Props to the props and the hookers were spry

When I grow up, I want to be a hooker.

Actually, I don't want anything to do with being on a rugby team. I'm especially wimpy today. If someone handed me the ball, I would lateral it so quickly it would make your head spin. Id be all about "I'm rubber and you're glue... actually, I don't care what the fuck you are... take this and don't give it back to me. ever." The team sponsor could have contests: Provide photographic proof of Mike Reid actually holding the ball and win a free Tshirt.

I think I have this foreign land, public event timing down. Buy ticket. Ask three people how long it will take to get to the venue. Take the mean and the square of the square root and then go whenever you want. Man was I early. It started late and then over an hour of opening ceremonies. How an "at least an hour" walk turns into a 15 minute stroll I will never know. The tournament was fun. It was mini rugby though, although this was my first ever rugby display so I'm a bad judge. It was "sevens" which I am not really sure what that means, but I have seen bigger rugby players. Somoa slaughtered Tahiti 47-7 in 20 minutes of play. NZ, Tonga, cook islands, Fiji etc. did their thing. I was pretty tired and kind of confused frankly. I'm embarrassed to say that I don't really know the rules.

Also took a stroll down to the marina to sort out a stack of travellers cheques that I was given without my name on them from Chris. The mega yachts are amassing for the July festival. Its fun to see helicopters magically appear from below decks, or hatches that open up out the back and shit out Sea Doos. Don't kill the boat that lays the golden Sea Doo my pappy always used to say.