Hubris.co.nz

It’s funny seeing your old workmates on TV. I still <3 the Brandon Calhoon lookalike and the young gumshoe and the girl who shows her nipples while drunk , and the guy who was the only one of my workmates to come to my flatwarming afternoon tea muchly, but it's like someone said on NZm tonight, if you wanna talk conspiracy theories, my, what splendid timing! (This is some degree of sarcasm, okay? Good. So excuse me if I seem a little b-wordy tonight, I’ll get to the oh the pain angst real soon. I promise!)

Or, as I said tonight:

Jo Hubris says: wow that’s a bad dress

* says: which channel?

Jo Hubris says: 1
it’lll be on 3 as well

* says: hahaha russell

Jo Hubris says: hahaha drink!

* says: hahahaa!
man, the whole current affairs thing just keeps becoming more and more of a massive circle-jerk

Jo Hubris says:
that’s what I’ve been saying for YEARS
YEARS AND YEARS

* says: yeah
but I only really noticed recently

(speaking of which)

Jo Hubris says: Robyn got two PA shoutouts today

* says: yeah, noticed
I was a bit disappointed with her poem

Jo Hubris says:
yeah
i wrote nzidol slash tonight
it was much better

It was late one night at the Idol House, and Steve(n) had eaten so many Allen’s lollies that he couldn’t sleep. The sounds from the bed next to him suggested that his special room buddy Jesse wasn’t asleep either.

Jesse thought for a minute, and then realised that as a married man, it was his duty to fill Steve(n) in on a few details, so he did.
“Jesse,” said Steve(n) finally, “I want to save myself for marriage, but right now I’m just so frustrated, and my shiny young manhood is longing to find shelter. I know it would be wrong to sleep with a girl before we were married, but do you think…”
Steve(n) didn’t get to finish his sentence because he immediately felt a crushing weight on him.
“Steve my boy, tonight I’m going to show you no ordinary love. I’m going to take you higher. I’m going to teach you the missionary position” promised Jesse as he waggled his fingers in…..

Hahhaha.

And now the angst! After the black holes in Friday night, I was afraid to go into work, which meant that I got almost zero sleep, and then combind that with Daylight Savings, which even my internet boyfriend hates and it’s just a recipe for badness. And to make things worse, I ended up feeling like a character learning her lesson in an episode of The Brady Bunch, learning a valuable lesson never to gossip again – oh the snappage. But no one said anything bad, so that’s a good thing. Still, stupid having to shop after work, and stupid groceries whilst standing on the bus, and stupid non moving people, and stupid heat and stupid stupid uncomfortable shoes and then when I slipped on the outside back steps cos of the rain and fell and jammed my feet really hard again seperate walls, and arms and limbs went akimbo and I screamed I found that all I could do was sit there and howl for a good ten minutes, because this is how I am going to die when I am old and alone.

I’ve had my left foot elevated all night with ice on it earlier on, but it’s so fucking sore, and so is my neck, and so is my other foot, and so are my wrists. Time to break out the codeine shortly. Mmmm codeine…

Also, hurray, no more merkin!

So I end the weekend with at least three more stalkers, and a strained thigh muscle, and a missed opportunity to do some stalking of my own. How did this happen?

I realise that my last entry starts out with me talking about friday night drinks with my workmates. This one’s going to be like that as well. We had a farewell for a much beloved girl last friday, and consequently there were many many drinks. There was also a game of “pick up the box in your teeth without touching the ground with anything except for your feet” and every round the box was cut lower and lower. I got down to three inches before I had to pull out, damn pearls and boobs and hair in my face. This is where the thigh pain comes from, but not the bruises. They’re always a mystery to me.

Then there was a singalong. Hurray! It was rully rully choice and I was drunk enough that I was bringing one hand up as I sang, pretending that I was an idol – or perhaps Jordis. Damn I wish I was Jordis. Also, who has singalongs at work? That rocked!

And then we moved off to Havana Bar where many many more drinks were consumed, and all appropriate levels of self disclosure were breached (since I told my workmates, I might as well tell you guys that I think I have worms, and oh my oh my, my bottom it itches. But Anji refuses to shine a torch up there and have a look. She’s so selfish.) I saw Anne which was strange since it’s been more than a year, and then at one stage I cried quietly in a corner and had some more to drink. Eventually I decided that it was really really time for me to leave, and as I was trying to go, some random guy started trying to pick me up, and then I think I was sitting somewhere and talking to someone and then it was noon and I was getting up to feed Sebastian and pee and then it was 4pm and I felt very very sick.

Anji was speculating on whether or not I had picked up since apparently I did a lot of talking when I got home. I figure it was just Sebastian I was talking to though. I don’t know how I got home. I have no memory of the taxi ride. That’s probably not a good thing at all. I’m really not looking forward to going to work tomorrow either. I’m hoping that everyone was as drunk or close to drunk as I was. They probably were. I’m wondering if I got to tell the girl who was leaving just how rad she was and how welcome she made me feel when I moved into the new building and she gave me the secret directions to the secret solution to the not secret scandal. I hope I did.

Last night I was supposed to go out to Mike’s party and stalk the boy that I’m stalking but there was just no way that was going to happen. It was a struggle to get from the couch to the door to get my pizza (and wow, who knew that Domino’s Vegorama had bacon and pepperoni on it? Not me!). Instead it was pyjamas and duvet and rockstar. Then when I was watching the start of Donnie Darko, my cellphone rang with a number I didn’t recognise. I was hoping it was someone who was gutted that I wasn’t at the party, but instead it was a voice I didn’t recognise. He told me that he’d found my business card and was really intrigued, and I was like “………………..huh?” And he said it was the “I like words. I really like words” bit and he wanted to know what I did. I was like “yeah, I do really like words” and he said something about ti being a hard question for a saturday night, and so I said I was an editor, and he was like “okay cool, thanks bye” and hung up, and I was like ??????????? Where the fuck did I leave my cards?

And then today I got a series of dirty text messages from a random number that started out asking me if they could lick my pussy dry before I licked theirs. I was like “okay, where the FUCK did I go on Friday night?” but I texted back to say “Aren’t you supposed to lick it wet?” and then pointed out that text language made me think that they’d be a lazy lover. A great number of texts followed with me going “hmmmm, I really wonder who this is” before she revealed herself to be a friend of Trixie’s. Trixie – you have strange friends.

AND THEN! Oh yes, it keeps getting worse. I was at the local pub for a roast dinner with Anji and Dave, and then Anji’s friend Jo showed up, and Anji was like “Jo (me) doesn’t remember what she did on Friday night and she’s getting all kinds of stalkings” and Jo said “I bet I know what you were doing…. you were at Havana Bar” and then I just about started crying. Turns out she’d just seen me there but we hadn’t talked or anything cos I was out the back where apparently people were smoking pot. Shocking!

Let’s not have a repeat of these kinds of incidents next weekend, okay, J Crew? Please? Thank you.