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It’s been a week of internal flat dramas down here on Castle.
The first incident stems back to O Week when one smelly little shit took a cool three hundy cash out on the flatcard. He invested the three hundred in disco biscuits unbeknownst to his flatmates, who were left wondering why they couldn’t afford food when should have been more than enough on the card.  However, it was O Week so chances are they were pissed and didn’t take too much notice. Last Sunday, however, the flat sat down to sort out the accounts and backtracked through their statements to see where this food money had “disappeared” to. When it was revealed that the three hundy had been blown on nose candy, shit hit the fan. Needless to say, there is now a room available on Castle if anyone is interested.

 
Earlier that day a Sunday session combined with a quick skate to the fish and chip shop turned nasty. Two boozed up flatmates managed to share the board all the way to Cumberland Street and back; it was only when they arrived back outside the flat that things went wrong. The front rider didn’t quite nail the dismount and penguin-dived into the side of a parked car. The car happened to be a 2001 Subaru Impreza WRX Sti version 7 owned by his bogan flatmate. The skater boy managed to put a big dent in a door using his head, an impressive feat but not necessarily magical for the relationship between the culprit and his flatmate. After a team hug, a blaze and 700 bucks of course related costs, the ordeal been smoothed over.
 

April Fools’ Day was as disappointing as the toilet paper in the St David’s Lecture Theatre (one ply, feels like sandpaper) as people were too hung over to cause mischief. In other news, one lucky couple deserves credit for incorporating a skateboard into their lovemaking, a commendable feat that gives new meaning to the phrases “night riding” and “shredding it”. Otherwise most of the romance going on consists of people drunkenly going gardening (digging up old roots); it’s the easy fallback option. Fortunately the layer of paint on Castle Street still spices things up as it’s caking the road like make-up on an Auckland girl’s face.