Ask a glass of water

Last night, SC, AH and I had bevvies with DL at the Civic, then successfully undertook the Quad Stacker burger challenge at Hungry Jack's (trivial compared to doing the Pounder at Macca's), then gate-crashed* the "Ralph" Australian Swimsuit Model Of The Year beano at the Astral Bar on level 17 of Star City Casino, stayed to the death, then migrated, via someone's hotel suite (for no discernable reason), to the Lagoon Bar downstairs, then reached our limits and split a cab.

I slept in this morning, which was naughty since I'm acting editor for two days. I only woke as a result of a nightmare in which that ratbag Poorman, host of exploitative cable show "Bikini Beach", was hassling me to take part in a streetfight with a hobo – while I desperately tried to get to an antiques store where friends were negotiating the purchase of a device that was like an orrery, except with a complete collection of "Star Trek" ships instead of planets and moons. Analyse that!

*With permission.