Right so, these jerkbox hippie cunts bought this house way down on the very southern tip of the south island of NZ, like its at the bottom of the world - the next stop is antartica. And it's like a beach house, but its mental - has a big ballroom and loads of different sections and storeys and bits of roof all over the place, and they have parties in it every month or so... and when they're not having parties, its pretty much open to anyone to stay there once they contribute something to the house. Like, mow the lawn or clean the bathrooms or whatever... so basically just a load of fuckin grossbag hippies right...
Anyway so my boss/friend/landlady was invited coz her mate is one of the ten people that part-owns it. So I went along with her coz I wanted to see Invercargill etc and travel, and she wanted to go to get away coz her son is in bits, in bits, in bits, from the car crash and she's really depressed looking at him everyday and worrying about him.
Well anyhows, as soon as we got there I knew it was a mistake - the place was riddled with hippies with dreadlocks, eating garden-grown vegetables and fruit, and wandering around in tie-dye etc.
We set up our tent outside and had some (communal) vegetarian dinner (ugh), and a few glasses of wine but still, my malingering sense of foreboding dug its heels in for what was in store over the next few days ... basically I just wanted to be at home and shut the door on everyone and relax like a normal person, and not have to chat or be awkward with this commune of 40-50 year old crusties that I had nothing in common with, hahaha oh god, oh god!
So the party was on the next night and it was meant to be a fancy dress party, so I was like thinking 'oh what shall I dress up as?', but when it got to nearing party time and they all started appearing in the shittest, wierdest, weird, weird, mingingest clothes, I realised that thier definition of dressing up is not the same as ours (we all know dressing up does not equal craic anyway!!). So like there was one woman in a see-through tutu with glow sticks in her hair, and she was doing poi, and a woman with a really mannish body in a backless top and vertically striped flares and a flat cap, and an old lady in a little tight sequin dress and cowboy boots and a cowboy hat and all this shit stuff... and the funniest thing is, they all had about 4/5 different shit, weird, minging outfits and would change in and out of them like it was some kind of weird, minging hippie, shit-clothes parade!! The smell of hippie sweat in the room was horrific, even when you left the room, you couldnt quite shake it off.... I tried to film some of the dancing and stupid outfits but it was too dark - I did however get some good pics of some fully-moustached weird guy in a pair of bet-on pink patterned kids pyjama's and a stripey shirt, it was quite an eyeful, as demonstrated in fig 1, 2 and 3 below.....
Anyway so my boss/friend/landlady was invited coz her mate is one of the ten people that part-owns it. So I went along with her coz I wanted to see Invercargill etc and travel, and she wanted to go to get away coz her son is in bits, in bits, in bits, from the car crash and she's really depressed looking at him everyday and worrying about him.
Well anyhows, as soon as we got there I knew it was a mistake - the place was riddled with hippies with dreadlocks, eating garden-grown vegetables and fruit, and wandering around in tie-dye etc.
We set up our tent outside and had some (communal) vegetarian dinner (ugh), and a few glasses of wine but still, my malingering sense of foreboding dug its heels in for what was in store over the next few days ... basically I just wanted to be at home and shut the door on everyone and relax like a normal person, and not have to chat or be awkward with this commune of 40-50 year old crusties that I had nothing in common with, hahaha oh god, oh god!
So the party was on the next night and it was meant to be a fancy dress party, so I was like thinking 'oh what shall I dress up as?', but when it got to nearing party time and they all started appearing in the shittest, wierdest, weird, weird, mingingest clothes, I realised that thier definition of dressing up is not the same as ours (we all know dressing up does not equal craic anyway!!). So like there was one woman in a see-through tutu with glow sticks in her hair, and she was doing poi, and a woman with a really mannish body in a backless top and vertically striped flares and a flat cap, and an old lady in a little tight sequin dress and cowboy boots and a cowboy hat and all this shit stuff... and the funniest thing is, they all had about 4/5 different shit, weird, minging outfits and would change in and out of them like it was some kind of weird, minging hippie, shit-clothes parade!! The smell of hippie sweat in the room was horrific, even when you left the room, you couldnt quite shake it off.... I tried to film some of the dancing and stupid outfits but it was too dark - I did however get some good pics of some fully-moustached weird guy in a pair of bet-on pink patterned kids pyjama's and a stripey shirt, it was quite an eyeful, as demonstrated in fig 1, 2 and 3 below.....
So in a nutshell, there I was with all these weird old hippies - dressed up as mentalists and dancing away like lepers in a salt-bath to drum and bass and deep house... thousands of miles from the holy trinity of deadly craic, let alone anyone, who would be able to share in the ridiculous, and sheer, absolute hilarity of it all.
The moral of the story is, never trust an emotionally unstable lunatic who offers you a weekend away camping.
The end.
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