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Sunday, October 05, 2003
Don Quixote takes full aim at the Windmills in My Mind - Bystanders shocked at senseless Windmill Slaughter (Byline: Damien)
Well, readers, most of us spent all last night in sweet manumission from our earthly bounds. The Administrator of this blog claims that, for him, certain portions of the evening were spent manifesting "manic hilarity". This statement from Pierre certainly confirms, even to the casual observer, why he is considered the Southern Hemisphere's leading exponent of "stating the bleeding obvious".
Many of us would be keen to hear any anecdotes of this blog's Fascist-In-Chief (aka Pierre, aka The Administrator) that did not involve "manic hilarity" even in the course his straight, workaday, quotidian adventuring. However, there were also many other highlights. Jodie - a charming, vivacious woman whose natural beauty is as compelling off the drug as on - was her usual engaging self. However, her timely interpolation of the "Yeah, yeah, nobody cares" when your humble correspondent was about to launch into another long-winded anecdote rescued proceedings on more than one occasion. JT, her partner, love slave and only man alive who knows Jodie's safety word, was also effortlessly suffusing the room with his unwaveringly beautiful vibe - a vibe so rich and wholesome that it provides a safety net for every one of us balanced precariously on the psychological window ledge.
And what of Kneel ? Showing the remarkable emotional resiliency for which he is justly renowned, he left the mournful shadows of Collingwood's Saturday debacle well behind and proceeded to drink deeply from the well of life. Filming, talking, talking faster, talking faster and louder, talking faster and louder with hand gestures - there was no challenge presented on the evening that this multimedia sensation did not take in his stride.
As for Eloise, she continued to issues instructions in her trademark sensual, easy listening, "hits and memories" format. People were not so much bent to her will as willingly moulded with a series of rich, decadent verbal caresses. Every chance to obey her was willingly grasped as a chance to remain within the favour of this woman whose every whim carries the seduction of the apocalypse within its velvet heart.
A highlight of the evening also was the appearance of Eloise's enigmatic, adamantine younger sister, Adele. Adele, whose flawless, unimpeachable beauty belies the utter and fabulous destruction of which she is capable, was also on hand to verbalise the odd whim. As I reported excitedly to many passers-by (even going outside at one stage to stop punters in the street), this was the most ripped I have ever seen Adele. And yet, the essence of this rare flower remains elusive.
As for me, all that remains to be said is that those offshore punters who moved significant sums of cash on to my opponents at the last minute will wake up big losers this morning. One's Twister record remains intact, and a triumph also (with the lovely Eloise) in the brand new sport of "Cranium". Also of note, a premiere re-enactment of my seminal "Free Willy" charade - a re-enactment I built up to all evening by refusing to do up my fly after going to the toilet. What a lovely note to end on.
Many of us would be keen to hear any anecdotes of this blog's Fascist-In-Chief (aka Pierre, aka The Administrator) that did not involve "manic hilarity" even in the course his straight, workaday, quotidian adventuring. However, there were also many other highlights. Jodie - a charming, vivacious woman whose natural beauty is as compelling off the drug as on - was her usual engaging self. However, her timely interpolation of the "Yeah, yeah, nobody cares" when your humble correspondent was about to launch into another long-winded anecdote rescued proceedings on more than one occasion. JT, her partner, love slave and only man alive who knows Jodie's safety word, was also effortlessly suffusing the room with his unwaveringly beautiful vibe - a vibe so rich and wholesome that it provides a safety net for every one of us balanced precariously on the psychological window ledge.
And what of Kneel ? Showing the remarkable emotional resiliency for which he is justly renowned, he left the mournful shadows of Collingwood's Saturday debacle well behind and proceeded to drink deeply from the well of life. Filming, talking, talking faster, talking faster and louder, talking faster and louder with hand gestures - there was no challenge presented on the evening that this multimedia sensation did not take in his stride.
As for Eloise, she continued to issues instructions in her trademark sensual, easy listening, "hits and memories" format. People were not so much bent to her will as willingly moulded with a series of rich, decadent verbal caresses. Every chance to obey her was willingly grasped as a chance to remain within the favour of this woman whose every whim carries the seduction of the apocalypse within its velvet heart.
A highlight of the evening also was the appearance of Eloise's enigmatic, adamantine younger sister, Adele. Adele, whose flawless, unimpeachable beauty belies the utter and fabulous destruction of which she is capable, was also on hand to verbalise the odd whim. As I reported excitedly to many passers-by (even going outside at one stage to stop punters in the street), this was the most ripped I have ever seen Adele. And yet, the essence of this rare flower remains elusive.
As for me, all that remains to be said is that those offshore punters who moved significant sums of cash on to my opponents at the last minute will wake up big losers this morning. One's Twister record remains intact, and a triumph also (with the lovely Eloise) in the brand new sport of "Cranium". Also of note, a premiere re-enactment of my seminal "Free Willy" charade - a re-enactment I built up to all evening by refusing to do up my fly after going to the toilet. What a lovely note to end on.
