2002-12-09 at 4:35 p.m.

Well, life goes on, much as it has these past couple of weeks. I've been having an enormously lazy time of it- sitting around, reading, and wasting ungodly amounts of time staring at a screen of some sort, be it TV or computer.

I went and saw Harry Potter II again on Friday night, accompanied by Jordan and Sarah, and my poor unwitting piano teacher Mr Ricci, who had been stranded in town by the local bushfires.

Our original plan (Jordans and mine, that is) was to get horribly, horribly drunk, and then enjoy the movie with the added bonus of hallucinations. Alas, it was not to be. Even after several bottles of Passion Pop (nectar of the Evil Gods of Liver Cirrhosis), we were only vaguely tipsy (although I almost took out one of Sarah's light fittings with the cork). The last time Jordan and I drank Passion Pop, we became very, very inebriated. (This resulted in a most amusing situation which I periodically wave over Jordan's head like a Sword of Damocles, threatening to let it fall at an inopportune time, ie., in front of his family. I'll regale you all with the tale someday, unless Jordan pays me off.

You think I'm kidding, don't you, Jordan?

I'm not.)

Watching Harry Potter for the second time allowed me to sit back and take in the finer details, like Lucius Malfoy's amazingly ludicrous fur hat, Snape's infamous 'Bundt Cake' look, and Draco Malfoy's perfectly aerodynamic head. There was also further gawking at the delicious evil that is Tom Riddle, more melty Parseltongue moments, and more laughing at the fact that Ron's voice has dropped approximately fifteen octaves since the first movie.

And Mr Ricci's verdict?

"The Teletubbies are better".

Unfortunately, after that little excursion, I am totally broke. I have therefore been confined to the house, reading books about vampires, watching infomericals, and repeatedly cursing my ISP, which refused to let me get onto the internet all weekend.

Wah.

Ivan just started listening to music in his room. Argh. He's a bit of a Death Metal fan, and all his music seems to be merely marketable screaming. I have no idea how he can listen to it first thing in the morning, at least- I have no wish to be reminded of blood shooting from the eyes for no apparent reason while waking from my catatonic stupor.