Have you ever cleaned a room in your house so thoroughly that it counts as aerobic exercise?

The kitchen is my bitch.

On Saturday Rachael's exquisitely planned birthday party totally fucking rocked. I think having to stop the party bus half way through our hour's hireage in order to get the 20 of us more wine says a lot about us as people. Not all of it good. :) (I don't think we should mention the bowling alley bar refusing to serve us for an hour because we were too intoxicated, either. Ahem.) We sang karaoke on the bus very loudly, Brent won the bowling, I lost quite comprehensively (although my one strike won me a twirly sparkling baton!), there was a caramel cake of profound delight, and my final stop of the night was at a lovely pub on Lincoln Road where country and western songs were being sung lustily by the moustachioed of west Auckland. The others went on to Boogie Wonderland, but Brent and I, in the interests of economy, prevailed upon the kindness of strangers (well, my very pleasant uncle, actually) to wend our way home...