Bathroom violation. Not to be read by the fainthearted.

It was a rainy long weekend in Sydney, which is probably a good thing all round because we didn't feel at all guilty about sleeping late, watching movies and eating junk for the majority of it.



On the whole we achieved very little in three days, but a few stand out stories come to mind. Firstly, on Saturday night we went out for dinner to the Red Oak with an old workmate of Jo's. It's kind of an upmarket beer place - they make their own specialties, like the raspberry bubbly beer which was delicious. It started out fine, as these nights always do, but a couple of these later, we were feeling ready to embrace the evening ahead, and embrace we did...

We ended up at PJ's, an Irish pub i haven't been to in what feels like forever, but which i used to frequent regularly in my younger and wilder days. Shots anyone? Why yes, thank you, I'll take four. And so it was that we stumbled home and a time i can't be sure of, exhausted but happy - or maybe that was just the room spinning, but really, who's bothering with those sort of insignificant details.

The next morning may have dawned, but frankly i wasn't ready to face it, so i slept on until a time i felt was more suitable to arise, which may or may not have been 2pm - ha, you'll never know. We headed out to my parents to watch the grand final, and topped that off with McDonald's - i blame my mother for this, as she wanted to try the new Angus burger, and who are we to deny the woman some pleasure i ask you? I mean i wanted to be healthy folks, and i DID try to persuade her to enjoy a salad or a lovely sandwich with me instead. But she would have none of it, and so i, being the dutiful daughter that i am, said of course mother. Of course we can have McDonald's, because that is what you feel like, and i respect you and your feelings and so we shall eat burgers till the cows come home. It was a sacrifice, but i did it for love.

And then, we came home.

We knew David was having some friends over, but let me describe for you the scene upon entering the apartment.

Food, empty beer bottles, shoes, wigs, backpacks and wet towels are strewn everywhere. Upon closer inspection, i discover the wet towels are in fact OURS, taken from OUR bathroom without OUR permission. Already i am wary. We move on. Not a soul is in sight, and we wonder where everyone is. The lights are on everywhere, but no one is home. We hurriedly grab supplies for the night and retreat to the safety of our room without further ado. We do not, in case you are wondering, touch the towels.

We enter the bathroom, where Jo discovers our scissors lying suspiciously on the counter. Bits of hair trail from said scissors. Our hearts sink. We look to the floor in dismay and our worst suspicions are confirmed. Hair, of unknown origin, lies chopped and course in a pile on the floor. "Did you trim your hair earlier?" Jo asks me hopefully. My glare confirms that i had not. Shuddering, we go into our room and shut the door. We do not, in case you are wondering, touch the hair.

Fast forward. It's 4am and we are in a deep and blissful slumber when someone knocks ever so gently on our door. Is this a dream? Surely no bonehead would actually be knocking on our bedroom door at 4 in the morning? Alas, the knocking persists. "What?" grumbles Jo, obviously annoyed. George replies "Oh sorry Jo mate, just wanted to see if you were home". Er? And if we weren't home George? What would you want with our room, exactly? There is the unmistakable sound of female giggles in the hallway. I roll my eyes in the darkness. Unbelievable. We roll over and try to go back to sleep. Mere minutes later, our door bursts open. Enter small blonde female whom we have never seen before in our lives. This, i presume, is Hallway Giggler. "What the hell is going on?" Jo roars, and i silently applaud. Hallway Giggler seems terrified by this greeting, and hightails it out of the room as quickly as she entered.

We attempt to sleep, but from the hours of 4.30am to 8am we are treated to Hallway Giggler laughing, George shushing her, and our bathroom door opening and closing. Furthermore, the rise and fall of what can only be called totally ludicrous conversation wafts up the stairs, followed mostly by hysterical cackling. We conclude that a pack of hyenas has taken up residence downstairs, and are too disturbed by the scenes we might witness to actually get up and venture out, so we do nothing and hope the damage will be minimal. I wonder what is happening in our bathroom, feel nauseated by the thought, and then squeeze my eyes shut, trying to find my happy place.

Eventually, we sleep.

A couple of hours later, exhausted and running late to a friend's birthday, we slowly emerge. The freeloaders from last night are clearly still downstairs. We creep into the bathroom and grimace. There is wine perched on the counter. Towels and clothes have been mushed up in the corner. Something hangs from the hook on the back of the door. We are unable confirm what it is just by looking at it, and refuse to investigate further. We have to get ready, despite the squalor. I shower as quickly as i can and feel contaminated. I want to kill George.

We go downstairs. It smells. Six or seven humans lay scattered around the living room and George, i see, is one of them. I grit my teeth, imagine all the ways it would be possible to break his head open, and push past the wreckage to the door. Jo stomps out behind me and we not-so-subtly let the door slam behind us.

And that, my friends, is the story of how one Sunday evening so quickly turned into what David calls "Fiasco Heaven". Here here.

As i mentioned, it was our friend Kama's birthday on Monday - so i will shout out to her quickly as i do on these occasions - Happy Birthday Kama! Hope you had a great day! She hosted a champagne breakfast to honour the occasion, and i honored her honouring by drinking plenty of it. Oh, how i love champagne! Yellow, pink, whatever. As long as it bubbles, I'm happy. Tony manned the BBQ and Kama manned the pancakes and i did nothing at all but eat and drink and entertain the masses with stories from the previous evening. A marvellous way to wile away the hours. Later that afternoon, Con, Kat, Jo and I wandered up to the local cafe for a much needed coffee before heading home.

In his defence, David hung his head his head in shame as we recounted all the gory details of his friend's antics. Actually, he said, he was surprised George had the decency to knock on our door at all. Deep sighs and head shaking all round, before we decided to forgive him (George that is, for after all he has provided a very funny story that i reckon i can re-tell at parties for years to come), and i ended my long weekend watching SVU while Jo headed out to the movies to see District 9, which he tells me is very good indeed.

Annnnd that's all folks!