Hubris.co.nz

An online journal since 1998

Tag: auckland (page 2 of 2)

Do you need a map with that?

I dreamt this morning that I and a friend of mine had been making out – well, more sort of illicitly stroking each other almost platonically, and she’d been like “Well, should we make something out of this then?” and there was some sort of really annoying girl scout leader making us play stupid games when all I wanted to do was make out with my friend some more. I said that yes, maybe it was something, and she ran up and down the street telling everyone she was now a lesbian. Some woman made a homophobic comment, so Arnold Schwartzeneger leapt off a video box and shot her with a freeze ray, so Jean Claude Van Damme leapt off another video box and shot Arnie, and then Russell Crowe entered the fray. Then my alarm went off and for a minute after I woke up I was still all “yay, I wonder if I get to see my girlfriend today?” and then i felt weird.

Nevermind. Ignore that. Think about the two little kids at the bus stop this morning with their mothers (the kids must have been about two) who spotted each other. The little boy approached the girl, but because he was wearing his mother’s backpack, it was too heavy and it pulled him over onto his ass. When his mother tried taking it off him he cried, so she gave him a smaller side bag to hold. The girl grabbed her mother’s side bag and showed it off all proudly, because now she was just like him! Then they sat down together and she fed him Japanese crackers that he made a yucky face at. Aww true love! Why can’t it stay that easy when you’re older?

Stupid lack of having crushes on anyone except for the vaguest glimmer in one direction that’s a big no no no. Still it made me chuckle when I realised it existed.

Speaking of young boys, I emailed the guy that I threw up on last time I was in Auckland to see if he wanted to platonically hang out this weekend. I don’t even know if he has that email address anymore, but nevermind. I’m sure he’s not one to hold a grudge. It still made me feel really bad though. Nevermind.

Other things? Hmm yesterday I took a mental health day, but of course, Mental Health Days aren’t quite so healthy when Mum is home (I know right, how dare she be at home in her own house?) Back at work today there are SO MANY CHILDREN running around. Stupid <A HREF=”http://www.hubris.co.nz/entry.php?id=501090047&type=6″>loud</A> children who talked all the way through Julia Deans’s set before The Shins. The Shins were cool, but it was so goddam hot. Am I getting too old for big gigs? Surely not.

Auckland tomorrow! My day looks a little something like this
9.30am: Arrive, get picked up by Gemma, go for breakfast
11ish: Pop in and see KateB if she’s free
12.30pm: Haircut with Hayley
1.30pm: Lunch with a client
2.30pmish: check into hotel, meet Iva to go swimming at said hotel.
6pm: Meet Heather for dinner (mmmm food on sticks)
8pm: Meet Kateb for <I>Bugs Bunny on Broadway</I> and some kinda afterparty
Late: Maybe meet up with Heather and Paul after their gig?

Saturday:
……… hopefully something with Kyla and or Chelsea
5pm: The Zoo for Goodshirt and KateH
9pm: Out on The Town via a quick change at the hotel for KateM’s going away

Sunday:
10am: check out
10.30am brunch with Heather in Grey Lynn
12pm: KateH’s bbq

Is that enough detail for you to stalk me?
3pm: fly back to Welly

Leaving a trail of red and spunk and puke part three

I’m now writing this almost two weeks later than events, which is strange cos I didn’t realise that time went by so quickly. Nevermind, let’s plunge into my last couple’o days in the Auck town shall I?

Monday 6th December
I finally managed to have myself a merry little sleep in, tucked away in Oratia, which was certainly very pleasant, even though I felt terrible cos I got a text from Martina going “Okay I’m ready! Meet me on K’Road” and I had to reply going “umm I just woke up, see you in an hour or so?” But eventually I made my way into town and picked her up, and since it was a gorgeous sunny day we drove over to Devonport and had lunch at Manuka. Then, because it was so very nice and because we both found ourselves being the only other people we knew who wanted to do it, we set off to look for a beach. Now, you’ll of course recall that I once spent the summer working for the North Shore City Council and that my job then seemed to consist of little more than driving around all day getting suntanned. However, that was a long time ago, so we went for a rather extended drive up the motorway to Greville Road and then a long way back down East Coast Bays Road (which pretty much doesn’t go past the sea at all!) trying to find a nice little beach, before I took drastic action and found our way to Milford Beach.

There weren’t very many people there, which was great, and there was a changing shed with showers and an open-roofed area like an Italian courtyard which was great, so we got suited up and tried to get away from any boys on the beach. The water was very very cold and it made me hyperventilate a little bit (“sorry Martina, I know I sound like I’m heavy-breathing at you…”) but it warmed up a little, at least enough to frolick and try to do headstands in. When I started trying to do yoga poses and pretty much ended up nearly drowning myself, it was time to call it a day. The showers weren’t warm, but at least they weren’t salty. We headed back to the right side of the bridge to Occam for some more food and a perusal of Civic’s video sale (Cruel Intentions, Far from Heaven and umm something else for $12) before Martina left me for a ride home. I was waiting for Iva to call me so we could meet up, so I found myself a park to sit in and cuddled up with The Dirt. It’s soooo good. I wish I was in Motley Crue, for serious.

It turned out that Iva was trapped on the shore, so we decided to see each other the next day instead, and I eventually made my way towards KateH’s, via a phone call to La to see if he wanted to come along to the party we were going to that night, for a girlie website that I won’t name – which, after I uttered the magic words “free booze” of course he did, so I told him where the party was at and he said he’d meet us there. At Kate’s I believe we probably watched Shortland St together, and got poshed up, me making the last minute decision to switch from my party frock to my cleavage top (and of course SHRN yellow scarf), which I think in hindsight was quite fortuitous, and we set off to pick up her friend Olly, who is British but edits a certain ‘lifestyle’ paper. Haha, that’s me exercising my ‘get out of jail free’ card again. I get to say “but” because we all know that I find British accents ridiculously hot, BUT I try not to waste my time hankering after boys if I know straight away (as opposed to at Ruby on Friday) that they’re gay. Y’dig? Yeah. Anyways. We had to trek around and around and around The Secret Garden looking for La, cos the entrance isn’t actually on the street that it says it’s on, but eventually we kind of gave up and went in, keen to get started on the free liquor. Or at least I was. Given that KateH was driving, I imagine that she was a little more restrained. I got severely fucked off because Horrible Gay Jonny (and let me point out here that the ‘gay’ tag is used because before him I’d had another Horrible Jonny flatmate) was serving drinks and grrrrrrrr he makes me so mad with his theiving and then his fakeness. Bah. I’ve vented about this already. But I am setting the scene for what comes later by giving a partial reason as to why I downed so so so many glasses of bubbly very quickly ie: I was angus and also a little bored until La showed up. KateB was at the party too, but she left pretty early, so mostly I just talked to Olly and KateH (although they knew lots of people) and La, until much later in the night when we were out the back adn the bubbly had run out and I’d switched to beer and was talking to a whole bunch of random guys and a couple of other people I knew. Now, in further stage setting, let me tell you about the toilets at the Secret Garden – they have shower curtains for doors. Yuck! I’d had one piece of cheese that went straight to my bowels and I was like aaaaargh, but then I thought “Well, you know what? These girls here jostling for space to adjust their makeup, I don’t respect them, why should I care about what they think of me?”. Later though the toilets were all floody and still really crowded, so I couldn’t have a quiet puke, which meant that all the beer and bubbly stayed in my stomach. Foreshadowing.

Eventually almost all the people I knew had left – KateH with the oh so subtle “call my cellie when you get to my house – or if you should happen to be staying in (certain address implying that I would be in someone else’s bed), I can come and pick you up from there”. Aww bless her. I imagine I said something like “Well, I’d like to say that’s not going to happen but I’d probably be lying”. Needless to say pretty much as soon as she’d left, perhaps, I found myself making out with a boy, and soon we were in a taxi on our way to his house. Now, I’ve made out in taxis with three other boys before (oh hush, not all at the same time) and the drivers have always been the embodiment of discretion. This driver was an ASSHOLE. Okay, admittedly I can’t remember exactly what it was that he was saying, but I think it was of the nudge nudge wink wink “go on my son” type commentary which was really really unnecessary, and which probably contributed a little to my later unease. Anyways so I found myself in a house that is very familiar to me, and in fact on a bed that I’d been on before, peeing in a bathroom where I’d peed so many times before mid-coitally, and it was just a little bit strange. Before I knew what was what, he had a condom on, and I was like “woahhhhhhh, wait a minute….” I know that I’ve bitched for a year and a half about my total lack of sex, but what with it staring me in the face like that (so to speak, of course), and the feelings that being back in that house stirred up again, I suddenly realised I couldn’t do it, and I told him so. I’ve been without sex for so long I’m a second-time virgin, and I just think it’d be really wrong to do it with someone that I’m not in love with – or failing love then at least Ridiculously Hot wrists-tied-above-my-head, him-whispering-in-my-ear-about-all-the-things-he’s-going-to-do and then how-he’s-going-to-pass-me-onto-all-his-friends-cos-I’m-such-a-fucking-whore Dirty Passion Violent Fucking. Giggly-drunk-friend-scoring isn’t good enough, unfortunately. So instead, I went down on him (well, I would have anyway) but I was in much more of a hurry for him to hurry up and come so that he’d stop begging me to let him fuck me. He still had the condom on at the start, and that was strange, and of course, his dick was hitting the back of my throat, and I was still full of beer and bubbly, so what happened? Oh yeah, I started gagging and my mouth filled with vomit. Now, I thought I’d just swallowed it back (heh) but after he’d finally finished, he was like “umm, I’m going to go sleep in the lounge, cos you threw up on this side of the bed” and I was like “omg, wtf?” and then I got all offended and was like “FINE! If you won’t sleep with me then I guess I’ll go to Kate’s” (cos you know, I totally had the moral highground on my side – hahahaha) and after he’d left, I groped around in the dark (some more, haha man, how many fucking double entendres can one entry have? I guess this is like, a year and a half’s worth poured into one night) trying to find my clothes, since he doesn’t have a lightbulb in his room. I left without a skirt (luckily I was wearing pants underneath) but with pearl necklaces (haha, see previous-to-previous brackets) and hiked up to the main road to get some cash and find a taxi and hope that my cellphone battery didn’t die, which it seemed to be doing. Somehow though I managed to get a taxi, and the driver seemed much nicer when I complained about the previous one, and KateH got up and let me in and all seemed well in the world.

Tuesday 7th

I woke up around 10.30am, feeling pretty damn sorry for myself, let me tell you. Kateh had left a room outside the room that I was sleeping in with her worknumber on it, so I gave her a call cos I knew she was supposed to come home and turn the alarm on when I left. When I told her that yes, I had gone home with the boy, she briefly wondered why I hadn’t just stayed the night there then, but accepted my explanation that it was weird. I don’t know if I mentioned the puke thing or not – I probably tried to conceal it so that she didn’t worry about her flatmate’s bed. Who knows? Anyways, it transpired that she wouldn’t be able to make it home until lunchtime so I had a cold shower (like I should have had the night before, but nevermind) and settled down with my laptop to write the ‘Things Not To Do Whilst Sucking Cock’ entry that only my Hubrettes can read, and to contemplate how much my black and silver skirt meant to me vs the having to go back to the boy’s house and pick it up. Well, when KateH finally got home it was 2.30pm so I realised I couldn’t put it off anymore, so it was off to the boy’s house with me. Him and all his flatmates were all sitting out on the back porch in the sun. I had no idea what he’d told them, but I do know that the walls there are paper thin (and that the girl he shares a wall with is a prudey little virgin, hahahah). I tried to play it all casual, just “hey, how’s it going?”. He was laughing at me when I had to say “so um, did I leave my skirt in your room?” so I double-casualed it by saying “haha, that sounds really bad”. Yeah I’m going to pretend that your flatmates didn’t hear me faking an orgasm if I want to, okay? Sweet. They were like “oh what are you up to today?” which meant I had a trump card up my sleeve – I told them I was going to go see Iva, which was true but also I knew that there was bad blood between them all, so they started going blah blah blah which took the heat off me and I got to leave holding my head up high. Phew!

Next up on my agenda was a visit to Wendy’s and then to the shore to see Iva Beaver. we sat in the sun and talked about Bernard, amongst other things. Ahh sweet sweet dusty cups. Then I went to meet up with OLIVIA and STEVE and KYLA, once I finally found her house, that is (stupid Americans saying “eighteen” instead of “seventeen”, or more likely stupid hungover not-awake&capable of listening me). After cruising Franklin Road to see the lights and marvel at the audacity of the house with a COFFEE CART in front of it, we went to Joy Bong for dinner, where I struggled to question how the tofu was done in a tofu and eggplant dish I was eyeing up (when I’m around vegans I eat vegan). I got a different dish instead cos I was afraid it’d be the squishy kind I don’t like, and as Olivia said of my tofu, it turns out i want it done like it’s a bouncy castle. It was so great to see them again, cos I haven’t seen them since umm forever, but they were tired from the flight, and I was tired from the debauchary and found myself only able to say “the thing with the stuff” and “so hot right now”. Whatever happened to Verbacious Joanna? We fought over the bill and I thought I won and paid it but the next day I found some cash in my bag so either they slipped it in or I am just terrible with money. Then we went back to Kyla’s to watch half of Harry Potter 3 and make dirty jokes about paedophilia. Have some chocolate little boy, and all of that. Of course the night didn’t last nearly long enough, but sigh, I guess I’ll get to see them again in a couple of years or something.

Wednesday 8th
Having stayed at Kateb’s again, I got up in time to do some research on a Certain Band Who Have A Lot of Members adn Wear Robes because I was interviewing their frontman. He was a little grumpy and the line wasn’t that good. Sigh. Then I drove back to Welly and Sebby was overjoyed to see me. The end.

Leaving a trail of red & spunk & puke

Where she left a trail of red & spunk & puke across the North Island
So, my trip to Auckland. I’m going to drip-feed it all into the one entry, so keep coming back (it works if you work it).

Thursday 2nd December
Last Thursday, I hopped in my mother’s car and I started driving and I started singing. Nine hours or so later, with stops to grab coffee and laugh at the fact that The Brown Sugar Cafe hasn’t changed its menu in seven years at least, and to eat lunch in Taihape and to gratefully make it to Tirau right on the dot of five pm in order to make it to their nice bathrooms before they shut, and without a stop to paddle in Taupo cos I kept going “next bay, next bay” and then I’d run out of bays, but with a stop in at Volcanic to leave a note for La begging him to call me and to be disgusted at what they’ve turned my proud house into, and with a little extra time spent getting lost in West Auckland, I finally arrived at KateB’s place in Oratia and got to stop driving and stop singing.

Kateb and I drank a lovely bottle of Sacred Hill Rose out of tea cups, ate dinner and talked a whole pile’o shit. I convinced her to let me sleep in their lounge instead of their spare room in which Glyn had been screenprinting, cos it was a little fumey to my oversensitive nose. So lovely to catch up and gossip. I slept really well when I went to bed too.

Friday 3rd December
I had a super hot wonderful date booked at 10.30am in Grafton so I had to haul my ass across town to get to that. Hayley was thrilled to see me, of course, and we spent a long time debating the merits of semi vs permanent, and in the end we decided on an as-permanent-as-possible semi, in order to maximise the shine. I picked a reddish colour for all over, and a darker purpley shade for low-lights. Bright bright bright! We had a wonderful gossip while she did the foils, then her trainee (I think) painted the rest of my head and one of my nails is still tinted from scratching my ear. Whoops. Nevermind. When they put heatery things around my head, they sat me in a chair with a massager built in – oooooooh lordy I giggled at first and they laughed and laughed at me. Hayley gave me a headrub when she was shampooing my hair and I purred. Then she cut the layers back in, and the fringe, and decided to do funny things on my left hand side. She was like “I love that you’re not arguing with me” and I was like “you’re holding a pair of sharp scissors!” but I of course trust her completely. Fuck my hair looked SO FUCKING GOOD when it was done. I told her I was going to dinner with all the Kates (thinking that KateM got her hair done by Hayley, when in fact it was one of the other hairdressers, nevermind) and that they’d all be inspired to get their acts together and book in for another/their first appointment. I got a fiver off for that I think. So yeah, it was $180 all up, but if you saw me on Friday, or even Saturday, you’ll know that I totally got my money’s worth, purely in saunter factor.

By the time I was done, it was midday, and I was heading to Newmarket anyways to try and find something posh to wear to the wedding/pulp party/whatever, and so I figured I’d pop up to Katem’s office to say hi. There’s parking at her office, which is great, and she was at work and thinking about lunch, which was even greater. So we headed down to some cafe on Remuera Rd (Umbria?) for some good food and nice wine and fantastic conversation. The trouble with KateM is that she’s very good at saying what I want to hear, so in discussing a particular boy she was all “I really do think he actually liked you, it was just really bad timing for you both”- which is great to hear but probably not very healthy cos it means that I obsess more – and lord knows I already obsess enough! But we had a really good catchup and gossip and she told me she was coming to my dinner that night and that I should order her something meaty if it looked like she was going to be running late.

Then I went up to Benediction to have coffee with KateB and she gave me a yellow mesh RJC scarf that she’d been sent but that suited no one, except me because I have fucking great colouring and can wear pretty much any colour. So yeah, it means I get to be way posh, since RJC is all like fancy and stuff, and expensive, and I’m so not naturally. I took the time to consult the paper to try and find a movie I wanted to see at a convenient time where I wouldn’t have to pay for parking. There really wasn’t a hell of a lot of choice, so I ended up going to the 3.45 session of Bridget Jones (again) at The Lido (which, if you are unfamiliar with, is on the cover of Dimmer’s album).

The Lido is in Epsom, which meant that I popped into The Millhouse to try and find something nice to wear. Big mistake. Sure they had my sizes, but the only things I liked were over $500. The Millhouse stocks Trelise’s fat-people range. I get to say ‘Trelise’ because I know someone who works for her, so hehehe check out me namedropping designers in this entry. So so wrong. Anyways, there was no one in the theatre except for me and two old ladies who talked loudly during the ads. The movie was funny enough I suppose, even though I was sober this time around.

I was due at KateH’s at 7pm, so I figured I’d go to St Lukes and continue my quest for Wedding Outfit. I found it! A black dress in flippy floppy material, it’s sleeveless and a little empire-waisted, and it had a pink and grey geometric print on it, which is a little strange, because that’s so much more mainstreamy than something I’d usually wear, but it is perfect for weddings, so (and let me put this in capital letters) YOU ARE ALL ALLOWED TO GET MARRIED NOW since I have the perfect outfit to wear to your wedding. Cos you’re inviting me right? Right? Yeah, anyways, so I can wear my tie-front black mesh cardigan over the top until the liquor sets in and I stop minding my arms so much. Excellent. Anyway, I was running around St Lukes when KateH texted me saying I should get to her house half an hour earlier so that we could go buy snacks in preperation for our slumber party, but I figured since I was already at the mall, I’d just do it myself. Three bottles of cheap bubbly for me, a bottle of Wither Hills Sav for her and a whole pile’o junk food loaded up and I was on my way to Pt Chevalier.

How’s my tensing going? It’s pretty shit right? I mean, for a Grammar Queen, I’m pretty loose. Oh well, y’all love me anyways because I am still SHRN. For serious.

At Kateh’s I got to wash the Auckland sweat off, and we drank a bottle while we got poshed up and watched Shorters. Then we taxied in to Kingsland to Mekong (which the divine Miss. H had booked, and then I’d rebooked to change the numbers from 9 to 11). The guestlist? On the AUT side of the table: KateH, KateM, KateB, Justin, Maree and Shirley (Me: “Just call them all Kate, they’ll get over it”). On the NZm side of the table: Heather (who wrote about it here) & Paul and Martina & her brother Chris. And then there was me at the head of the table. There was some gooooood food and some good conversation. There was a lot more wine. There was sticky rice! I heart sticky rice so much. Dinner stretched out over a long time cos we had entrees first, and people were late and all that kinda stuff. I tried to talk to everyone and to make sure everyone was having a good time, as I always do. I am a good hostess, fo’sure. Well I hope that everyone had fun anyways.

Once dinner and many many bottles of wine were finished, the AUT side headed up to Ruby while the NZm side went home after one drink. I heart Ruby! It’s a small place, but they play great eighties music and make really yummy cocktails which people kept buying for me. All my friends were drunk and they kept touching me, and I was like “aaaaaargh! I haven’t had sex in a very very long time, what the hell are you doing?” We were all dancing and singing in that tight space when a guy came up and started dancing with me. He was very hands-all-over but was very cute, so I was like oooh, and all my friends were like oooooooooooooh. He kept dancing with me and I kept grabbing his ass and we were laughing and giggling for a long time, and so when someone suggested leaving I was like “ummm no, let’s just wait a bit”. He kept leaving and coming back and then hugging me and telling me how gorgeous and wonderful I was, and then finally I realised that every time he left it was to go and talk to another boy, and so click click click, I was like “oh you’re gay right?” and he was like “yeah” and I was like DAMMIT. But we still continued dancing and having ridiculous amounts of fun. Eventually the bar called last drinks and according to my bank statements I paid $49 for a bottle of Deutz. I have no idea what time it was but it was decided it was time for us to leave – since like, they were kicking us out and shit. Plus I’d just about got into a brawl for some reason with some girl – apparently I knocked her drink but she was a total bitch about it. Anyways.

We got dial-a-driver since Maree had her car there and so while we were waiting I had a very entertaining conversation with a very drunk Justin. I don’t remember much of it, but I was probably complaining about all of his friends that I’ve scored, and recounting the conversation about the one in particular that I’d had with KateM at lunch, and he was like “hmmm” and I was like “no, I know we’re right!!!” and then he said that I was one of the most intelligent women that he knew, which is always nice to hear. And then the dial-a-drivers came and it was all very entertaining squeezing into the back of one of the cars and stopping to let Shirley out somewhere. The rest of us went back to Pt Chev and KateH’s to watch Dawson’s Creek. Yay Dawson’s retroness! Justin passed out in the bed I was supposed to sleep in, and KateM went home at some time, so it must have just been me and Maree and KateH watching. The next morning I was supposed to go to brunch with Martina and Heather but I was too hungover so I stayed napping in KateH’s lounge and watching more episodes. Season Two is totally where it’s at, since that’s when they got all self-referential-ironic and actually had a sense of humour that they later lost. I’m suprised by how hot Pacey isn’t though. I’m sure he used to make me swoon. Then again, so did Eddie Furlong – and various real life people who now I wouldn’t touch with a barge pole. Ahh growing up is funny. So is revisiting your not-so-grownupness .

Things not to do whilst sucking cock

1. Throw up. Okay, it’s been a while and he was a lot bigger than I was used to anyways.

That’s the whole list. Cheers.

Last night I went to the nzgirl.co.nz party with KateH and KateB – well, I went with KateH as KateB’s date, but they didn’t check invites at the door anyways, which is a good thing because it meant that we could smuggle in La (“hey La, do you want to come to a posh party with free booze?”). It was so very mwah mwah darling. Gay Horrible Jonny was there serving drinks and he was like “hi, mwah, I haven’t seen you in ages” and I was like “oh maybe that’s cos you moved out without giving any notice…” and he was like “this is a party, we’re not going to talk about thsi now”. I wanted to punch him in the face very very much. He could have just poured me another drink and not said anything. I don’t get how people who have burnt their bridges in two cities by making off with half of everyone that they’ve stayed with’s cd collections can not know that oh gee, maybe people aren’t very happy about it. La was like “let it go…” but the thing is that Jonny and I weren’t on bad terms to the best of my knowledge when he moved out, which is what makes it worse. Anyways.

I had about eight glasses of bubbly before that ran out and then I had to switch to beer and god knows how many of those I had. A lot. Right now I am at the lovely KateH’s house but at some stage I will have to go and find my skirt at the boy’s house which I don’t especially want to do. Fuck I hate lecherous taxi drivers. Like, if people are macking it in the back of your cab, sure, watch, but DON’T COMMENT. Fuuuuuuucking hell.

Good Housekeeping

You could be forgiven if you think that all I ever do is eat, drink and post old things I wrote for Pulp. I do actually do other things though, really. I update my Xmas Wishlist, for starters. I’m not just all about the receiving though – hopefully five people around the country have already found packages in their letterboxes to say thank you for being the first five people to get themselves hubris-logins and give me their postal addresses.

Aside from that, well, I don’t really do much. I’ve been ridiculously teary lately, crying at coverage of the Unknown Warrior parade, crying at It’s a Wonderful Life, crying at Lost in Translation, crying at Gilmore Girls, even crying during five minutes viewing of ‘Extreme House Makeover’. Last night I blubbed cos I got mad at Sebastian and threw him out of the house cos he kept biting my toes and attacking me while I was trying to cook cow au vin (that sounds classier than ‘beef stew’ right?). I am Teh Blubberpuss right now. It’s fucking annoying cos I can’t sleep either. I’m totally due for a bleed and it’s just not arriving and I need it to give my fucking hormones a break. Bleh.

Hey, you all like dressing up in costumes that start with the letter ‘P’ and dancing to cheesy music, right? Well come to my building’s Xmas party with me on Saturday. It’ll be fun, I semi-promise! I have no one to go with, but I gots to go or the girl who makes my coffee everyday who is organising it will kick my ass. I figure we’ll come ot my office and have some drinks and get changed here and then head along and laugh ourselves silly. You know this sounds like a bit of you. Do it. Do it. Thanks.

Did I tell you about the quiz night I went to with my dad last week? I’m sure I didn’t. Oh how his workmate disliked me! It was terribly amusing. They asked us which country had the lowest smoking rates but the highest suicide rates and I declared immediately that it was Finland, but Daddy’s workmate was sure it was Sweden. I’d read articles about both countries recently and knew he was wrong, and in an attempt to further back up my point I said “dude,” (yes, I probably actually said ‘Dude’) “my ex went to record his depressing album there cos it’s so depressing”. Of course, said “ex” isn’t actually an ex as such, rather just someone that I slept with a couple of times whom I very much wish I could have got to know better but with the very small amount I know about him fancy him enough to wish that maybe he was my ex if you know what I mean, but I figured it was much quicker to just say ‘ex’. However, Mr. Grumpypants wasn’t having a bar of it, so I decided to let him have his answer as Sweden so I could just be smug when I was proved right and he wasn’t. I went on to further play up being the rebellious young person whilst sinking two jugs of beer to everyone else’s one single drink and so forth – if we’d won and been asked to select a charity to give some of the prize money to, I would have pushed for the pro Civil Unions group. My father was very amused, as was his female collegue, but the elder gentleman just looked put out. I don’t think I’ll be going again, cos their quiz is real hard.

In other news, I’m all confuzzled about when I’m going to Auckland now because I was supposed to go up from the 1st-4th of December and then again on the 16th for the Pulp Magazine Xmas party, but I just received word that the single hottest person on the face of the planet who is also a good friend of mine who I haven’t seen in a long time will be in Auck in the period in the middle, so I’m all errrg. I will still need (and WANT, may I stress) to be in Hamilton on the 4th of December, so I don’t know if maybe I should drive up to Hammy on the 3rd and then stay that week in Auck, but I think Anji was thinking of asking Mummy&Daddy if she could borrow the car for a couple of days then, so hmmmm. Plus there’s the whole matter of leaving my son behind, even though K&J did say that they could look after him, no worries. Perhaps I should stick to my original plan, but fly up on the 13th and stay til the 17th as well? I mean, I have plenty of leave. But that doesn’t give me a very large O window. Oh I am confused.

Sunday 14th December 2003

All good things come to an end sometime. I’ve lived in Auckland almost six years now, which is the longest I’ve ever lived anywhere, but come next Saturday, I’m moving back to Wellington. I can’t take it anymore. I’m just too tired of having to look after myself. I know that’s what grownups are supposed to do, but I need a fucking break. I’m lucky enough that my parents will accept me back with open arms so I’m going to take that opportunity and hopefully keep some portion of my sanity.

It’s funny cos tomorrow when I will call the land lady to give her three weeks notice, it will be exactly a year since we moved in here.

So yeah. That’s me. Of course, to the people in the Internet world, it won’t make any difference since I’ll still be online. Chances are to the people up here it won’t make much difference either. <!– I’m going to go back to Welly where I feel like people really do have my back. –>

Oh my god, one of Dana’s friends has her kids around, and they’re crazy. It’s been a long time since I nannied. Maybe I oughta see if I can babysit when I get back to welly. But oh my god, the kids I used to babysit for will all be in high school by now almost. SCARY! I’m tired of growing old. I can’t wait to go home.

Before then I will have to 1) get rid of my car 2) get rid of excess furniture 3) pack up all my stuff and put it into storage up here 4) pay off bills 5) say goodbye to anyone who cares, 6) cancel the electricity, washing machine, telephone etc etc. Thank the lord my mummy is coming up on Tuesday to help me with it. I’m going to fly back with Sebastian on the 20th, when I already have a flight booked, then come back up on the 27th to clean and resolve anything that’s left unresolved, spend New Years hopefully with Thomas and Jo, and then go back and yeah.

Household Name

Wednesday 13; January, 1999

Would you trust me with a map? Well, Si Si and his momma did. It was my job to navigate us from potential flat to potential flat, and I have to say I did a pretty damn good job. I only got us seriously lost one time. And hell, U-turns across major intersections are basically what life is all about. When you’re in Auckland anyways.

The first flat we looked at was a basement in Grey Lynn. Actually we did that on the night of the 12th, but I’d forgotten about that. So yeah, it was 4 bedrooms in Grey Lynn, but, like I said, it was a basement. So that was a no-no.

The first flat we saw was four bedrooms in Mount Eden. It was too expensive, at $480 and some of the rooms being single, but oh well. Good location and all that, on a street between Dominion and Mt Eden Roads, but yeah, too expensive. Sigh. So that house was a nice Villa-ish place. The next place we looked at was um… a little more ‘characterish’. It was down in Newton, in an almost industrialish looking area. Right beside the front door was a little window, with red glass and a safety grill across all of it apart from a little slit. I thought that was kinda odd, but I didn’t pay much attention, until we were standing in the first bedroom, and the hanging clothes rail and panelled mirrors on the wall reminded me completly of the Moonlight Lounge. So I asked the guy if the place used to be a brothel, and I was right (natch). That explained the showers in three of the bedrooms then!!! So yeah. The one communal shower didn’t have a door, only curtains, and there was a spa bath full of slime out in the all concrete courtyard. So yeah. It definitely had character. But the rooms were kinda poky, the house was like a labyrinth, and the living areas were too small. I wouldn’t have minded living in a brothel – hell, both my sisters do. (Have B.A, will whore!!!).

I don’t think Si’s momma would have been too happy if we’d taken the place, anyways. The next place in Grey Lynn. It was stunning, fantastic location, colourful large bedrooms, PURPLE kitchen with new stainless steel appliances. Only trouble was that it was 3/4 bedrooms, which meant that the lounge could be used as a fourth bedroom, but then there’d be like no living area. So yeah, we had to flag that one, which I regretted.

The last flat we looked at was in Greenlane. Four big bedrooms, although two of them were locked, wooden floors, large lounge, large kitchen, dining room, covered patio……….. seven knives stuck in the stove, expensive looking stereo equipment, allpowering stench of pot, locks on all the bedroom doors and cupboards, and most interestlingly, about a metre of pot spread out on newspapers in one of the rooms that I initially overlooked. Dodgy stuff. We handed over a bond immediately.

So yeah, that was really cool, having found a flat. In the evening, we went to the K’Road Ballroom to meet up with Jo and assorted Vision people. That was odd. Then we went to Brazil which has cool decor and music but absolutely CRAP service and the milk doesn’t live in the fridge so it tastes like egg white – bleeeeergk. They fucked up the orders. Or we did. Oh well.

I couldn’t sleep AGAIN that night, although this time I had the sense to take down the clock and put it in the bathroom. I really really HATE things that tick. They drive me absolutely mad. Eventually I had to get up and read Douglas Coupland’s “Girlfriend in a Coma” for a while and then the book turned really nasty so I had to finish it. So yeah, I got to bed by 6am. Sigh. Great book though. Freaky as shit.

Oedipus Rex

Tuesday 12; January, 1999

Jo and I were waiting in the van outside of J’ville Mall for Mum to buy flowers for Oma, listening to @ctive 89fm (which isn’t half as cliched as it appears from that spelling). Because it was so hideously early in the morning, it was still the breakfast show (Felix wakes up djs and laughs at their houses), and they had a ‘classic track flashback’. We were SO estatic to hear ’3am’. I so so so wanna be the KLF. So that set us off in good spirits.

We had to stop off at Oma’s, so that she could give me some ‘travelling money’. I know, I know, I’m a spoiled brat. What am I supposed to do about it? It costs a lot to set up a new flat you know. And stuff.

Simon took ages to cram all his stuff into the cars, and he ended up leaving shit like his stereo with my mommy, so that she could bring it up two days later in the van-mobile. Jo got in the car with Simon’s momma, and I got into his car. We agreed to stop in Taihape for lunch, cos we figured that with his boyracingwannabe driving, we’d end up miles and miles ahead. We didn’t though, and had only 20 minutes to spare in Taihape (at the reject jean store). While in Taihape, our entronage reccomends the Brown Sugar Cafe for reaaaaaally good coffee and foodage. I remember the good old days (ie – before I went to Japan) when we used to have picnics during long road journeys instead of stopping in cafes. In fact, there weren’t even cafes – only tearooms. It’s so much cooler to be driving reaaaally fast listening to reaaaaaaaally loud music (even if ears do pop when windows are wound up – no air con in the honda accord) than sitting in the back seat feeling carsick like I used to. Did that make sense? I’ve just finished a bottle of wine so I hope so. This is all written post-humouressly by the way. Oh god, I wrote btw, but then had to erase it. That’s what nearly two years on chat’ll do to an otherwise nice girl. Annnnnyways………

So yeah, whenever we stopped and met up, it was a very joyous occasion for me and Jo. I’m not sure what the people in Bombay thought of two girls kissing (that’s not SNOGGING, sorry to disappoint). Oh well, I’m sure they needed it. She’d managed to charm Si’s momma into sharing the stereo, and they sat smoking away in the air conded mitsubishi as happy as Larry.

Simon’s mother had booked us into the Mount Eden Motel, on Balmoral Road. Shihad stayed there too, but I guess we’ll get to that a little later. We had to go to the shore to drop Jo off at Matter’s, so that was a laugh and a half. Then we had advacado on bread for dinner. Mmmmmm.

I got on the phone like really soon after we got there, and so Si and I headed up Mount Eden Road to Shirley’s house. Classy Classy place, so near town, but it’s $120 a week each for her and her sis which is a bit too much, so she’s looking for a new place. I’d love to live in her house, only we want somewhere that’s bigger than two bedrooms.

I was a trifle worried about where we were to sleep, since it was a one bedroomed unit. I mean, I’m grown up enough to not mind having to sleep in the same bed as a boy, or an older woman, BUT I hate sharing a bed at the best of times, and especially in sticky sticky hot summer. As it turned out though, it was semi-sweetass, cos I got to sleep on the sofabed in the lounge while Si and Si’s Momma did the Oedipul thing. Well, not quite. She SNORES sooooooo loud man. I fully couldn’t sleep.

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