Cafe

We're at an internet cafe (and I mean "Kay-F' - not "Ca-fay"!) with little to say right now. Jess is beside me once again and we're just relaxing. We had a doozy of a dance filled night last night at what might be the BEST BAR IN THE WORLD. I say that in the sense that you can bump in to folks on the dance floor and not get fucking stabbed or anything. That, and it was kind of classy. Dress shirts, live band, nice couches. Good stuff.

Gamble has had little to no volume in his voice for the entire trip, and I find it both ammusing and depressing at the same time. I think he's downed an entire pack of throat thingers (they're succrets, with a different name) and each pack has like 20 pieces. Wow.

In other news, patying with Miller is like, the best thing ever. That kid is a monster, and it's impossible to keep up with him. It's also impossible to keep track of his ass. That kid's wild, and it's a riot. Good game, sir.

I'm keeping a journal, as I mentioned a couple posts ago, and it's being updated less and less by the day. It went from every 30 minutes, to an hour, to every other day or so I think. Trying to keep that updated as much as I can, interspersing it with this blog dealie. I'll likely have to type up the journal entries and print 'em off for folks to read.

There's no way anyone is going to be able to read that mess. I can't.

Anywho, talk to y'all soon. Back to exploring Christchurch as we try and find our $18/night hostel.

Thumbs up.

Mitchell Dyer