Saturday Day: Get ready for Hall Ball.
Saturday Night: Hall Ball.
Sunday Day: Work.
Sunday Night: Bristol's 21st.
Monday Morning: Class.
Do you see the problem?
We'll start from the beginning. (This may be boring. You have been warned.) I don't have any photos of me (attempting) to curl my hair. Nor do I have photos of the curls that resulted, and I promise you there were some. Just not any that lasted til I got downstairs.
Anyway, me and my lack of curls made it downstairs in one piece, despite the ridiculously high and narrow heels I insisted (to myself) on wearing. Oh and my dress came too. Would you like to see it?
(Notice I am always in the middle. I am tall in my pretty shoes.) I'll show you more later, if you're very lucky. Then we stood around in the courtyard and took lots of photos. If you wanted to be in any of mine, it helped if you'd worn the same colour as someone else.
Then we got on a bus and drove to the city. So that was pretty boring. And hot - and not in a good way. Did I mention it was 32 that day? I'll take that as a Darwin shout-out, thanks weather! We got the Convention Centre and got to stand around and take even more photos.
This time they came with magical never-ending champagne, which was fun. As you can tell.
Then we went it to Hall E (geddit?) where we ate (or tried to - some of us had trouble working basic implements), DRANK, listened (?) to speeches (clearly, I'm a fan), talked, danced, and took and had taken lots more photos. No champagne was harmed in the making of that sentence. (Clearly, I've been writing essays too much (ha!) if I feel the need to provide references for every single thing I mention. Go on, check them.)
And I had the best moment of my whole entire time at the Hall. Seriously, ask Jess to sing the words to Greased Lightning. Dude, she doesn't know them. Yeah, you should be shocked. She knows the words to fucking everything.
Next was the After Party, by which point my shoes were kind of killing me. They are pretty shoes though. Then we got us some Maccas, and tried to get a cab. The line at one was only slightly shorter than the line for the other.
Finally, we got to the front of the never-ending line. Unfortunately, most of the never-ending alcohol had worn off by this point. Which meant that we were (I was) not amused by being told that NT stands for Naughty Territory and Darwin is a horrible place, especially after being informed that music costs extra. Don't think he was too impressed with my "SA = Sucks Arse" arguement.
BUT ANYWAY. Dude, we looked HOT. There was NEVER-ENDING CHAMPAGNE. I fit into my PRETTY PRETTY DRESS. The Scarlet Lady did EIGHTY on the way to work. Thank you and goodnight.