Kite-flying

Sydney’s CBD can get as windy as any other city, and tonight, I had a random urge to fly a kite in between office buildings. Unfortunately, Ben’s car didn’t have a kite in the back of it. We instead saw a movie, in which Tori managed to preemptively respond with the same lines as a key character (not cliches, either). From this, it is ascertained she must be pregnant. After a brief stint of terrorism in the McDonald’s on George Street (who, incidentally, now operate what is perhaps the 700^th Internet cafe in that part of the world), we dispersed, which involved the denting of a bull bar, a twenty-minute wait for a train, and Hooberstank sounding suspiciously like Simple Plan.

If this post didn’t really make sense, don’t worry. I’m still trying to work it out myself.