Street fighter. That's right.

It's rather odd to have someone else's graduation photo smiling at me, from the side of my desk. It would make sense if it belonged to my daughter or son. But it doesn't. It belongs to a dear friend. And she looks really happy. It's not a I'm-posing-for-my-grad-photo kind of smile, either. It's a wow-this-is-really-just-too-much-I'm-going-to-explode-in-a-burst-of-graduate-juice kinda smile. I picked up the photo for her when it was ready. She'll grab it off me some time.

My sleep pattern is still set to party mode. Around 4:00pm I flop to the floor like my bones have evaporated. Around 2:00am I'm ready to hit the streets, nail polish and all. Some think I wear nail polish because I'm just a rather effeminate guy. Ignore the cute pictures of birdies and the blinding flashes of colour that adorn these finger tips. I'm the world's greatest street fighter, Baby.










You think these are 'cause I wanna look pretty? Well, they are. But you watch me sidle up to some guy outside a strip club on King Street and I'll work my magic. Just one "Hey, Cutie" from me, and his bulging, tatt-covered arms'll start swinging.

I'm a lean, mean, arse-kicking machine!

On the other hand, Bible study went well this week. It was really good to have a look at Paul's example of what prayer can be like, when we truly practice loving the community around us as God intended.

I'm not sure what to make of this sudden burst of old-fashioned, personal-update style blogging. Meh. You'll drink whatever I bring. Heck most of you are students, so you'd probably settle for goon.

TheSovietChairman