1. What did you do in 2011 that you’d never done before?

• Worked for a not-for-profit
• Went to an Asian country that wasn’t Japan
• A whole bunch of sex-related stuff that I won’t go into detail about here
• Made bread by hand that rose!

2. Did you keep your new years’ resolutions, and will you make more for next year?

According to last year’s post, my resolution was:

“As for my resolution this year, it’s pretty simple. I resolve not to sleep with any more workmates, married people or close friends. I think that’s pretty self-explanatory. I also stole Jason‘s resolution to read more books, and there are things I’d like to do, like walk to/from work at least half the time, and take lunch to work at least two times a week, and restrict buying coffee to twice a week at the maximum. But those aren’t such strict resolutions, if you know what I mean. Actually, I have set myself a 11 in ’11 challenge with a whole bunch of stuff I’d like to do.

I didn’t sleep with any more workmates! Congratulations to me! The results of my 11in11 are also tallied up on that page – I did pretty well at it.

For 2012, I set myself some 12in12 challenges. I also resolved to renew my driver’s license, like my job, only sleep with people who like me, and shoot a gun.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?

No one particularly close to me, no.

4. Did anyone close to you die?

No.

5. What countries did you visit?

I went to Thailand with Karen, and we also spent eight hours in Sydney.

6. What would you like to have in 2012 that you lacked in 2011?

Once again, exactly what I said last year: “I’ll say it again – a relationship with someone who shouts it from the rooftops that they are in love with me.”

7. What date from 2011 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?

August 8 –  I started my amazing temporary job at the not-for-profit after being made redundant from SilverStripe. Also December 18, for the reasons detailed in this entry.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?

Getting through unemployment without losing my mind, and ending up doing a really great job for an organisation that I really cared about, where I felt like I made a difference.

Also, getting over the date rape. And fostering cats was really rewarding despite the heartaches.

9. What was your biggest failure?

I had finally started to not give the married man much thought at all, and was going on with my life and was able to hope that he had a happy life, when a bunch of stuff happened, and he sent me accusing emails, and fucked things up further with a friend of mine, and now I have the rage back. And I know that I’m not nearly as entitled to the rage as his wife is, but arrrgh. It bubbles up inside me and the fact that I am still so angry after three years, well, argh. It’s a failure on my part, because while he’s the pathological liar, I’m the crazy one.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?

I had a long-lingering cough that was pretty shit, and took a lot of sick days from my new job because it’s a sick building. I don’t have any STDs though, hurray!

11. What was the best thing you bought?

My iPhone, early in the year, which luckily was largely subsidised by my work.

12. Whose behavior merited celebration?

Kim, who is always logical and calm and non-judgemental. My other princesses. The staff and volunteers at the Wellington SPCA. Everyone who adopted my foster cats. Kason for the Parks & Recreation birthday dinner they made me. Rosie for the amazing cleaning she does for me.

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?

My old boss who took away all my access rights and responsibilities because I made a spelling mistake. The people who voted in National again. All the people who made Slutwalk necessary. People who thought that others knowing I’d slept with them was OMG THE WORST THING IN THE WORLD EVER. Everyone who continues to hang out with anyone I don’t like, because I don’t understand why they’re not shunned and driven out of town.

14. Where did most of your money go?

Same as last year – booze, debt servicing, and living by myself. Also, Webstock ticket, unemployment, dentistry and a really expensive trip to Thailand.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?

The trip to Thailand, #GGG (GossipGirl and Gin and Girls), our amazing New Year’s at Raumati, some really really amazing sex I had, cats, and ummm I think that’s about it.

16. What song will always remind you of 2011?

Two songs – ‘Friday’ by Rebecca Black, cos Kirsten and I played it every Friday at SilverStripe, as part of our “Bad Music Fridays” which were a lot of fun, and also, ‘Someone like you’ by Adele, because I used to come home drunk and play it over and over again and think that if my two exs would just listen to that song, they’d understand everything. But of course they wouldn’t.

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:

I am fatter, probably happier and poorer.

18. What do you wish you’d done more of?

I wish I’d done more physical moving. I can feel my body atrophying. I do so love to dance, I wanna do that more.

19. What do you wish you’d done less of?

Wasting even one second thinking about the married man. Letting my old boss get to me. Dry-retching thinking about the date rape. Spending money without realising I was going to be laid off.

20. How will you be spending Christmas?

As per tradition, I spent the morning with Tom and Keith, eating croissants and drinking very boozy lemonade, and then I strolled down to BAMJI’s, for Family Xmas. I was rather drunk, and my mother told me to stop swearing, which made me swear more. We watched DVDs of our old super8 family movies, and it was lovely.

21. Who did you spend the most time on the phone with?

I probably messaged Kim the most, and spent a lot of time online chatting to Jo. No phone calls.

22. Did you fall in love in 2011?

Nope. Had a good crush though.

23. How many one-night stands?

If we’re only defining it as at night, and for one night only, then two and a half. If we include nooners, then that’s another three, I guess. And some others who I saw more than once. I had a busy little beaver. I also went on dates (ACTUAL DATES!) with three people, two of whom I’d already slept with.

24. What was your favorite TV program?

PARKS AND RECREATION! So glad I got all my friends into it (to the point where Kate and Jason made me an amaaaaaaaaaaaaaazing Parks and Rec themed birthday dinner. It was so good I cried and they were like O_o). Also continued to love It’s Always Sunny, enjoyed Gossip Girl in the context of GGG, Revenge was the most perfect trash ever, and Homeland was like woah.

25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?

Yeah probably. Also disappointed in a number of people, but it’s been really freeing to just decide that oh yeah, they’re not actually worth bothering about.

26. What was the best book you read?

I’m going to say Rivals by Jilly Cooper, which was exquisite trash and perfect for #Raumatirumble. I loved having Laura quote lines of it at me about people’s bushes.

27. What was your greatest musical discovery?

I have continued to be more about individual songs than actual whole albums, so I don’t think I can claim any discoveries.

28. What did you want and get?

An iPhone, some new jobs after I got laid off, and laid.

29. What did you want and not get?

To stay in a job for a year, to have a relationship and to get out of debt.

30. What was your favorite film of this year?

I saw one movie at the cinema, and that was Hanna, in Sydney. I fell asleep during a chase scene. But as far as movies I saw for the first time, I fucking LOVED Cabaret.

31. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?

I turned 31 and celebrated with a full-on birthday week. On my actual birthday, I drove to Martinborough with Tom and Heather, where I’d rented a nice house with a spa pool. Some of my workmates and Keith came up, and we got very very very drunk. I also had the amazing Parks & Rec meal cooked for me by Kate & Jason, and also a big dinner at Namastey, and afterwards I went to Mermaids with Tom and Rachel and got a lapdance. Awww yeah.

32. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?

Not getting laid off – or getting to stay at the not-for-profit instead of it just being temporary.

33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2011?

I don’t think I had any style actually.

34. What kept you sane?

The Lovehawks, Princess Camp and Twitter. Also, Jo’s support during my career struggles. <3

35. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?

James Deen (NSFW)

36. What political issue stirred you the most?

The general election. Ugh.

37. Who did you miss?

I got to a point where if I didn’t see my princesses at least twice a week I missed the fuck out of them.

38. Who was the best new person you met?

Laura, without a doubt. I also met some other awesome new people via Twitter.

39. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2011:

Fuck the haters. You don’t have to put up with that shit. Oh also: it’s really easy to find really good sex – as long as you don’t want good conversation as well.

40. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year:

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! I’M A MOTHERFUCKING MONSTER!”

Obviously everyone who’d been at Waiterere had to return. That was me, Kim & Brendan (KRENDAN SMASH!), Jason & Kate (Kason) and Stacey and Mike, who met and became Macey on that fateful occasion. But we’d also folded in Laura Hungry and Tim (Lim) into our social group, like whipped cream into a coulis. Notice a reoccuring theme? Oh yeah, me amongst a whole bunch of couples. So it was time to find myself a summer boyfriend. I thought there was potential, and there had been a really nice first date, but a second never eventuated. Also we found out that the other Laura (Lozza) was going to be around, and we wanted her with us. Yay Summer Boyfriend!

So emails went around about what we needed to take with us, and we decided to each put in $50 for food, and cases of wine were ordered, and ginger and rhubarb syrups brewed, and limoncello soaked and bottled (well, the bits that Bad Tom didn’t accidently add to our already alcoholic lemonade on Xmas Day anyway). And then the weather reports were read and it was rainy mcrainstorms ahead. Boo, you whore. So I packed some socks as well as three pairs of togs, and hit up the Sallies shop in Newtown for four trashy novels (and a stack more saucers for the #plateproject while I was at it).

Finally December 30 rolled around, after a couple of very long days of anticipation. Rachel came over to catsit, and after about a thousand trips, I managed to get my car all loaded up with food, wine, chilly bin, paddling pool, fancy clothes and all. I collected Kim and Lozza in the rain, and we were off, cranking up our themesong (we run this town, after all) and other Rihanna choones along the way, talking about how major Nicki Maraj is, and loading up on vegetables on our way (avocados at 69 cents and strawberries $1.50 a punnet? Oh hell yes!). We got somewhat lost in Raumati but eventually with our three iphones combined, we managed to make our way to the house, and unload.

Kason and KRENDAN had already secured themselves upstairs rooms, so I headed downstairs. Summer Boyfriend and I took separate bedrooms because I snore, but figured we could do it on the ping pong table upstairs so I could show off some new tricks while I was at it (for serious: I was at Family Planning the other week getting a full range of STD checks (my Xmas present to myself: being assured I am clean. Treat yo’self!) and the nurse was like “your vagina muscles are so strong you should learn some ping pong ball tricks!” because I kept popping out the speculum. Why do I always get the interesting health professionals?). I pushed the beds in my room together none the less, because I am not very practiced at sleeping in a single bed and did not want to injure myself. Also downstairs were Macey, and the biggest room of all was saved for Lim. Seriously, that bitch was like, huuuuuuuuuuge. Which came in very handy later…

Too many details, right? When Lim got there, we held a summit and worked out an approximate meal schedule, and dispatched the menfolk off to the supermarket in the root ute (in this scenario, Lozza counted as a man, on account of being my summer boyfriend). Meanwhile, us ladies drank wine and called ourselves the Real Housewives of Raumati. I was wearing a caftan, after all.
Our 3G connection was weak, but our love was strong. I rang up the property owner to question why there was no TV when there had been one in the pictures, and scoffed at him for saying “there are Sky connections if you brought your own decoder” because what good would that be without a screen to watch it on? He rang back a little later and then I rang him from a telecom phone with better coverage, and he promised to send one over the next day. Victory!

To my extreme delight, Laura had brought along a couple of Babysitters Club books, and so we made Tim give us a dramatic reading about the truth about Stacey and her diabetus (captured on Instagram by Jason here). It was raining but the wine and rhubarb ginger gimlets were warming, and it wasn’t actually cold, so I went for a swim with some of the boys. The beach was beautiful even in the grey, and easily accessed by some steps. The hot shower afterwards was good, especially since I didn’t have to wait for anyone else to finish first.

My wrists were sore from all the wanking pre-holiday chopping and cooking and scrubbing so I assumed the position of Team Leader instead of cook, and we got two huge pans of glorious mac’n cheese in the oven. Cooking teams are great! We spent the evening most pleasantly, stuffing our faces, drinking wine and talking shit. Good times.

The next morning I woke up to a good deal of excitement upstairs. Santa had just dropped off a brand new 42 inch plasma screen, and the menfolk were scrambling around to assemble it while others played barista with Lim’s coffee machine. There were fried potatos and toast and eggs for everyone but me, and once the kitchen was cleaned, the boys (and Stacey) went to the rec room to play Settlers of Catan loudly, while the girls made mimosas, watched The Mighty Boosh (we even had our own Milky Joe), and painted our nails with OPI’s Rainbow Connection and other delights. I even have a picture of it, including glittery cakeballs made by Laura.

Cider was drunk and the weather cleared up a little bit, so we got our ocean swim on, my summer boyfriend squealing away. It was cold, but we all had a lovely splish splash, and when we got back to the house, after hot showers and putting PJs on, I busied myself making fried cheese sandwiches for people. Mike’s friend arrived around that time and didn’t bother to introduce himself to the other room of people. In his defense, Mike didn’t introduce us either. So we drank some more cider and did some prep for our fancy dinner. I made bread rolls! The dough rised! And rised! And then it rose again after I balled it up! SUCH AN ACHIEVMENT! Then Laura brandished pipe cleaners at us, so it was time to get our cat ears on. Stacey did mine for me, and I got my fancy duds on:

After arguing backwards and forwards about whether we could fit the outdoor table into the dining space as well, we ended up setting up the ping pong table for dinner, which worked very well for the eleven of us. There was lamb and beef from the bbq, amazing potato gratin, my rolls (and rolls and rolls. Get it? I’m fat), and then because we suddenly realised there were two vegetarians, we also made a carrot salad and asparagus very hastily. And we sat down and ate and ate, and talked about what our resolutions for the year had been, and if we’d kept him. I had resolved not to sleep with any more close friends, workmates or married people. I didn’t sleep with any workmates in 2011, woo! (Or did I?) And I resolved to shoot a gun in 2012. After dinner we broke out the limoncello that I had made for dessert, and started singing songs from Community, which may have been a little disturbing for those who were not familiar with it. Mike’s friend revealed that he voted National, which made everyone uneasy. There was some dancing, and at midnight I put down my glass of Glen Coco Juice, and warned my Summer Boyfriend I was going to dip her and kiss her, which I did. As a good hostess, I thought it would only be fair enough to kiss Mike’s friend too, because everyone should have a good time. And then there was more crazy dancing, some wacky waving arms to ‘Wuthering Heights’ of course, which I hope someone will post the video of. Cigars were smoked on the deck with whiskey, and I felt very manly. More drinking was done, and I showed more hospitality, painting the friend’s toenails and introducing him to the delights of the Arcade Fire and gave him a place to sleep. Because I am a good host, okay?

On New Year’s Day, we got to go to Wendy’s for lunch, huzzah! And then we watched Mean Girls and started drinking again, and the sun came out, and the ocean was a lovely place to swim off a hangover and feel bad in. That evening we watched Point Break as Jason made us pizza after pizza, and once again we resolved to shoot a sequel, starting with Patrick Swayze washing up on Raumati Beach. I think Kate is going to play Gary Busey.We played Articulate with some amazing calls like me “Someone who talks to the dead” and someone else yelling “…. Necrophile!”.

The next day was glooooooooooriously sunny. After fantastic breakfast triple pikelets, there were many card games outside in the shade, much devouring of Rivals by Jilly Cooper which is so fantastically trashy and also happens to be Laura’s favourite book so she constantly receited lines at me about people’s bushes. Very major. More cider was purchased, along with some other treats, and more swimming was done. There was still almost no cellphone coverage, so we heard that people were angry with Libra Tampons for transphobia, but couldn’t watch the ad. So we drank more and bbqed a feast. Later, a commitee was sent downstairs to Lim’s room to build us a blanket fort. Holy fucking crap. I thought last year’s was spectactular, but this was astonishing. Four clothes racks provided central support, and there were mattresses and pillows galore, as well as a chilly bin and a stereo so we could party in there. Here’s a picture taken by my Summer Boyfriend. Naturally the first game inside a blanket for is Marry, Fuck Kill, and as Mean Girls was fresh in our minds, it stirred up some hefty debate. Most everyone would marry Karen, but there was a lot of argument about who was richer – Regina, or Gretchen. Obviously it’s Gretchen, because her dad like, invented toaster strudel. Plus I think Gretchen would work much harder in bed because she wants people to like her, and Regina would just lie back. But if you fucked Regina, there’s a good possibility that Amy Poehler might walk in on you, which would be great. INTENSE DISCUSSION! Someone has a video of it which they might post. Of course, we also played I Have Never too, and I discovered that the past six months of my life result in me getting raaaaaaaaaaaaaather drunk during that game. Then there was some wailing to Adele, and a great big hangover the next day.

Macey had to leave us, but we consoled ourselves with the saddest sight in the world ever – Jason playing paddle tennis by himself on the beach. I had the best swim ever, and then sent the day alternating between sun and shade and wet and dry. Monkey butlers even brought me G&Ts. And I very nearly won at cards after making Tim shift into the paddling pool with me. Yes there was an ‘f’ in that, thanks. And then some kittens came to visit, as snapped by Laura in front of the paddling pool!

I feel like I am failing to capture this magical holiday and have no way to describe all the injokes and the number of times I sang “YOU’RE WELCOME, YOU’RE WELCOME FOR EVERYTHING” like Pierce, and the number of times I told people I loved them as Laura ate golden syrup off her knife or Lozza wrote “I LOVE LAMP” on the beach. There was lots of laughter and also enough quiet time, the house was plenty big enough for us all, and the bad weather over the first couple of days didn’t matter. We ate and drank like kings, and didn’t even spend all that much money on it. On our last night we watched slide shows of the pictures and videos people had taken, looking back already. I was very very sad to leave the next morning, but super happy to come home to Sebastian.

So that was my New Year’s. How was yours?

I need to be very clear here – at no point did I say no. I didn’t have a chance to. But at no point did I say yes either. When he had me pinned down, if I had been able to move at all, I could have tried to push him off – but I was terrified that if I tried, he still might not stop, and that would turn it into a whole different situation. I had friends in the next room, and while it was one thing for them to have to hear me having good sex, I didn’t want them to hear me having bad sex. And I was in shock, believing that this was what I’d been asking for. He stayed in my bed for a while after that, dragging my hands down to his cock repeatedly, continuing to touch me. I opted for a “I’m trying to sleep” approach, sliding across the bed, too hot to hide under the covers but just hoping that he’d leave, which he did eventually, sheepishly mumbling goodbye as he stumbled out.

I spent the rest of the day pretending like nothing had happened, apologising to my friends who were staying for all the noise, and making jokes about how fucked up my hair was. “He was clearly right-handed” said my friend as she took a photo of my hair from the back. Turns out that a guy continuingly shoving your head down to his dick and then later pinning you down makes it pretty hard to comb your hair out afterwards.

(That’s not the first time I’ve posted that image on Hubris. The first time I described the guy as “kind of pushy”. Back in January I was still determined not to talk about it or to acknowledge it really. But y’know what? No.)

On the Sunday afterwards, I went to Xmas Dinner with the Lovehawks, and I told them the story, trying to frame it in a “hey, isn’t this funny, ha ha, oh you should have seen my hair, hilariousness” kind of way, because I’m one of those douchebags who uses humour to deal with things that they’re not okay with.  But of course they saw through my false bravado, and were like “You know, that sounds kind of rapey”. And there it was. There was the word that I’d not wanted to use. For months I would cling to the ‘y’ on the end there, before my counselor asked me how else I would define sex without consent. But I am skipping ahead of myself.

The next day someone asked me in that nudge nudge wink wink kind of way how my Friday was, and told me everyone knew what I’d been up to. That made me sick to my stomach and I couldn’t stop crying, so I rushed home to hide, which made for a really awkward conversation with my manager, who was really concerned about me but I didn’t want to tell him what was going on. I was supposed to be having lunch with Iva who I hadn’t seen in years, so she came over instead, and my first introduction to her boyfriend was for him to hear me talking about what had happened, trying to be calm. After they left I was still shaken, and another friend came over to see if I was okay. She held me while I cried some more, and then helped me compose an email to the guy telling him that what he did was not okay.

“I think it’s important to let you know that I was uncomfortable with some of the things that happened on Friday night. I’m not sure what you’ll do with this information, but you need to know that it left me feeling more than a little upset. I had a lot of fun before we went to sleep, but that doesn’t mean it was okay for you to wake me up by forcing your dick into my mouth again. I didn’t say no at the time, because I was pinned down, but I didn’t say yes either. And that’s not okay.”

I held off on sending it for a couple of hours while I thought about it, wondering if I should escalate the situation or not, or if I should just accept that sluts like me eventually get what they deserve, and I should just fucking deal with it. And I knew that thinking like that made me a bad feminist, and the fact that I lacked the fortitude to stop it happening when it happened made me a bad feminist, and that thinking there was such a thing as a bad feminist also made me a bad feminist. Eventually I pushed the send button though, after tracking down a non-work email address for him.

I went out to dinner that night with Kate Benton who I hadn’t seen in years, and it should have been amazing because that’s when I found out she and Rob were engaged. Instead I could hardly open my mouth, I was spacey and shaken, terrified thinking about what the response to my email would be. And also, I was feeling dreadful for having sent it. It would have been a hell of  a thing to receive. I felt awful for the way that I was with Kate and Rob and Jess, that I was too wrapped up in my own shit to celebrate properly with them, or be responsive in any way, and I didn’t want to talk about my own life at all, which until then had been going pretty great. And so I got home to his reply. He was shocked, apologetic, and thought he had behaved like a dog. I cried some more, and wasn’t sure how to respond. I ended up getting my ex boyfriend to help me with my wording. For someone who works in communication, it was particularly frustrating to find myself so short of words to express myself.

I decided that unlike the time that I was assaulted when I was 14, this would not be something I felt the need to bottle up and keep secret, so I spoke about it openly with my friends when I felt it was appropriate. That was a hell of a learning experience. One girl said “Oh, if you’d done self-defense courses, you’d have been able to push him off”. Oh, is that so? Cos what I really needed was another way to think about what I had done wrong. Thank you so much! That was the tipping point with her, and she was gone from the people I cared about. When I told another friend, she asked me how much I’d had to drink and went back to talking about her work. I switched off then too. I was reminded of a friend who when I’d told back in 2006 that a taxi driver had tried to grab me in his cab was like “well, were you flirting with him?”. No, and even if I had been, that still wasn’t okay. Others tried to move off the subject as soon as possible. My silence was their comfort. I found myself wondering if some of the uneasiness some of my male friends displayed was due to them questioning if they’d ever done a similar thing and hadn’t realised it. I think that I made jokes about it also was disconcerting for some, but that’s the way I process and handle. At times I felt guilty for talking about something that was hard for people to hear, but I didn’t know what else to do. I found myself telling people I didn’t really know about it, because I needed somewhere to put it. I couldn’t keep it inside.

Outside of the mostly safe place with my friends, when I had to have interactions with him, my body would tense up, and I’d spend time dry retching afterwards. My work suffered and I got in trouble for making stupid mistakes. I thought about leaving but reminded myself that I hadn’t done anything wrong. I started reading his twitter feed, stalking like a crazy person, looking for any sign of remorse or an indication that he wasn’t having an easier time of it. I drank more and laughed louder when he was around.  There was a lot of arguments on the internet at the time about Julian Assange, and a lot of people who I thought I respected going off onto CIA plots, and talking about how sex without a condom doesn’t mean rape, and every single thing I read about it made me feel worse, and like I had less credibility. And I was terrified thinking about the next time I slept with someone, wondering whether or not i’d be able to handle it, if I’d freak out, and if I’d ever be able to enjoy giving blow jobs again.

As it happened, I ended up getting drunk and going home with a female friend of mine, who said she wanted to give me a safe experience to help me move past it. For the most part, it was lovely, and positive. But I still couldn’t get over it. And strangely, I started worrying about him as well. I doubted that he had the same kind of amazingly caring friends that I had who would sleep with him to help him work through it. I didn’t know if he’d told anyone at all. And I wondered if he thought it was just an “oops, my bad!” situation that could be easily overcome, that hadn’t had any lasting damage. I wished that I’d said more in my initial email to him, but wasn’t sure if it was fair to bring it up again. I ended up messaging him at 4 in the morning asking if he wanted to go get a coffee sometime and have a chat. “I’d rather we just talked on email” came the reply. I felt shut down, and angry. I was trying to be good about this but I was not okay. So I went to see my counselor again.

I hadn’t seen her in over a year, and so I felt a little defeated going back, although I know I can go see her any time I need maintenance. So I cried in her office and we had intense discussion about semantics. As always, she suggested that I examine myself the way that I would a friend, because I am too hard on myself. If I heard about someone pinning one of my friends down and forcing their cock down their throat, how would I feel? I’d feel like fucking killing them. She suggested that I might have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder when I told her about having an anxiety attack in the dentist’s chair as I was held down and stuff done to my mouth by the dental hygienist. I failed to articulate to her that I know that he didn’t mean to have sex with me against my will, but because I didn’t consent that’s exactly what happened. She said that I was being too nice to him, that I shouldn’t be so worried about his comfort because he clearly hadn’t been worried about mine, and that I was well within my rights to send him another email, if I thought it would help me.

I asked if you wanted to go get coffee, with the intention that we’d talk about, like, music, or movies, or pop culture, or pretty much anything at all that was just casual conversation and nothingness, but I didn’t explain that properly. I said I wanted to “normalise”. What I meant is that I wanted it to be different from how it is right now when every time I have to be in the same room with you, I tense up and I get panicky. I know you didn’t set out to violate me, and that you are sorry that I felt that way, but the truth is that I’m not over it, and I’m not okay.

I struggled with whether to tell you this or not, because I wasn’t sure if it would help me at all, but the not talking about it isn’t working, and I need that to change. I’m sure that you were shocked when I emailed you to tell you how unokay I was about being pinned down, but did it have an impact on you beyond that at all? Like, did you even give it a second thought ? Did it make you question the way you live your life? Worry about how you will deal with people in the future? Stir up a whole fucking bunch of assault trauma that happened in the past that you thought you’d dealt with? Because that’s what’s happened to me.

And yes, it’s been a couple of months, and no, I am still not over this. And I don’t know what to do about it. I do want to normalise, I want to be comfortable around you. I hate that I can’t offer a solution, that all I am presenting is a problem. Maybe there’s nothing that can be done about it but time. I know we weren’t really friends before we slept together, and I don’t expect that we’ll ever become so, but I hope you understand why I need to say these things instead of being bottled up and seething with useless rage. I don’t have the solution now, and I don’t know when I will, and while I’ve tried to express or at least sumarise everything that I’m feeling right now, there’ll probably be new emotions later that I haven’t dealt with. Like I said, I don’t know how you feel about this – or if you’ve even thought about it lately, but I’d really like to know – do you have any ideas on how I (and you) could feel better about what happened?

His reply was really good, and considered. He asked me a couple of questions which were totally okay to ask, and we agreed that time would be the best way to heal, and I said that I was going to move on. Rather than focus on what had happened, I tried to make plans for the future. When I finally got a chance to talk to the married man about it – the only person I’ve ever slept with in which every single thing I did I absolutely wanted to do, rather than feeling a sense of obligation or whatever – once he was done offering to get his friends to beat the shit out of the guy, he made the good suggestion that the next time I slept with someone, I should tie them up in order to feel more comfortable. That’s exactly what I did when I met a guy from OKCupid and took him home. I explained that I didn’t like having hands on my head while I was sucking cock, and that actually, I’d like to tie him up.  Success!

I went to Slutwalk, in the dress I was wearing the night of the party, and was interviewed by Radio New Zealand about it. I thought the march was great but had to leave during the speeches because they were too much. Mad props to Jason and Kate for being there.

Time passed and the memory faded somewhat. Eventually the guy was leaving for greener pastures, and since people were talking about him, it made me remember everything again which was really hard, although I wished him well. In the speeches, someone referenced the party, and everyone turned and looked at me and laughed. I was the punchline of a joke that actually wasn’t funny at all, and so I am super glad that Kelly was around for me to bawl and bawl and bawl onto. That shook me for days.

Time has helped a lot though. What’s also been incredibly healing was finding a dom and experiencing what consensual submissive sex is actually like. Discussing your limits beforehand and knowing you can change your mind at any time, and having someone be absolutely aware of how you are feeling while ostensibly treating you like a wet hole is really liberating. You’re actually in charge the whole time. I appreciate that this isn’t the solution for everybody, but it’s nice to know that rough sex doesn’t actually have to be the kind that leaves you traumatised for a year.

So what do we take away from all of this? Because it has to be a learning experience, right?

I guess most importantly, there is nothing as sexy as enthusiastic consent. Don’t ever presume anything in bed. Make sure your partner is really into it. And you or your partner can withdraw consent at any time.

If your friend tells you about a negative experience they’ve had, make sure you listen to them. Don’t judge them, or suggest other ways that they should have coped. They did whatever they needed to do in order to get through the experience at the time. Believe me – they’ve already worked over all the alternatives in their mind a thousand times. However they need to talk about it or act out afterwards is up to them.

And I hope that you never have something similar happen to you, but if you do, you need to remember that no matter what, it wasn’t your fault, and that there are many amazing people you can talk to about it. If your “friends” make you feel bad about it, find someone better to help you deal with it. Time helps a lot. It’s not a magic fixall though, and I’m still kinda choked up as I finish this off, but at least it’s done now.

Really, this was actually just a teaspoon during High Tea at Martha’s Pantry for Kim’s birthday.

2. A bunch of dicks and tits

cookies

I made cookies for Maddest and Baddest.

3. A cake shaped like a donut

There was a Simpsons-themed pigout session at Lim’s (that’s Laura and Tim).

4. Pulled pork burger (not pictured)

I got a little bit over-excited by the pulled pork burger at Monterey and expressed my love on the table.

5. Mussels and other amazing Malaysian food

Because of my work for Malaysia Kitchen, I got to go to lunch with a munch of food bloggers and Chef Wan, who is apparently very famous, and is also very entertaining.

6. Fancypants canapes as part of a progressive dinner

To celebrate the return of Theresa, the Mount Victoria Society had a progressive dinner. There were whores devours at mine, a BBQ at Anna Jane’s, and then amazing dessert’s at Chiara’s. Good times and no taxis needed!

6. An assortment of amazing treats including Rhubarb Gimlets for GGG

Every couple of weeks, Kim, Kate, Laura, Willow and I get together to drink gin and watch Gossip Girl. Normally Blair and Chuck are the ones we like, but we’re okay with Blumphrey, actually.

7. Deep-fried Soft Shell Crab at Kura in Auckland

Work meetings in Auckland had the additional bonus of meaning I could have dinner with Heather&Ben, Peter and Russell. Needless to say, I gave them crabs. And they loved it.

I found out that Posie got adopted, but that the family who were going to adopt Milo aren’t going to now.

I discovered a use for my crate full of records using them to tie to the door handle of the spare room so that Milo can’t keep escaping and running around everywhere all night long. I didn’t get a lot of sleep.

Instead of hanging out with my girls, today I sent text messages to two guys I’m sleeping with, one guy I want to sleep with, and one guy that I used to sleep with. I did not, however, go for the easy solution of shutting my brain off through fucking, so that’s something.

I ate pasta with asparagus, feta and salami, drizzled with expensive olive oil, but I didn’t do the dishes.

I read the annual report belonging to my current organisation, but had to pass on doing the final proofreading of the annual report I did for my last job because I’ll be in Induction all day tomorrow and won’t have a lunchbreak.

I don’t have a lot to say today because I am exhausted and have rubbed tiger balm into my very soul pretty much, but I wanted to keep up with this thing of updating every day. I hope it was worth it to you.

So there we were, in a room full of bajillions of people cramming our faces with the most amazing kinds of vegetables and pies ever at Mika’s thanksgiving. It turns out that she lives just around the corner from me, so when we were giving thanks (remember that amazing time I cooked my first ever turkey and it was perfect back at Garland? Holy crapula that was 11 years ago. Woah.), I mentioned that, and how I wanted to hang out with her more. It is nice having new friends. The other thing I was majorly thankful for is that my foster kitty Milo who had escaped on Monday night while I was in Auckland for work and had kittysitters showed up again last night. She is adorable. I should stop crawling into the spare bed drunkenly and hanging out with my fosterinos, because when they snuggle up I’m all like “awww, can’t I keep you?”. And I probably can’t.

I decided since Mika lives so close that I would take a hot pre-dinner snack as my contribution, and it was Thanksgiving-themed, so I came up with these Savoury Thanksgiving Tartlets:

Thanksgiving tartlet filling: roast pumpkin, craisins, feta, red onion and parsley

Other things this weekend of note included a Fatty Boom clothing swap at Emma’s. I got to hang out with Ally who I worship. In fact, just between you and me, I used to retumbl pictures of her and call her my secret internet girlfriend before we met. Now of course I’m much too shy to do that. But at least I got into her skirt, even if she was no longer in it. It was also lovely seeing Emma and Simon again, who I don’t get to hang out with nearly enough.

So yes, onwards and upwards into a week with no social events scheduled except for possibly a few drinks after work on Friday with someone I used to work with in 2006 who now works with Anji. Fingers crossed I can stick to the no socialising plan. You’re wishing me luck, right?

• Turned 31, celebrating with a weekend away in Martinborough and also a dinner at Namastey then more booze and lapdances.
• Ate a lot of Malaysian food and reviewed it.
• Got restructured out of a job. Cried a lot.
• Went to Thailand for a week and had the most fabulously lazy holiday ever. I was going to write it up but I am too lazy. Here are pictures of it though.
  

  At Kata Beach Resort, cocktails were served IN PINEAPPLES. Fried rice was served IN PINEAPPLES. Ice cream was served IN PINEAPPLES.

• Came back to the (temporary) job of a lifetime at a not for profit that will remain nameless on account of how they are awesome and probably don’t need to show up in search results along with me talking about my vagina all the time, but needless to say they are centred around animal welfare and while I worked there as their Marketing & Communications Manager I was always covered in cat hair and puppy slobber and surrounded by the most dedicated passionate people I have ever worked with. It was also amazing in that it made me feel really competent and that I was helping to make a difference. I miss it like crazy and it’s only been two weeks.
  

  Arthur and I. You should adopt him, he's lovely. Anji took this picture.

• Started fostering cats.
• Had a bunch of sex with an assortment of people. Not at the same time though. I also have a mad crazy crush on someone, but they are not someone I am sleeping with, sadly. Except of course that when I really like someone, I find it hard to think about sleeping with them, because I respect them too much.
• Made an bedroom wall installation called The Plate Project. It’s a combination of Trixie Delicious and Tracey Emin.
  

  The first picture of the Plate Project. Not pictured: 2011's entries.

• Got a permanent job at a government department
• Became really good friends with Laura Hungry & Frozen and also her Tim. This has led to me eating lots of great things. Also some tasty food. HEYO!

So let’s pretend that this place is mine, and I live in Auckland again. How would my life be different? At the last time I knew how much rent Heather was paying, her two bedroom is about the same as my two bedroom. It was around $9 for us in a taxi van to get home tonight from Queen Street, comparable to $8 from town to my house – except I live a 15 minute walk from town uphill, this would be at least half an hour. Taxis in Auckland are cheaper.

Auckland had changed a lot in the seven years since I left it. Seven years! I only lived here for six, but man, I feel like I can remember every second of those years, whereas nowadays I can’t even remember the name of the guy who ate me out in the men’s room of Mighty Mighty last Friday (True story. I know he was a web guy though, because my friend who always sleeps with a certain profession and I made a pact that we’d both stop doing the kind of guys we each normally did, and then that happened, and I said to her “did you sleep with another *?” and yes, she had. Oh god, the rut of it all!). I’m aware that I am deviating slightly from the narrative structure here, but I’m also aware that I haven’t updated since March, so I thought you would want to know that I have been mostly  a lesbian since then, with the exception of a guy who was also there when I slept with a very nice young lady, and a fellow of a sexual orientation that apparently doesn’t normally align with mine, and also said oral sex in the Mighty bathroom, which was inappropriate, and I apologise to any gentlemen who were inconvenienced in their urination that night.

But seriously. I pass through light industrial areas on the bus today, and there are Indian restaurants there, and I’m like “woah, that’s the chain that opened up in Ellerslie while we were living there, and I’d drive there in my Honda, and then they started doing delivering, and him and her got that while I was throwing up non stop because they were in my house destroying me, and had the gall to offer me their leftovers”. Oh yeah, there was clearly a reason why I needed to leave Auckland.

Still, today was lovely, waking up in Heather’s bed (oooh laa laa, except she was in her flatmate’s bed, ohh laa laa extra, except he was (I imagine) in his girlfriend’s bed) and the sun was shining, and I was tangled up in the bed sheet, because I so did not need a duvet last night. And then there was brunch, getting incredibly angry that 2/3 of the front page of the Herald was taken up by an article about how some rich fucker bought a car worth $2.8million. In NZ. Yes, super douche move, but did it deserve anything more than a one inch snark in Metro? I don’t think so. But there was  a bus trip into town, then lunch with Hamy Amy, and then a mall crawl (nice to see that fatties are ghettoised at the back of every store that deigns to carry them in every city in NZ), then oh my god AMAZING Community, then a lovely dinner at Canton with beloved Auckland friends, and I got to hold Willow a couple of time and she charmed everyone, and I’m still a bit like “but what the fuck? Annette is like, 15 and gothy and angsty and how the fuck does she have a 14 month old baby?” (Yes, I know that SOME 15 year olds could do that quite easily. But clearly you weren’t down with the online journallers in 1998).

Tomorrow I’m going out to West Auckland to hang with Selina, then having drinks with a lot of bearded men who I know off the internet. If you are in Auckland, we should hang out before I go home on Monday night. If you’re thinking of breaking into my house in Welly while I’m gone, well my iPhone and my laptop are both up here, and oh yeah, Kelly’s there, looking after Sebby and also comedy.

And I think that returns me to what I wanted to talk about a little, how terrifying it was to go to The Classic where I used to go like, weekly when Brad did stand-up, and how as I’ve said before in 101 Stories I want to tell you I used to double date with Thomas and his friend who had a spooky-eyed girlfriend who was no good at chit chat. The Classic no longer has $6 flavoured vodka shots ($4 at 10pm!) or indeed flavoured vodkas at all, but apart from that, pretty much the same. Ben Hurley was even making jokes about “what if prostitution was legalised?” like it was 2002 or something.

I’m lacking a proper segue, so instead I’ve been making Heather drive me places, but also this week, I heard that there was a solution to an issue that’s been ongoing for me. And you’d think that would make me happy, but because I’m ridiculous, I’m all “but I didn’t solve this, I didn’t find a solution in myself, I have yet to overcome it totally, it’s just being removed”. This is coded language, but I know what I’m talking about. Oh also, if I did tell you about this, asking what I was wearing/drinking and then changing the subject? Not really solidifying your place on my Xmas card list.

Deleted. Grow up Joanna. Stop trying to be Emily Post whilst drunk.

I feel like I’m lecturing now, so I will shut up, but I will try to update something soon. Woo!

Or alternatively, another kind of amazing friend is the one who tells you that they will beat up the horse that threw you, and even though you know that they never would – and you wouldn’t want them to either – it’s still very sweet.

Other good friends will buy you lap dances in unrelated incidents. I have some pretty awesome friends. I have also made new friends on the internet of a feminist bent. I like them.

What else? Kane came to stay this past weekend, and Heather’s coming tomorrow. There’s derby on the weekend and apparently there won’t be any of the slow derby bullshit, which is good. There have been  a lot of parties. Thanks to Sunday movie nights with the Lovehawks, I’ve done pretty well on the #11in’11 front. Work is busy. Social life is busy. Money is tight due to car repairs and continuing to pay off my credit card debt and just, you know, life. I like that it is turning into autumn, although I like sunshine too. Gin has become the drink of 2011, apparently, with all the G&Ts at New Year’s, and now the Gossip Ginger Gimlets and Gossip Girl Wednesdays.

Webstock was amazing but of course you already knew that. It was so great to see all the good people from out of town that I only get to see like once a year like Walter, and to learn so much and talk so much that I thought my jaw was going to fall off. Turns out, $100 trip to the dentist later, that it’s stress which makes me square my jaw. Ahh well.

I don’t really feel like I’m accomplishing a great deal, but I don’t feel like I’m not, either. I’ve dealt with all this uterus bullshit. I’ve got my work back on track after stuff that we won’t go into. My protective streak for people may cause ruckuses, but nothing that’s not fixable. I am managing to hold on to and repair relationships with people who are important to me. I am doubtless behind in my communication with people, but hopefully this post will help. Essentially, apart from the horse-riding metaphor, there isn’t really all that much to say. And that’s okay.

Speaking of my name, someone came here googling “secret anti joanna mcleod hubris tumblr” – does such a thing exist? I MUST KNOW. And if it doesn’t exist (I couldn’t find it anyway) can someone please start one and give me publishing rights on it too? I’m sure I periodically hate myself much more than anyone else ever could!  Today I was so emo that after I went to dinner at my parents’ house, I drove all the way around the South Coast listening to Placebo.  I think it helped, a little bit.

It’s hard, because it’s been over a month, and I am still very… uncomfortable. That’s a word I could use. It’s a word to describe the intense panicky heartrate and fight reactions I had at the dentist, and also today a little whilst being scanned. It’s a word to describe how things are when paths occasionally cross, and it’s definitely the word to describe how my friends appear to be when I talk about it. Because of course they’re bored of it, of my not being over it, and how I will reference it in casual conversation, and they don’t know how to react or what to do about it. It’s how I feel because I would like to confront it, because that’s my preferred way of dealing with things, but uncomfortable was the reaction of someone else who would rather just forget it. And meanwhile I wonder what the implications are for my future, how I will deal with other people when they get around to touching me.

Oh and of course, me being me, that’s not at all the only drama in my life, because of course I make things way too complicated and stupid and dumb. And I’m so busy right now, there’s pretty much not an empty day in my calendar until March. That’s good for my #11in’11 challenges, but not so good for the noise in my head, if I can’t sleep because I’m trying to figure out what to wear to all these millions of social events, and how I will function at all of them, and also wondering why people would want to see me when I’m just going to get drunk and insult them. And then when I do sleep, I dream about apocalypses. Speaking of which, I guess it’s that time again right now.

1. What did you do in 2010 that you’d never done before?

• Lived by myself in my very own house
• Went to the emergency vet in the middle of the night
• Ran my own business
• Got my first filling
• Worked for a company that got slash-dotted!
• Appeared on television as an expert in a certain field (Wellington mayoral campaigns)
• Slept with a workmate
• Organised a very successful bach trip away with friends.

2. Did you keep your new years’ resolutions, and will you make more for next year?

According to last year’s post, my resolution was:

“My new resolution is to articulate myself better when I don’t like something, rather than just dealing with it. As in “please take your hand off my leg” instead of moving chairs, or “Actually I don’t like Hawaiiian Pizza” instead of just avoiding those slices. Etc.

I was very very dreadful at this. Well, I got better at standing up for myself at work, both in terms of actual work, but also just in my 3 month contract standing up to the dreadful racism, misogyny and general ignorance in the office.  There was a thing at the end of the year though, in which I was unable to say no at the time, but I was able – with the help of good friends – to make it clear in no uncertain terms afterwards that what had happened was not okay, so I’m pretty proud of that.

Oh, I also said that my resolution last year was to try roller skating once. I didn’t. It was too much of a pain to get out to Kilbirnie after work.

As for my resolution this year, it’s pretty simple. I resolve not to sleep with any more workmates, married people or close friends. I think that’s pretty self-explanatory. I also stole Jason‘s resolution to read more books, and there are things I’d like to do, like walk to/from work at least half the time, and take lunch to work at least two times a week, and restrict buying coffee to twice a week at the maximum. But those aren’t such strict resolutions, if you know what I mean. Actually, I have set myself a 11 in ’11 challenge with a whole bunch of stuff I’d like to do.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?

I don’t think so. My flickr stream is flooded with pictures of babies, but I’m pretty certain they were all circa 2009. Smack me if I’m wrong.

4. Did anyone close to you die?

No. But someone that people I care about cared about did, and that was a bit weird, especially when Facebook kept suggesting that I should friend her. Too late.

5. What countries did you visit?

When I found out that I got my current job, Karen and I planned a trip to Tonga, but then the price went up by $800, so we went to Samoa again instead.

6. What would you like to have in 2011 that you lacked in 2010?

I’ll say it again – a relationship with someone who shouts it from the rooftops that they are in love with me.

7. What date from 2010 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?

June 29 – I moved out of Balmoral Terrace in Newtown where I’d lived for the past two and a half years. September 20, I started my new job. October 9, I got possession of my very own flat.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?

Getting a job that I both love and am very good at. I really like the people that I work with, and most of the time I feel like I have a lot to contribute.

It’s also really important to me that I am close again with people who have played major roles in my life before. Some of those friendships are precarious and teeter a little, but I will continue to work at them.

9. What was your biggest failure?

Given that I’m making the most money I ever have, my finances should not be in such dire straits. Also, that whole going on Yaz to sort out my PMS and then it making me worse than ever was a pretty big failure on the part of my reproductive system.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?

The Yaz made me sick. Also, Sebby got beaten up. And oh, the Madder Badder Flu that I got after Tom’s party that knocked me on my ass for a couple of weeks was totally dreadful.

11. What was the best thing you bought?

It’s not a single purchase, but the decision to get a flat by myself was fucking brilliant.

12. Whose behavior merited celebration?

The wonderful people who supported me as So Content, my amazing manager who hired me and has dealt with me being slightly mental and who is super protective and encouraging, the lovely feminists of the internet who fought the good #mooreandme fight as well as all the other usual battles that exist, my family for their help in moving, and the Lovehawks for providing me with a second home.

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?

That place I worked for three months. My ex landlady who thought it was okay to make me pay $900 for cleaning. The tenancy tribunal who agreed with her. Assorted rape apologists on the internet. The National Party, as usual. The married man for what he did at the start of the year. The other thing that happened at the end of the year.

14. Where did most of your money go?

Booze, debt servicing, and living by myself.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?

Princess Camp because it came when I really needed it. Getting clients for So Content, and building up a reputation for knowing what I was talking about. Getting hired for a proper real job as Jo Hubris, not just a random ‘Joanna McLeod’ on paper. Getting my own flat. Going away for New Year’s with the Lovehawks. Kissing a boy again after pashing so many girls all year.

16. What song will always remind you of 2010?

‘Run this town’ by Jay Z & Rihanna. I came very close to deciding that I needed to move the fuck out of Wellington at the start of the year, when the married man hooked up with another girl (not his wife) and Wellington was too small, and everywhere I went I was reminded of him, and the fucking terrible thing that I did and that he was, and all that. I wanted to run away and hide forever, but then we had Princess Camp and I was reminded that in this case, I’d done nothing wrong, and that actually, Wellington is my fucking city. I fucking run it. And I have my girls, and they have my back, and I ain’t going nowhere. I fucking love my princesses.

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:

I am fatter, happier and richer. That’s a good balance, right?

18. What do you wish you’d done more of?

I wish I’d done less shopping, and more saving money. I also wish I’d gone to see my counselor. I can’t believe it’s been over a year since I last talked to her. I tried to make an appointment during my last week of work but she was all full until now, and, as I hoped, I have dealt with it now.

19. What do you wish you’d done less of?

I probably should have drunk less, and done less shopping, given the financial suckiness of me right now.

20. How will you be spending Christmas?

I had an International Sandwich Degustation with Karen and Bad Tom, and then BAMJI came over and we watched Buzzcocks.

21. Who did you spend the most time on the phone with?

What is this phone thing of which you speak? I don’t call anyone ever anymore.

22. Did you fall in love in 2010?

No.

23. How many one-night stands?

Two.

24. What was your favorite TV program?

Still Mad Men, Community and Parks & Recreation.

25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?

Not hate hate, but there certainly have been a fair number of people who’ve made life more difficult than it needed to be.

26. What was the best book you read?

I really liked most of Player One by Douglas Coupland. The ending was a bit meh though, and it was mega depressing.

27. What was your greatest musical discovery?

We have Mac Airports at work so we can share our music collections, and also we have speakers anyone can control, so most of my music has come from my cow-orker Kirsten, who is into The Black Keys, Band of Horses and other such indie bands. I like it a lot.

28. What did you want and get?

A tropical holiday, a great flat by myself and a job I love.

29. What did you want and not get?

To clear my credit card and my financial debt to my parents.

30. What was your favorite film of this year?

Seriously, I’m not entirely sure I went to the movies AT ALL in 2010. Woah!

31. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?

On my birthday I turned 30. I was working at Customs, and they didn’t know it was my birthday. I got my hair cut by a bad haircutter at a place near the building, and then in the evening I think I went to Le Metropolitan with my family.

32. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?

$200 more a week. That would have allowed me to have not felt like such a shut-in while I was on the dole, and now it would allow me to service my credit card debt AND save a little while still having a life. Also, I wish I hadn’t tried Yaz.

33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2010?

Dressy McDresserson. With lots of pillaging of Sue and Megan’s wardrobes. Lots of black eyeliner, and occasionally some dark lipstick, and lots of lasercut jewellery from SuperVery and Cupcakes and Mace.

34. What kept you sane?

Lexapro, Princess Camp, my manager at work who is a saint despite all his swearing, and all my dear friends,  Kim and Megan especially. <3

35. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?

Joel McHale, Alexander Saarsgard and Jon Hamm. There was a Jezebel poll to pick the sexiest man once, and it was impossible!

36. What political issue stirred you the most?

Let me quote the Feminist Hulk here:

AS SURVIVOR, HULK DISTURBED BY ASSANGE COVERAGE. HULK GLAD WIKILEAKS EXIST. HULK SMASH RAPE SHAME. AT SAME TIME.

37. Who did you miss?

I got to spend lots of time with Kat & Kane and Heather this year, so I’m going to say Kate H who’s over there in Engerland. And Smoo once he moved out.

38. Who was the best new person you met?

Via Kim, who I believe was the best new person last year, I met Kate & Jason & Brendan. They’re pretty sweet eh.  And most of the people in my office are pretty awesome too.

39. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2010:

Moving in with your parents when you’re 30 is never a good idea, even if you need to save money and you’re only doing it for a couple of months!

40. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year:

“We gon’ run this town tonight. “

Mouse Rat have a song about sex hair. I have the real thing.

In fact, if you really want to see the proper damage from that one, then you need to see it from behind (lollerskates!):

As Kat said, "So, clearly he's right-handed then". Yes. And kinda pushy.

So after Xmas Party shenanigans, it was time for actual Xmas.

Instead of an Xmas tree, I put lights into the lime tree I was giving Anji

On Xmas Day, Karen and Tom came over for an international sandwich degustation. Spellcheck suggests that word should be “devastation” instead which is close to accurate.

The first sandwich course was German Hot dogs

The Framingham UNSTABLE ROSE was a perfect colour with my dress. Not that you can tell in this pic.

We finally got around to drinking the expensive champagne I gave Tom for his birthday, with ginger coconut ice cream sandwiches

BAMJI came over and gave me can of MORTAL TERROR amongst many other presents

They bought it at the Ministry of Stories, because I’d tweeted about it right when they happened to be going to Hoxton!

There was an awful lot of debris leftover after Xmas!

Thanks to fuckyeahmeangirls.tumblr.com I finally found a mantra to write on my chalkboard that I bought at Wanda Harland

Then I went away to Waiterere for five nights over New Year’s. I forgot to take my camera, so these are the only two snaps I have.

We got really dressed up on New Year's Eve.

I prepared a lot of food that the boys cooked on the bbq

And I’ll just steal one photo from Kim’s magic ones on Facebook to sum up our holiday, which was THE BEST TIME EVER:

Group shot with bonus tackle on the back lawn.

Oh wait, there’s an ANIMATED GIF! Watch my boobs bounce around as I smile and unsmile! Thanks Jason!

Jason opens his Secret Santa present

December is the usual social whirl, and time of increased anxiety, both about everything in general, but also with rape apologists online. There have been people from out of town in town, which means more going out, as well as an assortment of other times that meant I had to go out and be witty and charming. Heather came to stay. The Wellingtonista Awards happened. Kat and Kane came to stay. There was a work Xmas party, and gossip that I deserved, and things that I didn’t. There was crying into Megan‘s bosom after the Lovehawks said something that I’d been unwilling to say until that point although I was thinking it but covering it up with jokes and statistics since that’s how I cope. Megan helped me to write an extremely difficult email, and then Thomas helped me with the reply to the reply to that, because even though I am a writer, occasionally words fail me. There was Lovehawk Xmas with Secret Santa presents (I got a brooch in the shape of a heart that says ‘Bite Me’ on it). Then there was real Xmas, in which Bad Tom and Karen came over here for an International Sandwich Degustation, and Anji and Bambi came later and spoiled us.

Kate opens her Secret Santa present

December is exhausting. For New Year’s, Rocket Queen is going to come and stay in Casa Sans Hosen to look after Seb, and I’m going to Waiterere with the Lovehawks and Stacey and Mike. I am excited about getting away from the internet for five days, but I am a little worried about living with six other people for that long, even if they are very much amongst my favourite people in the whole world. I’m sure it will be excellent though. I took Kim, Kate and Jason to the airport on Xmas Eve, in the biggest gale ever, and while that was only three days ago, I miss them all already. Luckily I get to go pick up Kim tomorrow anyway. Kelly is gone for three months now, and I hope everything is going smoothly for her from now on.

Kelly opens her Secret Santa Present

I’m sorry I don’t have more stories to tell you. I thought I did when I picked up my computer, but perhaps I am saving them all for when I do my annual year in review. I’ve been feeling like an idiot since Thursday night, because I was a cunt to someone after they’d been especially lovely to me and helped me sort out something kinda serious, so I’m all introspective and kinda self-loathing. That could also be because I’m pre-period, of course. Not to mention that I’ve been drinking far too much. And eating far too much cheese. Mmmm, cheese. In fact, there’s still some peppered havarti in the fridge, so perhaps that should make its way into my stomach soon. Especially since Australia is a pretty terrible movie, but I needed a break from The Walking Dead and Misfits.

B opens his Secret Santa present

I am enraged by a Campbell Live article I caught the end of tonight, featuring Dr Makary and his ‘Time for a change’ campaign to change our culture around alcohol.

Putting aside the whole alcohol culture discussion, which I actually agree needs a shake up, I cannot believe what I heard in this story (which you can watch on the TV3 on demand site). The message that came through loud and clear was if a girl drinks then it’s her fault she gets sexually assaulted or raped. I mean, she put herself in that position. If only she didn’t like sex and didn’t drink – then this wouldn’t happen! The story title by the way is ‘Is alcohol ruining how young people interact?’ Watch it and see for yourself.

For those who can’t watch it, what I write below is in chronological order from the item where they talk about girls drinking in NZ. It’s slightly paraphrased but not by much. Most of it is word for word:

• NZ is the only country in the world where women are more promiscuous than men according to a 2007 Durex study.
• It’s cause and effect. You lose your inhibitions because you want to have sex and you have sex because you lose your inhibitions. And that’s putting young women at grave risk.

They then give an example of a school student who was drunk and comatose at a school party in the Coromandel. She was sexually assaulted and the sex act was filmed and passed around by students’ cell phones.

Actual quote directly following this example: “Once a girl puts herself into this position it’s very difficult to defend her and it’s very difficult for her not to compromise her safety and the rest of her life.”

Really? Really?

So first of all, women liking sex is a problem. We’re the only country where women are more promiscuous than men. Something must be wrong! It must be because we drink. Drinking makes us promiscuous and therefore promiscuity makes us drink…because then it’s easier to have more sex! and by wanting sex and getting drunk, we’re the ones who are putting ourselves at risk of rape and assault. It’s our fault. If only we weren’t so damn horny and intoxicated.

Do you hear the angry sarcasm in my voice right now?

The example and that quote were the last straw. Last time I checked, being drunk and comatose was not consent to engage in any kind of sexual activity. That student had every right to be drunk and vulnerable and safe. She was at a school party. She was probably with friends. Her only regret should have been a terrible hangover the next morning. By getting drunk she did not suddenly become open to sex with anyone, and she didn’t ask for those non-consensual sexual acts to be filmed and distributed.

The people who put her in grave risk, the only ones who compromised her safety and the rest of her life, were those who sexually assaulted her and the ones who filmed it and passed it on. They are the ones whose behaviour needs public derision and to be made an example of. They are the ones who should be held up as an example of what is wrong with our culture.

Were the people who did this to her mentioned at all as part of the problem? No. They were not.

I hope against hope the victim in that example didn’t see Campbell Live tonight and that she never becomes aware of how her ordeal was used as an example of how women are responsible for getting themselves assaulted. Imagine the grief and trauma she is already dealing with – then add this on top of it.

Now multiply that by the thousands of women who have been through something similar and think about how that message made them feel. Their fault. Not their attackers’ fault. Theirs. Because they had the gall to get drunk or enjoy sex or think they were safe.

Imagine that.

I had a quiet week at work, which was well-needed because I’ve been working very hard and doing lots of things and stuff. Friday wasn’t so quiet, because we had All Rap All The Time Afternoon, and then we had a work cocktail challenge. I led the S&M team, although we were calling ourselves the Bucaneers (we’d had a pirate-themed week, because that’s what you do when you get sent funny pictures of your cow-orks dressed up at conferences), and we made a chargrilled pineapple margarita served in a pineapple, and then a Yo Ho Ho & a Damson Plum, which I based on my McKenzie training at Cupcakes & Cocktails. Turns out that was a mistake, and our drinks didn’t win because they were “too perfect” and “well-balanced”. What a travesty! An outrage! We also got called “middle of the road” which is probably the first and only time I’ll ever be called that. Luckily, we had to finish off all the rest of the ingredients, and so a very enjoyable night was spent playing Foozeball (We’ve started a Women’s Foozeball League, because we play slower, and squeal more), and sitting on bean bags on a balcony high above Courtenay Place. I ended up smoking cigarettes because people kept giving me theirs to hold while they went in for more beer, ugh. And my phone fell out of my bra and into the toilet. Whoops! Luckily Kim has given me her old one. I ended up going home via the Hawthorn Lounge to drop off their nomination in the TAWAs, and they knew who I was and gave us a discount. I am totally the Empress of the Internet.

The next afternoon I somehow managed to drag my rather under-the-weather ass into Monterey to eat their delicious brunch and gossip with Kelly. Once again, I had TAWA-business to take care of, and once again, knowing people paid off. We sat there for a couple of hours because we weren’t allowed to get pie until I had finished the sudoku, and I was seriously impaired. It took me approximately ten minutes to check in on Foursquare using Kelly’s phone because I was such a mess. The table squeaked like a kitten under my elbow and we giggled our heads off at that, and also at my ridiculous story of hilariousness, and also many other things.

I rediscovered this week how nice it is to kiss a boy, instead of the usual girls, and now I’m hoping for a groping. Someone feel me up, please?

Saturday night I spent at Lisa’s, making cheeseburgers in my slip because it was so very hot, and watching Community. She said I overhyped ‘Modern Warfare’. I don’t know how that’s even possible. Nevertheless, it was a very pleasant way to spend the evening. And then I came home to this:

Not the best picture, but suffice to say that the table on my porch had been knocked over, and there was blood ALL OVER the steps and dripping off the wall. My first thought was that it wasn’t blood, it was plum syrup, but the smell, it was intense and disgusting and terrifying. I actually was afraid to walk into the house, wondering if someone had decided to put a hit on me or something, and then I saw the cat fur all over the the place and started to panic. Sebastian usually comes running to meet me when I’ve been out for a while, but he wasn’t there. He was nowhere in the house, and didn’t come when I called and called. I totally freaked out and started bawling. I tried to call Karen since she was the nearest, but my phone wouldn’t connect the call. I started freaking out all over Twitter instead, until I heard a mewling, and Seb was at the front door. He was covered in blood and was acting really funny, so I tried to clean up his wounds as best as possible, and tried to calm down, after crying some more in relief that he appeared to be okay. But he was way lethargic, and was hyperventilating, and there was so much blood all over the porch. Some internet checking made me terrified he was going into shock, so I decided to take him to the after-hours vet – except of course I couldn’t call them. Luckily, Daniil was online and he rang them for me, so at 2am I loaded Seb into his cat cage and drove him out to Ngauranga. Seb didn’t meow once in the car, but I was crying enough for both of us.

The vet was grumpy with me, which seems a bit ridiculous, given that’s his actual job and heaven knows I paid enough. His computer wouldn’t start properly, and he wouldn’t even look at Seb until he’d filled in the form, so I stood in reception crying, Seb breathing way too fast under my hands, hoping he wasn’t going to die while the horrible man took his time with formalities. Finally we got into the examination room, where the vet put clothes pegs on Seb’s scruff to keep him calm, and we shaved off a bit of his fur so the vet could look at his chest wound. “He brought this on himself,” said the vet, “he clearly started this fight”. His bedside manner was somewhat lacking. It was 2.30am in the morning, I was clearly extremely upset and panicked, and I did NOT need to have my cat blamed for the fight. I tried to explain how much blood there was, but the vet was all “oh, it probably looked like a lot because it might have sprayed everywhere – an artery has been nicked, but it’s probably not very much at all”. Um, I cleaned up the clots of it, buddy, yeah, there was a lot of blood. Anyway, he gave Seb a shot of painkiller, and some antibiotics, and some pills for me to give to him for a week, and I paid $249. I was supposed to keep Seb inside for 24 hours but he slipped out while I was in the bathroom. I was awake til 6am worrying. Of course he’s fine today. I am never having kids.

Today I cleaned up the spare room cos Heather’s coming to stay, yay, and made righteous mac’n cheese and fuck yeah slaw and rhubarb pie for the LoveHawks. Kim gave me a recut of my Hubris necklace and wouldn’t let me pay her for it, proving once again that I win at life sometimes with the wonderful people I have met on the internet. We watched FoxFire which was DREADFUL, and kind of awesome at the same time. Jason claims he wrote it when he was 16. I’m so glad those crazy kids have moved to my neighbourhood. I love my weekend rituals.

This week is going to be crazy. Last week I saw a huge part of my recent everything played out in a slideshow, and now on Friday is the Fifth The Annual Wellingtonista Awards. Woah! You’re coming along, right?

Sir Ed gets his grape on

Oh fuck yes! For Lisa‘s 30th birthday, I got her the Red Panda experience at Wellington Zoo. This means you get to go into their enclosures, and feed the grapes and pears, stroke them and watch them tip their heads back to make sure they don’t spill any of the juice from the grapes on themselves. SO ADORABLE! I could flood this journal with pics, but perhaps you might just want to look at them in this set right here instead.

As for me, I’m doing okay. After 25 days I have finally stopped bleeding. I had a “the floor is lava” day yesterday, which really sucked, but I managed to jump from island to island long enough to repair my first fuse without having a breakdown about it, so I’m impressed with myself for that.

In 2004, I got an email from the girl who made my life a living hell at ASIJ saying sorry, she hadn’t realised how cruel she was being. I’d tried so hard to bury all those memories that hearing from her made me cry for hours, tucked away in my tiny little office up at Salient. I had a similar experience on Friday night, when someone who’d always said that there was no point in saying sorry now actually said sorry for things done many many years ago. I was completely thrown, and sort of drunk, and lonely, so naturally, I responded with smut. It’s just how I operate. But it did kind of shake me up a lot, and made me worry that they were dying or something. It still freaks me out when people demonstrate that they clearly care about me.

So yeah, clearly the Yaz is still coursing through my bloodstream and my brain, but I’m going to fight this thing, dammit! When I find the time. Oh my stars is my schedule ever busy for the next couple of months.

I can’t think of a proper way to finish this post, so here’s another picture instead!

Red Panda family chow time

• For the past couple of months, I have been working at my new permanent job. It’s in the private sector, at a web company, and I’m their writer. There is cereal in the cupboard, and chocolate biscuits and many kinds of beer on Fridays. I am supposed to use Oxford commas in the work that I do for them, but they’re not the boss of my journal, so I can write whatever the hell kinds of lists that I like. Such as: the things I like about my job include my lovely manager, the jovial atmosphere in my team, the way the marketing girl and I have declared Friday afternoons to be Cheesy Music Time, I have a laptop and another screen, almost all my work can be done remotely if I needed, it’s in a good part of town and I love what I do. Oh yes, I am listing the superficial things, but oh my god, I get so much done! It is immensely satisfying to be able to write things and have them take effect that week – or sometimes that day. Fuck the public service, man. I’m still serving the public, but this way I’m actually effective.
• Having such a great job has been very beneficial to me because the last month has been absolute shitballfuckinghell. You know how the week before my period it always seems a little bit like the world is ending, even if I’m taking my lexapro and being good and all? Well my counsellor suggested last year that I should talk to my GP about talking to a gyno about going on The Pill to stop that, so in May, when I had to go in to see my GP for a Lexapro extension, I asked her to refer me to the public health system, which gave me an appointment with a gyno in OCTOBER. You’ll remember (or not) that my whole depression thing actually was kickstarted when I was 19 and went on Femulen for birth control, but of course, that’s a bit chicken-egg, because was it the drug or was it the circumstances around my relationship with Thomas that made me depressed? Etc. And then there were the MIGRAINES OF HEAD EXPLOSION DEATH when I was 22 and on Estelle35 to sort out my PCOS. So naturally I was hesitant. But after the very nice lady doctor had gone elbow deep in me (my cunt was all “what’s this? Who’s touching me? Am I supposed to enjoy this?” while her pushing on my stomach made it ache like I’d swallowed a gallon of semen or something), we thought that maybe Yaz could help me get the PMS under control. Turns out, not so much. I was on it for a month, and the entire time I wanted to cry every day and kill the world Oh, and I’ve had my period for 21 days now. Luckily now I am in the gyno system, I  could call up and talk to a nurse who had all my notes, and stop taking the pill on her advice, but I’m just so angry that I made myself feel so terrible for a whole month. Like seriously, if I didn’t have such a great manager and the ability to work from home, I don’t know how I could have dealt with it all. It was like a big reoccurance of depression again, except I could see how clearly it wasn’t actually based on anything in my life at all except for that fucking pill. Now I’m hoping it will get flushed out of my body ASAP. I have to go in again in January for another internal ultrasound, but I don’t know if I’m going to risk any pills again. The nurse rang me today to see if I needed another form of birth control, and I was all “no no, I’m a condom girl anyway”. How sweet of her to actually think I had an actual sex life. For the record, even though I have a super comfy brand new bed, I don’t. Actually,  my bed is so damn comfy I am never sharing it again.
• As well as a new bed, I have a new house ALL TO MYSELF in Mt Vic. It is glorious. I call it Casa Sans Hosen. I can’t spell. I have a spare room so you should come and stay, like Heather and like Kat & Kane. I’ll wear pants for you if you’d like, providing you give me enough notice.
• Clearly I have sucked at keeping this journal updated, but we don’t need to go over each and every thought I’ve had. But to sum things up, the Yaz has made me angry all over again about that married man, even though that’s coming up on two years. And I’ve been hanging out to Thomas again lately which is really nice because it is reassuring to know that there are people who will always know you and it’s nice to see the ways you’ve grown. And I saw Good Tom the other day which was lovely although the circumstances were horrible, and holy crap I miss the fuck out of that boy.
• I will update more often with more pithy updates, okay? Yes.

I read more than half of Cleaving in one sitting. I thought I had identified with Julie Powell before in Julie & Julia as she worked a boring job, made friends on the internet, watched a lot of Buffy and got drunk frequently. But in Cleaving as she pines for her lover or ex lover, whatever state their relationship was in at the time, as she talks about the sex that they had which was unlike any she’d ever had before, as she sought out anonymous terrible fucking that she told her lover about afterwards in an attempt to make him jealous  – well, I lived all that too.

I worry too that I will never have another lover who will make me lose all control the way that you did, that I will never spend weeks at a time in a permanent state of arousal, driven into a fever by your emails and text messages and story telling. I worry that no one will ever put their hand on my leg while I am driving the way that you did, which almost made me crash my car. I’m afraid no one will ever lock me to them with their kiss. And while there are other people now who can make me come, multiple times, and maybe they fuck me harder than you ever did, it’s not the same. And yes, then I remember that there used to be Thomas, and that I used to think I would never love anyone like that, and now I am “who?” what?” about that. So one day, you will be gone from my mind but for now, there is just passive-aggression, and emptiness, and because this is Wellington I see you everywhere, but we don’t talk and I miss you.

There have been parties. There was my birthday Triple X party, in which a rollickingly good time was had by all. Heather came down from Auckland for it, and we spent lots of time together hanging out and watching Veronica Mars. She took the rest of the DVDs up to Auckland with her and has been making me giggle with her “OMG!” text messages as various things happened throughout the series. But back to the party. I kissed a lot of pretty ladies, both in the kissing booth and out, which is always a pleasure, and never a chore. I went as a Doctor of Fuckology, and had a clipboard full of hypothesis. Here are some more photos.

Many of the things that I expected to happen did

Sisters dressed up to party

I also volunteered again at Full Code Press, but I will probably write about that on joannamcleod.com instead of here.

On Saturday night I went to a B party at Anna Jane’s house. I was dressed as Beth Ditto, and while not that many people got that, they did get lectures about Health At Every Size and other fat activism.

Karen as Barbarella, me as Beth Ditto

The girl that I kissed at the Wellingtonista Awards was there, and we hung out and I told her that I had stopped talking to her because I don’t want to be her friend, I want to be her lover, and it was too frustrating to follow her tweets about wanting to get laid when I was waiting right there to do the job for her. I ended up feeling more than a little like a date rapist because after we kissed, I wanted to kiss again, and she said no, but I heard that as “maybe”. Frustration. I should know better. It was nice though, that she said she heard I was amazing in bed (I am!) although I wonder who said that to her, because our Eskimo bond constantly tells me I was a terrible lay.

I haven’t talked about moving, because it was horrible and culminated in me cleaning until almost 11pm last Sunday night, then getting 100 metres down the road in my car with Seb in a cage and discovering that I had a flat tyre. My father had to come down from Ngaio to help me, which is lucky because as it happened, my jack was missing the turning bit anyway. But now anyway I am safely back in the parental bosom and took them and BAMJI out to lunch at Osteria Del Toro to thank them for all their hard work. Seb has settled in wonderfully, and I have put my DVDs into order of colours, but all the blackness of my sizeable Whedon collection throws things off somewhat. I spend my time at home watching many episodes of The West Wing, and teaching my dad how to play Wii. In the mornings we take the train together and I get coffee at Sweet Fanny-Anne’s. Work is work. Getting paid is nice.

It is strange being in an office again, having to sit in an uncomfortable squeaky chair and digest piles and piles of new information. It’s no six-page site that I’m rewriting, unlike other work that I’ve done for So Content before. And there’s a whole office full of people who all have their own working styles and customs, and I’m the stranger here so it is me that has to adjust to other people’s music. At least my eyes are starting to be able to deal with the florescent lights now. But for all my complaining about the superficial things, it is good to be working again, to feel smart and clever and valuable.

Other changes are happening, with the lease being up on Immoral Terrace at some time in the near but not near enough future. Paying for the rent on the whole house by myself will not be fun. As a consequence, I will be having to move home with my parents for a couple of months in order to pay off that debt, and also the rest of the debts that I have accrued over the past year without a steady pay cheque. I can’t wait until I don’t owe anyone money again, even though that’s a couple of months away. And then I’m going to be subletting a room in my Vitamin Cupcake’s house for a couple of months while the adorable Kate and Jason travel. I am making lists of where all my furniture and possessions will be heading – into storage, to Ngaio or to be shipped out to friends. Tom is taking the bar out of the Tiki Shack, so that will live on a little bit. We had a goodbye shindig in there the other weekend which was lovely, piles of people piled onto each other basking in the warm glow of my heater. That mattress has served hard time, alright. The lovely Smoo has promised to come back and help me move things to the tip later. He’s gone too. End of a long era. I think I miss him already if you will allow me to get soppy for a second.

People from the past have popped up recently at odd moments. I discovered something about someone and it’s still on my mind. It was somewhat of a headfuck.  Heather is coming down for my Triple X party, which I am very excited about. Less exciting is turning 30 in two days’ time. I have the grey hairs to prove it. However, at least there’s a Webstock Mini on my birthday to ease the pain, and then on the following weekend I will be helping out at FullCodePress again like I did last year. I have to meet up with Sue tomorrow to get a dress to wear to it – either one of mine that she’d borrowed, or one of Megan’s. It is handy having a wardrobe extend like that.

Along with the cold and various housing issues has come an increase in the number of television programmes I’ve been watching. Of note lately have been marathon West Wing sessions that just make me miss Good Tom and wish that I was Alison Janney, as well as contemplating becoming a cater waiter due to Party Down, and wondering if I am more pathetic than Kenny from Eastbound And Down or not.   I think that I am not, because I continue to have people who love me, and also people who want to do me, occasionally. Ask me sometime and I will tell you a very amusing story about polylove and children and how I don’t believe that the two should mix. Oh, and speaking of casual sex, you should come to this:

Wow, what a weird, wacky and somestimes wonnderful night. I spent the day removing hair from my legs
which were then left silky smooth after I shaved patches that I’d skipped and applied some lotion and baby oil. Anyways the rest of the day, I stressed out with Mum about my dress and doing other beautifying things. Then, I cooked dinner and stressed out cos Penny and Sarah were late. Finally they showed up with Dyland, and Mum & Neil finally left.

So, I cracked open the champagne and we ate chicken & tarragon pasta – which Penny & Sarah loved but Dylan didn’t. Making conversation was weird, like I was trying to talk to Dylan without being too obvious. So we talked about his fetish for women’s underwear (which he denied) and the school papers (we’re both editors). He couldn’t believe that Onslow’s were worse – we showed him! Then, after cake, we all ran around in a flurr getting ready, except for Dylan who settled down to call Daniel and Peter I wonder what he said to them! Nevermind. I did my makeup and put on my dress then I ran around trying to find a German plug so Sarah could blowdry her hair. The hall was really dark cos a light bulb was dead and I was just walking up to it, and the cupboard door was slightly open, then suddenly I see these two eyes! I screamed so loudy, then I like, fell to the ground and just sat there in shock. Fucking Dylan man! It was then that I realised how low my dress was, and that I didn’t haqve the tits to support it. Dylan told me to eat my broccoli! Yeah, what ever! I think I’ll just take a moment here to point out that I realise I’m like “Dylan Dylan Dyaln”. It gets worse!

Anyways… So I was looking all gorgeous. Penny had fixed my hair and my crown and I felt really good. Then of course I knocked off my crown getting into the taxi, and my skirts trailed in the mud. Typical, man! Anyways, we got to Abbys and were greeted by “Oh my god, that’s so coo, pretty, cute etc”. They (Rosalie, Ammy, Ireana & Abby) all said I looed really good, so I was happy. Ireana’s breasts were popping out of her dress. Being tinge typsy, I said “Why did you think I was going to be mean to you? I know we don’t always get on but…” And we hugged – kodak moment. We had to tak squillions of pictures, naturally! Abby’s mother was like “I don”t know you so Abby said “That’s Joanna” and her mother was like “Oh, _ I know who you are_” and everybody laughed. Geez, I wonder what she told her!

I was sitting on the sofa for a while with Abby & her friend, and (I was quite drunk) I apologised for being such a bitch last year. It was so strange! Flashback city, man! Then I had a heart ot heart with Anita E about this guy Gareth. More pictures…. After a while, I was sitting with Dylan, enquiring about Ben. Suppodedly he’s got a new girlfriend slut called Jess who’s making him talk like a homie! I sai I’d hate her too then, and he was like “get over him, Joanna!” I saaid “I am! I’m in love with him but I’mm over him!” and “it’s just that he was such a nice guy” but he said “No, Ben is not a nice guy”. He said it a lot actually. Then I said “Well he was only my second kiss, so I have a right to be obsessed – the first one doesn’t count!” And he was like “Only your second kiss?” (Now that I’m sober, that seems sarcastic, but I’m not sure) so I said “Yeah well, according to Sarah, she’s the only person you’ve ever kissed”. Of course, she came up then, which iced the conversation for a while, but then he was like “I’ll always remember my first kiss – it was s good” and I responded “Me too – it was horrible/scary, I was pinned to the wally by a bouncer in a nightclub – but I’m not drunk enough to talk about that…”

That’s about all of our fascinating conversation that I can remember, except that the whole way through he was complaining about Abby’s short skirt – “Notice how she sticks her legs up in every picture?” – He’s such a bastard, man! Trouble is, he’d only pilfed a little bit of my vodka, so he was practically sober – oh shit! God, I wonder if he’ll tell Ben that I love him! Could be interesting!

We left for the ball in 2 shuttles – I sat on the floor next to Nicola, nuzzling Penny (who thought we were going to Hamilton) an d laughing at Rosallie who kept on telling me to pull my dress up – Jason Dimic could’ve had a god look, had he been so inclined!

Finally we got there, got photographed, went to the loos, sat ouside in the freezing cold. Time is a wee bit muddles now, ‘cos of the wine I drank at Abby’s ver quickly, with vodka and coke too, so I’ll synopsis/summarise: Sarah vanished reall early on – never to be seen agan. They had a room at Trekker’s! Dirty couple! Penny vanished for a tim too, but that was coo. I hung around outside with Justina and Karen and Sam Bedford for a while. Then I was inside with Jess, and we went dancing with Brendan Frater & John Student Rep. Damn, I felt cool! I reminded Brendan of Kiwi Ranch & grabbing Roxanne – he didn’t remember it! Techno rocks! It was so cool! I must’ve been drunk! Then Tamati finally showed up, and I took him & Sam B to see the Bakehouse. I held an arm of each of them – I didin’t want to let Sam Bedford go. I was so weird. Like, Tamait did this monologe-ish thing, and we were standing so we’dve been close (Sam and I) and – I might’ve been slightly mistaken, but I think there was a slight spark – I’m not sure though. We’d been talking earlier – I told him it was hi sduty to get me stoned. Fucking hell man! I guess he’s rich though!

Penny was always talking to the Bouncer dude, then, near the end when most everyone had gone, it was like a fight between him & Graham on the dance floor! I was just laughing! Then, when Grahem won, I went & talekd to Jess – told her briefly about Ben but also, more importantly, how I’m half in love with Sarah’s boyfriend – a friend wh doesn’t have to be biased! It was really cool! John B got with Christy, the stupid bastard! We cabbed home with KateB – she stopped me from getting in the caar with the drunken bouncer, thank god! I can’t believe how stupid I was going to be! Sore feet, lot earring, laddered stokcingt. Penny got with Graham. God, I cannot like Dylan. I won’t let myself.