If you’re free you’ll never see the walls

Today so far has been pretty damn good, I haven’t had this much closure and relief from something since I finished high school. Yesterday we had the third year project presentations and early this morning I dropped in both volumes of documentation, and while I’ve still got a couple of assignments left to do that have a lot left to be done on them, it feels pretty damn good to finally be done with project. You’ll have have to excuse me while I exhale with the collective force of several thousand sighs.

I’m also pretty short on sleep and cohesiveness at the moment, but if all goes well, I’ll be back to my all-too-familiar state of begrudging caffeine-powered assignment down-smacking shortly. I’ll be done with Uni for this year in fourteen days, ooh yeah.

Somewhere in between the agony of getting project finished however, I managed to head out to Steve’s 21st on Saturday night, which was great fun. No salmonella was involved, no frontal nudity or being hurled upon, no bones were broken and no felonies committed (at least none that I was witness to). While I can understand that to some this might make it sound like it was a bit of a boring gig, I can assure you that there was still lots of indecency and other general shenanigans that your parents and anyone else of reasonably respectable repute would disapprove of, not to mention enough inebriation to make Jack Daniels blush. It only took David around four or five hours of rabid promotion to get a posse together of anyone still managing to stand to roll into town once the party had subsided. I don’t know how things went for them since I didn’t tag along, but noone I’ve talked to can remember anything that happened, so one can only assume that they had a very respectable time. And while seeing a man’s mother trying to get one of his male friends to dress up as a woman to strip for her son to see if he was plastered enough not to notice was particularly disturbing, It was still a good night, as I’m sure can be attested by Dave, who, apparently not wanting to be outdone by a teenager who managed to gather some attention by skulling a beer, quickly affirmed his intestinal fortitude (or at least a distinct lack of intestinal respect) by proceeding to snap up an open bottle and gulp down a rather disturbing quantity of straight tequila. Understandably enough, he was shocked and impressed to learn of this turn of events on the following Monday morning, having lost recollection of a reasonable proportion of the evening. All in all, a lot of good, if not particularly clean fun.

And now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s a particular brew of coffee calling my name…