Top Three Most Frustrating Day....Ever!

First let me reiterate my apology (sincere, of course, if sincerity is an emotion that can be conveyed via the trans-pacific cable to the US internet supply; I must say it would take a highly talented writer, with skills far above my own, to accurately emote sincerity in a text formatted apology, as well as an intuitive reader to infer such emotion...I don't even believe people if they tell me they're sorry, and I don't believe people are really appreciative in the form of a thank-you note, so I imagine I would not fall into the intuitve reader of apologies category) for not regularly updating this blizog. The reason is I really do need to continue moving forward with this med-school essay type shit, which would be a really good excuse, if I were actually moving in said forward direction with any inertia whatsoever. Truthfully I've been playing too much solitaire. But, like my height and hairy chest (man-matting), I blame my father. Not only does Pete's gene for ultra-one-on-self-competitiveness express itself highly in me (it should be noted here that it's also due to him that I can consistently beat myself in lowering my golf scores....and beat him on a regular basis, while spotting a stroke per hole, but that's neither here nor there), but he also bet me I could not win 100 times in a row at free-cell (The name itself is deceiving, because you not free once you begin this quest). If you think I backed down from this challenge you clearly do not know me very well; ask Vince or Greg how their bets against my eating aptitude turned out. EDIT: I have never played this game before last week, and I am up to 20 wins consecutively.
The point is I will seriously be better about keeping in touch, either one on one with people, or through the blog. Since my friends here are internationals here semester by semester, or people rotating through the lab, I certainly have not forgotten about everyone with whom I have serious long standing friendships... you're all important to me (with the potential exception of the handful of random women who reached this site by trying to google search pictures of me). Plus I just got internet in my room, so it will much more convenient to access the www. And easier to read pointless articles about basketball and golf, but you know what I mean. Oh, and speaking of my close friends, I'd just like you all to keep MJP in your thoughts, as he will be heading to Iraq sometime soon, departure TBA. No matter what you think of the war, keep in mind that your friends and family members are there in the name of their and YOUR (our) country, so support isn't too much to ask.
ANYWAY, two days ago was probably my most frustrating day since I couldn't get a damn windmill made of toothpicks to stay together in 7th grade. It began with the intention to purchase tickets for an advance-midnight showing of 300. Let me just say, here, that I haven't looked forward to a movie this much since the Matrix 2. We all know that one wasn't the greatest film, but the sheer anticipation for it was mind-numbing. I've felt the same way about 300 (keep in mind, I like this sort of epic, ancient history, battle shit) since I first saw the preview in September while watching The Departed. This was exactly the time when I became insensitively tolerant to oxycodone, and so for anything to pique my interest it must have left quite an impression. So here I am, in "queue" behind at least 45 high school kids (I would say sluts, but that wouldn't be fair to the gay dudes standing in front of me) , waiting to purchase tickets. Upon arriving to my [box office attendent] destination, I was informed (though the web site would have me believe otherwise) that the movie was a special screening only, and all thirty seats were sold out. "Fuck." Loudly (I now recall a time walking down the street here w/ Chavs and dropping an authoritative F-bomb, only to look up and see a couple and their baby sitting on their porch. Whatever, they live 2 houses away from Manhattan Terrace, a brothel, I think they've got more to worry for junior than profanity) . Who advertises a screening for thirty people! In a movie theater (excuse me, theatre)! Can I get four popcorn kernels with that too?
Continuing on with my evening, I go downstairs (in the Melbourne Central super-mall) To coles (yes, lowercased) supermarket, to purchase protein rich food sources. And guess what? All out of eggs. Completely. Of course they were. Guess who just got blacklisted by me.
An hour later, after going completely out of my way to Safeway (my new shopping destination, mind you), I return, in hopes of watching an entertaining replay of the NCAA championship game. I alerted everyone within earshot that I would be requiring use of the television at 930, and that if anyone knew what happened in the game (it happened in the morning), not to tell me. I went all day without looking on the internet at sports web sites, or even CNN.com, for fear of seeing the outcome of the game. Even after all the harm done to my patience, I knew that a competitive and exciting basketball game featuring [hopefully] the Celtics' future center would make me happy. Wrong. Not two minutes into the game a girl came downstairs, and, much to my chegrin, states, "oh, is this the florida game? I heard they won." Words cannot describe the utter disgust I felt at that time. Aparantly I looked "like I was gonna punch Yuki" (who wasn't even who told me, she was just there. Believe me, if there were a stray possum I would have kicked it). Ashamed by my inclusion in this girl's genus, I sulked through the rest of the greg-oden-but-ultimately-florida-gators fest. Not even vegemite could put a rose on my cheek.