Popping not like nips or cars, no - more like p-p-p-parties

You know those films where someone old sits there narrating about the good old days whilst the younger version of them runs about and lives them out? And the only scenes you actually see the person live out of the ones that took their breath away or the moments that were really worth retelling because they shaped your whole life story?
Well if I were old, and my life was some sort of epic box office smash hit... my past two or three weeks would definitely make for an interesting cameo.
Although they have had no significance in life's grand scheme of things: there has been no love found or lost, no mental breakdowns, no realisations of self that were so hard to ignore. None of that. Just really, really good times. Even better new friends.
It all started with the forming of two people I actually believe there were government organisations formed purely for trying to stop the coming together. That would be myself and K Hansen.
I can't exactly explain why I feel as though us forming together was so similar to the making of a weapon of mass destruction, suffice to say that it's more of a party missile. We'll launch at you, completely blow you out of the water, dance circles around you and make you do shots of whatever liquor we are consuming that evening - and then before you know it - there's a mess left in our wake, blurry eyesight, headaches, what some may call hangovers, and little or no recollection of the night prior.
That's what we do. We represent the biggest and best parties that Melbourne has to offer and you just join and the next day you wake up wishing in equal measures that you didn't do it - and that you could do it all over again.
There was far too many amazing moments that have occured over the past few weeks to recount them all but let's just say that NYC famous rappers in my apartment at 5am showing us their ipod collection of music, or telling another person not to sit on my couch in case they sit on their own cd, looking at Rod Laver Arena from the side of the stage, the copious bottles of tequila I've drowned myself in will not be forgotten anytime soon.

However, just after I have found out about the ridiculous love I have for my perfect partner in crime... I am leaving for Europe. Where I wish I could drag her along too - but alas, I don't believe that even if I could put her in my suitcase, that it would be aloud through security. Plus - I know she is well aware that whilst I love her, I love my clothing alot too - and I couldn't take both.
In any regard, she is also leaving for the US soon too. Whilst I've spent a good deal of time feeling crappy about not having her around, and not being able to join her party in the US - I've decided that it really just means one thing - this party is going international. Towns will be painted red, and people all over the world get to experience the insanity that is the two of us.

I don't think the world can handle it.

"Say a prayer, but let the good times roll"