A look inside the mind of a mentally depreciating young man
Monday, May 31, 2010
Eurovision is pretty much the greatest event of the year.
The feast that mum prepared was off the chain. Some food from various countries, including paella and Portugese chicken. So good. And the cousins, Harry and Al gathering around the TV all watching, singing along and making massively inappropriate comments throughout is great fun. Standing ovation from Al and I to my future wife Lena Meyer-Landrut (Al, you got no chance and I will marry her) and an all-round applause for Giorgos Alkaios and Friends. OPA was a pretty sweet jam. Honestly, I thought that Iceland's song, no matter how fat the singer was, had a solid chance at winning. "Je Ne Sai Quoi" had the euro-rave beats, outrageous singing, a key change and amazing lighting. But hey, turns out Europe loves Lena nearly as much as I do. She was even in my dream - and it wasn't even sexual!
We went down to Opera Bar (because for some reason I was fucking loaded) and while we were having some steak, Lena and her friend were walking past (because she came to Australia because she's cool like that). And so I ran over and like talked to her and invited her to join us for dinner (dream, remember this, a dream) and we were all hanging and taking photos and then we went to the Argyle and danced to "Tits & Acid" by Simian Mobile Disco and then went to Cargo Bar (yes, I woke up and though, "Oh god...Cargo..?") and met up with everyone else. Then we got out mega party on and then as everyone was leaving I was all like: "Lena, where are you staying?" and so we all went back to her hotel room, which was the penthouse of the Shangri-La (pretty believable). And we drank expensive alcohol (and when I say I was loaded, I mean wads of cash and money clips) and went to sleep as the sun rose. I am a cool guy with a vivid imagination which is totally realistic. Shut up.