We are a world of junkies... addicts... fanatics.

It all started last night, during a fabulous dinner with my much loved ladies. Miss M rushes into the restaurant and sits down, with a strange look that slightly contorted her generally uncontortable face and says:

"I just drove down Northbourne Avenue... did you know the window washer was wearing a Daramalan College Jersey".

She flinched.

"Does that mean that the window washer went to Darraa?"

I was hungry, so shrugged and continued scowering my neighbours dishes in deciding between Pad Thai & Laksa.

But Miss T replies:

"Well, legend has it, that he graduated top of his class like 15 years ago and became a luctrative accountant until he got into heroine and lost it all"

Murmers sweep across the table...

Miss P: "ohhh, terrible"...

Mr Z: "wow, how sad"...

Me:  "Do you think they'll charge me for extra tofu?"

Once I ascertained that 50cents would afford me another helping of smushy bean curd, I started to think about it. 

The window washer on Northbourne... the Darra Jersey.... the frustrated young lawyer (Miss M) who graduated Darra and was shattered to discover that a precedessing classmate had got into drugs, and lost it all.

There we sat at our table - 5 young, well edu-micated kids.. kinda like 'St Elmo's Fire' minus the bar, the brawls and the original bratpack. With our credit cards, flashy phones, law degrees and priveledged views on life;

and guess what spoke about?

Facebook.

A hot topic of conversation... the new 'it' thing to do.

It suddenly dawned on me, in between spring rolls and fish cakes, that we too were addicts.

To facebook... to mobiles... to boyfriends.

Bad friends... big boobs... no boobs...nictoine... diets...white wine... cask wine...friends lists... RSVP's... ebay... chocolate... sexing...waxing...you name it, and we depended on it.

So I guess it begged the question (with a forkful of tofu to hand):

Has our generation culled the term 'creatures of habit'

and supplemented it for 'creatures of bad habit'???

Were compullsions driving us to turn impulse into the new addiction?

My mind began to race, picturing the scenario as Miss M, sitting in her car after a hard day of billable hours and odious contracts, saw what she thought, was her life flash before her eyes only to realise that it was, in fact,

a squigee and some washing detergent being smeared across her windscreen?

Was our window washing friend simply a metaphor... a smash in case of emergency...

a symbol there to remind us,

that facebook, when used to excess, is like any other type of substance abuse...

addictive?

Well, whatever the case may be, my mind collapsed into a state of automatism after I polished off a huge serving of laksa, and I put the whole incident out of my mind, replacing it with my most favourite addiction of all:

perving at shirtles boyfriend

Keeping it real since 5am this morning:

V.