Hubris.co.nz

1. I handed in my resignation this morning. What am I going to do now? Not work here anymore, once my four week notice period is up anyway. It was bad timing for my boss, which sucks cos he’s lovely, and there was another resignation this morning, and there was an accident/suicide yesterday.(*)

2. OMG OMG OMG – apparently during a radio interview Slash (that’s MOTHERFUCKING SLASH FROM GUNS’N ROSES MOTHERFUCKER) quoted the article that I (that’s MOTHERFUCKING ME) wrote for Pulp about Velvet Revolver. I am now officially a rockstar journalist of the Anthony Bozza type. No wonder I had to quit my day job!

3. (and again with the double-ups): Also, if perchance the person from Chch who is “pining for me” who sent me the Valentine isn’t also reading NZM – thank you very much! I showed your card to our receptionist to cheer her up after I’d been crying on her shoulder because I felt stink abotu handing in my resignation and it made her happy. Of course it made me happy too.

Now that Annabel has finally received her surprise gift, I can go on and on and on and on about Pluto’s new album Pipe Line Under The Ocean. Holy fucking wow it is good. There’s a bunch of songs on there that can reduce me to tears if I was going to let them, and a bunch of songs – some of them the same – that make me want to shove my hands down the nearest set of panties (probably mine) immediately. Hott hott hott hott hott hott hott. The album came out last Monday, and luckily we got sent a copy at work so I could rip it to my computer, since I’d ordered mine from SmokeCDs.com and they didn’t arrive until Wednesday – which isn’t like a huuuuge delay, and they did make sure that i got them before my mummy’s birthday the next day since I ordered her Fur Patrol’s Collider. Anyway, I can’t recommend this album highly enough. Go get yourself a copy RIGHT NOW. It’s the nearest I’m ever going to come to my perfect fantasy of cloning the band and fucking them all while they play live. Oh yeaaaaaaaaah.

Now, speaking of fantasies, and fucking, and the nearest best thing, last night I went to a Fuckerware party and it was tremendous fun – although I ended up spending a hundred bucks more than I’d intended to. But really, when a vibrator is all shimmery and squirmy and pearly rotating and sixty dollars off, and lights up like a disco ball, how can one resist? It was the most popular purchase, and even though I don’t know the names of most of the girls at the party, it’s like we’ve got our own little club now, inappropriate as that may be to suggest to strangers. And the other thing I bought is on back order, which means I get fun delivered to me at a later date as well, hurray! Also, __ was like “omg, you’re not going to post explicitly about this in your journal are you?” so I reassured her that hey, of course I was, but I’d leave her out of it. As I did.

On a sexless note, hoooo boy I’m looking forward to tomorrow afternoon. Perhaps I will start writing the letter now.

So what I feared about peanuts and monkeys has proven to be true (*) but let’s ignore that and focus on the positives instead.

I received a Valentine today! It’s from Outback Jack, and it says “Strewth! ur a hot sheila!! LOLZ!! ur teh only lady I wanna pair up in twos with!!! OMG!!! HAWT!!!” I wonder if Natalie knows. According to the latest NW they’re engaged. According to the Herald Milan is engaged. Bastard.

Also! I have a hairdressing appointment booked. You can be like “so what?” but if you know me well enough then you’ll know that my beloved hairdresser Hayley is in Auckland, and therefore I must be Auckland bound – as indeed I am. I fly in on Friday the 25th at 9.30am and I leave at 3pm on Sunday the 27th. This does mean that I miss the Cuba St Carnival AND Dimmer, but hey, these things happen. Whilst in Auckland I will be getting my hair cut at 12.30pm on the Friday, going to Goodshirt at the Zoo on Saturday evening for KateH’s birthday, and then painting the town red later that night for KateM’s going away. Possibly a bbq will be attended the next day before I fly back. On the friday day I intend to meet up with my biggest client since I’m sure I owe her a glass of wine or two, and also see Gemma who I haven’t seen since Easter 2004 perhaps? Other than that though, I would like to hang out with you. I think I will hopefully be playing with Heather that Friday night.

Why did no one tell me about p2p porn before? I downloaded Limewire yesterday, and when I clicked the “new files” I was overwhelmed. Now I just have to figure out what kind of porn I actually want to download – I suspect “please for the love of god cut your nails and take off those ugly shoes” is too long a search string to start out with. Still, there’s always Buffy slash I guess…. Sick. Sick sick sick sick sick (but if you’re going to do the Buffy slash thing, google “bankhead academy”).

That’s about all I have to say for now. I’m going to a d.vice fuckerware party on Wednesday, which I’m quite looking forward to. Given how ridiculously sore my arms are these days (remember how I first got OOS cos I hated Foodstuffs so much?), I’ll be looking for something handsfree, I do believe. I think my dearly beloved Fiesta Party has carked it, although not from overuse.

I am so over today (*), I would like it to be 5pm right about now please thanks bye.

I dreamt this morning that I and a friend of mine had been making out – well, more sort of illicitly stroking each other almost platonically, and she’d been like “Well, should we make something out of this then?” and there was some sort of really annoying girl scout leader making us play stupid games when all I wanted to do was make out with my friend some more. I said that yes, maybe it was something, and she ran up and down the street telling everyone she was now a lesbian. Some woman made a homophobic comment, so Arnold Schwartzeneger leapt off a video box and shot her with a freeze ray, so Jean Claude Van Damme leapt off another video box and shot Arnie, and then Russell Crowe entered the fray. Then my alarm went off and for a minute after I woke up I was still all “yay, I wonder if I get to see my girlfriend today?” and then i felt weird.

Nevermind. Ignore that. Think about the two little kids at the bus stop this morning with their mothers (the kids must have been about two) who spotted each other. The little boy approached the girl, but because he was wearing his mother’s backpack, it was too heavy and it pulled him over onto his ass. When his mother tried taking it off him he cried, so she gave him a smaller side bag to hold. The girl grabbed her mother’s side bag and showed it off all proudly, because now she was just like him! Then they sat down together and she fed him Japanese crackers that he made a yucky face at. Aww true love! Why can’t it stay that easy when you’re older?

Stupid lack of having crushes on anyone except for the vaguest glimmer in one direction that’s a big no no no. Still it made me chuckle when I realised it existed.

Speaking of young boys, I emailed the guy that I threw up on last time I was in Auckland to see if he wanted to platonically hang out this weekend. I don’t even know if he has that email address anymore, but nevermind. I’m sure he’s not one to hold a grudge. It still made me feel really bad though. Nevermind.

Other things? Hmm yesterday I took a mental health day, but of course, Mental Health Days aren’t quite so healthy when Mum is home (I know right, how dare she be at home in her own house?) Back at work today there are SO MANY CHILDREN running around. Stupid <A HREF=”http://www.hubris.co.nz/entry.php?id=501090047&type=6″>loud</A> children who talked all the way through Julia Deans’s set before The Shins. The Shins were cool, but it was so goddam hot. Am I getting too old for big gigs? Surely not.

Auckland tomorrow! My day looks a little something like this
9.30am: Arrive, get picked up by Gemma, go for breakfast
11ish: Pop in and see KateB if she’s free
12.30pm: Haircut with Hayley
1.30pm: Lunch with a client
2.30pmish: check into hotel, meet Iva to go swimming at said hotel.
6pm: Meet Heather for dinner (mmmm food on sticks)
8pm: Meet Kateb for <I>Bugs Bunny on Broadway</I> and some kinda afterparty
Late: Maybe meet up with Heather and Paul after their gig?

Saturday:
……… hopefully something with Kyla and or Chelsea
5pm: The Zoo for Goodshirt and KateH
9pm: Out on The Town via a quick change at the hotel for KateM’s going away

Sunday:
10am: check out
10.30am brunch with Heather in Grey Lynn
12pm: KateH’s bbq

Is that enough detail for you to stalk me?
3pm: fly back to Welly

Dear Bra Makers of the world,

I am not ashamed of my breasts. Why the hell are you? Bras in my size with “minimizer” tags indeed. Why the fuck would i want to minimise them? I want to show them off! You can assist me with this by designing bras that
a) acknowledge that just because I’m big around the back does not mean that I need a cup size larger than my head
b) are made out of smooth material because hey, I like to wear fitted clothes and I don’t want that lumpy seamy lace look
c) and while we’re at it, how about a balconette bra that’s not a 10A? I’d like to be able to wear wide necked low cut things so I’d like straps that are wide-set. I’d like to be able to see my breasts all heaving like an 18th Century countess over the top of a half cup. Don’t try to fence me in, man.
d) in bright colours rather than “flesh” tones. Call that flesh? Of what – a corpse that’s been floating in sewage for six months?

Cheers. As you may be able to tell, I went shopping today, and broke one of my New Year’s resolutions for a black skirt from Zebrano, but it’s embroidered all over in white, and it has a white skirt underneath, and it was about $200 off cos it was on sale, and the woman knocked it down from $168 to $150 for me cos I said it was more than I’d intended to spend – which is true. Then once I finally managed to find it in Petone, I bought a Victorian blouse at The Carpenter’s Daughter which was $85 down from $145. It’s white with black pin stripes, and hooks all the way down the front, and black trim across the bodice and around the neckline. It goes perfectly with the skirt and will be what I am going to wear for my hot date on Friday. It’d be perfect if I had a heaving balconette bra – my Lindasy Lohan bra is too showy around the sides. Bah. I also got a pretty chocolate coloured sleeveless top with satin inserts for $20. Hooray! I went to the Dutch Shop for some cumin gouda and chocolate hail, and the women in there said that they knew Oma when I described her as being this tall {} and owl-like. Then I went to Kmart Plaza in Porirua for the underwear search (the balconette bra I did manage to find was pale pink mesh with green embroidery that showed through my shirt and made me look ridiculously grossly veined, and it was a size too small anyways). I also bought a beach bag for the Fiji preperation, and a green bandana cos I couldn’t find a hat. Right now I’m wearing the bandana and it goes really well with the mint green bedsheet that i’m wrapped in. Add in my naughty librarian glasses and it’s quite an outfit.

Holy fuck, I just realised that this entry makes me sound like the blog I hate most out of the whole NZ blog circuit. Whoops. Nevermind.

Also, have I mentioned lately how much I hate being referred to as a blogger? I’m a MOTHERFUCKING JOURNALIST. Oh yeah. Fuck that blogging shit.

Cheers.

PS: speaking of journalism, the new Pulp should be in stores now and you should go and buy yourselves a couple of copies. I have a big feature on Velvet Revolver and a profile of The Polyphonic Spree in there.

PPS: my profile didn’t mention what a grumpy man Tim DeLaughter was on the phone.

PPPS: Anyone seen Q with the “Best of 2004″ cd yet? Cos I crave it bad.

PPPPS: please update your profiles with your website addresses if you have them. Also, please like, become a Hubrette if you’re not already. Rock.

<B>Friday</B>
<LI>Handing in my notice
<LI>Job interview at lunchtime. The one question that stumped me was “how would your colleagues describe you?” I confessed to having just resigned so they would probably use a few choice words about me, and then talked about last year’s colleagues instead. Then the interviewers all left me alone in their office with assorted laptops to go get lunch while I did a test. I wonder if part of the test was them spying through spyholes at me. I don’t mind if they did because they also bought me a smoothie. I would like that job please.
<LI>BBQ with Karen and Mummy and Brad, and much foodage. Later we tried to make s’mores although the biscuits were stale and it took a long time to get the fire going again. Have I mentioned how disturbing it is that my parents turn Mum’s 80kg gas bottles into flame throwers in order to start the BBQ in their outdoor potbellied pottery fireplace? No? Well it’s really disturbing. What was less disturbing, and in fact, great, was watching two hours of <I>The O.C</I> goodness (last week’s episode for Brad’s benefit first).

<B>Saturday</B>
<LI>Dinner with Mummy at Daawat in J’Ville. J’Ville has a bar now! What goes on?
<LI> 1000ml bottles of Banrock Station are back. Hurray!
<LI>Drinks at Jessie’s, followed by a party in Mt Vic, and then Indigo. I networked all comms like! I plotted all politically like on the deck of Indigo. Random girls made me try their random drinks! All very exciting stuff.

<B>Sunday</B>
<LI>’Home and Away’ Omnibus.
<LI> <I>The House of Flying Daggers</I>. Oooh pretty.

<B>Today</B>
<LI>Guess which magazine has pages laid out in COMIC SANS this week?
<LI>Tonight I am going to take Jessie to The Shins. I only know that one song, but hey, if y’all knew I had free tickets and didn’t go, you’d probably spit at me, right? Plus, hopefully I can get Jessie to <strike>put out</strike> buy me a beer in gratitude. Or something.

So my mother has osteoarthritis. I just found out this morning, after we’d been to breakfast at the local cafe which was blasting out Appetite for Destruction (which i <3 and would love to receive a copy of). Her mother had it, and Anji's doctors suspect she has it, so chances are that I will have it too. I know she's probably a bad example of worse case scenarioism, but they're going to Morroco soon, and she's all "I need to get things out of the way this year because I won't be able to do them next year". While I don't know how much of that is true, it's still kind of fucked. She can't even knock on doors cos her fingers are so sore right now.

We drank a lot of wine tonight. Boy did I need it. Here's a pop quiz for you. Which disturbing line has the new editor said to me in the past couple of weeks?
A) "I'd like a milk chocolate sante bar please - I don't like dark chocolate"
B) "I really love the music from The Phantom of the Opera”
C) “I have never seen an episode of ‘The O.C’”
D) “I love it up the butt with three fists please”
E) Everything but admitting to the buttsex

Yeah you know how it is.

Last night, after I’d stayed til almost 9pm proofreading (and I didn’t get to do the whole magazine, and based on the half that I did, I wish that my name wasn’t on the other half – although i’m sure that my dislike of the music pages for example is that it’s no longer Hott Boy writing them), I saw a hunched old lady carrying bags up the hill and since my parents had left me the van at the station I offered her a ride home. She said she lived on the big street that goes past where you turn off to where i live, so it wasn’t very much out of my way. However, when we got to her place, she stopped and chatted for a very long time. She’d just had a couple of her teeth replaced at over two grand each. She’d just had some verucas off except that she thought they were corns. She asked me where I lived and I gestured. She asked em what I did and in the same breath if i was a mother. Okay, I was driving a van in Suburbia, but it still felt weird. For some reason I said that I was a student. I suppose ti was because I knew that if I said what I did, I’d have to explain it, and she’d ask me if I liked it, and I’d be all FUCK I HATE THAT SHIT, butr I just wanted her to get the fuck out of the van. She told me that she’d studied various things trying to cure her ‘illness’ – she was talking about being crazy – and had done a B.A in Philosophy and Psychology. Her father was an English professor and her mother was one of only 3 women in her accountancy degree. She built her house 25 years ago when she was 40 but it still didn’t feel like a home. She studied yoga in India trying to fix herself. I know too much about her. Please just get out of my car. It made me realise though that what I really want is a baby, to not have to do my fucking job that I hate. It’s so hard trying to actually have a career. I believe that raising good healthy children is a valid (and important) lifestyle, so why can’t I do that instead?

Today was teh suck. However, tonight The OC is the greatest show in the entire world ever (except for Buffy).

Oh, I should point out to you that if you’re a Hubrette, and you get a message that says something like “you need to be logged in to read this entry”, and you’re all like, but dude, I’m totally logged in, well, chances are that the entry is at a higher level than your status. What you need to do is comment more, and then I’ll move you up, and we’ll be closer than ever. Hooray!

And something about being able to count at least five different fonts in BODY TEXT across 64 pages (well, taking out full page ads and the cover 57). Something about lacking punch and cohesion. Something about thankless work and fuckheads. Something about the fear in their eyes that I enjoyed so much that I kinda wanted to sabotage things except that that’d have meant staying longer. Something about how I almost don’t want to lock this entry to level two (hi anyone who’s reading this! Thank you for commenting enough for me to have bumped you up a level / being a good friend) because I’d fucking love to get fired so that I can go on the dole straight away. Something about AAAAAAAAAAARGGGGGGGGGGGGH and the proofreading that I haven’t done and am worried about how the rest of the magazine will read. Did I mention the multiple fonting? And the pages which weren’t columnised?

If I wanted to pretend to be all oh I’m so political, I’m so intelligent Blogger type, I would say that when I got to work this morning I realised that there was someone asleep on our couch behind a stack of insert boxes, and I whispered to the editor as she was making coffee “do you know that there’s a homeless man crashing in our office?” when she told me it was Matt Nippert, who I have of course met before. Still looks like a homeless tramp but…

But I wouldn’t want to be a political circlejerk blogger. I’d much rather be a cliquey journaller, which means that I get to tell you about how when I was in a three way (chat. Sigh) with Heather and Martina the other night I told them that I was going to leave them for the second sexiest pair of females in the universe (being Lorelei and Rory, of course), and then later on Mary-Kate&Ashley and Hilary. Oh it’s funny to me.

You’re sending me Valentine’s Day Cards aren’t you? Just remember that my PO Box (600, Wellington) isn’t entirely mine, so you’ll need to put my full name (Joanna McLeod) and the name of the part of the organisation that I work for if you know it on there. If you don’t, it’ll still get here, just slower.

Last night me Karen and Anji made a three course meal for Mum’s birthday, which is actually today, but it’s our first production night so god knows when I’ll be able to get away. We figured if we cooked her dinner it would reduce the chances of a repeat of the drama over Neil’s birthday dinner, and we had it at Karen’s house, since Anji’s is too small. I did the entree, which was individual pear, blue cheese and walnut tarts, which I think I have finally perfected. We drank a Pegasus Bay Sauvigon Semillion with that, which cut through the cheese really well (hehehe cut the cheese). For the next course Karen made a salad of chicken baked in orange juice and chilli, strawberries, almonds and various other goodies, and we had a Rymer’s Change Rose with that, which I first tried at that winery when Karen and I went to the Hawkes Bay in 2003. It was all strawberry like, and the most gorgeous colour, and it was an excellent match. Then Anji had made four fancy espresso mousses in champagne flutes, and one small bowl of leftovers when she realised that for nearly twenty five years now there have been five members of the McLeod family, with which we had almond biscuits and a Saints Noble Semillon dessert wine. Oh what a splendid dinner it all was, and a thoroughly good time was had by all. You know what I’d really like to receive for Valentine’s Day? You know, besides like, a valentine in general? A vineyard. Yeah!

I think whoring mysef for a living is wearing me out. If only I could just lie on my back and spread my legs and let them have full access to Hilary, that’d be fine. It’s the trying to rattle up business that drives me crazy. Still, I made over 14k today, which is nice.

Oh yes, Hilary. Today I observed that in this bra, Mary-Kate & Ashley collectively look like Lindsay Lohan boobs (ie: hott but padded), so I figured why not try for a full set – plus, I can go all cockney rhyming slang with Hilary Duff/Muff. Oh the hilarity! And oh the hilary! And if I ever feel political, it can become Clinton, not Duff.

Not that Hilary is going to be doing any campaigning any time soon (or promotional tours, or singles, or what have you). It’s kind of distressing to think that even if people were queuing up to get in, I just don’t know if I want to. I think my confidence has been shattered by the puke incident (I was supposed to be great, and yet all of a sudden I develop a gag reflex? What’s that all about?) but also I’m disgustingly still pining for another boy. Nevermind.

In happier news, there’s a Red Wine Cake baking in the oven, although it sucks that the recipe giver will be leaving the country very shortly. Also, if I counted correctly, there’s only 101 sleeps until I GO TO FIJI. Wahoo! I will be staying here and going on this (and if you see the words “open bar” and presume that’s how Kate and I picked it, well, you’d probably be almost right), if you want to book your tickets now to stalk me. On a stalking note, you know how people talk about how owners get to look like their dogs? Who knew the same happened between husbands and wives (although maybe they’re the same thing), and that a person could go from logging on five times a day during the high drama period a couple of weeks ago, desperate to figure out what was going on, to going cold turkey?

In TOTAL HAPPY NEWS, you know how it was like, no more sleeps today when the good thing was supposed to happen? Well it happened at work. Hoepfully it’ll happen at home too. Soon.

What else do I have to tell you? Probably not very much. My father’s wearing my pearls right now, which is vaguely disturbing. He also hasn’t got the hang of when something’s widescreen and when something’s not, but hey, nevermind. Mum’s trying to figure out Morocco, cos they’re going there soon. Hopefully I will have a flat by then, of course. Katy gets back soon, and then we’ll have the incredibly fun task of flatfinding. She wants Mt Vic. I’m dubious. Nevermind. We’ll see.

Okay, it’s time for me to go and take Marie Antoinette’s advice and eat cake. Wahoo! Oh yeah, and if you’re new, and not a Hubrette yet, and you’ve just come here from Bizgirl (like most of you do), and you’re like “omg, this girl has just told me about the name she’s given her vagina, and I don’t know who she is, and wtf?”, well, get used to it. And do come back. But you know how people write about what they think about? Well I’m like the Korn song, so be warned.(Also, how fucking cool is it that The First Lorelei was renting out her house to Korn? Even though Korn suck.) However, since my image directories are down, y’all can imagine me as being the hottest bitch in the world, and that will be cool. I am, you know. Just maybe like, two or three of the hottest girls stuck together. With a normal amount of arms.