We spend our time searching for security and hate it when we get it.

Finally. We're regulars. It was all validated when Dicky Peach went to the bar at Stackers and the big man that has been seeing our faces for months said "pitcher of Bud for you and that guy right?", pointing to me as I was withdrawing many from the cash machine. He continued, stating that until we came along they had never run out of normal Budweiser before, with all the Massholes preferring the 'Liter' variety of what is an already average brew.

I guess I had enjoyed too many pitchers of that stuff, as my walk back in the snow and few hours kip left me feeling absolutely rotten the next day. Miraculously I made my early class, but hiding from the snow in the cover of my bedsheets was the only way to deal with the rest of the day.

At first it snowed, and then it rained and finally it froze. I was still shabby at 9PM, but the 150 jell-o shot party was enough impetus to pop a few painkillers and be on my way. I missed a bus waiting for Max and giant freezing puddles gobbled my shoes as we navigated the maze that is Pufton Village.

"No peeing in the sink" were the words that greeted me in favour of "Hi, how are you?", but after the last party at this house, it was easy to feel empathetic toward the host. The shoes were off at the door, and immediately lost in a damp pile of leather. People were tripping and slipping over them all night, but most of the attention was focused on the jell-o shots that were prepared earlier.

They made their way around the house/one big room and into the mouths of many. Mine didn't travel so far, instead finding a temporary home on my pants. The shots hit, and like any setback in life, some people took it worse than others. Teenagers were spilling drinks and others were stealing them.

Poor Joe could barely walk due to a knee inflammation that made it look like it belonged to an elephant, not a skinny English lad. Regardless, his highly recommended calf massages were a big hit, and even earned him assistance on my part when it came to putting his shoes on.

Alex, after a belly full of beer was channelling his look-alike, and in Justin Bieber fashion was dazzling the opposite gender. Sort of. In a battle of beer bravado vs beer charm, it is fair to say the former one, but he gets points for trying.

Still, at least he wasn't trying to steal my Nikes like some random girls, or spilling drinks and falling asleep, like a 16-year-old high school guy was. Better yet, he didn't even fall in the snow like I did on a urination adventure.

When the party came to a close the icy paths got the better of me. The taxis had all left, and there was no way a person of my balance would have been able to make it back over the frozen puddles and paths. Luckily, Ollie also had some of that charm on, and convinced a girl who was heading home from work at 3AM to turn around and drive us home. Job done, crisis averted.

Minge: man fringe/he-bang

I did my best to replicate a Sunday at home and spent the day watching sports. Rangers won, Birmingham City won and St George Illawarra became the first Wollongong team to be world champions of anything (corruption, racism and murder aside). It was so much like a home Sunday that Sam Diego and I even stopped by a bar for an afternoon pint, only to find the place was empty and that a bass-fishing competition was being shown on the shiny flat-screen televisions. What the hell? This is the land of the television show "Cheers", I thought they understood how bars and Sunday sessions worked.

Oh well, the Sunday was about to get a whole lot better. Jessie commandeered a vehicle and drove Sam and I out to Northampton to see 'Tennis' play. The opening band didn't raise my heart-rate. They dressed like my previous career, I.T., and like that previous life, I wasn't exactly upset when the time to say good-bye came around.

yeah, trees get covered in ice here, no biggie.

On the other hand, Tennis were fantastic. Their story goes like this; husband and wife from Colorado sell their things, go sailing for a while, return to land and write an album. It's a tale of sweetness, and their sound reflects that in their waltz-like tunes. On stage they're a picture perfect couple, bopping about and sharing the occasional glance between eachother. I still remember watching The Weakerthans play one of the best shows I've seen. Everytime John K. Samson would duet his body and head would face the crowd, but his eyes were fixed firmly on his wife, who sang with him on his right. In both instances, the tiny venues the bands played at had an added level of intimacy to the performance,

Anyway, Tennis were fun, cute, sweet and pretty appealing to the Brooklyn-esque crowd that assembled. The husband and wife were joined by a drummer, and despite their lightweight approach to equipment, they filled the room with plenty of sound. Noho had been incredibly barren for shows this semester, but Tennis proved to be a lovely start to what is an upcoming run of concerts.

When the calendar turned over to Monday we all went out to dinner for Renita's birthday. The meal concluded with a visit to Stackers, and it was my fourth in five days. That was enough for me to throw a smokebomb Lee-Roy Chetty would be proud of.

Little did people know that when I left stackers I made a hasty sojourn to the University of Wollongong to see my friend Rowan and grab a cup of coffee. I'm back in Amherst now, but it was a nice, yet brief interlude.

Old friends, good coffee.

***Song
Finn Brothers - Won't Give In
I hope New Zealand feels better. I'll always be thankful they gave the world these two.