Hubris.co.nz

I fought off my anxiety over whether or not anyone would actually show up for America at the Country Club with the phrase “Well KateH is coming, and that’s all that matters”. But then when I went to Chrisana’s goodbye Paramount drinks on Friday night, after expensive but tasty Thai with Karen at the Oriental Thai, everyone was like “fuck yeah!” about coming, so I informed them that the official colours of the university were black and green, because that was the colour of balloons that I’d happened to buy at the supermarket the night before.

This of course meant that Saturday was spent in cleaning the house and decorating the lounge with said balloons which had been blown up by me and the boys with the aid of a balloon pump the night before while they watched the Steel Mill and I tried not to get beaten up for making derogatory remarks about metal, and green and black streamers, and rasturbated banners that said “Pledge Eta Beta Pi!!!” and “Pledge Gamma Gamma Gamma!”. The boys, meanwhile, went to Bunnings and apparently had long discussions with one of the men there and spent $38 and came home and built Liz the Funnel with valves and all. Why Liz? Because apparently all funnels are supposed to be named for whores. Bart said “Liz Phair!” and I would have growled at him except that I knew he meant L** S*** instead. Smoo was like “Liz Phair’s still a whore” and I was like “hush your mouth! She’s a boring suburbanite mom now. I miss the blowjob queen!”.

The keg was delivered in the afternoon, and we had many long discussions about where to put it – if we left it on the front doorstep, would ferals come up and steal it? But if we put it inside the dining room, would it make a mess? Eventually we compromised by closing off the kitchen door at the end of the hallway and putting it there. I dressed myself up in the university colours

This pic was actually taken at the end of the night, so imagine how fantastic I must have looked sober. And yes, I do appreciate that anyone who knows me probably has very little idea of what I actually look like sober…

and was just about to go and pick up Brad and Karen when I got a voice mail on my phone from some guy saying “I got a link to your blog from Public Address, and it sounds like you’re inviting all and sundry to your party, and I don’t know anyone in Wellington so if I ask politely, can I come?”. I was like “huh? I don’t write a blog” but since the guy had left his number twice, after he took my interogation questions in good stead (“1. Gilby or Izzy? 2. Who would win in a fight between a pirate and a ninja? 3. What word did you use wrongly in regards to talking about my website?”), despite him giving all the wrong answers I texted him my address, warning that the party would be fairly small – around 16 people or so, and that he would stand out.

It turned out that at first, the party was very split, with Bart’s Eta Beta Pi clustered in the dining room, while us Sorority sisters were in the lounge. Ash or perhaps Kristen even said when Sebastian came running in “Sebastian, what are you doing in here? You’re a boy!” and I was like, ummm, what about Brad? But we mixed it up more when people went outside to do funnels:

Bart sucks it down

LisaB takes in her own body-weight in beer, while Kristen is caught in the act of being so very 2006 with her camera-phone

Eventually, having laughed at the boys enough, Gamma Gamma Gamma were also persuaded to do keg stands.

LisaB fearlessly went first, and achieved full verticalness. She is our hero

Ash loved it so much she went twice

KateH showed up late for the party but hurried to make up for lost time

I was worried that they wouldn’t be able to hold me, but they assured me they could, and so I did a couple as well. The first time my arm slipped and hit against the keg which wasn’t fantastic, but holy crap, keg stands are my new favourite thing in the entire world ever. EVAH. Except that I am so fucking sore today, or at least I was until I took a lengthy spa at the gym in my lunchbreak instead of doing a proper workout. I am naughty. My arm also got hurt when we jumped Smoo as soon as he came home from work and forced him into a kegstand while Bart paddled his ass with a cricket bat, except that he got my wrist a lot more than Smoo’s ass, and Smoo kicked out, and knocked Kart over, but to be honest, I’m not sure if she even realised. Even Karen did a keg stand when we agreed to let her put a plastic cup of daquiri and straws down on top of the keg so she wouldn’t have to have beer.

And of course, because it was Country Club we passed around our pieces of trivia, and I made everyone hot dogs (which were fucking good) and also oatmeal cookies (I really should remember to bake more often) and assorted other snack foods. Eventually most of the people had left (*), so me and Karen and KateH and Bart and Smoo just sat around the dining room table eating apple pie and vodka jelly. Bart was falling-off-his-chair drunk, and incredibly entertaining. He decided to call up everyone in his phone who wasn’t at the party, and even though it was 3am, we let him. Yes, we are enablers. And we laughed our heads off. Then Karen left, and KateH and I decided that it was time to watch Mischa Barton die, so we did, even though the boys were dividing their time between bitching about it and falling asleep. I am so so so so glad I got an Auckland friend to attend a Wellington friend and Country Club event, and that it all went well. We only made $85 back on a $200 keg, which sucks, cos obviously not everyone who drank it chipped in, but meh, I generally spend about $100 on each Country Club anyway, by the time I add up all the costs.

In the morning KateH and I went and had coffee (She was like “I didn’t think I’d stay, but of course I did – when have I never stayed after one of your parties?” and I racked my brains trying to think of an answer), then I spent the day doing laundry and watching videos, dozing, and avoiding the large pile of dishes in the kitchen. I wonder if they’ve been done now…

September’s Country Club will be Morocco, after we realised that we have totally neglected Africa, and then there’ll be a German Octoberfest in October, strangely enough. Then when I come back from San Fran, we’ll do a Mexican Day of the Dead, and that’ll be all of North America polished off…

There’s a $351 amount on my credit card right now from spending ten minutes on the phone this morning and a half hour researching on Monday. Why do I tell you this? Well because a 50 litre keg of Mac’s Gold will be delivered to my house on Saturday, and I need you to come and help me drink it. And pay for it. I’m a little scared that no one is going to come to this Country Club, because after all, everyone hates America. I don’t know why though, I mean, America is like, awesome. So you should come on Saturday, because there will be fraternities and sororities (you should totally pledge to Gamma Gamma Gamma), and American food, and illegal hazing, and vodka shots, and beer beer beer. And maybe Showgirls and/or The Breakfast Club. It starts at 8pm. Like, awesome!

This week I am all about being aware of my body. Partly this is because I’m about to get my first period since like, April, and I’m crampy as fuck, especially in the o moment, and my boobs are insanely sore. Stupid fucking cold weather. In better in touch with my body news, I can feel my stomach muscles! Apparently there’s muscles in there. Who knew? I mean, obviously you can’t see them, and it’s not like the blubber’s going to stop jiggling any time soon, but I can feel something working when I do my sit-ups or leg lifts or remember to lean back when I’m doing lat pull-downs. I’m astonished. It’s a good feeling. And now I will shut up about this crap after I remind myself that I’m starting boxing tomorrow and I really need to get a fucking sports bra like six months ago. Stupid small boob-to-back ratio.

Things that I have done recently included having martinis with some of the fine people from the Wellingtonista. It was terribly civilised, proper and grown up. I also traded 101 Stories with Martha for something from Babylicious which is Aotearoa-made baby clothes. It was all very civilised and grown-up, which was lovely, but when I snuck out to join my cows and ex cows at the Poon I was like “Phew, now I can say ‘vagina’ again lots”, and two ladies sitting on the balcony gave me dirty looks as they left. Hah! We then tried to have dinner at Sweet Mother’s Kitchen but it was fuuuuuuuuuull so we ended up at Boulot, you know, just for a change, prompting much discussion about how weird it was to be there before midnight. The pizza was as always still good though, but there was something weird going on with me because I stopped drinking around 10pm and was almost falling out of my chair with tiredness by midnight. Very very unlike me. As a postscript, I had lunch at Sweet Mother’s yesterday and they have fish tacos. Heh heh heh. I had beef ones though that were rather tasty, and I think the place has a lot of potential.

Saturday meant a cocktail party for my workmate’s Hens’ Party, thankfully sans stripper. It was held at the house of one of my company directors, who happens to my workmate’s mother, and everyone had to bring a bottle that was assigned to them. I stepped up to the blender and made many fantastic concoctions, including my first ever mojitos, not in the blender. Maybe I should become a bartender when I grow up. Or perhaps a mixologist.

Before I went to the cocktail party, I spent a very enjoyable day sorting through my newer CDs to decide which ones I wanted to keep (not many of them), then eating a leisurely breakfast with the paper at Coco, and then browsing Real Groovy for hours as they figured out my trades. For $2.75 out of pocket I bought Funeral new on CD for Karen (to go with Birds as her birthday present, although after I bought Birds I realised I had to keep it for myself because it had a DVD and Karen doesn’t have a TV, but luckily I was furnished with another copy, thanks doll), and then on vinyl I bought Interpol’s Turn on the Bright Lights new, and Beth Orton’s Central Reservation which is curiously spread across two records, but is nice to listen to while doing the semi daily yoga-ish stretches and it doesn’t remind me of 2000 anymore which is super good, and The Dark Side of the Moon and one of the Tour of Duty soundtracks. I <3 the trade-in, although that was like 16 CDs worth. I guess you get what you pay for. Or what you don't, in this case.

On Sunday we went to Capitol for Karen's birthday dinner. The girl serving us wasn't as fantastic as the usual staff, but the food was still all very good and I was well happy with the Jim Barry shiraz that we had after a pretty bland Mt Nelson sav. It turned out that the witloof in the chorizo, almond and witloof salad was really really bitter. I didn't see that one coming! Because apparently I am an idiot.

Last night we had flat dinner, although the idea of sitting around the dining room table was nixed in favour of sitting around the lounge table on account of that being where the heater was at. I thought the weather had got all nice and mild, but man I was wrong wrong wrong. Then the boys went and got out Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang and it was just as good second time around. Movies that have their characters arguing with each other about adverbs while trying to solve crime and accidently killing people make me hot.

Today at work I am doing more phone support for this website that I now work on quite a lot, which in a “the internet is too small” twist, this young lady does as well, except from the other end. I’m also writing lists of things that I need to do but can’t really be bothered doing, and I’m trying to stay away from TWOP forums so that I don’t get any spoilers on tonight’s episode of Rockstar: Supernova. You can tell that it’s okay to be into Rockstar because Russell Brown said so. Sort of. And on that note, it’s time for me to go and get back to work. Awesome. But I will see you on Saturday, right? RIGHT?

It’s Friday, I’m in love at home
Last Friday night, I didn’t go out. Yes, I know. I was pretty sure that the world was going to implode too. But the one boy left at work who goes out drinking had some mysterious function on (he refused to tell me what it was, apart from a gay pride parade, but I don’t believe him. I am instead suspecting that he’s been drafted in to sell Amway), and I didn’t want to have to make contact with the ex-cows, because eww, boys have cooties (or BIRD FLU) and all that. However, my being lame at homeness provided me with the opportunity to do the supermarket shopping, tidy the house in preperation for vacuuming the next day and spend some quality time with Bart, so that was nice.

Big in Japan, alright / pay, then I’ll sleep by your on my side
It was quite exciting to get up on Saturday morning and start preparing for a Country Club whilst not being hungover. Yeah that’s right, I said morning. And I also said not hungover. You can faint now. But yes, I managed to be so organised that I even had time to go and have coffee with Karen during my errand-running to pick up Singstar Original, ’80s and Rock and bottles of Asahi and Kirin and sexy big cans of Sapporo from Regional Wines and Spirits. Can I just put out a huge big pile’o love for Regional’s website, which is so damn handy when it comes to planning Country Clubs since they list all their stuff by region? Even if the guy at the checkout did pick up my beer bottles and examine them to say “oh, this one’s made in Thailand, this one’s made in Australia…” while I put my hands over my ears and went “LA LA LA LA LA”. Apparently he also did exactly the same thing to Mike when he and Kart were stocking up.

I dressed up as a slutty schoolgirl (gee, that was hard), and went to pick up Lisa and Beverly, and then Karen who was dressed as a ninja, and then Anji and Delwin who were Harajuku girls. We started out Country Club in the dining room, where I handed out specially purchased pieces of paper and pens and instructed people to write Haiku and give Tentacle Porn a go while Karen and I threaded up sticks of yakitori (LITERALLY barbecued chicken, but we also made vege skewers) in the kitchen. What exactly is tentacle porn, you ask? Well I will answer by sucking Lisa’s “bandwidth” (heh) to repost images of her artwork. I hope she doesn’t mind. She shouldn’t, because you can’t even see her hands in these pictures:

.

Then we ran out of chairs, as more and more people arrived, so I moved everyone through to the lounge to watch My Neighbor Totoro. I think people were perhaps a little too drunk at that stage to appreciate the simple beauty of the movie, and the absolute radness of the Nekobasu. Philly-steins (Hells yeah, cheese steak and beer. This is my special shout-out to Brad, although I don’t think he reads Hubris, so I can cut’n paste it into an email for him.)! But they were of course, drunk enough for karaoke, and oh how we all rocked that microphone mightily. Well, Katy mostly fell asleep. But others rocked it long and hard. Lisa as the last person to leave left just after 5am. In the time inbetween, glass was broken, many things spilled, so many wacky snacks were consumed, I punched Bart in the face after he took off his glasses and asked me to, and he showed Lisa his Chuck Norris tentacle. I’m shocked. SHOCKED. It was a fucking kickass country club, that’s for sure.

In the cold light of morning afternoon while everyone’s yawning cleaning you’re high tired

The next day I ran away to hide at my parents’ place instead of cleaning up, under the guise of feeding Pixie and doing laundry. I discovered that they had Live8 on their DVD hard drive, so I went through the whole thing, going “fucking wow” at many of the performances (Pink Floyd, Bjork, ummm some others) and scratching my head at many others. And I wondered why the hell they didn’t set out to collect money along with names, because surely they could have raised some amount, even as a side project. Yeah I know i’m nearly a year late to this party. Shoosh.

I’d been just about to cry when I left the house because I was tired, and hungover, and I couldn’t find my glasses. In the grand search for the glasses, however, Bart finally unearthed my long-missed camera cables, so I’m proud to present a selection from the past couple’o months, although you might be best to go look at them directly in Flickr:

Random people who were also at Kai in the City when we were there with Sarah’s Hens’ Party

The Chocolate Mooooooooooooooooooooooooooosse from Canadia at the Country Club

Karen, Bart’s friends and Bart at his Mexican party. As it says in the notes in my flickr account, one of the girls is wearing a note that says “in case of fire, I put out”, which I think is awesome

Russ and Smoo, looking somewhat worse for wear

Spent the afternoon whole day in bed, trying to figure out what it was you said
Queen’s Birthday Monday was dedicated to listening to Tommy which I had pinched from my parents’ overflowing record cabinet, and devouring The Method Actors, which is a book about a fucked up bunch of people living in Tokyo, and it makes me want to box up all my possessions and stick them in storage, and go live the high life over there, teaching English or hostessing or some such nonsense. Just as well I’m not a skinny blonde or I would actually be seriously considering it. I don’t know how I clicked over from hating Japan and all it stood for in my life to craving it. Perhaps it’s because in the book people meet at Hatchiko, and go to Almond Corner in Roppongi, and they draw maps that go past the 109 building, and Tokyu Hands, and Seibu Loft, and oh oh oh I haven’t finished the book yet, but I’m hoping that they will at some stage need to visit the New Zealand embassy so I can see it again through the author’s eyes.

Working nine to five nine twentyish to five thirtyish, what a way to make a living
I have now seen a cow-orker naked. Unfortunately, it wasn’t any of the ones that I want(ed) to see with their clothes off though. Stupid Peti suggesting another woman from work should join my gym. I hate people who talk to me at the gym. I’m there to escape, to replace the noise in my head with the Arcade Fire, or Shihad, or the Walkmen or Britney Spears or whatever else spins up on my ‘Work it out’ playlist, not make chit chat. Yeah that’s right, I said stupid Peti, and I’m glad that she’s leaving. You hear me, Rebbecca? Heh. Boo-urns to the last person on my floor that I have regular conversations with leaving. Sigh. But like, good for her and stuff.

Something’s cooking, I’m at the griddle electric wok
Tonight for family night, I will be making Papas Garbanzo for Bart and Smoo and Lisa. And then we’re going to play Pictionary, cos that’s what families do. Assuming that I do actually have Pictionary. I’m not sure if the board is in the box. Or indeed if I even have the box anymore. And Twister might not work in these jeans. Or even these genes.

One week and two days until my birthday. Woo!

I don’t normally do this kind of thing on Hubris, but hell, at least it’s all about me…

1. Everyone (who’s anyone) uses the phrase “jumped the shark” about TV shows, or sometimes bands, or just celebrities in general (for example “Milan totally jumped the shark when he let that groupie wear his hat right in front of me”). I’ve started to use it to describe friendships. Not cool.

2. I have seven sets of duvet covers (yellow, pink with gold, magenta & purple, brown & red retro, blue undersea, burgandy oriental brocade and brand new silver brocade) but only two sets of sheets – black and lime green, and four single duvet covers, including my New Mexico-ish Ralph Lauren cover that I got when I first moved to Japan, which we had to specially order and cost like $400 (shoosh. We paid $150 for an Xmas tree once…)

3. I have real problems with trust and jealousy – and given my background, I’m really not surprised.

4. The reason I hate being called a blogger is because I’ve been doing this for EIGHT FUCKING YEARS motherfuckers, when that word wasn’t even a glint in anyone’s eye, and why the fuck do all these newbie people get the attention and book deals and why aren’t I famous yet?

5. I made Anji and Sebastian worm themselves this weekend right along with me. My next guess is that I have haemarroids. Of course my reason for thinking this has absolutely nothing to do with an advertorial in the local rag of course…

6. I’d really like to have a cock to fuck Jessica Simpson with. This is not a “lesbian sex doesn’t count compared to hetrosexual sex” blah blah blah crap, it’s just that dude, she’s so horrible but there’s something about her that makes me want to fuck her ass and mouth.

7. I no longer talk to anyone I’ve had sex with (this would probably be an advantage if I fucked Jessica). There’s only a couple of people on that list that I wish were still in my life. Others I miss when I think of jokes that only they would get.

8. I am secretly impressed with how much pus I can squeeze out of my various pimples and assorted other bumps.

9. I am terrified of people liking my online persona and then meeting me in real life and going “wow, she’s just not real at all” and disliking me.

10. Often I think that I will spend the rest of my life without ever hearing anyone say that they love me again.

11. I find the idea of being a housewife in the 1950s strangely appealing.

12. Half the reason that I want to be a music writer is that I have a fantasy of having a musician fall head over heels in love with me and write songs about me.

13. There’s this one song on this one CD by this one guy that makes me go huh, but I’d be too scared to lose it if I did ever find out that it wasn’t actually about me.

14. If I had an infinite amount of money to spend on a car, I like to think that I’d still just buy something like a prius. Or maybe an oldskool convertible. But definitely nothing too ridiculously expensive and/or evil.

15. If I was cloned, I’d probably be friends with me, but I might think that I was too needy and/or insecure. I’d probably have sex with me though, if I got myself drunk and came on to me first.

16. I feel like I have a decent enough grasp of the English language that I don’t feel bad about twisting it to better suit my purposes.

17. When I was under five or so, whenever I counted to 20, I would generally forget the number 17. Spazz.

18. I can’t get a credit card for another four years because I didn’t pay my car registration fee.

19. I often prefer Latinish type beers, like Amarca, Corona and San Miguel, but I’ll drink pretty much any kind, except for Lion Red.

20. I plan a lot of funerals in my head – not just mine, but those of an assortment of people I know. I think about what I’d wear, what I’d say in the eulogy, what we’d serve at the wake and how I’d spend my inheritance.

Surely there’s nothing better than sticking your hand inside a turkey first thing when you wake up, unless it’s getting to wipe all the blood and wet stuff off said turkey. Or yelling “Hold still you bitch” or “oh yeah, ram me full of that stuffing”. Kitchen sports are so much fun! I spent this morning finishing off the cooking for today’s lunch – I was up until 2am making pumpkin pies last night. The boys were terrific and did highly challenging tasks like peeling potatos and stuff. Anyways, eventually everything was in the oven and I could go have a shower and make myself stunning.

Shirley arrived while I was still getting dressed, so I was able to tell her that I wasn’t decent without running myself down too much. Helen came along too, and demanded that I take her photo:

The turkey took about three hours or more, which meant that everyone had assembled (I think we had 15 people) and were well into their assorted wines by the time it was ready. Just before I brought it out of the oven and carved, I got everyone to assemble around the dining room table and say what they were thankful for. Sure, I ripped the idea straight out of a Dawson’s episode, but the whole idea for having Thanksigiving Dinner was from Dawson’s too, so it was very appropriate. It was actually really touching. Some people went serious, some went funny. I said I was thankful for all the people assembled, because I loved them so much, and they made my life, and they were all so much more special to me than they could ever know, and it’s true. So there.

Yes anyways, sappiness aside, I’m so so stoked, cos my turkey turned out juicy and luscious and scrummy, even though I’d never cooked one before. Unfortunately, the small ‘Turkey Roast’ we bought to accompany it was icky – can we say “sausage”, boys and girls? Don’t ever buy one! But the actual bird roast was good – so well cooked that the meat slid off the bones. Yay me. I’m so so proud. I mean, Mum’s never even cooked turkey. Anyways, enough boasting.

So everyone got all sleepy after lunch, and no wonder, cos of the heat and the alcohol and all the food. We had four couches and a bed in our lounge, and there were people stretched out on all of them, entwined with whoever else was sharing their seat. It was kinda touching. After dessert, I took an eiderdown out to the lawn and lay out there with Helen and Shirley and Jeremy, eating Rum Spiders (you know – coke and icecream) and giggling my head off. “I have a grass problem”.

Eventually, Kate M drove me on a Beer and Chuppies mission. Previous days had taught us that there was no Summer Ale at either Woolworths 277 or Foodtown, so we went to the Winemasters shop. It was very cold in the Chiller with bare feet. I hadn’t brought my wallet with me, since I’d just fished $30 out of the Booty Tin (we asked everyone to pay $5 for lunch to cover some costs) so I had no ID, and Morrison didn’t have her driver’s licence on her either, just tech ID and old licence. The lady let us have the beer, but warned us that they were cracking down and we should always carry our id. That place is always strict, how rude! When we got back to the house, we found everyone playing cricket in our newly cleaned carport. How industrious!

Everyone was all dozey until around 6.30pm, just snacking and drinking some more, and then Miss World came on. Boy did we ever tear strips off all the contestants! Oh lordy, did I just say “tear strips off” ? Did I just say “Oh lordy” ? Super! Anyways, around then, Renee asked where the nearest Accident and Emergency Clinic was, as she was having an allergic reaction to something, which seemed kinda scary, so i went with her and we got Nigel to drive us to the Ascot Hospital. Dead posh! We waited for ages, and Renee just seemed to get sicker and sicker, so eventually Nige and I went to the counter and said “look, our friend is having kind of a really bad allergic reaction” and since she was streched out lying down on the seats and was bright red from sunburn anyways, they rushed her off to a doctor, and I went in with her (sure, I’ve only ever met her at parties basically when I’ve been very drunk, but Jeremy was in no state to go to the hospital with her, and I figure it’s good of me to bond with flatmates’ girlfriends. To say nothing of the fact that I was kinda scared and like to help out in an emergency). Anyways, the doctor gave her some antibiotics and sent us off back home. She felt better after some panadol and a sleep.

I missed a significant part of Miss World, plus I’d accidently found out who’d won anyways, so that ruined a bit of the night, but ahh well. Jodie and Helen both left after Miss World, as did Nige and Andy. But Maree showed up then, which was sweet as bro. We played Bluffinitions. It was very amusing. I won. All those words we’d never heard of before!

I had a headache, so I’m going to manipoo now.

“Actually I quite like Waikato Draught” – Helen

Dammit, WHEN do I get a real proper sleepin? Thursday maaaaybe – if I’m lucky. I had to go into tech today to work on my broadcasting. My voice was even goner today – well, this morning anyways – luckily it’s kinda back now. Cos how would the world function without my screechings, eh?

At tech today, I wrote an article about how Michael Jackson came to our Expo, and propositioned Joe for some “back ending” work. I wrote an article about how the staff at AUT have been secretly selling our bandwidth to buy Pajeros. I wrote an article about how the notorious hacker k1w1w3b hacked the Expo site. I like writing crap, oh yes I do! So that was tech. I came back home to watch the fight with the boys and drink beer, but I fell asleep before hand briefly, and didn’t want any beer. I’ve never watched boxing before, and I can’t say I really focused on it today either. Instead I rang my mummy, and discovered that her and Neil and Anji are driving up to Auckland tomorrow, and Anji is staying three nights with me. Mum and Neil are going to stay in the motel down the road where I used to work – well, for two days anyway. Yay, this is cool. Except that I’m just choto busy. But still, I can make them waffles and stuff.

Kara is also staying with us for a week, while being homeless. She’s lovely. She cooked us dinner. I hope we don’t scare her TOO much – scaring her a little is fine. I watched The Rock tonight. I really have nothing to say. Oh, I changed my bed linen so now it’s my lovely pink set. That’s about as exciting as my life gets. We dragged sleeping bags out onto the lawn today to get a little sunshine. Clayton and Kara came back inside covered in grass. Oh to be young and frolicky again. Oh wait, I am still young. Just not frolicking. I’ve had so many good gossips to people lately, and also not just gossips, actual good serious conversations too. No wonder I lost my voice. I need my voice back before I make a speech at the Expo. Oh, and I’m cleaning up my site tonight, on account of going to maybe give industry people my url, so if there’s something you wanna see again but you can’t find, just email me for the link, k? Goodo. “Maybe later – I’ve got creamy goodness in my mouth right now”

I swear, I never drink alone though, eh. I wanna take hallucenogenic drugs again. I wanna go back to Sydney again! DAMMIT!

And now there’s enrique on the radio and I gotta dance alone be right back

Woah, I’ve never danced in my hall alone. I should have had brad there, or clayton. Odd. How do my flatmates have lives and I don’t? Oh wait, yeah, cos I’m SICK! Fuck you Health, I didn’t want you anyways. I’m home alone instead of beuinbg out on the town, and I’m BORED! I went to Cess’s party cos I was yelled at to go, but then everyone went to town and I knew I was too sick to go, so I’m home.

It’s really annoying, because I look so good tonight eh. Well, bored enough to turn the cam on Random anyways. I’m wearing a nice sari tho. Tho? Though. Okay, no fucking abbreviations for me!

It was Brad’s last night at Liquor King tonight, so he bought htis assortment of imported beers. I brought them home with me after Cess’s. The Sapporo was in the sexiest can ever. Then again, everything is sexy right about now. Well, almost everything. Oh Alcohol, how many marriages have you arranged?

I came home for the first time this week in daylight. Oh yes, I handed in my ID today, and it felt great. I got home at 4pm instead of 10pm, and that w as very very exciting. Then Kate B interograted me.
“Did you have someone over last night?”
“No”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes”
“Are you lying to me?”
“No – why?”
“I’m just using my detective skills – when I got up this morning, there was a bowl of water with wax floating in it on the dining room table and a chair was missing, that’s all”
“Oh you mean the bowl with vicks vapour rub in it? and the chair I took because my desk chair is too low?”
“Well… yeah”
“What the fuck were you thinking?”
“I figured you had someone over, and had some floating candles in a bowl to create atmosphere, adn then you went off to your room, and took the chair with you…”
“What the fuck did you think I was doing with the chair?????”
“I don’t know”
“who did you think I had over?????”
“(name)”
“Fuck you! no way!”
“well, i thought maybe you had a few more beers and said what the hell…..”
“there is not enough beer in the world!”

Kate’s going on the 30th. So is the cat, I guess. This evening, I was home alone, enjoying actually being home, doing laundyry and cooking and tidying

Oh yes, Kate Morrison. I wnet and picked her up from Ponsonby, cos she was carless. I advised her on the wrong perfume – it wasn’t my fault. In gratitude for me picking her up, she bought me lemonade and chuppies. We came back here and drank vodka, and sat on the couch outside, and had a throughly decent gossip. She figured out who I ahd a crush on, and said we were suited. I giggled. We talked about other stuff too which made me giggle more. ZThen Maree rang up and yelled at me to come to Cess’s party, that she was coming in half an hour to pick us up, so I said “okay fine” although I was sick. So I got all dressed up and stuff, and we went over, and like, 15 minutes later, everyone was going to town. So Maree dropped me home, adn I was all bitter, cos I looked so good, and no one to see!

hehehehe telephone conversations with people more out of it than you are so amusing. Actually I can’t remember anything, and it’s only like 15 minutes later. that’s a bad sign, righft? i have a craving right now to light all the candles in my room, thanks to Olivia, but I believe Kate B has stolen ALL my matches, so i can’t. I just went and took a candle to my car and tried to light it off my cigarette lighter, but that didn’t work. Where oh where are those cretins that smoke in my room NOW when i need a lighter? Grr!

“You got nipple licking? I’m so jealous!”