Hubris.co.nz

Despite the $50 bar tab hangover that I have (I got Daddy to come to quiz night last night so we came second), today is fucking rad. The sun is shining, ‘Float On’ bubbled through my earphones (apparently today my iPod battery has decided to work) and I ate fish’n chips in Waitangi Park with Noizy and Tom. I found out that I got the pay rise that I asked for (which is twice as much as I actually wanted), and I have exciting plans for the weekend (party in Aro on Saturday and the first meeting of The Country Club on Sunday at my house – we’re wearing togas, drinking wine and watching Caligula – you’re invited as long as you refrain from pointing out that ‘Rome’ isn’t actually a country), I have a new old mattress and I vacuumed under my bed. Life is pretty sweet right now. Did I mention that Bic Runga offered to buy me a drink? Cos she did. And that’s RAD.

Last weekend was very very choice. On Friday night I went with two cow-orkers and three ex cow-orkers to Tupelo, which freaked me out a little with its redness. I left at 8.30pm when Kate picked me up, and they apparently stayed out until 4am, so it is just as well that I left when I did, especially since Kate and I went home with quadruple chocolate ice cream and Hairspray. Now we both want to learn how to do the mashed potato and other assorted dances. Hairspray is total radsicles (and radsicles is the new awesome – it’s like popsicles but cooler. Hehe). In the morning I made Kate pancakes and used my good china, even going to the extreme lengths of putting lemon juice in the little sake pot. Suck on that, Martha Stewart. Later I put on my pretty new dress that very few people have complimented me on (what’s up with that?) and met up with Lisa Fur and Brad to go to Bic Runga at the Michael Fowler Centre.

*Insert wide-eyed awe and aural orgasms and much spine-tinglingness here.*

She was playing with the whole band who played on Birds and played the whole album, so I might just pop up my review of that from Pulp now and then times that by a thousand and add in the goodness that is Neils Finn’s stage banter, and the amazing hotness of her base player who had his bass at exactly the right height – two inches lower and he would have been a nu-metal wanker, and five inches higher and he would be a geek – for maximum sexiness, and the total adoreableness of Annika Moa and the wonderfulness of our seats right by the sound desk, and the incredible aura and Strong Pixieness of Bic and and and wow. Just wow. I was dazzled. Simon Sweetman, you can suck a fuck, because of course it was polished. They’re the top fucking musicians in the country – how could it be anything but? I do wish that she’d played a couple more tracks off Beautiful Collison like the title track or ‘Election Night’ but that’s okay. It was still wow. I was moved pretty much to tears.

And then of course Jessie was there, and so the lobby was a lovefest of everyone I know – Jimmy and Esther and Ash (who Lisa ran away from when I was like “she’s from the internet” and it made me laugh a lot) and and Amelia, Jess Clayton and um some other people maybe? So I invited everyone to Rome, and was responded to enthusiastically. Me and Lisa and Brad headed down to Good Luck via Lisa’s car to drop off posters, to await Jessie. A couple of drinks later, she texted to say she was at Motel with the band, so Lisa and I went there. The bar was insanely full, and I was intimidated by the beautiful people, and while yes, I have occasionally entertained thoughts of being pressed up again Shayne Carter, it was always in more intimate settings, so I paniced when I finally fought my way to the front to get a drink and didn’t want to ask for a menu but I knew that I wanted a drink that would last a long time, so I remembered Wellurban and ordered a dry martini. I forgot that I haven’t drunk martinis regularly for quite a while. It was definitely a strong drink. It was the right thing to order though, because after that I saw it was what Bic herself was drinking. She came and sat at our table and I squeed, and Jessie told her that I really liked Jessie’s haircut, and I said that yeah, if that whole singing thing didn’t work out for her, she could have a career as a hairdresser, and then encouraged by her laugh, I said that that concert was amazing, and that two years ago when she played the cathedral she’d asked the audience if we liked her tights, and I did like them. And then I realised that despite having said earlier that I didn’t, holy crapping fuck, I was talking to Bic Runga, and she was just so nice that I genuinely did like her tights. And now I will stop using italic tags and just reflect on how stupidly starstruck I felt, but how much I basked in her glow. And of course, it was very very rad to see Jessie again, and her hair is so cute it’s ridiculous. Everything was so wonderful, I was just walking on air.

On Sunday I played Domestic Goddess and shopped and cleaned and cooked dinner for my whole family, which they’re still telling me was great, even though it was just the exact same food that I served my dinner party that one time. It was a very pleasant night though. On Wednesday Anji, Karen and I had dinner at The Last Supper Club, and while the food was tasty (although I asked for my fillet steak to be medium rare and it came out blue), the waiter was smarmy (sample line: “there are three mints for you on that plate” – oh really? Is THAT what they are? Cunt.) and we really didn’t enjoy it nearly as much as last time. Then we went to V for Vendetta which was awesome and left me dreaming of nuclear warfare and being all alone when the bombs started falling and crying cos I’d left Sebastian outside.

Yesterday Mummy took me to lunch at Captiol to thank me for doing some design work for her. I had bruscetta and pasta with zuchini and ricotta and a French wine that was a combination of reisling and pinot gris and very tasty it was too. The waiter asked me if I was Joanna, and I said I was and he pointed out that he went to high school with me, and I laughed and said oh yeah, and pretended to not know what he’d been up to for the past couple of years. It makes me happy though that so many of the beautiful people from high school are still working in hospitality. I am so shallow. Last night we went to the quiz at the Realm, and I had too many beers and sucked at pool so I went home and then Del let herself in and her friend in knee high white boots trimmed with oversized laces and fur accosted me asking for hugs and snuggles. Maybe I shouldn’t have judged her so harshly based solely on her boots, because she said some slightly intelligent things about the Gilmore Girls that I was trying to watch, but she was very very drunk and loud. It was like Courtney Love coming to stay. I sent Bart a text going “come home NOW”. He was very apologetic.

Today there is the goodness that I have already described, and in an hour I’m going to go and have a drink with Sarah, and then maybe stare at all my workmates as they have their netball team dinner, but I should really go home and chargrill the kilo of red peppers that I bought for $1.95 at A-Mart instead. See you tomorrow night or at Rome.

Oh, and also, something I forgot to mention was how great it was to finish something creative that I’ve been working on for ages, and the end product of that is 101 Stories That I Want to Tell You, which you should get, if you want it.

Because that’s what having a living section is all about, right?

So when did I last make a solid post? Hmm, Friday? Well.
Heather’s been in town, as you probably know, and that has meant much funness and socialising. It’s funny how having friends from out of town in town means that you see your friends who live here more anyway. Or even, in Heather’s case, how you meet up with friends from your town in someone else’s town. Yeah.

So last Thursday I bused down to the far end of Lambton Quay to meet up with Heather and Xtian and Alice at Astoria. After one drink, the place was closing, so we trekked back up to their house, which is near the Courtenay Place end of town, from where I’d just passed through from the Nu’Town. Now, I don’t mean to sound like a whining little weiner, but maaaan, the inefficient useage of my time hurts! Nevermind. The corporate end of town was really empty, which was cool cos we got to play Night of the Comet or some such other zombie movie, and it reminded of perhaps my greatest ever walk through town one Xmas Night with a boy who I fancied big lots, when there was ABSOLUTELY NO ONE around, cos it was 4am on Xmas day, or the day after, or something, and so there weren’t even any cars, and I was all like hmm, I think we’re going to have to repopulate the world, and then he started talking about cockroaches. Nice one. It’s funny now when I see him cos he’s got a bad laugh and doesn’t put the usual conversational pauses in when he’s talking, and I’m just like, wow, did I really fancy you that much? Nevermind. Where was I? Oh yes. So we got wine, and food from Phonecian Falafel and took it back to Xtian&Alice’s, (on a side note, their falafel is crap, which is amusing since it’s in their name, but the rest is good), and ate and drank for a while. Then Heather had a power nap and I went and used Xtian’s computer so as to give all the flatmates quality time together to have their Flat Xmas. There were many gifts of lightsabres and freakyass robots called Ramon. Jessie arrived and we had beer before deciding it was about time we got our asses out onto the street.

So, we got our asses onto the street, and I proceeded to break all my New Year’s Resolutions. Nice work that girl! We stopped at Jam, and since Heather had already lit up a cigarette, I went in to buy her a drink. I’d never been to Jam before, but it seemed pretty cool – they had a live two piece (?) playing, and although I didn’t get it, they had Brown Brothers wine sitting on their shelf, and I love Brown Brothers. So there. But we were sitting on squabby things outside, which made me feel really short, especially since Courtenay Place was bustlingly busy for 11.30pm on a Thursday night. I guess it’s partly with all the dirty filthy smokers having to be outside, ha ha. Anyways, after Heather had finished talking to the random stranger who was smoking with her, they made me knock back the rest of my wine which I’d been trying to savour, and we left for Rouge to meet up with her friend Hugh from Auckland. But Rouge was shutting, so we didn’t get to experience its $1.2 million dollar interior (according to Cuisine anyway), and instead we headed off to Good Luck.

I had never been to Good Luck before but I liked it instantly and was seduced by a Concubine which was excellent and then a Cheeky Darkie who was sort of average and I really must go back some time and drink all of the rest of the cocktails. I might do a proper bar review soon, I’m sure it’s time for a new one, so I’ll just say that we sat and gossiped and then Hugh showed up and he was nice, and he bought me a drink which earns anyone massive props, and then I violated my New Year’s Resolution yet again and bought a whole round of drinks without telling anyone, but by then Hugh had gone and Jessie didn’t want her beer, so I had to drink three drinks, which hey, isn’t any great hardship. And then I took a taxi home. Wow, the cat fight entries were a lot more interesting than that, weren’t they? Yes, yes they were. Plus, they were a ratings bonanza like you wouldn’t believe. And if you’re wondering how that violated my New Year’s Resolutions, well, I bought drinks for people, and I also turned down an invitation to go out the next night (oh yeah, apparently I wrote that I was going to accept all “introductions” rather than “invitations” – well I think that’s some writing gremlin hacking my page). Okay, so I didn’t lose any friends, so I guess I’m doing not too bad.

Anyways, what else did I get up over the past week? Friday I wasn’t capable of much at all, suprisingly enough. On Saturday I went to Karen’s for dinner and was greatly amused by her amusing flatmates, and she cooked me risotto with asspairograss, which is yum. Then we went to see Pluto, Goodshirt and Goldenhorse – or I suppose, more specifically, I went to see Pluto and Karen went to see Goodshirt. Pluto were SO FUCKING GOOD. Milan was even sober enough to stand up straight, which is quite exciting. The crowd fucked me off though, talking and all. I wanted to put my fist through many people’s heads. Instead I came home and wrote My Gig Manifesto. Pluto didn’t play ‘Perfectly Evil’ which is a shame, but they DID play ‘On Your Own’ so I suppose that will have to satiate me for the next month. Goodshirt were also good. I’m not a huge Goldenhorse fan, and by that stage we were both so hot and squashed and sweaty that we decided to leave instead.

On Sunday I was so broke and cupboard-empty that I got my mother to invite me over to dinner. My father has just bought a 32inch LCD TV and recordable harddrive DVD player, and was very keen on showing it off to me a lot, so we watched most of Season One of ‘Black Books’ which I had given to Mummy for Xmas. I also gave her The Darkness which apparently she is loving. Go Mum!

Then on Monday, I watched “Texan Teen Virgins” and wrote this commentary:
This doco spooks me out. Apparently, according to a nurse in this Texas city of Lubbock, lots of kids are having anal sex, because they consider it to mean that they’re still keeping their virginity. Of course, in Texas, it’s illegal to teach kids about anything but abstinence, so mmmm diseasey. Then there’s the preacher who says that having sex out of marriage costs you emotionally (okay, I can buy that one), physically (well, maybe if you taught them about safer sex…), mentally (again, okay), but FINANCIALLY? Ummm, what? Can I say that again? WHAT? How does sex affect you financially – I mean, assuming you’re some horny teenager and you’re not paying for it, of course.”Promoting promiscuity is promoting death in this day and age”. The preacher guy is all about how condoms are synthetic, so the fibres aren’t close enough together, so they go both ways. Riiiiiiiight.
“Despite the rates of abstinence, Lubbock has the highest rates of teenage pregnancy and sexually transmitted disease in America….”
I have absolutely no moral problems with people waiting until they’re in love to have sex. In fact, I really really hope that people do. The idea of waiting until you’re married seems a little weird to me, because surely you wanna try before you buy? But the whole culture of fear, and being taught that sex is wrong and dirty and all that, and then you get married, and you’re both inexperienced, and you don’t know what to do – like, woah! I mean, isn’t your wedding day supposed to be stressful enough without having to worry about the honeymoon? On the show, the couple who are going to get married are getting sex tips from their pastor. Ummm, ewww. Especially since he’s describing men as microwaves and women as
slow cookers. I can’t believe the narrator hasn’t burst out laughing – or put her fist
through the pastor’s head. I’m big on putting fists through heads right about now – or wanting to anyway.

And then yesterday I made peanut butter stew, which is much yummier than it sounds, using black eyed beans as the main ingrediant. Mmmmtasty. When I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth, there was a loud popping sound, and the lights fizzed out. Okay, I thought, the bulb has blown. Turns out the lights all over teh house weren’t working. That freaked me out a little, although luckily i had a lamp in my room that plugs into the wall, and for some strange reason the lightbulb in K’s room was still working. But I was of course the only one home, and Seb was outside, and so it was scary and I couldn’t sleep for ages. Then I dreamt that all the electrics were fixed.

This morning I got up, walked down the stairs and saw the switches box, and thought “ooh” and opened it up and pushed in the thing that was sticking out marked “lights” and the lights came back on. Hurray! I am a l33t electrician. The only other thing of note today is that I had “cinnamon toast” flavoured microwave popcorn. It was suprisingly yum.

Right now I have mysterious tunes from Mr Holloway playing in my ear. He sent them as a trade for my Zine. It’s funny how it polarises people’s opinions – some people say it makes me sound really really fucked up, others say they wish their girlfriends were that sane. Go figure.

I could be at True Colours right now, but I couldn’t be bothered, so I gave my ticket to Darren. Easy come, easy go. Has a year rolled around already since the last one? This time last year I was also hungover, but I would have been cheering at Pacifier and feeling weird and freshly fucked. A year. You’d think things would change in that time, and I guess they do. Because now I totally regret running out on *IV. Oh well, there’s only so much trying again that you can try. Second chances blah blah blah. At least the boy that I hit on something shocking last week which I can’t remember doing was nice enough to email me afterwards.

Other things? Liquor, of course. I was waiting in line for the bathroom at Spaquers last night (Lance and I were on our way home from Verboten but we thought we’d just pop in and say hi to Johnny – cue us staying for over an hour, dancing to house music and running up $40 somehow on Johnny’s tab without asking for anything) and this guy started talking to me, and he was very friendly and then he asked me my name and thought I was offended by that, and then he told me his and then I went to pee, and realised that he was a semi famous actor (ie – was on Shortland St) who everyone who reads this has probably seen having his head cut off, and that the reason that I didn’t recognise him is that the actor is rather gay and this fellow seemed to have been hitting on me. Celebrity!

Today Darren and Lance laughed at me a lot when I was dragged out of bed to feed Sebastian (he got biscuits instead’o jellymeat cos I wasn’t feeling up to it) and threw up in the shower for a while. Then KateH came over and we went to see ‘The Lizzie Mcguire Movie’, which is a Disney flick aimed at 10 year old girls. We got free coke and ice cream though, bless. And she bought me potato chips. We had the song stuck in our heads for the whole car ride home, but thank god it’s gone now. Then it was back home for some more blessed sleep.

Ammy’s gone so we need another flatmate. Kelly was going to move in but she can’t afford to. We’re kinda fucked. I hate finding flatmates.

It’s my birthday soon. Please feel free to buy me pretty things like jewellary, knee socks, scarves, bright coloured eye shadow and lip gloss. I also need some knives, and a cat door. Thank you. In exchange, I will tell you that I saw Pluto play on Thursday and they were so fucking amazing, as per usual, and “8 O’Clock” nearly made me cry, as per usual, and I took a fuckload of photos what you can look at here.