Hubris.co.nz

So Cheney is briefing Dubya on the events of the day, and of course Dubya isn’t paying much attention because he’d rather be playing with his toy cars, but when Cheney says “…oh and three Brazilian soldiers were killed today in Iraq,” George looks up and his eyes seem terrified. “Dick,” he says, “how many is a Brazilian?”

Aha ha ha ha ha. Yes, that’s right, I created a whole Country Club theme just so that I could tell you that very lame joke.

But before there was Brazil there was driving out to the airport in the crazy wind to pick up KateH on Friday night, and then cooking her rare sirloin steak sandwiches in fresh french bread with tamarillo chutney and caramalised onions, and then being picked up by our (and everyone’s!) chauffer for the night, the everylovely Miss Lisa who took us to San Fran to see Sam Flynn Scott play with Lawrence Arabia. They sounded good, but I was tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiired and coming down with a nasty sore throat and cough. Katie meanwhile had enough energy to get up and sing on stage.

The next morning she and I went and had brunch at Elements before picking up more party supplies, and she vacuumed while I made Brazilian rice and finished off the feijoada. Then we jumped on my bed (Smoo declined our invitation to join us – wtf?) to listen to the Wellingtonista on Public Address Radio, which you can download here and I giggled at the fact that I got bleeped once but I mostly sounded fairly articulate. The mp3′s not online yet, but I’ll post a link as soon as it’s up. I think that we sounded like pretty smart, on-to-it people, and that’s good, because that’s who we are. And I sounded less nasally and cackly than I expected to.

After that it was nap time before finishing off preparations and heading off to pick up Lisa and Jimmy. I was planning on dressing up all fancy in my hott green dress, and fishnet stockings, and my 4.5 inch wedges, but by the time I’d found my suspenders I’d lost my stockings, and given how low cut the dress is, I thought it was also a bit short (boobs or legs, not both, after all. Not that I’d normally go for legs, until I get to the bit where I write about my day today) so I wore jeans underneath, and didn’t risk breaking my ankle on my shoes. One day I’ll find an occasion to actually wear them. Honest. Maybe when I act out a Tori Amos lyric with someone sometime – “he liked my shoes / I kept them on”. Speaking of Tori Amos, I discovered that someone most unexpected is really in to her music, but I will keep his secret. I was very very surprised though. Anyways.

Brazil turned out to be really good. Caipirinhias are a fantastic drink, especially mixed with copious quantities of cerveza. Rice’n beans is tasty, and Jimmy had made some fantastic sweets that went along with his fact that Nestle stole all the cocoa in Brazil in the 1940s and imported mass amounts of condensed milk instead. Who knew that Nestle could be so tasty and so evil at the same time (well, me, since I’m currently writign a piece on Fair Trade – and calling it Free Trade 70% of the time. Whoops)? I had bought planes, trains & automobile lollies to illustrate my facts about Brazil’s capital Brasilia having been laid out in the shape of an aeroplane and built from scratch in 1960, and also the fact that someone else snaffled, that 40% of Brazilian cars run on ethanol made from corn. I also found tasty ranch-flavoured corn kernels in the scoopermarket bins that went with the theme very well. We didn’t get around to eating fried bananas, but I did scoop out a pineapple that Karen had brought along and serve communal pina coladas in it. In fact, as the night wore on – and oh lordy, did it wear on – many, many more cocktails were served up in that same pineapple and delivered to the boys who were outside playing “soccer” and to the girls sitting civilly on the couches using many many words starting with ‘C’ for some reason. I tried to pressure people into joining the Wellingtonista Bowling League, and since everyone except Barbara, Jack and Nicole were Country Club veterans, there were many facts to be shared. Blair showed up with his iPod so we could listen to CSS and Sepultura instead of our very inauthentic attempts at Brazillian music (One Million Dollars), but no sambaing was done.

Instead the night wound down around 4am with some highly amusing and rather disturbing antics that involved a lot of mocking, bluff-calling and toe-sucking. When are people going to learn that I will always call their bluff? And when I laugh at changes in morality, I am taking the piss out of myself, as I watch myself acting out in jest parts of actions that I’d used in previous lifetimes but then in a serious capacity. This is what happened in that bathroom. This is what happened after the Placebo concert. This is what happened when you so conveniently happened to leave your laptop at my apartment and came back to pick it up at 3am. This is what happened when the boy I was hooking up with at the wedding wouldn’t come home with me so I decided to substitute you instead. And it makes me laugh, and I will always, always go for the cheap laugh.

Sunday was very slow. I went for coffees and the paper and sat and read it on the front steps in the sun while the house was cleaned up behind me, hurrah! Brad came over and did the dishes on Monday as well, so it was like, easiest party evah! We watched a million episodes of The Simpsons off the hard drive and it made me remember how horrible the time around New Year’s was for me. Shirley came down visiting from Palmy in the evening, and we all went and had dinner at Cambodinia in Kilbernie (it’s Cambodian, in case you couldn’t tell), because I wanted something more interesting than the very bland Nahkon Thai in Hataitai. Then we played DVD Cluedo and I went and finished reading the Anthony McCarthen book that I think is called The Death of a Superhero but I’m not entirely sure. If only there was some system of tubes that I could type into that could deliverme the answer…

On Monday I was still coughing up my lungs – assuming that my lungs were dry like wheatbix, so I didn’t go to work. Instead I lay on the couch and napped on and off and moaned with sickness. Brad came home and cooked us dinner and I thought about breaking Katie’s legs so she couldn’t leave but instead I took her to the airport. Today to work I wore my new green dress from Torrid with my new black opaque tights and boots. The dress is, like all my torrid dresses, too short to wear over bare legs (but not bear legs), but I thought it would be fine with the tights since there was no chance of my vajayjay showing. I was super paranoid about the dress coming up, and the tights rolling down – although being footless helped them keep their crotch in the right place – but I like the way it made it look like I had legs a million years long as I strode purposefully down Lambton Quay to meet Jessie for lunch at Kapai. We walked down to the waterfront and sat and shot the shit, and watched the Water Whirler whirl. Good times. Tomorrow I have the day off, hurrah!

So today I had my doctor’s appointment and I thought it might be weird to have to tell someone new about my mental history, but as it turns out she’d googled me and had the citalapram waiting on her desk when I walked in.

Okay, so that’s not strictly true (or even vaguely true at all), but she did give me a prescription without me having to cry (much), and I get a subsidised script for citalapram because I told her I can’t take fluoxetine. Well, technically I could but the bourbon necessary to deal with that would probably not fit in too well with my plan to not drink for a while. She took my blood pressure and it turns out that it’s now 140/100 – remember how it was 131/99 last time and THAT was high? Yeah. So tomorrow I’m going for fasting blood tests and pee tests and all sorts of fun things like that in case my kidneys are packing up instead of it just being stressed. Apparently there’s also something that can send stress into your body if it’s fucked up, so that could be interesting to find out if maybe it’s my physical health that’s fucked instead of my mental health. While going over my depression history before I filled in the depression survey and discovered I was circling the 3s on almost every list, I told her that I wasn’t in as bad a condition as I have been the past when I’ve signed up for the crazy pills, and she was like “you don’t have to justify yourself to me”. Well, she didn’t say that, but then we talked about early intervention and blah blah, and she also warned me of the likelihood of increased anxiety in the early stages (wahoo!) and said that I needed to be on the lookout for suicidal feelings. This is why the modern world is so fucked – in order to avoid getting to the stage where I feel like I might want to harm myself I need to take a drug that comes with the risk of increasing the wanting-to-harm-myself impulses. But hey, I dealt with that okay when it happened in March 2003, and I’m sure I can do it again with Tom on speed dial and KateH just five minutes drive away. Oh no wait…

Ha, sorry, I suppose this sort of thing is inappropriate for me to be making jokes about, but come on, it’s me – when have I ever been appropriate? I have all the shiny knowledge, pamphlets, plans to call the work-provided counsellor on Monday and most importantly the motivation to not be like this anymore that I need to defend myself, which makes me practically Harry Potter. And also some Danielle Steele books and movies of the ’80s teen genre to fill in the time until I feel okay again. Plus, thanks to Lisa, I have new craft projects to fill my time. I’m not huge with the wanting to talk to people right now, because it makes my chest hurt thinking about it, so I’ve decided she doesn’t qualify as a person. Instead, she’s an Awesomeness. Last night she brought over milk and cookies and paint, and we made art inspired by magazines. Her piece, which has been called Oh Penelope is fucking awesome. My art talent? Not so much so hot. So instead I created a quadtich which is a celebration of celibacy.

HPV

Chlamydia

Gonorrhea

Genital Herpes

That’s so Jane. Heh. And if I hadn’t used up all our gig of bandwidth this month watching Dick in a box over and over again, I could download the photos that Lisa kindly took for me of my art, since of course I’m still cameraless and have yet to suggest to Brad that he hire a panda costume to go over to Aro and get it for me. If it’s even there and not in the taxi. If I did leave it in the taxi, it’s probably fair payment for me yelling at the driver after Chrisana got out about how the taxi driver two nights before had fucking groped me. And about how fucking angry that made me. New year’s resolution: only take blue taxis from now on.

Today Lisa and I went to op shops in Newtown to find frames and then tried to eat at the Medditereaneaneanean Warehouse, but the bastard was still shut, so we settled for Hell at her house, and I made myself feel better about my own life by watching House of Carters in absolute shock and disgust and confusion about why the fuck they could possibly ever want to put their lives on TV. Their father is so clearly a child molestererer. And yes, I laughed my ass off at one of the daughter’s stories about how her mother told her she was goign to horse-riding camp but then had her kidnapped and sent to Fat Camp because she couldn’t make any money for the family as a fat kid. Oh yes, Karma and I still need to have a cuddle and make up at some stage. Then we watched more bad TV, and came here to watch Say Anything, because really, who doesn’t want John Cusack standing under their window with a ghetto blaster? Exactly!

Now at some stage I might try to go to sleep, but to be honest, I’m waiting for City Life, because haha! And besides, everyone needs a late night TV addiction while they’re waiting for the drugs to start working. I had 90210 in 2001 (not to mention September 11 coverage), and then Buffy in 2002. At least I’m keeping it home-styles now. But tomorrow I will endevour to get up before noon, so I can get these blood tests out of the way. Wahoo, needles!

On Thursday night I had my first summer ale and then yesterday I had my first swim of the summer. Around 1am. At Oriental Parade. In my panties. With my now ex workmates and Bart. It was awesome, and not very warm. Luckily the booze in me kept me warm.

Today, consequently, has been rather slow. I spent a couple of hours at Elements in Lyall Bay eating, drinking latte bowls and reading the paper very very slowly. Now there’s been Thai takeaway and Fred Prinze Jnr movies on the television. And my laptop that I picked up from the shop last weekend is STILL ticking and overheating, but I know that htey must have done something to it because now it says ‘Packard Bell’ on the screen the second time I turn it on. It’s an NEC though. And I say second time because the screen stays blank the first time, every time. Good times.

What else should I talk about? I can’t start my new job yet because my security clearence still hasn’t finished. This is a good thing though because it means I get to have a couple of days off first, wahoo! I can go buy some fancy schmancy clothes to match my fancy schmancy new offices down Lambton Quay way. I’m proud of myself for running around in my underwear last night. It makes me feel more prepared for New Year’s, and it also reminds me of the good times skinny-dipping in KateM’s dad’s pool with not a care in the world, or the olden days when I was regularly doing bad things with bad people when I’d get up and walk around the house butt naked and go read magazines in the lounge – if I knew Clayton was out, of course. Or open the curtains if morning sex was to be had, for the benefit of people in the office building across the road. Heh. My self esteem has been very weird lately, I had some total wigginsing on Thursday night, even though I knew at the time I was just being a dork. If only I’d never gone to that damn talk about Myspace!

Now it’s Sunday, and today would have been Oma and Opa’s 60th anniversay. To celebrate, we got together at my parents’ house and scattered their ashes together around a magnolia tree we planted. That sentence does nothing to describe the comedy of errors that the occasion actually was, with the unmowed lawn all wet and long, and the bugs biting me. The containers with the ashes in them didn’t want to come open for a long long time, until finally Cousin Andrea cleverly pointed out that there were latches on the bottom that could be open and the ashes shaken out. There is something a little bit strange about shaking out your grandparents like salt and pepper, passing the containers around so that everyone could have some time with each of them. But the tree – once we managed to get it staked – is really pretty, and I think it was a nice thing to do. Afterwards, we watched super8 home movies that my parents, my uncle and Oma had all shot in the seventies. The clothes were fabulous, and we were all such fucking cute kids (yes, I wasn’t alive in the seventies, but I whined enough that we got out some ’80s footage too). Mum and Aunt Diz were running around in bikinis and looked hot. My dad was in a floral speedo and despite his womanly hips he still had a good body too. Also, eww, did I just say that? The whole effect was a litle bit like watching many many L&P ads. Or perhaps looking at current fashions. Or super 8 footage played behind the Phoenix Foundation…

I also grabbed Deuchlandriser, which is a board game in which you travel around Germany, and also some large beer mugs. Germany is on October 14, the day after Dimmer, and I’m so very happy because Jessie may be at it. And also I’m very happy that I will finally get to see Dimmer. Assuming that it hasn’t sold out yet. Woo!

Oh, and one more thing that I wanted to talk about was how nice the goodbye speeches for me were, and how genuine they seemed. And also, the best part about them was that they were surprisingly similar to my answers in many job interviews lately about what others would say about me – my ridiculously large banks of trivia in my head, my dry wit and my social skills. If I hadn’t put my card in Bart’s backpack along with my purloined coffee cup (shoosh!), I’d put in actual quotes. But yes, very very good times were had. And everyone who left their computers on will be looking at my face when they get to work as their desktop image…

For Kate (Kate, do you have another name? There’s already too many damn Kates!) and Noizy and Llew, and for me, since this is all rattling around in my head right about now.

Lust, Gluttony, Greed, Sloth, Wrath, Envy and Pride. Which (if any) have you broken? Give examples.

Lust:
The example that first springs to mind when I hear this word could probably very well also fall under ‘wrath’, given the history involved, and how in that stall in the men’s room in a skanky goth bar I used to go out with the guy who was there with me, and also how I’d also fucked his wife who was banging on the door, so maybe I should wind the tape back to about four years before that, when I’d only pashed two boys, and I went to the movies for the first time with the gentleman in question. Just sitting next to him, our arms touching was so unbelieveably arousing that when I went to the bathroom and wiped, I was so wet that my hand slipped and I nearly punched the back of the toilet bowl. That was very unexpected for the girl that I was then.

I think it can sometimes also be hard to seperate lust from all the other things going on in my life, like needing other people’s approval to feel good about myself, or drinking too much, or needing to feel alive to combat antidepressants, or confusing love with sex, or having an overly developed sense of irony, or whatever. I suppose another example that would be appropriate here would be the first time that I hooked up with my stupid flatmate Ben III, and the following weeks. He wasn’t my type of guy – I mean, when I say he was stupid, he was stupid, but one night, he just smelt really really manly (read: sweaty) and the pheremonal connection was like “badoinga!”

On a slightly less disturbing note (I think), the character of Evan on The Secret Life of Us is so exactly my type that it hurts to watch the show cos I want to jump his bones so much.

Right now my head is full of pretty much nothing but lust. I haven’t had sex in a very very long time. Y’all didn’t think that I got OOS from working at a soul-destroying job with a really really bad computer set-up did you? Oh wait…

Gluttony:
This one is probably most apparent to everyone as something I have a problem with. The question then becomes “why is it a problem?” Quite frankly, I can’t imagine anything worse than being the type of person who would become obsessed with denying themselves the pleasures of food. To not know the joy of wine and cheese (CHEEEEEEEEEEEEEESE!), or fillet steak, or fresh baked bread with butter, or even dhal with fresh coriander on top or avocado on soy & linseed bread is just freaky. I use the last two as examples of how food can be goooood and good for you at the same time, but I suppose gluttony comes mostly in the form of ‘bad’ food. The thing is though, if you’re going to eat the ‘bad’ food anyway, then why hate yourself for it? Why not enjoy it? I would like to stop mentally beating myself up for it. I have accepted the fact that I am never going to be thin – I was born huge, for starters – so I would like to enjoy my life. At the same time, partly because I so often don’t enjoy my life, I’m more than a little nihilistic – like, if I’m going to get hit by another bout of crippling depression and decide that this time I can’t get through it, then why should I have skipped the cake? And please don’t start in on the whole “but exercise and healthy food can make you happier” crap, because I know that. That’s why I went vegan, and that was great for a while, although half of my enjoyment of that was a big “Fuck you, dairy and meat! I don’t need you anyways!” defiance that wore off. There’s so much cognitive dissonance going on in my head at all times that I could easily present a seminar on it in relation to the LTSA ads. Oh wait, I did that already…

And of course, gluttony doesn’t just apply to food, cos there’s drinking too. I like to drink. I will probably drink more than you will if we go out together. I like the taste of the things that I drink. I like the social aspect of it. I also like the feeling of confidence it gives me, which is not even about the wine anymore, it’s about me. If one bottle is good, two bottles is better. And while I have a few friends who don’t drink, and some friends who aren’t very in to food, I can’t help but feel a little uncomfortable around them if I was eating or drinking, because while I get it in my head, at heart I don’t understand why they’re not indulging in the pleasures.

Sloth:
Have you seen my couches? It took me a long time to find ones as big and comfortable as they are. I am happiest when I am lying down fully stretched out. I hope that when I am lying down on my couch I am in my pyjamas, and that it’s cold so I can have a duvet to snuggle under. I have no idea how people find enjoyment in tramping, or running. A leisurely walk in nice weather with an iPod and comfortable clothing might be okay, but I have bung-ass knees due to the gluttony section, and flat feet so long periods of walking are no fun. I like dancing, if the music and environment is right, but mostly if I go out I want comfy couches to sit on. Part of my perfect week off plan would involve a day spent watching many episodes of a favourite show on DVD. I <3 the Sloth. I feel no cognitive dissonance about it at all.

Wrath:
I’m a pretty angry person. I’d like not to be, but I’m really really not good at letting things go. Now, I’ve just been to look up the word, to try and figure out if being full of wrath makes you actually do things, because my only reference point here is 7ven, and I haven’t killed Kevin Spacey any time recently. Mostly my wrath consists of me not getting over things, and steaming about them for years and years. I have strict moral codes of things like the Two Year Rule, and if people break them, I get really really angry. I think more people should just suck it up and be miserable instead of hurting people. I am very very angry about people who hurt me and get to have their happy endings, because where the fuck is the justice in that?

Envy:
I am extremely guilty of envy. I envy people with pretty shiny possessions like houses, and DVD hard drives, and then I envy people without few possessions, who can pack up their lives in a matter of minutes. Mostly when I envy people I try to belittle them in some way – the phrase “skinny bitch” comes out of my mouth an awful lot, or when I see couples making out in public I’ll be like “get a room” when I am really thinking “I wish that was me”. I am envious of anyone who gets to hear someone tell them that they love them. I am envious of my friends who are having successful careers in areas that I want to work in. I am envious of people whose webpages get more hits than mine when they’re not even fucking real, Natalie. I am envious of people that I look down on for appearing to be happy with who they are. I am envious of people who seem to have taken the blue pill if we were going to go all Matrix comparison-y – is the blue pill the ignorance one? Well that’s the one I want. In a way, and this is disgusting to admit, I am envious of people with real identifiable trauma in their lives, and that’s something I spent a long time on when I was in counselling. I would like to be able to say “the reason that I am like this is because ___ happened”, and have it be all nice and easy like that. And if you think that I actually think that other people have lives that are all nice and easy, then you’re a dumbass. I’m well aware that the grass is always greener on the other side. It’s just that it’s often very hard to see what people would be envy about me.

Pride:
Hello, have you looked up the definition of ‘Hubris’ lately? This links in to the wondering what people would envy me for. Being well-educated, raised upper-middle class and given the opportunity to travel the world before I was ten and having parents I can rely on to back me up? Sure, that’s lucky, but I don’t know if it’s something that I can take pride in, because it’s not something that I’ve achieved – unless we go “yay little sperm, nice work on hitting that egg”. I would like to take pride in overcoming depression, having friends, being a good writer, but it just seems like those are all things that come naturally, or are things that I have no alternative but to achieve, so that seems dumb. But yes, I am condescending. I am snobby. I can cook well, and sometimes am capable of carrying out a good stimulating conversation. I used to take pride in giving really great head, but since the throwing up on someone’s cock whoopsie, my confidence in that area has been shattered. I would like to think that Hubris the site is really interesting, and I’m proud of that, but it’s not like I’ve got a book deal or anything. So meh. Perhaps pride is my least sinny of the sins. Rock on.

I’m not going to tag anyone – when you presume that people want to do things, you make a press out of you and me! – but please feel free to riff off your own if you like.

EDIT: whoops, I forgot
Greed:
I think this is pretty much covered by all the other ones, isn’t it? I’ll just go with the Hole quote to sum this one up, cos I’ve already wasted too much time: “I want to be the girl with the most cake”. Chur. But actually no, let me change that to say that I’m well happy to pay as much tax as I do, because I want to live in a world where the people who aren’t as well off as I am can still have things like oh you know, housing and healthcare and education…

And because today is probably the first day I have seen everyone at tech since Haley would have sat in a pleniary meeeting and said “well, my problem this week is that Joanna has dropped this paper because she’s having issues so I have to do our project alone” everyone was all “Oh hi, how are you, you must have lots of spare time now”. Spare time – yeah right. Oh yeah, I’m all fucked up and pre-med, and blah blah, does that make me cool, does that make you want to have sex with me? That’s the thing that I probably fear most of all, the whole using bad shit as glamour aspect of the Internet, and I know that I’ve had extended discussions with people about it, the whole what came first, the Internet or the angst angle, and also the blah blah blah etc etc that I will not be listing here. But yeah, some people are really cool and I have fun going out with them .

Originally, KateB oughta be arriving at 2am, but she’s coming tomorrow instead, so I don’t get to sleep with anyone, but if I was, I would chose them entirely on their mouse handling skills. Except oh, I had a freakout moment earlier tonight when I thought I saw the fucktoy again, and out of anyone I’ve shagged, he would have been the most likely to be able to deal with creatures running around the house, but ewww, and it wasn’t him anyways.

I’m sure I never used to be this cynical and angry. I think the world liked me better when I was on zac. And what exactly does “we’ll contact you early next week” mean when i need to commit to a job til after Xmas tomorrow?

But OOH OOOH OOH BradM and KateB in the city tomororw, WOOHAA!

Wednesday August 7th

Please don’t consider this to be a full picture in any way, if you want to know what’s really going on in my life, you WILL have to write me. Or call me (Mazzy, what the fuck? I was talking about three different boys, not the one, and if you were up with the play, you’d know that).

Last night me and Jezza and Morrison and Nigel went to the AUT pub quiz and spent my $20 tab and won a $30 tab. We also bought the quizmaster a drink cos he was cool, and also, if he’s stalked me off my cellphone picture, HI. And we will win the $50 tab next week. And then we went to Oporto and I got groped by a horrible skanky horrible disgusting icky old man. ewwwwwwwwwwwww.

This morning Bo and I went to St. Lukes to pick up a shirt for me, although we were both shuddering at the Mallness of it, and then we went to Roasted Adiquition for breakfast. OH MY GOD their hashbrown stack with turkish pide, aioli, advamacado and pesto is delicious! Oh yeah, but before that, I was jolted outta sleep by Haley calling me to ask which apartment was mine adn I was like “FUCK! I’ll just put on some clothes and come and find you” and we finished our presentation which FUCK FUCK FUCK I gotta do now. No wait, I’ll do it tomorrow morning. Cool. SHIT. Fuck. I can’t believe I forgot about that completely. And about turnign in my CV for the job which I’m really starting to doubt that I’m going to get. FUCK. Nah it’s cool, this way I can fit in seeing my HR tutor tomorrow to talk to her about my hypothesis about Sick Building Syndrome (moral of the story is – go to your tutorials and you won’t be stuck with the lameass topics no on eelse wants). Where was I? Work at 12.30pm, yeah, and longmeetings about Courses and Careers Day, and then I spent the afternoon looking up catering websites.

Anyways so this evening, I left the house with $50, and now I have come home with 2 expensive cocktails, one flavoured vodka shot, one bottle of red wine, one kebab and two taxi rides in my belly and empty pockets, so I guess I did okay, mostly coasting on the charms’o lovely KateH. Lovely Popular KateH who even manages to know people in common with the random “hi ladies – do you mind if I introduce myself?” guy at Deschlers. We drank at the Classic, and then didn’t go to Starks cos we’re still banned, and then Deschlers for ages of course so American Friend Amy could drink Chocolate Monkeys, and then Kate and I had a boogie at Retro Night while Amy slept in the corner and now I’m home, dropping my kebab on my breasts cos I wisely took my shirt off. I can’t feel the cold. ALSO! I had to leave Buffy with like, 15 minutes still to go, how rude! AND I idnt’ even get laid out of it – previously, only boys taking me to the bedroom have managed to lure me away from that programme, adn that was under duress (yes, and one of you knows who you are, with that whole leaving your laptop behind ploy, and as for the other one, well I’d be suprised if he could even write his name, frankly. But we’re way off track. My point was, I think I missed Buffy and Spike having sex, and that’s a momentuous occasion!). But still, I had a great night, especially dancing at the end, and so Katie and I decided that our cheap ethnic food and wine BYO nights will now take place on Wednesdays so we can go dancing after. Kickass

Friday August 2nd

Okay, so before i fall out of my chair and pass out on the floor, here’s the story – here’s the correct deal that any’o you could have just got out of me by simply asking, and here’s my interpretation of what happened. You know how a couple’o days ago I cut Justin off my Xmas Card List (this is not an actual thing in existence, it’s purely a metaphorical creation)? And if you know that, you know it’s of course because he had drinks last friday and didn’t invite me, not even when I texted him that day and asked him waht he was up to and he didn’t reply and as both a Gemini and a Communications student, nothing pisses me off more than peoplke who don’t reply to txts? Well anyways, I heard from sources about his party, of course, because um, hi, do you know know by now that that’s the way girls work? But anyways. So I figured he hadn’t invited me to his party cos he thought I’d mack on all his friends (and so maybe there’s some degree of truth to that) and then when I found out that the last friend’o his that I shagged was back with his ex girlfriend that he was with before he shagged me (but not while he shagged me, nor for any immediate period before then, thank you very much) and I figured maybe Justin thought I’d like, embarrass that boy or something so he just wouldn’t invite me outta decency. And of course, there were also “maybe Justin just flat out hates me” thoughts but they didn’t last very long. But anyways, then tonight me and Maz and Bo were in the cab on the way to KateH’s party, and Maz was like “not to give you a complex or anything, Jo…” and she told me that Justin had been all hesitant to tell them that the boy was back with his ex and stuff, and they were all worried about telling me and I was all “WHAT THE FUCK???? If i had been after him in any way, I ouldn’t have left while he was sleeping plus I woulda put my number in the note I stuck in his letterbox after! AAAARGH I don’t fancy him, I just have a guilty conscience!” and Maz was liek “yeah that’s what we told Justin” and Iw as like aaaaaaaargh I don’t LIKE the boy, I just gave him a lotta mind time cos I thought he was a sweetie and I wondered if I shoulda got to know him better, and Maz and Bo were like “don’t do this, don’t get a complex” and I was like “i’m not!” but anyways, as soon as Justin showed up at the party I was liek “oi you! and I gave him an earfull and he was like “Ummm?” and said that what had actually happened was that when I sent him the text on friday, he actually received it while he was in a car with the boy in question and was like “oh, is it okay if I invite Jo tonight?” and the boy started freaking out and continued to do so for three days, cos like I think we first said, he’s just back with his girlfriend, and somehow I very much doubt that she knows about him fucking me like I was a pornstar in the middle of it. So yeah, Justin and I cleared all that up. I am a little hurt though, that they could think I’d be so unsubtle or anything like that to cause a ruckus – I’d only do that to people I don’t respect, and i do very much respect thsi boy, because like I’m sure I have said before, he was probably the nicest boy I’ve ever been to bed with, even if we didn’t actually have a Connection (and this is not a diss on you; I’m sure you wouldn’t call yourself ‘Nice’). And anyways, the boy ended up showing up at the party and I watched him in the hallway for a little bit, trying to be discreet in checking him out and thought “hmmm, he actually IS really cute and actually DOES look like Milan” and then later when I walked past him I said hey, and he said hey, and it was all cool. So yeah, that was the drama and scandel. did you manage to follow ANY of that? I don’t care if you didn’t; I’m quite happily quite stoned.

Today was 9-5 at work, which is always difficult, especially since Terri had started at 7am, which meant she left at 3pm, so Bridget and I were left going “ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm” all afternoon. But I did do an interview AND write a profile today, plus now I can tell you all about the causes of hydronatraemia and who of you else can claim that? I also went to ask the HR lady about the job I’m applying for, and was liek “oh, right, good, I do have the right person – I’m terrible with names and faces”. Nice one Joanna, way to apply for PR jobs. Really, no, seriously, excellent way to influence people is by pointign out your foibles.

Hmm, foibles, does this mean that i have to talk about those godawful muppets taht I had to talk to for like half an hour who kept referring to me as a crackwhore cos Clay and Bobobo did? I hope not. In fact, I know not, cos like, I so would like to go and jump into bed where it’s real nice and warm. well actually, it’s probably cold in my bed, goddamit I need an army of flying monkeys to make me a hottie and find me some socks adn all taht stuff. Where were we? I’m just like, all OH MY GOD THERE’S BETH ORTON ON THIS MP3 cd. And that kinda thing. Something about Mazzy being hot in her hot little red dress even though sips of her bourbon remind me of *III, or even the massive quantities of bourbon I would drink with him because it was part’o the whole fucktoy/rockbottom process. And definately something about how fucking choice KateH is, and how she looked reaaaaaally hot and flamenco tonight, and also what a pleasure it was to finally meet this Amy that I’ve heard so much about. Ummm other things – like, who the fuck actually drinks Creaming Soda? And Jezza going on a massive hunt to find a lighter, and then us smoking around the picnic table in KateH’s backyard and me feeling unspeakably guilty for doing so, and then being back in her kitchen where I spent the night going “OH MY GOD” cos Like, everyone fucking knew my name and could tell me where they’d met me before and what conversation we’d had, and that always makes me real para, and then I spotted that boy in the hallway and I had to point him out to Clay and clay was like “he’s real cute and hot” and I was like oh my god please hurry up and come out and dump your girlfriend.

Dear lord, there should be some more paragraph segmentation here, surely. Other things’o note? Bopha kept calling em a crackwhore, and okay, so maybe the stripper story was case and point, but THAT’S IT. At the start’o KateH’s party, we just sat in a corner going “grrr” at each other and wondering what would happen if she went and sat on people’s laps and said “chicachehooo” at them. I love Bo. And umm, oh I talked to this boy that I’d thought was kinda ncie and well dressed and good looking and nice to me and laughs at my jokes and stuff so I’d kinda thought “hmm maybe” about, but it was too hard to sustain a conversation, and plus, I think I’d decided this week that I was really into this other boy and yeah, so like, that’d be cool and shit, except he was supposed to come but he didn’t. Still, I think that there was like, enough scandal and mania going on anyways, and you don’t even know the half of it. Also, my eyeshadow looks fuckign kickass today, as does the rest of me.

Okay man, like, $3.25 in coins and head to whomever brings me salted snacks first. It was just one joint, motherfucker! It shouldn’t show up under all this beer. Jezza and Nae are real funny when they’re stoned though. That’s all I have to say. Tomorrow I may or may not get a network and Sunday I gotta do coursework, so that’s ass sucking, but like, only figuratively and only on Sunday, cos like, how fucking 2000 are you?

Friday June 14th

Work today was crap because I made mistakes and stuff, and was just generally not as clued up as I like to be, and the hours dragged on and on and when I got home I was grumpy for no reason at Bopha and Leo so I hid in my room. Leo laughed at me and said “but yesterday you were going on about how much you loved your job” and I said “yes well, i’m premenstrual” (I don’t think Bops and I have synched yet, but HAH! I’m the one taking hormones, she’s gonna have to dance to my tune!). But then I had a siesta and felt much better.

Clay Bops and I went out for a flat/pre-birthday dinner tonight since he’s gonna be in Wanganui on Monday. We went to Sitar in Mt. Eden which was nice and drank lots and lots of wine with our two vegetarian (mushrooms&spinach and vege korma) for Bopha and one chicken tikka dish. We had fun! They gave me a voucher for a one hour massage for my birthday, bless their socks. And then Clay went to Kara’s, Bopha went to Leo’s and I went home and kept my boots on cos they make me feel like a hoochie, and I was watching MTV awards so it just made sense. Laurence and Chris and Emma came over and hung out for a bit, and then they invited me to go back to their house with them, but I was feeling a little sickly, so instead I stayed at home and watched telly some more. j2 played ‘Parihaka’ and I thought that Tim Finn looked a lot like Eddie Vedder in it, so I went and found my Ten cd and lost my voice singing along because I stubbornly refused to take a breath in the “woaaaaahhhhhhhh ahah” part in ‘Black’ and I’m still coughing as a consequence. And then Bopha and Leo came back to watch the soccer, but I had to leave the room because I’m still in soccer overload mode.

Last night’s dreams involved both Laura Ingles Wilder and Milan from Pluto, so I’m looking forward to tonight’s. Also I am looking forward to a jolly good sleep in. Except I have to take Clay to the airport around 1. I hate the airport. Nevermind. I haven’t driven my car for aaaaaaaaaaages since I’ve been all good and walking lots. I’m excited about seeing my girls all on Monday. Ohhh, it’s Andee’s birthday tomorrow; I even tried calling her tonight but it was engaged so I must try to remember tomorrow. And then it’s Emma’s birthday on Tuesday. I ‘m going to see if I can split my hour massage into two half hours, since i’ve never had one before – well, a professional one anyways. And come to think of it, I’ve had pitifully few massages at all anyways. Only one boy ever gave them to me – but I think that was just his way of getting into my pants, which worked remarkably well. You suck other people (And yes, THIS is a diss of you)! And come to think of it, pretty much everyone on the Internet (oh okay, and in my social circle) has seen my breasts, yet the only breasts I’ve seen have been belonging to girls I’ve bedded. What’s up with that? Where’s teh love? I’d like to see some boobies please! It’s only fair.

Tuesday June 4th
So today I handed in my final assessment for Communication Strategy – that’s my last piece’o work due in before exams (June 20/24/25) so now I have some time to tackle a multitude of special secret projects that I have on the boil. Of course, tackling them would be a whole lot easier if I had a week of little to no computer work to give my wrist a good rest, so let’s try and do that, shall I? Excellent. About my essay – I handed it in without even reading it, I was that disgruntled. But it’s gone now, not worth worrying about. Apparently I only have to take two papers next semester, cos I can credit so many from my BCs, but I’m gonna take three anyways. Originally I was taking four, but I can’t do Campaigns – an advertising paper – because its lecture clashes with Corporate Communication.

You know how I’m a grad dip and in my year, we didn’t like the grad dips a lot of the time? Well, I think I get on pretty well with the BCs students, but there are some grad dips who just rub me so the wrong way, and it’s people like them who give people like me a bad name. I feel so old when I find myself saying “well, back in my year…”. Actually, I feel so old right now full stop<!– shagging sweet young things will do that to a girl, i guess! –>. I had a very amusing phone conversation with Anji tonight, and it appears that we’ve swapped age-tastes. My average age of men I scored was 28 (although admittedly both the astronaut and the microbiologist pushed that way up) and hers was 23, despite the fact that I’m 21 and she’s 29, but now it seems that we’re righting ourselves. Also, I’m going to be 22 in less than two weeks, so you should buy me things. But anyways, where was I before I went off on that tangent? Something about being at tech, and being dumb and taken by surprise and only managing to say a “hey, how are you?” and ending up being either a) the pathetic kind of person that I strive to avoid to be or b)the bitchy kinda person that I fight my natural inclination to be<!– I feel TERRIBLE now, I didn’t mean to snub him or anything, but I didn’t expect to see him so soon after. And I’ve been giving him an awful lot of headspace as well, which is vaguely interesting –>.  Oh well.  Justin laughed at me lots – “so it wasn’t a big deal then? had a long weekend did you?” I don’t gossip <!– much –> about the attributes of boys that I respect to their friends, thank you very much, Justin. But if we did, between me and that other young lady who will remain nameless, but she knows who she is, we’d have quite a thick dossier.

Bopha wouldn’t come out for a drink with me this afternoon after I handed in my essay (apparently 3pm is too early) so we settled on going to Roasted Addiquition instead. Nice food, but kinda expensive. We didn’t watch soccer today! Well, 20 minutes of the Japan-Belgium game, but that was all, and boy, that was a relief. Like, I do like soccer, but after three games yesterday (although I really only watched Brazil/Turkey because it was SO GOOD) and a couple of games the day before… I’m starting to think I shouldn’t have kicked Ben III out until after the World Cup, because Bopha is scarily addicted. We yell a lot. Also, occasionally she has taken to muttering “I want to cut off your limbs” to me, and she’s constantly jumping on me. It’s amusing.

That’s about it all, really. Boring day, I know, but thank god I got that assignment in and now I can concentrate on other stuff. Oh yeah, I was really really really hankering to go to Pluto tonight, but I couldn’t find anyone that I know well enough to be completely comfortable around to go with, and my mind was too mushy to go with someone I didn’t really know. So I just listened to the cd twice in a row instead. Fuck it’s an excellent cd, I appreciate it so much better now. And KatieH gave me a Pluto tshirt too. This is going to have to cause me to rethink my whole band tshirt philosophy (ie – I don’t wear them). But I guess the thing is now I’m actually a grownup and not a little punk kid trying her darndest to be alternative. If someone gave me a spice girls tshirt and it fit properly, I’d wear it now. Plus this Pluto tshirt is a bonds shirt, and therefore I have more than Brad, so I gotta wear it.

So, this is what’s up with me this week: