Hubris.co.nz

I got a spam email this morning entitled “What has Crafty Clark got up her European sleeve?” to my work address.

I really don’t like spam. I was also somewhat disgusted at the content of the email, which included stuff like: “And during the government’s controversial condom campaign homosexual men were tongue-ing each other at a time when children were still watching television.” (Ummm, so?) There was also some stuff about Helen Clark is obviously a TOTAL EVIL COMMUNIST because some group in the Phillipines that got raided by the police had her name on a piece of paper, AND she picked coffee in Nicaragua, and you know what that means!

Anyways, my point is, this came from the email address paintbrushed@37.com, and when I wrote back (because hey, work has spam filters), saying that actually, I’m well happy with the current government and I’m stoked that homophobia is more of a minority in this country than homosexuality, and here is my name because I’m proud to put it to my opinions rather than hide anonymously, I got another reply going “attack the facts, not the messenger”.

My point is this: spam me, paintbrushed@37.com, and suddenly, you become fair game for spam yourself.

By the same token of Taking Vigilante Action Against Internet Crime, two little European girls and who had been directly linking to butterfly images hidden in the depths of Hubris now instead have pictures of genitally warted anuses (anii?) on their webpages. Gee, I wonder how that happened……

Also:

Hott news!

Hott food: Pods.

Oh how I love pods. If I ever find out who did the copywriting on the box, I will be proposing marriage. I just want people to get out of the kitchen so I can go and get a glass of milk without the inevitable strange looks that grownups drinking milk generally get. Also a hott food trend: whatever the goat cheese from a great cheeseboard was that I ate on Saturday night at a very pleasent if floorbound gathering I was at.

Hott fashion: Morrocan bead necklaces, turquoise singlet bras, and boobs boobs boobs.

Except not all together. Well, maybe. On Saturday night, Katy had to assure me many times that I didn’t look like white trash. Actually, she never said that I didn’t look like white trash, because she just said that I looked hott – so maybe I could still be white trash? It was probably a bad idea trying to match my eyeshadow to my bra, but I don’t care!

Hott TV: Rockstar: INXS, NZ Idol, The O.C Season One.

Every week I love Rockstar a little more. I’m wondering though why they haven’t done any U2 songs, and I’m thinking it’s because of a HUGE BIG FEUD between INXS and U2. Except that I’ve just this minute remembered that ‘Stuck in a moment’ is apparently about Michael. Oh well, there goes that theory then. Or does it? Meanwhile on Idol, I am drawn in by Steven’s shiny shiny hair, and continuously repulsed by the Merkin, and disappointed in Nik and Teresa. On Saturday night before we went out to Lisa’s (Not Lisa’s, though!), Katy and I watched the first couple of episodes, and then I watched a couple more. So much more betterer than season two! Also hott: getting texts from people I leant my Buffy DVDs to going “Oh my god! Angel’s EVIL!”. Not so hott: people that I leant Angel DVDs to lending them to their friends, who then absconded with them to Australia, probably. Telling me that they will be replaced though is back on the hott list.

Hott way to kill time at work

Move to a new office. Have them give you a morning tea and a string of compliments last week. Be let in on a secret club in response to a scandal. Have workmates set off stinkbombs. Spend the day trying to reconcile transcripts with clips of Michael Hurst talking about Macbeth. Eat too many pods.

Hott personal trend: Agreeing with people when they try to insult you

This one is lots of fun, and incredibly disarming.

Hott entertainment trend: taking Dave over to my parents’ house in an attempt to save their marriage

Thanks to him, Mum can use the computer again. In the meantime I got drunk. Just for a change.

Hott shopping trend: everything in sight, but especially headphones, rechargeable batteries, groceries, hotel rooms, lip gloss, salt scrub and corona.

Every fortnight I seem to spend most of my pay packet in one go. I’m sure that’s probably a bad thing.

Hott sex life

:
Sigh. I suppose that’s what the rechargeable batteries are for.

Hott SRHNness: Still me.

So there.

Hott edits: Reasons why I haven’t posted lately

I was kind of busy. On a completely unrelated note:
ro

Am I the only person in the world who has any kind of moral fibre at all?

No I’m not talking that kind of bullshit, no sex before marriage, all gays are going to burn in hell shit, and you bloody well know that. I’m talking about people being decent human beings to the rest of the human race.

So tonight, Katy asked if i wanted to go to a party with her before Atomic. I like going to parties, so of course I was like “yes”. And so we met up at The Krazy Lounge, and went off to a party(*).

For the greater part of this party, Katy and I sat in the hidden courtyard off Ghuznee St, drinking and probably talking a little about boobs, before I jumped into the conversation on the other side of me about Peter Dunne, and I was like “no, he’d not actually a good politician to have in power, he’s a cunt” and it led to the inevitable discussion about voting for what you believed in (ala Ralph Nader) vs voting for the greater public good (in this case Greens vS Labour). So the guy and I started a big long discussion after he said “I am more likely to vote for National now than I have ever been”. I kept the puppy eating comments to a minimum, because I figured he was actually left wing and I wanted to hear his view points. Interestingly enough, I also said many timesd that I would rather have the ACT party than National in power – and in case you’re not from NZ, I should tell you that ACT are more right (as opposed to left) than National – but the difference is that they’re more socially liberal, and I’ve realised that being socially liberal is more important to me than being economically left. If you would like to blame that on me maybe someday thinking that I might end up with a woman for a life-partner, and thinking she will be curvy, and thinking that being curvy may lead to being more infertile, and being infertile may lead to adoption, and adoption may lead to a need for gay adoption, then that’s fine, but I would hope that there’s some Greater Good in there too. But if you’re trying to understand me totally, you must know that I’ve always been raised to be upper middle class, and that I am in the top tax bracket right now (at least I think I am), although admittedly for a total of 2k, and I do not work hard for my money. So, economically, I live a fairly cruisey life, but I do know that most people don’t. Anyways, so this guy that I got in discussion with was like “wow, you’re so interesting” a lot. He said he didn’t meet many people as good to talk to as me, and in my head I went “just because I am wearing a low cut top does not just mean I am stupid” and when he kissed my hand in my head I went “just cos I’m fat doesn’t mean I’m not dooable”, but if we go back to the theme of this entry, at least he acknowledged a couple of times that he had a girlfriend, even when he was all like “so are you and Katy close? will I see you again?”. He reminded me of JeremE. Later on the balcony at Indigo we got all talking about life and stuff, which was fine, he was good to talk to, but I was a little like if he was my boyfriedn, I would be pissed off.

And then there was Fucktard. You guys dig that this is on level 2 yeah? and that means that if you’re reading this, you’re pretty special. Anyways. So I’d never met Katy’s ex b/f before, I’d only ever heard bad things about him. Tonight she was like “fuck, I just saw Fucktard on the stairs” nd then later I saw her standing by the bar by some guy, so I went over to say hi, and the guy grabbed my pearls, and touched my hips, and was like, “you’re gorgeous, come dance with us”. I was like, okay, gay friend, (would you please stop loving me, gay men?), so I went over, but the guy kept touching me, and pulling me close, so I was like huh, and danced up on Katy, adn was like “is that Dick?” and she said it was, so I was like na uh, you ain’t going to be touching on this ass, and moved away, but he still kept grabbing the hood of my hoodie which was tied around my waist and stuff. I was like no no no no no, so I danced off somewhere else, but still felt his eyes on me. Later when i saw Katy at the bar without him I apologised, and she was like “I saw that, but knew it wasn’t you” and I felt really crap, because hi, how many of my ‘friends’ have done that? At least seven, and that’s counting one of them as one (when it’s like, six now, at least). But then he came up later, and was telling me how hot I was, and I was like “omg, no one tells me how hot I am, this is the stuff I want to” on the inside, but of course, principles, so I was like “please stop touching me” and he was like “but you’re so hot” and I was like “dude, seriously, if you ever want to have sex with anyone I know, then stop touching me” and he was like “anyone you know?” and I was like “OMG YOU ARE STILL HAVING SEX WITH MY FRIEND KATY” but I didn’t say that out loud – instead I was just like “yes, that’s right” and walked away. Then later still Iwas out on the balconey and he was like “i Love your necklace” and I was like “cheers” and didn’t give him a chance to make any pearl necklace jokes or say anything else cos I walked away after he was like “so, having a good night?” and it sickens me that she still went home with him. Yes, if you must, have ex sex (there was a girl in the social group, and I was like hmm, you’re friends with Skank and FuckCunt, but although i was tempted, I didn’t broach the subject with her), but seriously, if your ex was that much of a sleazy asshole, would you still? I mean, I don’t think he was angling for a threesome (but of course, if she’d have been into it, I would have done it). FUCK I HATE THE HUMAN RACE!

Today we’re link-crazy with hot and not lists!

Things that are Fetch:

I have dreamt about Bic Runga two nights in a row now. I blame my friend who emails me with tales of woe like “I have a blood blister from playing Foozeball with Bic. I am sore from playing soccer with Shayne”. Not that dreaming about Bic Runga is really that bad, but I was just disappointed when I woke up this morning and realised that I wasn’t actually working on my first solo album.

You know who should go solo? Like, in Antartica or something? The guy in the hat at the Pluto gig who was TALKING THROUGH THE WHOLE GIG. Up the front. Near the stage. In the sad songs. If punching him to knock off his hat and pissing on it wouldn’t have been just as distracting I would have gladly done it. Pluto have played better gigs, but I didn’t say that when Karen and I were retroly having cake at Midnight Esspresso (retro cos we used to do that in the olden days after seeing Garageland or Superette or the 3Ds at the old Bodega) and Milan came in and sat behind us and perked up his ears at what I was saying (mostly about how gleeful I was that they’d played ’8 O’Clock’, and how annoyed at Stupid Talking Guy I was. Then I saw Miss Lucy_Fur walking down the road and I waved but she didn’t see me, so I called her cellie cos it’s very amusing to watch people do the “ooh is that my phone ringing?” look, and then the mad scramble in the bag to find the phone. She and her friend Dawn came back down to the cafe to say hello.

Now, a confession: I am sometimes somewhat lacking in self confidence! No really! Sometimes when I meet them I don’t know if people actually like me, and I feel a little iffy around them. It took me ages to realise that Heather could actually stand me, and then the same thing happened with Jessie (I was like, wow, she must really like eating roti and must dislike being alone) and it just goes on and on. I am a spazz.

Anyways. That was Friday night. I stumbled home drunkenly around 2am and knocked over everything in the house, but didn’t wake Anji up, excellent. I cleaned on Saturday. It takes me like half an hour to vacuum both the couches. No it’s not just Seb-shed, it’s funny rub-off chenille stuff, and hair and tangles. Yum. I hope that once my couches are less new they’ll be less sheddy. Then KateB came over for takeaways and gossip and wine and we watched Mean Girls and then she left for like, a year. With a dagger.

Last night Dave and my parents and I went to a Serisen Wines dinner at Capitol. Holy crap it was amazing! We had Moana bubbles to begin with, then a first course of salmon gravlax with crumbed oysters and a lime olive oil matched with a limey 2004 Riesling. I don’t like salmon, and I’d never eaten oysters before. I figuratively licked my plate clean. I suppose pretty much anything tastes good when it’s deep fried, but the oysters were light and fluffy, not sluggish like I imagined that they’d be, and the salmon was paper thin, and didn’t smell or taste fishy in the way that salmon so often can. Mmmmmmm. The next course was bass and chive ravioli with clam sauce, matched with a chardonnay. I don’t know how clammy the sauce was – it seemed more buttery than anything, but it was really really nice. I don’t think that the accompanying clams were much good, but that is of course coming from the perspective of someone who doesn’t like shellfish. I don’t like cheap chardonnay either, but this stuff was lovely. The courses were pretty small, and spread out well, and the wine glasses were topped up too, which was fantastic. Then we ate duck confit with mushroom and potato pie and muscatel jus, and a Pinot Noir. Oh my god, mouth orgasm! The dessert, really simple grilled pineapple and marscapone with a late harvest Sauvignon was like TRIPLE MOUTH EXPLOSION ORGASM YUM. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. For $85, this was bloody excellent value, and I’m looking forward to going to the Ata Rangi one. Oh yes.

In other news, because I am furious with the temporary editor of Pulp who was in place for one issue, I may very well put up the FULL text (which doesn’t make me look like some kind of retard who doesn’t know that the Spice Girls had a second album before their third album, plus with bonus witty subheadings) of my story tomorrow. Also, I am moving offices to be with the Hott Young Things where I can be better utlized. Two people told me on Friday that I was doing a good job, woo! Of course then I went and fucked up majorly. Nevermind, it’s all half fixed now.

Also, I am in love with the new wallpaper and chandeliers at Indigo, and I may very well marry them, as soon as I get a divorce from the pineapple and marscapone that I also plan on marrying. Oh! And Auckland: I’m coming baby, oh yeah I’m coming real good. Haha. Also I’m visiting Auckland on the 9th and 10th of September I believe, and I intend to have drinks in my suite, assuming I get a suite, or something, and it would be lovely to see you then okay? Choice.

Karen McLeod to me, Angie McLeod
Eats, drinks and no leaves
Ok: how does this sound: I make:
Foodage: pesto frenchbread crostini; pita bread & carrot sticks with hummus for dipping; chippies; cracker mix; brie.

Sound alright? There’s probably going to be approx 20 people for drinks, 12-14 for dinner.

My Saturday night is going to be yummier than your Saturday night. And there will be vegetable tempura in the middle of that. Not that I always order the same thing at Hede, oh no.

Now my big dilemma is about what to wear. I have two tops in mind, and they’re both a gift to the world (in terms of twin views, y’know), but one of them is very hard to sit in. I might wear it for drinks before and after but not to dinner. We’ll see. Dressing up is fun! Also, I’d just like to apologise for constantly writing ‘dilemma’ as ‘dilemna’. I just looked it up and I promise to try to do better in the future.

I took a Mental Health Day yesterday cos I hadn’t slept (again) and it really really helped. It made me remember that duh, I haven’t taken St. John’s Wort in weeks, so of course I was spinning out. I have taken it now. Next time I talk about going on antidepressants again, can one of you please remember to ask me if I’m taking my St John’s? I’d really appreciate it. Chur.

So this week there’s been some aaaaaaarghing on my part, but there’s also been some entertainment. I took Dave to dinner at my parents’ house on Wednesday night because he kindly volunteered (or was pressganged into) to retrieve files off my old computer for me and reformat it for my parents in exchange for a roast dinner. I don’t think he knew quite what he was in for – cue me not knowing what password I’d put on my bios, and my father having decided without telling Mum that he was going to build himself a new computer and blah blah blah blah. But he was very patient and good about it.

Last night Anji and I took her (STUPID DUMB AND I HATE IT) surprisingly heavy (AND STUPID AND DUMB!) small ridiculously small couch over to Karen’s place for Karen’s party. My vitriol at the couch is based on a) it’s not big enough to stretch out on, and I needed to stretch out with my leg up when I was sick with gangrene and it didn’t deliver, and b) damn that couch is heavy, and I was just so uncoordinated last night I could hardly lift it, and it was just ridiculous. I suspect this is about me being a spaz in my pajamas rather than the couch, but I don’t care. What, are you from the Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruel Words about Couches or something? I don’t think so. Fuck off.

Okay stalkers, time to get your diaries out. Next week I have dinner for Karen’s birthday with the Olds on Monday, and then The Wedding Crashers on Wednesday, and then Brad in The Seagull on Thursday, and then possibly a very expensive dinner on Sunday. In between you’ll find me on the couch. loving ‘Rockstar: INXS’. It helps that I never liked them as a band much so I don’t mind the trainwreckness. Plus: NO R.KELLY! EVER!