Hubris.co.nz

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.

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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!

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

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

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

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

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

Tuesday 7th

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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