Hubris.co.nz

There is going to be an immense amount of whining and wailing and weeping in this entry, so if you’re not down with that, go read this instead. Caution: contains insanely adorable children in tutus.

Things have taken a swing for the worst for me lately. I know it is at least partially related to the miniscule trickle of blood that’s occasionally dripping from my cunt, but really, $200 parking fines, and discovering that WINZ won’t let me sign up for the dole unless I go to that horrible degrading seminar AGAIN and needing new a new flatmate, and still no jobs on the horizon, and continued burglar-related crap and assorted personal dramas and the very very small amount of money that I have left in my account are really piling up. I’m not coping very well with it. I have hid in bed for the past two days, and unless something drastic happens, I imagine that’s probably where I will spend tomorrow as well, at least until I go to Petone to eat cupcakes.

Here’s a story that is NOT the centre of my problems, but it is something that is weighing on my mind in the grand scheme of things. You know that boy who slept over in a post recently? And how although that was strange for me, it was actually quite nice? He stopped replying to my texts after that, and then didn’t show up for roller derby. Perhaps he’s too busy winking at my friends via online dating sites the day after he fucked me (Wellington is a very small place). I know there was no contract or anything, but it still seems like a shame. I thought we got on well, and that my gut instinct was right in thinking he was a nice guy. Oh well. I could tell him this in person but of course I have deleted his number so I won’t drunkenly passively aggressively text him. Does this mean that I shouldn’t trust my gut instinct then?  I know that my gut instinct is correct in thinking that the boy I kissed this past Saturday is trouble, but oh, what a kiss. And then on another note there’s Anji asking me if I think people are crazy because they’re crazy or because they like me. And there’s me wondering if I hold my cards too closely to my chest at all times because I don’t want to get hurt again and wondering whether or not I use not being over someone I could never have had anyway as a way to hold others at a distance.  I guess I’m getting ahead of myself somewhat, and lord knows I’ve been complaining enough lately about people who tell stories in a non-linear non-sequitarial fashion.

So what have I been up to lately? Last week there was tea and cake with Chrisana which was lovely because I hadn’t seen her in a very long time and I very much enjoy her company. There was making economic decisions to go home and sit by myself on the Friday night instead of drinking with the Wellingtonista. I painted signs for Roller Derby with Miss Fur. There was a crafternoon with Megan in which I made the aforementioned tutus that I sent to Maree’s daughters. She made me a skirt to wear to the roller derby on Saturday, so I looked suitably hot:

I got to meet Kim who took this photo and Laura for the first time before roller derby, so that was awesome. Anji’s friend stuck her tongue in when I gave her  birthday kiss, and another girl pulled me into a toilet stall, pushed me up against the wall and felt me up quite roughly. It was kind of fantastic and hilarious at the same time, because there were a lot of people around and she was pretty loud. Loud enough that she ended up getting kicked out of the derby, and I had to leave the afterparty really early to go meet up with her and her friend in his hotel room. The baths at the Duxton are not as good as the baths at the Museum Hotel, I can report but the staff are great at finding super glue for you if your boots are coming apart. It is strange however, that they let people smoke inside. Even the Garden Bar where we went and danced to drum & bass doesn’t let you do that. Then when I took a taxi home the driver didn’t have any credit card slips so he let me pay with a Farmers voucher instead. Mint.

Today my fitted sheet blew off the line when I was doing laundry and now it is gone. That seemed like an insurmountable obstacle to happiness for me so I stopped doing chores and went back to bed. I’m tired of all this shit. I just need some catharsis and probably to have a talk with someone so I don’t end up screwing them over. But for now, I will watch many many episodes of Weeds in a row, pull the duvet over my head, and sleep some more until this mood goes away.

I twittered today that I’m about two weeks away from sucking cock for crack, financially speaking, and that’s pretty true. I’d say that I’m also about two weeks away from taking up sucking cock for crack just for something to do because I’m so fucking bored, but yet I keep finding myself way too busy, no matter how sexy and appealing It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia makes crack addiction look.

My period has been fucking with me, resulting in many nights of not sleeping until 5am, and thinking too much about things that are in the past. Consequently, when Megan was over yesterday, I cried a little, and then she made me laugh, so that was good. I’m just so tired of things not going my way, of the endless having to deal with stupid things like bills, and police, and letterboxes, and landlords, and applying for jobs,  and no doubt WINZ soon, and finding a new flatmate (El’s moving to the beach), and just ugh. URGH! I need a PA, like, so bad. And also a salary with which to pay said PA.

I got a text on Monday night from a guy I know asking me to go for a drink with him and his wife because she had a proposition for me. I laughed and laughed and laughed. I’m pretty sure that it will be of the blog promotion variety type proposition, but because my weekend was somewhat interesting, I chose to assume the most sordid scenario. I was hugging my heater, however, and didn’t want to wash my hair, so I didn’t leave the house.

On Saturday though, I left the house for about 15 hours straight. I played Urban Golf. It was tremendous fun!

Fore!

I’m not feeling particularly articulate right now after very long conversations about other people’s lives tonight, so instead I recommend that you read Phil’s description of the day. I like dressing up, and taking back the streets, and chatting to the people we met along the way, and also the meeting new people part of the day, indeed. It was more sober than I expected it to be though.

I fixed the sober part afterwards when I went and met up with that girl and we had drinks at Pollux and The Garden Club which weirds me out because it used to be the Repertory Theatre where I did drama lessons and now it’s a gay club. I suppose they’re practically the same thing though anyways, right? The night ended with me sitting topless in someone’s living room eating Burger Fuel, which is the way most nights should end, right? I think most nights should involve less of other people’s drama though, maybe. But for my last occasion of spending substantial amounts of money, it was pretty good.

Schedule-wise, there’s roller derby coming up (we have tickets to give away on PPP!) and then then the PPP Girlie Party & Clothing Swap, and then I go to Harvestbird’s wedding, and then there’ll be the Halloween toss-up between rasslin’ and derby. Then I may end up going to Auckland for a couple of days with Lisa in November if I am not gainfully employed before she drives up for Pearl Jam. I suspect I will need to hold the wheel steady for her, so great will her excitement be. Oh, and you should suggest nominees for 4TAWA.

Blah. I have been on a big downloaded TV glut lately (thanks The AV Club!) and so I will return to that now if you don’t mind.