Hubris.co.nz

I have been whiney. Really fucking whiney. Like nobody likes me everybody hates me kinda whiney. Having no money means I can’t go out and therefore I feel like people have forgotten that I even exist sometimes. I fixed this a bit by cooking a fuckoff big vegetarian feast for Emma&Simon and Lisa and Karen the other day. It was super tasty and I have nommy leftovers.

CJ told me today that since the other two people who received funding from the Midnight Note to go to Webstock didn’t bother responding to her requests for a thank-you write-up, she wouldn’t post mine, so here it is anyway:

My previous experiences at Webstock had shown me how amazing a community full of love could make an conference. Receiving funding from the Wellington community via the Midnight Note to attend this year only reinforced that message. Having struggled with unemployment for a while now, Webstock was exactly what I needed to remind myself why I want to stay in the web industry. Speakers engaged and challenged me, and talking to people at the various functions around the event made me realise that I am still talented and know what I am talking about when it comes to new media even if I am not currently receiving a wage for it. Because the Midnight Note was a community initiative, I was determined to try and contribute something back to the community, so I organised a pre-webstock tweetup for people to meet each other, helped createWebstock Bingo and also set up an anonymous twitter stream calledWebstocklove in which anyone could declare their love for any part of the event (or person there). I’ve written up my professional take home messages in greater detail at joannamcleod.com, but to everyone who contributed to the Midnight Note, to the organisers and speakers at Webstock and everyone else that I engaged with over the week: thank you from the bottom of my heart. I had the most mind-expandingly awesome time and I am inspired and full of hope again.

It’s pretty much what I already said on Hubris only with less swearing and fewer drunken Silverstripers, right?

I have an obsession with Polyvore right now that’s ridiculous. Kim and I are getting married when I’m 42.5, so check out what we’ll be wearing. If you’ll look good in one of the bridesmaid outfits, perhaps you can join the wedding party.
This is the outfit I picked for her:

This is the outfit she picked for me:

This is what my bridesmaids will be wearing:

I spent quite a bit of time at Amie’s today doing some data entry for her (well, it’s really a win-win situation for both of us, which is number one awesome) so I really must go have a bath if I can find the right plug (the sink plug is a bit too small), or a shower if not. But I thought you might wanna hear from me. Hi!

EDIT: PS – if you subscribe to me on RSS and don’t get full feeds, delete it and add this RSS feed of mine instead. Sorry about that! I finally figured out it was Feedburner fucking it all up, not wordpress. And if you’re not using RSS – why not?

The floor is lava again. I know it will pass, and I know the fact that I have been negligent in my lexapro intake is to blame, but it’s kind of like a vast conspiracy.

I had a glorious week before the lava set in. As I already said on Wednesday, Lisa Fur and I went out to the Hutt and had a marvelous drive around. On Thursday, we went to the zoo! There were otters! And meerkats! And giraffes! As my camera is at Anna Jane’s (I hope) I will pinch some pictures from Lisa’s flickr to display the otterly adoreableness of the trip:

Lisa kept calling the animals jerks every time they wouldn’t pose for photos properly or if they were just busy sleeping and we couldn’t see them, which happened a lot. I’m not sure that’s the right thing to do. However, it did keep me giggling a lot. Afterwards we went to Lyall Bay to eat chips and be sad looking at the burntpout Maranui, and then we drove up and around Maupuia and then up other hills in Miramar, questing to find a particular yellow house we’d spotted from another peak. Spending time with Lisa is lovely and easy and great. I wish we could make out and then I’d never have to hang out with anyone else ever again, if you know what I mean.

On Friday I went to meet up with my old workmates Matt and Ros for drinks at Mighty Mighty. Apparently the SSC has not completely fallen apart without me. I’m as shocked as you are. Ros reads my journal, so I must give her shoutouts. Matt does as well, apparently, although he does not wish to discuss my periods with me. I warned him that I intended to pretend to be Mark Harris the next day and heckle his talk at Word Camp about the SSC blog and yell “Show us your tits!” a lot. He said that would be  a good thing. It’s a shame  I didn’t actually make it along, but I suppose we’ll get to that soon enough.

Then Karen came along and we took a taxi up to Anna Jane’s masquerade flatwarming. Once again I’ll steal a photo from someone else, in this case from Phillip:

I painted and glittered my fan myself, in case you couldn’t tell. It had creepy dolphins on it before, which Lisa made dolphin-killing noises when I painted over them at her house on Monday night. That was not as adorable as the sound the otters made when they saw us coming over and stood up to greet us.

Anyways, the party was fun, for a while. I was feeling very uncommunicative, and drank a lot to cover that, although we couldn’t find a corkscrew for a very long time which meant we couldn’t open the prosecco for a long time and had to resort to drinking white rum. I tried to steal a mask from a canadian guy because it matched my fan. He didn’t want to swap though. There was some piling onto Anna Jane’s bed, and pretty French girls. Then at one stage I was leaning on the bathroom door frame when someone shut the door and it turned out my fingers were shut into the frame. I howled in pain, and screamed until the door was open, and then I bawled and bawled and bawled. I was so very fucking embarrassed at how much I was crying, but once I started I couldn’t stop. It felt kind of cathartic and kind of horrible at the same time. People gave me hugs and ice packs and Bad Tom forcefed me straight brandy, and I still couldn’t stop crying. Karen made me go home pretty soon after that, and I cried in the taxi on the way home, and again once I was in bed. My fingers are still kind of fucked now.

Needless to say, I did not feel very good on Saturday. I was very very hungover, yes. But also, I was just so so embarrassed. I mean, twitter assured me that crying at finger pain is completely okay, but there was an element of just losing total control, letting down my facade, ex cet er ra, ex cet er ra. I was not comfortable about it at all. So I hid in bed, constantly resetting my alarm pretending I’d go to Wordcamp later and later but then I realised I wasn’t going to go at all. Instead I made watery mac’n cheese and watched half a dozen episodes of series four Buffy because I love the recaps of it on The AV Club so much.

Today I have also hidden in bed, beset by strange dreams about dreams, cheese, weddings, Kat’n Kane and cherries the size of pumpkins. I also dreamt that I cloned myself and we had some great sex. I ran away to Elements to eat haloumi and roast beetroot and read the stupid paper. Tonight I might make rhubarb crumble and toasted cheese sandwiches for dinner, and attempt to restore some order to my room. I wish I had a job. I really want to buy that bed that I want. I finally got a call on Friday from the job I’d interviewed for last Monday, and they said that they had no feedback to give me because I’d interviewed brilliantly but the candidate they went with had more general Comms experience and I’m too specialist. Damn my speciality!

Actually, given the soreness of my fingers, and how difficult wanking was last night, I’m not sure I will be able to make crumble, dammit. Hmm. I suppose I can but try.

This post will be written very quickly while I wait for my flatmate to vacate the bathroom or the kitchen or whatever it is that he’s banging around in.

Things that I have been up to lately have included achieving all the things that I set out to achieve in my last journal entry. I also bought some new jeans. Excitement. I’ll write about them on PPP sometime soon. Posting to PPP is tomorrow’s ambition.

Yesterday Anna-Jane came over, and commanded me to take off my top and bra. Then she rubbed me up and down with passionfruit oil. It felt gooooooood. In exchange, I gave her a teapot and cooked her dinner – mountains of fresh salsa, guacamole, yellow rice, roast pumpkin and quesadillas with black beans, corn & zuchini in gluten-free wraps I had to go to Common Sense Organics for as a courtesy to her and Phillip.  I am the bombdiggity cook, for serious. We also drank an awful lot of mulled wine and did some gossiping.

Today I went and picked up Lisa in Newlands and we went out to Wanda Harland in Petone to meet up with Martha and have brunch at Go Bang. I wanted to buy every single thing in the shop. I met Lucy for the first time and got to have a cuddle, and my ovaries went ping ping ping. Then because it was such nice weather and we had a new early ’00s mix cd to listen to, we drove out to Eastbourne, then went and watched Almost Famous at her house, continuing the trend we’d started with Singles on Monday.

I came up with the hilarious title for this post because I wanted to talk about the commentators on Dooce telling her that her bathroom tiling was ugly, and also the amusing comments I’ve read on sites that I hate but read anyway about insecure girls who pretend to be things that they really don’t seem to be living off trust funds, but really, I need to pee and watch ‘Hush’ so I don’t think I can be bothered getting into all of that. Instead I will say that it’s Karen’s birthday tomorrow, hurrah, and so we’re going to Roxy for dinner. Before that Miss Fur and I are going to go to the zoo, if it’s sunny! Excitement. Not that I can afford it at all, but hey, that’s what credit cards are for, right? And so I’ll sign off and ask you to leave me a comment telling me what you want me to write about in the next post. Cheers!

As per usual, let me start off this entry with an invitation to a party:

We’re having Country Club: India on Saturday, and you’re of course invited. I must clean and make curries and try and make mini naans before then. What a busy girl I’ll be. As per usual. I suspect starting my free drinking challenge possibly wasn’t the smartest decision I’ve ever made without being willing to cut down on the expensive events too. But nevermind. Luckily now that I have a camera, I can keep better track of the things that I have been up to.

And so let’s talk about Saturday October 27, which started off with a pony at the Houghton Bay School Fair that I wasn’t allowed to ride (I didn’t actually ask) so I settled for sitting in tiny little very sturdy seats in the kindergarten with my knees around my ears instead, hiding out from the freezing cold that my jandals and 3/4 length (actually on me they’re more 5/8) tights were not equipt to deal with. But man, when did school fairs become so fancy? I ate pad thai, and samosas, and there was all kinds of other posh food like falafels and morrocan curries as well as the usual sausage sizzle. In the car, Kat said to me “Me and Sebastian are becoming great friends since I feed him all the time. If you don’t stop going out drinking he’s going to think that I’m his mummy” and I actually cried. But then me and Kat and Kane and Kenna and Tavers moved on to a long extended trip to the Warehouse for costuming for the event that night:

What were we up to that night? Why, the MOTHERFUNKIN’ RASSLIN’, of course! Holy crap, it was exciting. I have a video on my camera of Purple Haze, who is, according to Kat’s sign “New Zealand’s sexist[sic] masked man” (it was only Tom G who noticed her missing e), wrestling the Condor, and you can hear me screaming my lungs out and it goes all jerky when I jump to my feet at the end of the match. SO MUCH FUN! And then at half time we got CORN DOGS! And I was dressed as a zombie bride! And then a Bush Wacker came out! And walked all funny! And there was SO MUCH CROTCH EVERYWHERE! SO SO SO AWESOME! And the kids in front of us, who’d previously been screaming for bloody genuinely started crying when their father got cut up for serious. And there was the most hilarious except for the racism and homophobia kid yelling behind us. And my insults were also very witty too. And Tom G giggles like a girl and was great company for RASSLIN’ cos he knows everything about it. Here are some more photos to show you the awesomeness of it all:

It’s good to know I already have the outfit for when I totally marry Chris DeLorean, whose crotch is pictured here. Sans the large errection that other wrestlers were sprouting.

My sign which hadn’t dried in time (too much glitter paint) said “Lazarus Volt, fast like a colt”. But obviously a quarter of the size of Trooper

H. Flame & Max Damage vs The Overstayers (in the shiny trousers)

After the RASSLIN’ was finished, Jimmy, Tom G and I strolled down to Mighty Mighty to meet up with Tom B and listen to the band of the fantastic Mitch. I was very very very amused when a boy came up, and invited me to join their stag night, on the basis that I must be on my hen’s night. I was like “what? Why would you think that?”, deciding to pretend that I wasn’t wearing a large veil, since he had obviously missed the sunken eyes and bloody mouth. When he said that it was the way I was dressed, I was like “what? But I just got up this way!” and pointed out that I was actually sitting with three guys and it would have been a rather poor Hen’s Night if that was the case. And then I leant back to show him the blood gushing from my wrong-sided heart (it’s hard when you’re not wearing a shirt to do the maths when applying fake blood stains,really! Especially when you’ve dyed your hands red and need to scrub them with detergent, a dish brush, turpentine and sugar and still fail to lift the stains), and he said it was obviously just red wine, and I was like “no no sir, I spent half an hour holding a hairdryer on this to set the stain” and then he went to suck my shirt, and I moved it away from my body. You know, he may have had a little bit of a stupid approach, unless that was his act, but he was very cute, as was his friend who came and started stroking my face later, so Ir eally need to drop my whole insulting people when they hit on me defence. Like, seriously. We drank many bottles of nice red wine, and had dances, and finally Tom G and I left and had a sizeable debate about whether or not we felt like going to a strip club. I suggested that the way I was dressed would not result in me getting free lap dances, so we decided to save it for another time, and went and got kebabs instead. Some girl overheard us talking about why you shouldn’t sleep with lesbians so she and her boyfriend came and joined our table, and we had a very strange conversation that I can’t actually remember. We left her with the parting advice of “remember not to sleep with lesbians!” and she sounded offended, all “my mother’s a lesbian” and so I was like “umm, that’s probably a really good reason not to sleep with her then”. Heh. Then in the morning, my hair looked like this, so it’s just as well that the turquoise Clairol shampoo is as de-dredging as its ads make it out to be!

So that was the Saturday. I think I stayed in bed for a lot of the Sunday. Possibly until 6pm that night. Or maybe I got up and did things. My memory isn’t what it used to be, with me being like a trillion and six and all. Oh no wait, I made homemade chicken soup for all my sick friends! Well, all the ones who were ill anyway. Here’s how I did it, it was bloody tasty:

• Brown some chicken wings all over in a frypan
• Dice two onions, a whole head of garlic and two thumbs of garlic, and lightly saute
• Pour one litre of chicken soup over the onions and bring to the boil. Add the chicken wings, and deglaze their pan with some white wine, adding that in too.
• Add the juice and rind of one lemon, and some chili if you have it. Bring to the boil, then turn down and simmer lightly for 30 minutes or so, until the chicken starts falling off the bone
• Pull the chicken pieces out of the soup with tongs, and strip off the meat, throwing it back in the pot
• Add three peeled diced potatoes, or alpabet noodles. Add in diced carrots, celery and red pepper. Cook until the veges are soft

Of course only Shirley was home to receive her soup, so Lisa and Dylan missed out on getting well again. And I made Impromptu Flat Dinner since Smoo showed up as well, having been away for a couple of weeks, and a good time was had by all. Monday was a beautiful night of veging in front of the television. Tuesday night was Quiz and we got the right table and so we won again, hurrah. Wednesday night was ummmm hmmm, perhaps nothing? And then on Thursday was the free drinks which I have already written about.

Which brings me to the glorious weather of Friday, and this series of photos.

What you’re looking at is 1. the view from the cafe at the Archives where I ate some of the nicest corn fritters I have ever eaten, except they needed sour cream on the side. 2. A slightly suspicious-looking man on the tables at Zarbo that Tom B and I dragged out into the sun across the walkway with permission from the waiter. 3. The Mexican Wrestlers lining the coffee machine at Sweet Mother’s Kitchen where we ate mountains of food and they didn’t charge us for one pitcher of margaritas, and 4. Dylan’s ear at Mighty Mighty.

To elaborate more about my night, it started in the sun at Zarbo, and moved indoors when it got colder. The service was very very slow, but it was their first week, so perhaps it will improve. After that we went down to Sweet Mother’s Kitchen and ate hush yo’ mouth puppies, swamp dip, curly fries and I had Boom Boom chicken with bourbon potato mash, and we washed it down with a couple of jugs of margaritas, one of which they didn’t charge us for so I really must make amends. Mmmmm far too much food. Then we went up to Other Lisa’s party in her friend’s apartment, and she grabbed my boobs. Twice. Shock horror! I talked shit to Dylan for ages, and then I shocked Lisa’s friends by telling them a terrible joke and grabbing her boobs in return, but only because we were on our way out the door to Mighty Mighty where we danced to bad music and I had to leave because it was too fucking hot. I went to bed about 4am, but I hear that was much earlier than some people.

Needless to say, Saturday was spent largely in bed with Sebastian. Eventually I dragged myself up around 2 or something, and considered going into town to try and look for a sari, but then I realised that my hoodie was really dirty and I’d have to get changed, so I settled for pizza at the Med Warehouse, then supermarket shopping at Newtown New World which I’m loving for its tiny size but good selection. I cleaned myself up, had a nap, and then went into town to meet Karen and TomB and Yenping and Nick at the Oriental Thai for dinner. We were seated in the back room, which meant we had appallingly bad service – Yenping was extra to the booking, so they totally failed at bringing her a chair or a place setting, and when a glass of water got knocked over they laid another mat on top of the damp, finally, and requests for water glasses were ignored, but luckily all our wine was screwcap, and the chicken came served inside a pineapple, so that was all very well. Their Pad Thai was crap though. We had many amusing conversations though, and some very nice Reislings, and a Pinot Gris made out of the blood of an army of clones. Muahahhaa.

Then it was time to go up to the Party on the edge of the Hill, so Karen, Tom and I rocked on up there. There was much standing around in the kitchen. There was giving people sparklers to make new friends. And there was absinthe. Oh yes, there was absinthe. Behold.

.
Karen and I thought that the Absinthe was disgusting, and yet we continued to drink it because it was delicious. Meanwhile Tom drank enough to start seeing the Green Fairy

The best thing about drinking Absinthe was that instead of events getting blurrier, they seemed to get clearer and clearer. While outside getting some air (it was HOT inside), Karen and I spotted a car parked with a beer bottle on its roof, and as there were people inside the car, we went through a long round of miming “there’s a beer bottle on your roof!” at them which they didn’t get at all, so eventually I went down to move it for them, and was thanked with a “Show us your boobs!”. Awesome, almost as classy as the guy who pissed in front of us. But there were actually some very nice, very cute boys, some of whom were a little bit handsy when they shouldn’t have been because it’s just not fair! I met a very nice French boy who may have actually kissed my hand and made me giggle like a schoolgirl, and we talked about how being 27 means it’s important to act like a dead rockstar. I had a desperate lust for any kind of man-flesh but ultimately settled for every fat girl’s fall-back – finding a gay boy to tell you that you’re fabulous and feel you up when you’re dirty-dancing.Naturally. It was a looooong night. I tried to call a taxi sometime after 3, but someone stole it, so I ended up sitting on the porch until around 4am, taking photo after photo, most of which have since been deleted, because normally I wouldn’t put up bad photos of my friend. But in retaliation for some atrocious ones of me that Tom took, let me show you this as a lesson in why Absinthe isn’t always your friend:

And now it’s today and I need to do some cooking and find a sari before Saturday. Hurrah!

If I tell you that the highlight of my weekend was squeezing a lump on my arm and actually hearing an audible pop as it gushed, you might think that I had a very bad, very lame weekend. But no no sir, you would be wrong. My Saturday was totally kickass. I slept in until 2, and then rolled around on my bed for another hour listening to Public Address Radio. Since the only time I listen to the radio is for about six minutes as I get dressed on weekdays, and since that’s Raido Active, I’d totally forgotten how fucking annoying radio advertising is. But nevermind. I learnt something interesting that I thought I would remark on, but I totally can’t remember what it was. Nevermind. I did absolutely nothing else all day. Fuck it was awesome. Even my supermarket trip was just about buying snacks and not weekly groceries. The only person I talked to aside from Smoo in the evening and Sebastian who didn’t talk back was the person at the checkout. Bliss! I just read the paper, and caught up on assorted television that’d been recorded over the week, and veged and veged and veged. I didn’t even feel bad about not cleaning. BEST DAY EVAH.

Today I went for brunch at Fidel’s with Mum and Neil and Karen. There was no parking, and that was stressful, but once I finally made it in, I got to say hi to Fia, so that was nice. We talked more about going to Rarotonga for Neil’s 60th. I want to stay here, as I have no money anyway, and am completely reliant on getting a loan to pay for my ticket, so why not dream about staying in a house that costs $3000 a week? That’s even more than our apartment in Tokyo was! I also did washing, changed my sheets, cleaned the house and prepared a Beef Burgandy for our flat dinner party tomorrow. Productivity is nice.

Just in case you were thinking that I’d become too healthy, parehaps I should tell you about my Friday night. I went to Social Club Drinks, but Lani wasn’t there, and after talking to Jarrod just long enough to find out that he can bring Brazillian porn to Country Club Brazil (April 14! Come!) I felt like a no-mates, so I ran away to Arizona to find Lisa. Man, Arizona is a horrrrrrrible bar. But obviously not too horrible for Jimmy, whom I spotted as I cam out ofo the bathroom. So obviously Lisa and I had to get away from him, so it was off to Vintage Bar (underneath Zibbibo, part of the old police cells) to meet up with D&D, and to drink cocktails made with Absolut Pepper, Franjelico and Passionfruit. YUM! Just like Duffman, I was thrusting drinking the pain away. Jimmy showed up again, so we had to run away to Mighty Mighty. Lisa did her own running away then, as Dave did a little while later, but luckily Bart showed up to make up the magic three. We had many jugs of beer, and then Dyl decided to buy us pizza at Scopa. There were no tables for us for a while, except for the foozeball table, so of course we played. And then we ate. Tasty tasty tasty. Bart kept freaking me out because his moustache kept making him compliment me, so I decided to get my own back. When I came out of the bathroom, I pushed him back in his chair and made like I was about to start lapdancing, and his face was like “eeeek” and I was like hahaha, and that was hilarious. Then we went to the Southern Cross where really they shouldn’t have served us, and/or kicked us out earlier. Glasses were broken when boys decided to drink without using their hands. I fetched straws. Walking towards Mt Vic to find a taxi for me, I spotted a cute boy on Vivian St, and asked him to come home with me. And he did, and we “watched the simpsons together”. Yes, it was Smoo. And those quotation marks weren’t needed. LITERALLY. But let me pretend for a second that I have a chance of actually finding someone to sing Bloc Party songs to. I mean the happy ones, not the ones about empty hollow sex. Mostly.

Saturday July 27, 2002

HAPPY BIRTHDAY KATIE!

The candidate I voted for, Judith Tizard of the Labour Party won her seat. The Green Party, whom I gave my party vote to got 6.4%, so they get eight members of parliment. I’m mostly happy – although I would have been happier if Laila Harre would have won Waitakere and got the Alliance back in, so yeah, it was a good election day for me.

While we’re talking election days, last election three years ago, I was engaged in ICQ conversations w T about whether or not he should move in, purely as my “flatmate”. While the count might not yet be back from the ballot box as to whether or not it was a good idea, I’d like to put out a preemptive statement and claim that I don’t regret it at all – because how can you regret anything that shaped and changed you that much?

Other anniversaries that are coming up around this date would be my decision around this time two years ago to start Fucking, as opposed to actually wanting meaningful ties with person (and sure, this coincided with the day that I sold the bed that I often shared with someone I loved, but that’s beside the point). If you’ve been reading me since then, you probably would have noticed a major switch in attitude and the calibre of people since then – with some noteable exceptions who genuinely were good people (you know – the ones who are few and far between. Actually no, I’ve had two this year, depending on what kinda mood I’m in).

AND! It’s almost a year since I on-the-spot quit my job at Foodstuffs as a result of them being so horrible to me about my OOS. I’m still amazed that I had the gall to do that then, although admittedly they had me pushed right to the very edge. It’s probably one of the bravest things I’ve ever done though, chosing my soul and physical wellbeing over $40,000 a year.

Plus, it’s the seventeenth year that KateB and I have got to wish each other Happy Birthday, and that’s just fucking tremendous. She’s my darling girl and I love her.

Because of blah blah blah, all you need to know about my past couple’o days is that last night Bopha made the best fucking lasange ever, and so tonight I made the best risotto ever and when I served it to her and KateH I warned them that generally I only ever make risotto for people when I’m trying to get into their pants (oh come on! you knew that at the time!). Also, then I made vegan waffles with caramelised fruit. Come to think of ti, the risotto was vegan too. Anyways though.

Oh, and I got my hair done again. I love my hairdresser.

Thursday, July 18th 2002

In which Joanna ponders her ovaries in some detail

Yesterday I’d half written this excellent disection breaking down the stereotypes in the Breakfast Club which I’d watched that afternoon on two glasses of wine and some codeiene cos I was bored, and I wrote how I could easily match up the nerd, the weirdo and the stupid jock to people that I’ve shagged, and also probably the badass but I was having trouble matching the Molly Ringwald princess character until Tom told me exactly who it corrolated with because of major Princess Complex going on with that particular person and he was so right, but anyways, I lost that whole entry because I had to go and take a drunken phonecall from Anji, and spent over an hour only saying “Yep”, “ahuh” and “yeah”. I could have been a character on the West Wing, if I’d said it with that funny abbreviated swallowing their words kinda way that they all do (Incidentally, I can’t remember who it was that said it, but someone suggested that there’s only one character on the West Wing and I sometimes think that they’re right. CJ is still fabulous though.)

But anyways, that was yesterday, along with Maree phoning to say thank you for the faxes I sent her the other day, so I invited her around to eat vege lasange with me (it was the fucking best lasange ever, with leeks and onions and mushrooms and bromocoli and kidney beans for protein and pumpkin and tomato and everything). That was probably the highlight’o my day, seeing her. No wait! The other highlight yesterday was a suprise coffee in the courtyard of Strawberry Alarm Clock with KateH who is my sunshine although she shoulda been working. Was that yesterday? Or the day before? I can never remember. Wait, I think I wrote about that already, so maybe that was Tuesday. Who knows?

Blah blah blah. Work today. Right now Clay and BradC are at Pluto and Gomez, the bastards. I asked them to bring me back Milan, but I doubt that they’ll remember to, since it took BradC exactly one month to bring me my birthday present. And I still maintain that a cinnamon donut really ain’t any kinda present. They were drinking Soju and also Cider before, so I laughed at them over the top of my dry martini with a twist and the olives on the side. Then BradC got under my duvet cos he was cold and Clay gave me looks, which is ridiculous cos he already gave me full permission to pursue him if I want to, but I don’t think I do. I need to learn to make myself happy without having to disengage my brain all the time, etc. Plus, I’ve done enough pursuing for the year.

Also, I have had the dull distant ache of a soft headache all day, so I know it’s the goddam pill, and I’m going to have to do some serious thinking. If I skip the sugar pills, there’s a risk that I’ll have PMS all month, and I don’t think anyone would be able to deal with that. If I don’t, then I might always have this ache when I’m on the sugar pills, and while it’s not the fullscale migraine’o last time, I do realise that i’m going to have to make sure that I have full oxygen going to my brain at all times in order to keep it from getting to that evil “I think I’m going to die because something has exploded in my skull feeling”. And you know what maintaining proper breathing means that I can’t do. Grrr. So I guess I could go off the pill. I’m not using it as birth control, cos ha, do you ever see anyone actually fancying me enough to have a dedicated relationship with me where I trusted them enough to stop using condoms? I doubt it (side note – I am 22 years old and only one person has ever told me that they loved me). But in theory, the pill is regulating my ovaries – and also apparently clearing up my skin and making me less hairy. My skin isn’t really that bad though, is it? And yeah, I have horrible hairy hobbit feet, but that hasn’t seemed to have changed over the past two months. However, yeah, I do want to get my ovaries in line. Hmmm. Maybe I will wait til I’m next sick and needing to see my doctor and then I’ll discuss it with her. Dammit, if this was two months ago, I could still go see her for free cos of the whole U22 free sexual health visits.

Blah blah. Blah blah blah blah blah. I think I had more to talk about but maybe I don’t. Bopha is coming back tomorrow – oh how I have missed my little girl! And I get to see KateH again too, and that kicks ass. If I had been good and gone to watch them all playing indoor netball, I coulda seen her and Maree and JeremyO today, but Maz said that they weren’t going to be wearing short skirts, so really, what would the point have been?

I really wanted to go to Gomez, but it was $60, and I’ve been increasingly crowdfreakouted, so I dunno if it woulda delivered $60 worth’o satisfaction to me. But fuck, Pluto are great live. Oh well, I’m sure they’ll play an individual gig sometime soonish, and at least this way I wasn’t subjected to Chris Knox.

NEWSFLASH! Clay and BradC just got back, and apparently they met a friend of Jarrod’s from Wellington, and OH MY GOD it was the first boy I ever kissed who I was madly in love with for a very long time afterwards. Now I’m really bummed that I didn’t go.

Tuesday June 11th

So I was meant to be able to say one down, three to go, but I’m still not entirely sure. And then maybe it’s a different one down, or none at all. Meh.

Bops asked Emma to move out this morning, and she totally understood, and was perfectly lovely about it, so it’s all good, we’re on excellent terms and she’s still gonna come and hang out all the time, so I’m happy. Everyone needs their space. And I didn’t have to be too much of the bad guy.

Then I went to Newmarket to have lunch with JeremE, so that was cool cos I hadn’t seen him in a while. It wasn’t that sunny outside, but my shoes were feeling really comfortable so I walked home, and I’m so glad that I did, because it was a really really nice walk. I just laughed lots when the wind nearly blew me over. Also, because I was passing, I went into work to see about my pay which hasn’t gone through (ha! call me a procrastinator will you?) and Terri said she’d chase it up for me and told me when she first started hers hadn’t gone through for a month. Eeek. Other highlights of my walk included kinda passing by where *IV lives, and I was really hoping I’d bump into him, but I didn’t, so oh well. (And no, that’s not me being a stalker because as has been previously stated, he lives right next door to my place’o work, thank you very much).

So I went home and discovered that Bopha had been drinking coffee all morning, as had I, so we were both completely mad and screamed a lot and she did some breaking and also some Kung Fu poses with her pom poms to Pluto before she completely crashed out (Have I mentioned lately how good all of redlightsyndrome is? It’s FUCKING good. Go buy it). I crashed out with her cos she has smurf pillowslips and did my best to drive her mad with a continuous loop of “Bopha what should I do? _ or _ ? or _? Or blah blah blah rah rah rah it’s all about me and Tom says _ but KateB would say _ and I can’t go with my instincts because I don’t know what my instincts are” until she threatened to steal my cellphone, get all the necessary numbers out of it and sort my life out for me. I actually kinda wish she would. Other people got text messages or emails with the same whinings contained within, only more abridged. Online now, Tom’s like “What would CJ do?” because I think we all know that she’s my role model (You know, CJ from the West Wing. I want Allison Janney to play me in my movie, so she’s gonna have to not get any older. I see myself as kind of a cross between CJ and the whitetrash lady she plays in ‘Drop Dead Gorgeous). But I don’t we can deal with it all this way. Ahhh my life is so trivial and silly. It’s great.

Bopha was gonna get up and go to Rasoi and was trying to tempt me to go with her, but ultimately she was too lazy so I made potato curry instead, and then Emma showed up to get us to go listen to Will spinning at Brazil but then she stayed for curry and oh my god they both went on about it so much. Apparently my Indian Potato Curry is the meaning of life and it tasted like it was cooked with love (“maybe that’s because I haven’t stopped talking about boys all fucking afternoon although love hasn’t entered the picture” – “if that’s the case Jo, you should always be thinking about boys when you’re cooking”). I stacked the kitchen (although it’s messy again now, damn Kara) and took the recycling out, and changed my bed linen because I was feeling domesticated. And now I’ve been spending far too long online, so I oughta get. I’m disturbed though – no one’s emailed me so far to ask for my address to send me birthday presents. Does that mean that you all already know where I live or what? I mean, think about how much I give to you each day with this journal. Really. Don’t you think it’s time that you gave something back? (And could I fish any more? No I really don’t think I could. Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to give myself a nice hard slap). Also, Daddy has booked me a ticket on the 3rd to fly down to Wellington, so he is cool.

Monday March 25th, 2002

I know I’m supposed to be writing my essay right now. Why do you think I’m tidying my room and throwing out old junk and singing Beth Orton too loud and doing laundry I haven’t done in weeks and contemplating what I’ll do while I’m in Wellington and rereading No Logo (although that’s kinda related to my essay) and going through & deleting the 198 remaining emails in my hotmail inbox and wondering if I should change my sheets?

So he says “it was lovely having lunch with you” and I say “yeah, and now you’ve given me my stuff back I can finally stop bugging you!” and he says “well, if you want to”. And that’s not at all what I want, but it’s what I think is probably the best decision, because there’s nothing quite as pathetic as a girl blindly chasing after a boy she fancies who isn’t interested in her. (And KateB, I know what you’re going to say right now, and believe me, I’ve said it to myself).

I watched the whole of the Oscars ceremony today, on Sky Digital, but in black&white because of our dodgy widescreen TV. I cheered every time LOR got something, obviously. I’m a good kiwi. Clay and I made witty commentary through it which Ben of course couldn’t keep up with. I hope i hope I hope that Bopa can get it together. But having said that, I’ve no doubt jinxed it. I knocked on wood, maybe that’ll counteract it.

OD you remember a couple of years ago I was reading No Logo and I put all these references to in into my journal? Well yeah, I was so cool before everyone else. I am a trend setter rather than a mainstream buyer. My head is so full of marketing lingo these days. I can’t wait for my essay to be over, although I do keep thinking of other wonderful examples to throw in. Examples are worth 20%, and the reference list is worth 20%, and so I figure I can probably get most of that. Presentation being 10% of the total, I can probably do okay on (apparently he marks it really hard though) and then I only have to worry about getting half out of the 50% for actual argument. So it all works out nicely, right? And besides, it’s not due til Thursday,so maybe I’ll get more done by then. Just in case any of you feel like writing it for me, the topic is “Discuss how an understanding of the dimensions of branding should enhance the effective intergration of marketing communication in an organisation”. (And if you’re scratching your head over the very question, then you’re in teh same boat as me).

I’m missing Shortland Street right now becasue I really feel like I should be working. I might go and heat up some eggplant and pumpkin curry and then scurry back to my room to go over my notes and read more and stuff. Plus maybe people are trying to call and love me, so I should probably get offline so that they can. But meh, sounds like so much effort!

There’s a competition on Channel Z right now where you either win a trip to London to see New Order play, or you have to have a colonic irrigation. I really should have entered, because man, with those stipulations, everyone’s a winner!

You know, if you stick a ‘w’ in between the ‘A’ and the ‘HREF’, your links stop being links.

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