"Foxtel doesn't do drugs."

Apparently my brother wants to have sex with the girl on Drake & Josh.

That's cool she's pretty hot.

We (and mum, without whom it seems quite strange as we are visiting a family friend) visited a family friend last week.

Man that sentence was backwards.

We went to the house for the daughter's 20th birthday party.

There was lots of heterosexuality challenged women there. It was really scary.

It seems that this guy I really hate got thrown onto the train tracks. Max 'fatty fat fat fat" Quist was out with his aforeunmentioned woman and he got into a fight with some dudes at Wickham station coz he'd been drinking more than a Sam. They beat the shit out of him and threw him on the train tracks where he was too inebriated to clamber back up. All the trains had to be stopped.

"Never go out at night if you're fat and really crap." - Aesop on that night.

The only other story as funny as Max getting massively train-smashed was the story of the old lady who got a new computer which had a smaller floppy drive back in the 90s, so she folded her floppy disk to make it fit.

Similarly in terms of jocularious regalitude was mum's tale about some guy who rang his computer people many years ago with unconnected mouse in hand to ask what the foot pedal was for?

"If i ever get a bowling ball I'm gonna name it Gordon Tallis."

Just after dinner one of the bitches at the party invited this guy she knew over and he came with three mates. They looked really crap and I kept wanting to stab them with my kebab stick. Then suddenly I heard one of them say 'Frank Zappa'. Needless to say it was the fat one. It was the greatest moment of my entire life.

Then later on the lesbians and their platonic manfriends went off to steal a street sign. Some of the girls had done it before, bringing home a local 'Wisteria Lane', and this time they looked to conquer a sign they failed to grasp last time because of their lack of height. The sign was for Short Street.

We were expecting a sign, and a few worn out dirty girls. We got an entire streetsign pole, and a collection of grazes and cuts covering all their supple if masculine bodies.

"What was Napoleon's first name?"
"Napoleon."
"What...Napoleon Napoleon?"

By midnight two girls were passed out and one was throwing up. And yet still I returned home with my pants unstained. I'm not sure whether to blame the fact that my mum was there, or that I was dealing with a bunch of vaginalickers.