I went to a party tonight with CC who dressed up in a fat suit. We caught the ferry then walked through Glebe. It was ok (except that the fat suit was probably a little warm) until we got to the dog track. The dogs (presumably) didn't like the suit and started barking like crazy. Or maybe it was CC's angelic face, which does fill people with murderous rage from time to time... anyway, I should probably mention at this point that I made the whole fat suit thing up. And although we did walk past the dog track, the dogs didn't bark at us. But I did go to a party.
I felt old so I left early. How do you know when you are too old for a party? There are a couple of ways. One is when the 35 year old's antics piss you off because you realise he is probably going through a mid life crisis, and the other is when the under 25 year olds' lack of antics piss you off because you realise they are too young to have developed personalities yet.
I walked home and spent my taxi money on chocolate.
(I should ruin the acerbic impact of this post to point out that I am only referring to a select few individuals, and not the entire demographic of a particular age group).