Bvvvvvp. Wade went to Trash, Sophie didn't. She went to bed. David went home.
If I were Wade I would not go to Trash. He is going to Paris tomorrow, for Love, to Fall right in it, and splash about like a greedy fish.
I did a lot today though. In my sweet little room in Sophie's off Brick Lane with all the yellow jumpered children outside I have all my compuer terminals, and internet, and a mike, and a pre amp, and a Technics SL-DZ1200 and a pink iPod and a diddy midi keyboard and a red leather jacket that cost me a tenner and I bought it from Beyond Retro which is basically on the doorstep.
I saw my dear old friend Gourlay the other day. He marvelled at my jacket, and wondered what large fraction of my ten billion advance I'd spunked on it. He didn't believe it was a tenner. Sophie mocks my super noodles. But I am not in the position to be buying baubles, oh my people. I have responsibilities. But I am in the position to do, well, pretty much anything I like, with my, um, stuff... You know, that... they gave me.
I can wake up and draw, and make tunes, and sing, and dance, and laugh, and bray, and giggle. I can make cartoons, and mixtapes. Today I was making a Stunners International one, for me and Wade and David and Birddogg's awesome venture, the lashing together of all we are, and were.
I made a decision too.
Oh. The Drinking Song is no longer on the Newgrounds frontpage. But it has, at last checking, been viewed 91,791 times. With any luck, the uncensored, censored, and subtitle-less versions should grace this site tomorrow.