Good times

Out of the blue the other day, I got the awesome news that Ex-flatmate may be visiting the US of A in early October. Needless to say I'm awaiting his visit with much anticipation. Hanging out with my mates is a glaring deficit in my Boston-life, so I'm bloody excited at the prospect of partying with Ex-flatmate soon.

After much persuasion by Ex-flatmate (i.e. his 11 comments on a previous post that exclaimed "Facebook!!") I finally joined the incestuous den of online networking, that is Facebook. The main reason for my resistance in joining the Facebook community is that there are a lot of people there, mostly from high school, who I'd prefer to avoid.

It's actually not a bad thing that I setup a Facebook account, as it allowed me to discover that my mate The Scot had his birthday the other month, an event I totally forgot, sorry mate! The Scot has a legendary ability to absorb vast amounts of alcohol, and has more drinking exploits than anyone I know. More often than not, a night out on the town involves The Scot, Ex-flatmate and myself getting totally shitfaced and dancing badly till dawn. Classy and responsible of us I know. We three also have very similar musical preferences meaning that we have moshed and air-guitared to countless concerts and music festivals together. Our signature concert beverage is Jack Daniel's and cola, which again, we tend to get fairly intoxicated with during the gig. Sophisticated? that's us. Good times.