Won't bother with a full weekend recap, as it's more of the usual -- various bars Friday night, long drunken BBQ Saturday, I still love my beer and I'm still awful to fat people.
But my favorite anecdote is probably from Sunday. Although I'd intended to have a quiet day doing nothing in particular, I naturally ended up at Bronte Beach for what was supposed to be a BBQ, although I'm pretty sure I didn't actually eat a thing. Why bother when there's wine, champagne and beer to take up that space?
By 6.30pm I was pretty smashed (took the bus home with some friends, where some random guy pointed at me and said "I'll have what he's having!", which would indicate the state I was in) and had the brilliant idea that I would go to the supermarket to buy food so I could make dinner for myself and salvage my original plan for the day.
So I should probably win some sort of award for getting home and realizing that I was missing half of my main ingredients, because I'd left around half of my shopping sitting there next to the cashier.
And then, I was too drunk to really care, so I just ordered Pizza Hut, ate half of my deep dish pepperoni and mushroom pizza, and then passed out on the couch halfway through a rerun of Ugly Betty, which means I was asleep by around 8pm.
I am such a rock star.