82: Pride Of A Champion" PPV), reading "Fables" graphic novels #7-9 ("Arabian Nights (And Days)", "Wolves" and "Sons Of Empire") and selling my tarnished soul to the DS title "Puzzle Quest".

Today, I accounted for all of my neglected housework, some snail mailing and a few trip preparations. The Pat Metheny Group's "The Falcon And The Snowman" - featuring sublime Bowie vocals on "This Is Not America" - got a workout. The latest "Hyper" mag was over and done with in a sitting.

So much still needs sorting before I weigh anchor on Friday...