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Thursday, February 24, 2005

It's up to you - New york, New york

I was just emailing to Xander this morning and I started to reminisce about my time in New York and the great, great memories I have of the city that never sleeps.

Waking up early in the morning and bundling all my dirty laundry into a black refuse bag, trudging down 3 flights of stairs while kicking my laundry down the stairs in front of me. Walking up Bennet Road into West 190th Street and then onto Broadway while casually smoking a Marlboro with my laundry bag slung over my shoulder. I felt like Mother Christmas on more than one occasion. Ricky and I would sometimes go to the laundromat together, perve over all the cute guys we'd met a few days before, chat to the gay guys and listen to the single mothers bitch about their weigh-less programs. Or go and sit outside on the sidewalk and smoke and bitch about our flatmates and the weather.

And that time when we drove the Jeep all the way out to Port Jervis just to go pick up our clothes so we could stay in Manhattan and not have to be in PJ for more time than it took to shove all our shit into the back of the Jeep, pick up a bottle of Amaretto and a pack of ciggies. Whoa that sentence was way too long but im too lazy to change it. Oh Ricky i miss you, singing in the car, eating gummy worms and taking pictures of the sunset as we drove into the city. Just being all-round raucous and silly.

All those times that Ben, Krista & I drank V & OJ in the basement while we were meant to be on time-off and then went trapsing around in the woods with no flashlight all the way to the Trail Building to watch 'Drop Dead Gorgeous' and laugh until our sides hurt. Oh the good times.

And the days that we had to clean up the Conference centre and ended up having Lysol fights and eventually finish the laundry and spend the rest of the day sitting in the hot laundry room being stupid, talking and maybe doing some of our own and the SIT's laundry.

Who's socks are these Ben?

I dunno, maybe Carly's or Chrissy's. They're definatley not mine, just look at them, they're pink for fuck sakes. (pulls disgusted face and holds sock as far away from nose as possible)

(door to laundry room opens and in walks Chrissy)

Oooh Ooh they're mine... Give them here.

Chrissy, where have you been? Come fold your laundry.

(everyone fucks off and leaves poor Chrissy to fold everyones laundry and the guest sheets)

Oh the joys of authority and age difference. We were quite mean to the younger guys and always made them do all our dirty work therefore making our time in PJ that little bit less like hell.

One weekend Ben, Krista, David and I went to Staten Island to have dinner with Ben's brother and his wife and lil cutie daughter. It was so great and the ride on the ferry was worth every freezing, wind-swept minute.

Hmm... enough for now. Time to post some pictures.

Wednesday, February 23, 2005

In Africa

"Every day in Africa a gazelle wakes up. It must run faster than the fastest lion or it will be killed.
Every morning a lion wakes up and knows it must outrun the slowest gazelle or it will starve to death.
It doesn't matter whether you are a lion or a gazelle . . . when the sun comes up you better be running. Anonymous