My brother got home last night and puked a lot. He was hurling in the bathroom quite powerfully for a while. And then he came out and chatted and said he felt much better. And then he went to bed. But later, I was out in the backyard having a cigarette and I heard this sound of heavy wetness hitting the grass at the side of the house. And some kinda animal-ish noises. And I thought, "What are those possums doing? Spraying each other with hoses?" But then I went, "Oh man. Simon, are you puking out your window?" And he said, forlornly, "Yes". And I was laughing my arse off. And then he was laughing. And then he puked some more. "Stop laughing. It's not funny. I didn't even drink that much. This window is handy though." And I have been teasing him all day. Even when we had company and I was pretending to be a short film script editor, I still teased him. But a few minutes ago I was in the bathroom rifling through my make-up bag. And it was all wet in there. And kinda slimy. And I pulled out my hand and smelled my fingers. OH. MY. GOD. "Simon! Did you puke in my make-up bag?!" And I stormed into his room. "Did you?!" And he just kind of paused and thought for a little bit, and then it dawned on him. "Oh yeah. I forgot about that." Gah! Gross.

Anyway, ohmygod, mad movie car chase, but for real. In Melbourne. How weird is that? Whizzing bullets, car hijackings, mistaken identities, and a spectacular climactic car flip outside the Kino. Which may or may not have happened in slow-mo. Weird.

Hey Guy, do you have to work tomorrow? Because I was thinking that we could maybe check out the Kylie exhibit at The Arts Centre. So that I could totally blame you for having seen it. And then I could take you to see the Ramones documentary at the Lumiere. And you could totally blame me.