Hubris.co.nz

Hi, this is Kate Benton speaking. You know, like, that girl with that like, magazine and shit. You know it.

Anyway, today I am going to tell you a story about identity theft. Has that ever happened to you? Like, someone totally pretends that they’re you? Well tonight, it happened to me.

There’s this guy, and he’s like, crazy, and on his website he wrote:
“Oh yeh get rid of “Teen” orientated magazines too – Cleo, Cosmopoliton, TV Hits, Pulp, Girlfriend – They are all Criminal publications and MUST be banned – The magazines creators and journalists as well as the retailers MUST be destroyed in a massive firey purge while those caught in possession of such should be subjected to a beating, Criminal Record, jail time not exceeding 2 years and/or an unlimited fine and loss of civil and human rights for life. Such magazines shalt be chucked into a bonfire ala the infamous “Burning of the Books” – we need to get rid of “disruptive” influences of an american controlled media amongst our young people. ”

Now, if you’ve been paying close attention, or have ever looked at a masthead (and I don’t mean in pirate sense, arr) you might have gathered that actually, my name appears as editor on one of those fine publications, and if you have any kind of sense at all you’d realise that hey, Jo (as in like, Jo Hubris, as in your lord and master since you’re obviously a Hubrette to have gained this level of readingship) also writes for that magazine. So, obviously the idea of being burned in a massive purge doesn’t reaaaaaaaaally appeal. What DOES appeal, however (despite our series of misgivings and worrying about turning someone who seems postal into someone who acts postal) is prank calling people when we’ve had a glass or two. To this end, Joanna assumed my identity and made a phone call to a particular bogan in Upper Hutt.

This is how her script went. Sort of. It’s hard to pay attention when you’re dying to laugh and also have hit the wine:
“Hi, is * there please?”
Disgruntled sounding female: “I’ll just see if he’s around. *(extended name!”
Bogan: “Hello, this is * Last Name speaking”. Joanna tells me he sounded very curious and eager and confused all at the same time.
Joanna as KateB: “Hi, this is Kate Benton speaking. I edit * Magazine. One of my writers reads your website, and she told me you’d been saying you had some problems with the magazine?”
Bogan who actually talks very much like a bro:”Ï don’t have any problems with your magazine.”
JasK: “Well I was told that you’d said some things on your website like that you believed we should all be burned on a bonfire?”
Bogan: “Can I ask who told you?”
JasK: “It was one of my writers called Joanna McLeod”
Bogan: “Oh, she’s a friend of mine”- you should have seen Jo’s face at this point, I can’t believe she didn’t collapse laughing and give the whole game up. She is a true professional and I am going to give her a huge pay rise. Or at least, like, pay her. And go to her wedding when she marries Butch Vig.
Bogan: “well, we know each other on the internet”.
JasK: “right, well she saw it and was concerned”.
Bogan (very hastily): “I can take the website down if you like…”
JasK: “This isn’t a legal call, I’m just always interested in people’s opinions. I mean, I’ve been in this job for less than a year, so I’m always keen for feedback”.
Bogan: “Well I think my opinions are quite different from other people’s”.
JasK:”It’s just that I don’t really think of * as being that similar to Cleo or Cosmo. I mean, it’s not like we run 50 different sex positions every week. Our fashion isn’t just about people in mini skirts. So we’re interested in getting people’s opinions”.
Bogan: “I don’t want to be in a story.”
JasK: “That’s not what I had on my mind right now. I just don’t think you’re giving * a fair go. I mean, we write a lot of things that you might be interested in. I mean, I hear that you’re quite a heavy metal fan, we ran a story on Velvet Revolver last issue”.
Bogan: “I don’t really read magazines”.
JasK: “well I’m not really here to telemarket, I just thought that you had some things to say about the magazine, so I was interested to hear your opinions”.
Bogan: “I don’t want to be quoted”.
JasK: “That’s fair enough, I just thought if you had a problem you should talk to someone involved with the magazine. Thank you for your time.”
Bogan: “Okay, bye”.

We nearly died. Totally. Oh the hilarity. I haven’t laughed so hard over a prank call since Joanna told me just now that in Japan she and her friend used to call up random numbers and ask in their very limited language if the callees liked to eat shrimp. Genius.

Yesterday being Good Friday and all, Karen came over for breakfast, and we had chocolate hot cross buns as well as the traditional ones, but they were hot and burnt my fingers when I took them out of the oven so I dumped them face down on the serving plate which means that the crosses were upside down, which means that we are all Satanists. Who knew? Y’know, ignoring for now the “Joanna tied someone to a wall and tried to stab them with a pair of scissors in a Satanic ritual” rumour of 8th grade and all (Quick: comment inspiration! What’s the best rumour you ever heard about yourself?). Then we went into town to see Whispers of the Heart, which was excellent, despite the very cheesy name. It wasn’t as fantastical as Totoro or Spirtied Away, but its depiction of Tokyo was so real I could smell it. I’ve felt the repressive heat, heard the crickets chirping, marvelled at how many little neighbourhoods there are and the strange mix of very urban city and large vegetable fields. I wonder if it seemed strange to anyone who hasn’t been there,but if you have been to Tokyo, you’d feel it too.

Later that night I went to Karen’s house to drink vodka mixed with a dash of vanilla sugar syrup, lime and soda. We filled a waterbottle with the mixture and took it to Breaking News, so I felt very fifteen. I saw old workmates there, and asked them what the truth was behind my ex boss’s (removed) post in his blog about deposing the girl who thought she was my boss, but unfortunately apparently it was just a joke. Boo. Still, the movie was good, although I’d been reluctant to go because I always forget that I do actually like Hong Kong action flicks just as much as Karen. Plus afterwards we saw Nial and Blair (you remember, Katy’s friends*) and they were on their way to 24 Hour Party People at Indigo as well so we walked with them. Now, if you’ve been paying attention you might have fathomed that I was wearing contact lenses because I didn’t have a bag with me, and I’ve never worn them before at a dancing type gig. I felt really strange, totally hyper-aware, like I was a spy waiting for someone to assassinate me or something (Or, if you wanted to be REALLY geeky, that I’d been a Potential and I’d just been activated). I could see the expressions on other people’s faces right now, and I imagined that everything they were doing was all about me. It also meant that I was going crazy spotting hot boys, including the singer in my favouritest NZ band ever, except that, dude, get the fuck rid of your facial hair. If I was slightly insane and living in the Hutt and Prone to Using random Capital letters, I might Go so Far as to Declare a Jihad on Facial hair. And as a brief side note on a facial hair tangent, why the fuck have none of you told me that my eyebrows are just about to touch my eyelashes? I’ve always said I’d never pluck them, but really, I’m going to have to start. Someone volunteer to do it for me? Back to the gig. We only stayed a couple of hours, because while some fo the music was great some of it was kinda meh, but We both had a good time, and that’s what’s important.

Today after I’d been woken up for long cuddles with my sweetiepeetiepoodlepie and had been fed breakfast and had showered all my stinkyness away I set off to corporatertise my wardrobe. This of course meant a trip up to Petone to go to The Carpenter’s Daughter, which I STILL drove right past and had to double back in order to find. I tried on a huge pile of clothes but eventually ended up with three garments – a silver basically sleeveless top that I’d wanted the last time I was there but couldn’t justify spending $115 on, but $50 was okay, a wrap-around cardigan type thing in a glittery peachy/goldy/pinky kinda paisley print (that sounds not nice, but it is) and A BLAZER. Yay fucking hooray! I’ve been after a blazer forever. This is a cordoroy/velvet black one (yes, more black clothes, sorry, New Year’s Resolutions) that’s embossed stripes, and it has a double zip up the front instead of buttons and flared sleeves. Plus it fits me like a dream and oh I am so happy with it. The lady only rang up $165 on the cash register cos we’d been discussing their bonus club thingie of which only the blazer counted towards since the other two items were on sale, but I was good and pointed out that she’d undercharged me by $100. Go me.

Then I headed back into the city to go and hunt down Lindsay Lohan movies (Brad’s coming over tomorrow night), and to meet up with Annabel’s friend Dave-from-England. He was very nice and bought me a pint and I will be making sure to take him to some gigs of the indie rock persuasion in the coming months. When I got home Anji was over for dinner, and I ate too much of my easter egg and got a tummy ache, but now I am drinking PIRATE BEER EXTRA STRONG which I bought during a supermarket run to replenish my parents’ wine racks, and at 8.5% and a 500ml can, it’s a hefty three standard drinks. I think it must be time to return to Angel 5. OMG it’s SO GOOD. Puppets! And lore! And Spike isn’t TOO annoying. Hurray!

Also, if you’ll allow me the use of one more “omg”, omg, I am like, such a geek. Nevermind.

Today was a shopping day. I bought a pale pink cardigan today. While I bought the less fluzzy of two options, this one has pearl buttons, and beading designs on it. The label says “vintage” but it’s from Farmers. It’s like, and it kind of pains me to use this word, almost prissy. But I kept thinking “what would Willow wear?” when I was trying it on, and I think I got confuzzled. We’ll see how it ends up.

Later in Waikanae at the Minx Factory Shop, I was totally like “omg, look at all these totally cute shoes!” and again, wondering how they would fit in with my lifestyle with their multi-coloured wonderness. Minx make shoes in big sizes, but apparently I have huge big slabs of fat on top of my basic foot structure (well, this is probably true) because the 11s were tight and bulgy on my flesh (as opposed to my toes). I ended up trying on size 12s instead (twelves! You know that horrible band Lit and that horrible song “You make me come. You make me complete. You make me completely miserable”, and in the video they have Pamela Anderson lolling around, and minature members of the band dance on top of her upturned feet? Well I could host the motherfucking (and grumpy) Polyphonic Spree on my meatplates. Apparently. Anyways, I got these ones, in a black 12:

They’re like, totally cute. And they have polka-dot lining, which, when I was at Oma’s afterwards and she was talking about picking out her coffin I suggested she pursue for her lining. Then she pondered whether if she’d be cremated in the coffin, or if they took bodies out, and if that aws the case, did they still have Opa’s coffin, and could she just use that instead? Of course, Oma is half the size that Opa was, so that wouldn’t work out. She said that she’d worried when we grandchildren carried Opa’s coffin briefly that it was too heavy for Jacinta, and she was happy that she’d be a lot lighter. I suggested she could be carried with one hand, like a pizza, or a tray of drinks. Is this a conversation any of you have had with your grandmother? It was kind of strange. It started when she was talking about how she didn’t want to be kept alive (I wouldn’t either), partly because it’d be no fun for the family, so I suggested that we’d play poker around her bed, and then Mum suggested Strip Poker, and it’s just all wrong wrong wrong.

Fun fact: at my last job I used to work in teh same building and vaguely for the same people as Karen. In my new job, which starts on Tuesday if you were keeping track, I will be working on websites for the organisation that Anji works for, and if you want to keep the family connection going also my aunt Diz.

Good times. You know what? Maybe I’m developing a Pleasantville costume for myself. Freaky. But perhaps if I worry about being like, too totally cute I’ll just remind myself of the little pockets of air that I got yesterday. I could put someone’s eye out with those things, but it would be a happy death for all concerned.

So, my drinks last Friday after work started before 5pm. They gave me a bottle of red wine and a pair of toe socks with monkeys on them with speech bubbles saying “ask me if I care” and a Whitcholls voucher which I have now lost. The giant card said “we took a poll and 90% of us are going to miss you” which made me figuratively piss my panties. Dusty said he was unaware of any controversy before he bought it, which makes it even funnier. No one from upstairs that I didn’t like was present, so it was great. We ran out of booze and by that stage the prez was drunk so he was happy to authorise the accountant to put someone in a taxi to go and get more. Hurray! I had great chats to many people and I’m going to miss some of them quite a lot. How cool were those presents – and more importantly, how appropriate to me were they? SO GOOD. Around midnight though I realised that we’d left work and were now at someone’s house nearby and I thought it might be a wise idea if I went home. I don’t know why I had leaves in my handbag the next day though. Plus I didn’t get to have sex in my office before I left – but I still have the key….

Saturday I slept through – when I wasn’t puking in my wastepaper basket, that is.

Sunday I had brunch with Karen at the Brooklyn Bakery, and started writing my Butch Vig story, as well as watching a large chunk of Buffy 7.

Monday was my first proper day of unemployment, but I spent it finishing my Butch Vig piece (stupid working harder than I worked at work when I’m not working), and drooling over the box of Angel 5 that arrived, and crying at the last bits of Buffy 7. I also told a woman who rang me to ask if it was okay to check my references, and I told her that actually, I didn’t think I’d be a good fit for her organisation.

Today a package arrived from Ezibuy that for the first time is going to put Mary-Kate on equal footing with Ashley. She’s fucking stoked, let me tell you. And then I got a phone call from the woman I had my second interview with last Wednesday, and she offered me the position, and I accepted, and well, I’m quite excited really. Plus, 10k salary jump. Woo!

Apparently according to a certain forum’s certain-wind-me-up member, I have no right to be personally offended by alleged homophobia. Riiiight. Heather said yesterday (before that last post actually) “when you posted yesterday I had visions of you storming around the office with snakes waving around your scalp and laserbeams coming out your eyes. Actually, it wasn’t an unpleasant image.”

I am actually Medusa. Didn’t you realise? Oh no that’s right, you didn’t, and now you are stone. Ha ha, sucks to be you. I guess you’re not interviewing one of the most influential producers/now musicians of the late 20th century this afternoon – but if you do have any questions for me to pass along, please feel free to pop them on. Should I give you a clue who it is? Nevermind.

Hehehe. Fuck I’m hilarity. Yes, personified.

This past weekend was very cultured – there was Swan Lake by the Russian Imperial Ballet company, which was very grand and great, except that it had a happy ending (I know, right? Also: oh dear, did I really just say “I know, right?” ? I am totally turning into Lindsay Lohan. All hail the boobs), and then a surprise party for an ex workmate, who was apparently surprised although I got there late. A very scary woman who had been drunkenly grabbing everyone’s asses asked me out to the ballet and I declined. When she was like “ARE YOU TURNING ME DOWN?” I had to try to politely wrangle my way out of it.

On Saturday I did nothing much at all, which was great. Oh, I made corn & zuchini fritters based on a pikelet recipe and they were great. On Sunday morning Momma dyed my hair for me. I wanted the new bright bright red that Napro Live has, but in deference to the swag of job interviews that I have this week (well, two) and in anticipation of some more (although I hope not) I went with a dark brown which is actually a little more maroony than I first thought. Then we went to see Pegasus Moon which is a collaboration between the dance and the drama students at Toi Whakaarei that Brad was in. Since Toi is housed in the old show buildings, their theatre is a huge empty space, so when we first went in, it was so black apart from the lights on the bleachers that I had no idea about the depth of its space. I thought “this is just like in the House!” for a while, and then I stopped and contemplated how both Heather and EM raved at length about the book, and I loved it though it freaked me out too much, and then how both Karen and Brad were like “meh” when they read it. Nevermind. The dancers were all very attractive people, and I found myself doing a lot of oggling – just like at the ballet. I think I should get myself neutered.

Then last night Brad came around for dinner and the-week-before-last’s O.C and a recap of what i’d read on the televisionwithoutpity.com’s recap of last week’s episode which I’d neglected to tape, and then we watched Mean Girls with the commentary subtitled turned on. We made a tentative date for next week to watch another episode (since i’ll miss this week’s cos I’ll be at my GOODBYE DRINKS), and also Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen. Exciting! I can’t talk about Lindsay Lohan without expressing my appreciation of her boobs. It was choice.

And in an end of the day update: Joanna Vig has quite a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? Lovely man. So quotable.

Here’s a lesson for you all. If you’re planning on moving house on a hot summer’s day, it’s probably a good idea NOT to drink nearly four bottles of bubbly the night before. Yes sure, it’s fun at the time, but you’ll pay for your happiness. What makes yesterday’s hangover even more infuriating is that everyone else there wrote gleefully about not having one.

But my (now ex) flatmate J’s 30th party was good. Hubrettes in attendence included Jess, Jessie, Jimmy and Joel. In fact, that was all the Hubrettes. Karen was also there for a while, but she left pretty early. We mostly sat in the garden and talked. Once everyone had left I wandered down the road to another party by myself, where I danced for ages. Then I wandered back home and danced for ages. The vibes at the two parties were totally different, which was interesting. I felt like I was on a very very mild trip, it was grand. Then when I checked the time it was 4.30am, so I went to bed, despite the noise, and turned off my tv sometime after 5am. I nearly saw the sun rise.

Stupid fucking sun. SO HOT. Moving is horrible. Sebastian being freaked out by being put in the van is horrible. Having to get up before 8am is horrible. Reconciling to the fact that I’m now living with my parents again is pretty horrible, because it makes me feel like I did NOTHING last year, and accomplished nothing. That’s never cool.

These are the things that I feel like my life is on pause for, the things that I either want or suspect are on their way, in no particular order:

Thanks for your ideas on the last project. Now I need you to write a 120 word profile of me for a Contributor’s Page. Go on, you know you wanna (admittedly I think I’ve written mine, but I’d be interested in hearing your ideas anyway).

Sometime this week I am going to Swan Lake. Ahh the ballet – do do do do do do etc. On sunday I’m going to go and watch Brad dance like a horse in his latest production. Unfortunately no animal costumes will be involved. There was, however, someone dressed like a camel at the Auckland Zoo the other week. I heart people in animal costumes.

I have eight and a half more workdays left here before I am jobless. I’ve also come to the conclusion that I really must buy some more St John’s Wort, because this latest bout of “I am teh useless, I am teh suck” has coincided with not taking any.

In geeky updates, I finally got Season Six of Buffy on DVD yesterday. While it was originally the first season I bought, video is so 2002. Imagine my glee at discovering that you can just turn on the subtitles for the commentary tracks, rather than having to turn on the subtitles for the speaking whilst listening to the commentary! And the glee at panel discussions being on there, and also being able to watch ‘Once More With Feeling’ every single day without having to rewind. I already have the songs stuck in my head without having watched it this time. Now my Whedon collection is complete, what will I do? I remember years ago when I was buying some of the DVDs at Real Groovy (on promo CD trade in money) the girl behind the counter was like “Oh yeah I can’t wait for the Charmed box set to come out” and I was like omg stfu they’re nothing alike.

I’m still working on my huge big Journal Footnote Restoration Project, and I’ve discovered a whole bunch of hidden files which I’d forgotten about, which is great cos they add a whole new layer. Imagine me feeling embarrassed when a boy moaned “oh baby” at me in the heat of the moment. In fact, imagine me freaking out at touching a penis for the first time. And then a year or so later there was the worry that i’d sent a topless photo to someone unscrupulous – dearie dearie me. I posted this comment in someone’s blog this week

“To grossly generalise, Bloggers put links all over the place and think that they have political leanings and important opinions. Journallers used to write in very small verdana font and are all about the navel gazing woe-is-me, my life is pain and I am such a special individual snowflake, no one understands me” followed up by “Oh, and further to my definition, bloggers are all metaphorically giving each other oral pleasure, with the “so and so posted this and it’s great” cross linking, while journallers are all doing each other in real life”

(see where it says “oral pleasure”? I wanted to say “sucking each other’s cocks” but thought that would be rude). I am so over people with blogs, but all the journallers died. Or at least their journals did. Other amusing revelations from file digging has turned up the fact that while I was the only member of the Millennium Club to graduate on time, the others are either with baby or with husband now.

What else? I think that’s pretty much it. So yeah, contributor’s profile please. Or if you don’t want to write about me, post yours.

Don’t think I don’t see you all logging in every day waiting for me to come up with some new content, cos I do.

New content is hard to come by sometimes when your brain feels like slush because you’re so very very bored, and also somewhat stressed out about everything.

I have someone’s panties in my handbag but they’re not mine.

Quick, help me with a story I’m already supposed to have finished (sorry!) – top 20 moments in NZ music between now and last NZ Music Month? I need four more.