Okay, on with the show. What have I been up to the past week? Hmm. On Thursday, we had a quiz night at work. I think I impressed several people with my dazzling knowledge of mostly useless facts AND I managed to drink quite a lot too. What an achievement! While I wasn’t hungover the next day, I was full of cringe for arriving at work two hours late – when I’d woken up at 7.50am, I reset my alarm clock, as I always do, but I made it 7.30 instead of 8.30, and so it didn’t go off, and so I didn’t get up and oh the crapness that is me. That combined with things like Thursday Morning Teas, and taking off on the dot of 5pm on Friday to go up to the other building to polish off the beers left over from the quiz night has meant that my output is down. But I will also put that down to the fortnightly cycle. Yes.

Anyways, drinks on Friday were pleasant and amusing as usual. I went home around 8ish I think, cos we’d finished the beer, and I brought takeaways and put on my pajamas and settled down to watch TV. But then I was like “no! I want to go out!”, and I was still annoyed cos I was supposed to be hanging with Dave but he’d gone out with my sister the night before to an event I hadn’t been invited to and was too hungover. So I texted Katy, and found out that she was intending to go to Ghostplane, so I ran a hairdryer over my hair and dusted off my chucks. I was apprehensive about showing up and being a no-mates, but I didn’t want to stay at home any longer, so after texting Lisa Ratpony and discovering she was going to be on her way, and knowing that Kartini and Co would be there, I set off via eftpos taxi. Stupid no cashness.

I found Kartini & Mike and LisaB at the bar, and so I hung out with them. I really must remember what Lisa’s last name is more in the future, to avoid the sort of confusion that happened a couple of weeks ago with the girl whose birthday party it was not being that Lisa Lisa. Not that it was the end of the world or anything, but y’know, it just makes sense to know where you’re going or why you’re there. Meestar were playing, and they sounded pretty choice, even though I only know one song of theirs and that’s off a CD called Pimpu wa doko desuka? (Where are the pimps anyway?), so we sat outside and they smoked instead. It was a pretty damn cold night out in Wellington, and only two of the heaters were on, so I was glad to go inside when Ghostplane started playing. The stage was all set up with blue and green lights and waves and stuff, in keeping with the whole Under the Lagoon theme, and damn it looked purty. Then Katy showed up, and I felt like talking to her, so we went outside again, because as you know, people who talk near the stage at gigs are evil motherfuckers who need to be killed a lot. There was much discussion of graffiti in the toilets – including one particular piece that needed to have a last name censored out of it (by the way, has anyone found my KA messages yet?) and more beer was drunk, and blah blah blah, it was just a really good time, and I’m so glad I left the house again. Katy and I split a cab home via takeaway cheesecake from Midnight and I stayed up late watching watching taped Rockstar: INXS and getting teary at Jordis’s ‘Imagine’ and Marty’s ‘Wish You Were Here’. Awww bless.

Then I was forced to make a really hard decision in a two party system. Would I vote Newtown or Brooklyn for election coverage watching? Well, I went with the one with Hott Boy possibilities (Jimmy aside, of course, because obviously he’s SHRN, but not this particular Hott Boy). Saturday was DEMOCRACY DAY, and I was as excited as a kid at Xmas, except I was also terrified that there might be cunts in this country who would sell us out for an extra $20 a week who would result in us all getting a rather nasty lump of coal in our metaphorical stockings. But when Anji got home, I LITERALLY (not really) skipped up to the polling booth. We debated for a while about where to go (email suggestions telling me where to go are welcome) and since she wasn’t entirely sure if she was registered in Wellington Central or Rongotai we decided we’d give the school on Elizabeth St a go, since we were going to be going to Liquor King anyways. Since I’d spilled beer on my red top the night before, I was all about my green t shirt. I had debated with myself and others long and hard about whether or not to vote Labour or Green with my party vote, and the night before i’d finally decided to do what was in my heart, and on the basis of them being the only party ot talk about public transport, I went Green. I was going to be ticking the Annette King box anyways, so I was all red and green like an Xmas tree. Of course, I got to stick it in the special short box since i was out of my electorate – like many other green voters, I’m hoping. But perhaps we’ll come to that later.

Supermarket shopping was done and vodka was purchased, although I do kind of not like the fact that I got ID’d for vodka but not for voting – I mean, which one is more important? Then I made three flavours of vodka jelly (Raspberry Labour, Lime Green and Orange elections) and napped and blah blah blah, then it was a green scarf wrapped around my neck and red raspberry fizz to go with my vodka, and off to Kartini’s went I. You know what’s fucking choice? Watching TV with people who say things like “I think Steven Parker has a Giles-like past” and knowing what they mean, and then having those same people later compare Gerald Brownlee to Crab and Goyle. Ahhhh politics + pop culture = SHRN. We cheered and cheered every time Labour went up a .1, and cackled when National went down. We also drank in delight when the marvelous John Campbell threw shoutouts to the drinking game, saying “I just have to cut in now – oh and that means that all you drinking game players need to drink now”. How incredibly meta. I think I might try to develop a line of DVDs of cult movies with drinking game rules built in as subtitles. OI, BACK OFF, PREDATORS. Anyways. Maybe you should play a drinking game with my journal whereby you take a drink every time I do, and also every time I use my phrase de jour (such as SHRN). That’d rock. Rock! Okay, now you must drink.

After that, Katy tried to call her parents in Mexico so we missed out on a taxi with some people so we took another one in to a place in town which is a place of work where people were drinking, and the lovely Nial put a beer in my hands while some guy was metaphorically humping Katy’s legs, so I went to the bathroom and texted her that, and then when I came back he was literally doing it. Ahh it’s nice to be back on the Internet where I can make jokes about Humpy and know that youse guys get it. Or at least the footnoters do anyways. Go Level Two Hubrettes! I tried to be brave and stalk a hott boy across town, but when I finaaaaaaaaaaaally got to where he was, he was just on his way home. Sigh. Spring sucks! I am so in desperate need of being sprung. Of course I am on heat for many many boys but this is the only one that I could imagine actually telling. I think he’d be the kind to appreciate the straight talk.

Speaking of appreciating my pajamas (ha! see how I slipped in a masturbation joke right there? No? Well I’ve obviously not slept with you then), Sunday was a perfect day for duvets and pjs and DVDs. It was also good for getting texts with HOT GOSSIPICIOUS SCANDAL from Karen (for those in the know: it’s the same thing again), and roast dinners around the dining room table. How civilised!

But I’m still feeling a little sad, because on Sunday morning I dreamt I was at my book launch, and it was the most fantastic elaborate party ever – there were huge big trays going around with large slabs of expensive European chocolate, and kiwifruit champagne was pouring by the gushful, and lots of people I loved were there, but no one would give me a copy of my book, and I knew I wasn’t particularly happy with it, because it was something that I’d started writing in seventh form English, and I threw a tantrum at the publishers because they hadn’t arranged for me to actually get to read the book before it was published. Then after I’d stopped crying, and I’d left the party, I bumped into someone who used to be a big part of my life, and I wanted to show him my fabulous achievement, when he was all “oh, check out this book I just wrote” and I was trying to find a copy of mine and I couldn’t. Waking up and finally remembering that I haven’t actually written a book was even more devestating than the time I woke up and realised that I wasn’t actually recording an album in Bic Runga’s studio.

EDIT: Inspired by Heather’s comment, I now present A VERY EXCITING COMPETITION. Create ten rules for a Hubris drinking game. Best entries win hott prizes. Post them below.

You know who should go solo? Like, in Antartica or something? The guy in the hat at the Pluto gig who was TALKING THROUGH THE WHOLE GIG. Up the front. Near the stage. In the sad songs. If punching him to knock off his hat and pissing on it wouldn’t have been just as distracting I would have gladly done it. Pluto have played better gigs, but I didn’t say that when Karen and I were retroly having cake at Midnight Esspresso (retro cos we used to do that in the olden days after seeing Garageland or Superette or the 3Ds at the old Bodega) and Milan came in and sat behind us and perked up his ears at what I was saying (mostly about how gleeful I was that they’d played ’8 O’Clock’, and how annoyed at Stupid Talking Guy I was. Then I saw Miss Lucy_Fur walking down the road and I waved but she didn’t see me, so I called her cellie cos it’s very amusing to watch people do the “ooh is that my phone ringing?” look, and then the mad scramble in the bag to find the phone. She and her friend Dawn came back down to the cafe to say hello.

Now, a confession: I am sometimes somewhat lacking in self confidence! No really! Sometimes when I meet them I don’t know if people actually like me, and I feel a little iffy around them. It took me ages to realise that Heather could actually stand me, and then the same thing happened with Jessie (I was like, wow, she must really like eating roti and must dislike being alone) and it just goes on and on. I am a spazz.

Anyways. That was Friday night. I stumbled home drunkenly around 2am and knocked over everything in the house, but didn’t wake Anji up, excellent. I cleaned on Saturday. It takes me like half an hour to vacuum both the couches. No it’s not just Seb-shed, it’s funny rub-off chenille stuff, and hair and tangles. Yum. I hope that once my couches are less new they’ll be less sheddy. Then KateB came over for takeaways and gossip and wine and we watched Mean Girls and then she left for like, a year. With a dagger.

Last night Dave and my parents and I went to a Serisen Wines dinner at Capitol. Holy crap it was amazing! We had Moana bubbles to begin with, then a first course of salmon gravlax with crumbed oysters and a lime olive oil matched with a limey 2004 Riesling. I don’t like salmon, and I’d never eaten oysters before. I figuratively licked my plate clean. I suppose pretty much anything tastes good when it’s deep fried, but the oysters were light and fluffy, not sluggish like I imagined that they’d be, and the salmon was paper thin, and didn’t smell or taste fishy in the way that salmon so often can. Mmmmmmm. The next course was bass and chive ravioli with clam sauce, matched with a chardonnay. I don’t know how clammy the sauce was – it seemed more buttery than anything, but it was really really nice. I don’t think that the accompanying clams were much good, but that is of course coming from the perspective of someone who doesn’t like shellfish. I don’t like cheap chardonnay either, but this stuff was lovely. The courses were pretty small, and spread out well, and the wine glasses were topped up too, which was fantastic. Then we ate duck confit with mushroom and potato pie and muscatel jus, and a Pinot Noir. Oh my god, mouth orgasm! The dessert, really simple grilled pineapple and marscapone with a late harvest Sauvignon was like TRIPLE MOUTH EXPLOSION ORGASM YUM. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. For $85, this was bloody excellent value, and I’m looking forward to going to the Ata Rangi one. Oh yes.

In other news, because I am furious with the temporary editor of Pulp who was in place for one issue, I may very well put up the FULL text (which doesn’t make me look like some kind of retard who doesn’t know that the Spice Girls had a second album before their third album, plus with bonus witty subheadings) of my story tomorrow. Also, I am moving offices to be with the Hott Young Things where I can be better utlized. Two people told me on Friday that I was doing a good job, woo! Of course then I went and fucked up majorly. Nevermind, it’s all half fixed now.

Also, I am in love with the new wallpaper and chandeliers at Indigo, and I may very well marry them, as soon as I get a divorce from the pineapple and marscapone that I also plan on marrying. Oh! And Auckland: I’m coming baby, oh yeah I’m coming real good. Haha. Also I’m visiting Auckland on the 9th and 10th of September I believe, and I intend to have drinks in my suite, assuming I get a suite, or something, and it would be lovely to see you then okay? Choice.

1. My second best friend from High School trying to tell me that I had COE because I had bought a birthday cake and a lasange for a party I was throwing for her but she thought I was going to eat it all by myself. We had a very vicious fight after that.

2. A bunch of people sitting around watching me and Jesus (or maybe a guy pretending to be Jesus) getting ready to have butt sex and timing it so that we’d both come at the same time as the second big guitary bit in ‘Hysteria’ by Muse. Was this dream caused by:
a) discussions about a particular NZ novel that I FUCKING HATE but everyone except for Karen seems to love
b) downloading too much gang bang porn or
c) listening to Muse too often, too loud in order to escape flood of oppressive emails and the horrible ambient bleeps and clicks music that my officemate plays (and leaves playing when he goes off to meetings),
or d) all of the above?

3. Looking in the yellow pages for strip clubs to go to with Brian from I Keep a Diary. We were looking for one in his home suburb of London, which was Glastonbury (of course). I think the Yellow Pages was kind of Harry Potter like, because the ads all had moving pictures.

One day I will be a New York Hipster too. Wait, does this mean that I have to put a picture of Carrie Bradshaw at the top of my page, and write about the perfect Louis Vuitton handbag my perfect boyfriend gave me, and about how people who buy stationary at the Warehouse are third class citizens and how those homeless people obviously deserve it because they frowned at me? You know what I’m talking about. Some websites are total car crashes – you hate them passionately but you just can’t stop reading them.

Speaking of Reow, I just saw one of my friend’s comments to someone else on their journal, and hot damn, it was excellent – but very reow. I’m sure the reow was well deserved, from the sound of things.

B. Moving:

Last night I went to Anji’s to pick up my key for our new place, and she drove a vanload of her stuff over and I helped her unpack it. We used torches cos the power wasn’t on yet. It felt ever so vaguely X-Filesy. The place wasn’t quite as big as I remembered it being, but that’s okay, it’s still more than big enough for us. I just hope Sebastian will be okay with the move. Pixie will sure be glad to have him gone though.

I’m going to take some more stuff and Jessie over to it tomorrow, hopefully, and then of course on Sunday we’re going to Oma’s to pick up my fridge and fill up the van and car with more of my stuff. I hate moving. Still at least this isn’t being done on the hottest day of summer, and I’m quite determined not to be hungover for this move. Hopefully. Although if anyone has anything that they want to invite me to tonight, please feel free.

I haven’t told my parents yet that I’m moving out. I could text them, but that’d be pretty spac. They sent me some big long text message in Dutch to pass on to Oma. Altavista reckons that they said: “Kind mam. Congratulated warmly with your anniversary. Sorry that the photograph von me on camel gestuurt cannot become on Neil’s tel. von Moroko. Have the Sahara survives. Hops that you the little girls have gezein. Many liefs. Aimee and Neil.” So there you go, if you were curious about their trip.

C. Watching:
Trading Spouses: uptight vegan vs crazy alligator rassling Cajuns. Bless this show.
The Secret Life of Us – Season Two: arrived this morning by courier, less than 24 hours after I bought it on Trademe. Hurrah! More Evan goodness,
Scrubs: goddamit, isn’t Garden State out yet?
In My Father’s Den: I bought the DVD. Now I’ll finally get to find out what that Mazzy Star song is called.
The OC: Brad’s coming over tomorrow night. Good times.

Nevermind. Ignore that. Think about the two little kids at the bus stop this morning with their mothers (the kids must have been about two) who spotted each other. The little boy approached the girl, but because he was wearing his mother’s backpack, it was too heavy and it pulled him over onto his ass. When his mother tried taking it off him he cried, so she gave him a smaller side bag to hold. The girl grabbed her mother’s side bag and showed it off all proudly, because now she was just like him! Then they sat down together and she fed him Japanese crackers that he made a yucky face at. Aww true love! Why can’t it stay that easy when you’re older?

Stupid lack of having crushes on anyone except for the vaguest glimmer in one direction that’s a big no no no. Still it made me chuckle when I realised it existed.

Speaking of young boys, I emailed the guy that I threw up on last time I was in Auckland to see if he wanted to platonically hang out this weekend. I don’t even know if he has that email address anymore, but nevermind. I’m sure he’s not one to hold a grudge. It still made me feel really bad though. Nevermind.

Other things? Hmm yesterday I took a mental health day, but of course, Mental Health Days aren’t quite so healthy when Mum is home (I know right, how dare she be at home in her own house?) Back at work today there are SO MANY CHILDREN running around. Stupid <A HREF=”http://www.hubris.co.nz/entry.php?id=501090047&type=6″>loud</A> children who talked all the way through Julia Deans’s set before The Shins. The Shins were cool, but it was so goddam hot. Am I getting too old for big gigs? Surely not.

Auckland tomorrow! My day looks a little something like this
9.30am: Arrive, get picked up by Gemma, go for breakfast
11ish: Pop in and see KateB if she’s free
12.30pm: Haircut with Hayley
1.30pm: Lunch with a client
2.30pmish: check into hotel, meet Iva to go swimming at said hotel.
6pm: Meet Heather for dinner (mmmm food on sticks)
8pm: Meet Kateb for <I>Bugs Bunny on Broadway</I> and some kinda afterparty
Late: Maybe meet up with Heather and Paul after their gig?

Saturday:
……… hopefully something with Kyla and or Chelsea
5pm: The Zoo for Goodshirt and KateH
9pm: Out on The Town via a quick change at the hotel for KateM’s going away

Sunday:
10am: check out
10.30am brunch with Heather in Grey Lynn
12pm: KateH’s bbq

Is that enough detail for you to stalk me?
3pm: fly back to Welly

If New Zealand had Craigslist I would post something saying “Dear girl with the NIN tattoos and the dice necklace – you grabbed my pearls and told me you loved them and then when I suggested you punch your friend you told me you loved me and then when it seemed like you almost took my hand in the bathroom, and then did take it later but only to ask for cigarettes, well, I don’t know if you’re that way inclined, or if you are if you’d be that way inclined towards me or not, but I’d just really like to hold hands and kiss you”. Girlcrushes are confusing. Girlie-Giggling Crushes, on the other hand, are fun, even if your friends do tell you to stop giggling just cos you’ve seen the boy you have a crush on, and yell at you to talk to him even though you know he’s not interested, but hey, a hug’s good enough. And then when Heather calls you at 11am, you’re like “arrgh, I love you Heather but I’ve got to go back to sleep to dream about the boy and skipping through fields of daisies”.

Which is actually a lie, because while we’re jumbling this narrative around, I actually dreamt about Kristen, who was working behind the bar and who was (fair enoughly too) very tired. I dreamt I got up at school and yelled at everyone that she was singlehandedly the best person at the school and reeled off a list of her achievements and then cried. Much more wholesome than the other day when I dreamt I decided out of the blue to hire a male prostitute, who was gay but was doing straight for the money. I don’t know why I bothered though, because he blamed me for his inability to stick it in (probably not helped by the fact that I was inexplicitly still wearing my panties – hehe I said panties) but eventually he came across my face and mouth and left. And I paid $130 for that? Wow, even in my dreams I get ripped off.

And on that note before I return to my night story, I might throw down my New Year’s Resolutions:

Pay for me to fly to your city and I’m yours. Unemployment fucking SUCKS. And you’re like “eh? last time we heard from you, you were busy working on a paper and having some sex”. Well yes, but that was well over a month ago, right? So since then there’s been the “Well this is nothing to do with the quality of your work, but we jsut want someone more experienced” two day notice kiss off. And so yes, unemployed, not yet able to go on the dole but completely run out of money. Life pretty much sucks. You know how you think that when you have a whole lot more spare time life would be a lot easier? You’d be more tolerant of other people’s crap, and would have more headspace to deal with trying to work out people and all that, etc etc. That’s so not true. Being bored has made me even more intolerant and less willing to put up with being dicked around. Although I was never very good at giving up on flogging dead horses. Etc etc.

More self pitying, more whining. More self pitying, more whining. More self pitying, more whining. Rinse and repeat.

If Winz had been nice and started paying me from the 6th of October like they originally said they would, then I wouldn’t be so worried about money. As it is, my holiday pay is all gone on a dvd player and buffy dvds and the usual extravagent spending that I’m so good at in vain attempts to pass the time. This means I will have to borrow from my parents, which means that I can’t ask them for money to go to Chch or Sydney or San Fran, which fucking sucks cos dear god I’m bored in Auckland. BORED BORED BORED. And if you email me suggesting that I clean my room or something else mundane like that, please to be expecting a big bitchout. I want excitement like strangers on motorbikes fucking me in alleyways or something similar. Nothing else will do. Okay, maybe without the motorbikes. And the alleyways. But just something, some way to let off steam. It’s all bottled up. If I was a piece of kitchenware, i would be the pressure cooker Ammy used to prepare chickpeas for hummus – before she blew up Lance’s blender, that is. Speaking of Lance, he’s been away for a fortnight with only a small stop-through in the middle, so that may add to the boredom. Luckily I still have Iva to watch Buffy with. I’m praying she will bring me home potato chips, but of course she won’t know thsi, since I lost my cellphone at Gilmours and it got pinched, so I reclaimed my old one off her. I still have the same number, but I don’t have my old sim card, so everyone if you have me in your phone, text me your name please so I can have your numbers. Thank you. Andrew is also staying with us which at times is entertaining. Him and I had Wine&Cheese the other night, and we even managed civilised conversation some of the time – I explained in detail why I didn’t like 1984 and how it didn’t work because all of the characters were so inhuman it didn’t seem real and therefore wasn’t frightening, wheras the reason that Margaret Atwood’s grim portrayals of the future were so much more poignant is because you can get under the characters’ skins and become them and it’s pretty fucking terrifying. See, there’s more to me than everlasting jokes about sodomy. Well, a little more to me anyways.

I’m just really really super lonely. I want someone to sleep with – someone who’ll cry when I cry so our tears mingle and I forget where I start and they begin, or someone who’ll make me feel like their arms are the safest place to be in the world because they’ll never hurt me, or someone who’ll hold me so tight that I almost can’t breathe, like I’m totally precious to them. Sebastian snuggling into me will have to run a close second. I adore him utterly, but he bites me if I ask for too many cuddles. And sure, I want sex too, and jesus, unemployment is majorly bad for the OOS, what with all the extra time for the Internet and also the wanking, but most of all I crave what – intimacy? Perhaps. Foreign scary concept for me. I’m so special, I’m so super, I’m so DEEP. Whatever.

Well hello there! It’s been a long time hasn’t it? Today has been spent in my pajamas, some of the time watching “The Shining” and some of the time standing in Bo’s doorway hissing “REDRUM! REDRUM!” and some of the time making and eating kickass guacamole. Freshworld, what used to be ummm something else, near Mt Eden Foodtown is now officially FUCKING EXCELLENT. Karen and I were drooling at vege shops up in Kerikeri, but this is now officially as good.

Oh yeah, I’ve been up north. For four days it was just me and Karen and my parents’ van and the open road. It was pretty choice. We stayed in Whangarei, Paihia and Pukenui. I went swimming in the ocean, through great big forests’o Kauri, to NZ’s northern most point, and horseriding along Ninety Mile Beach. All of it was pretty fucking spectacular.

My holiday came at the end of my exams, which were also the end of my graduate diploma, my year of study etc etc. It’s strange cos I’ve been happy ever since I started on cipramil, but there was just the hugest sense of an anticlimax at the end, and I cried some, cos it felt like no one fuckign gave a damn at all. For some reason, I still expect people to care when I achieve things. I guess I have this vision of someone popping up with an enormous novelty cheque. But anyways, later that night, Ammy managed to get all excited for me (I’m so glad i’ve discovered her again) and with her help, I perked up and we drank many bellinis and went out to see the Rogues play at the Galatos basement, and Lawerence did fat harmonica improves and it turned out ot be a fucking excellent night after all.

I have one week of only working part time, then I start full time til the 10th of January in the office I currently work in, only doing some’o the computer guy’s job as well as my own. I feel very not up to the task, but it’s okay, cos if there’s ever anything too complicated, I can email him and say “oh, shall I go into your database and fix it?” and he’ll freak out and do it by remote access from Ireland instead. Muahhaha. I’m liking my office – although it is currently full’o turmoil and drama. Maybe that’s why I like it -because it doesn’t affect me.

I’ve been having an influx of very very vivid dreams lately. I dreamt about my latest crush twice – probably my mind’s way of reminding me it’s highly doubtful I’ll ever see him again. Those were nice dreams but I’ve also had very traumatic realistic ones as well, which I could so do without.

Homework that I’m supposed to be doing for Kulpana (look, I learnt her name!) is writing a list of all the things I like about myself vs. all the things that I don’t. I’m becoming even more selfaware but that doesn’t necessarily mean that I’m any more in touch with my feelings. She’s suggested that maybe I am far too influenced by other people’s opinions of me. If I say that maybe she’s right then I’m just proving her theory aren’t I?

Next Saturday, I am going to Rumba – the pop music festival. Brad’s dad got tickets for free, and to quote Brad – “well you were the first person i thought of, of course. i mean, who would appreciate a whole days worth of crap pop music better than yo ho jo?”. Yo Ho Jo is of course my pirate name. Yaaaarh.

Last night I went to a BBQ at Dee’s house. When her husband introduced me to people, he was like “oh, you’ve met them before, but you were drunk”. Well at least I wasn’t fucking wearing boat shoes or talking about yachting! I couldn’t drink last night as I was driving. Still, it was nice to catch up with Dee again. I’m giving up on people who don’t return phone calls or texts, I can’t be assed making the effort all the time.

Hmm, that’s probably about all the update you need for now. If you want to know more, then you can email me. You know how.

xojo

I’ve had whispers of conspiracy theories going on in my head, which really serve just to demonstrate what a paranoid paranoid paranoid girl I am. Nevermind.

Hmmm, what have I been up to lately? Working yesterday afternoon, but Terri was out sick, and Bridget’s away for a month (dammit, I nearly called them by their real names) and I didn’t have very much to do and I couldn’t move further without help from Terri, so I did do some more work on my zine. It’s nine pages long now, but I figure I have to make it at least 16 to make it worthwhile doing, and I’m finding that really, there’s not all that much more I can write. I’ve already outsmutted myself, I think (oh, for those of you who’ve just tuned in, my zine is called “BOYS BOYS BOYS BOYS BOYS”). Still haven’t found out if I got the job yet or not. It’s stressing me out more than just a little bit.

I was naughty and wagged my HR Tut this morning, but luckily it turned out that it was canceled anyway. Joseph was more than usually disturbing in our PR Practice tut, so Haley and I ever-so-grownuply wrote notes to one another, mostly about DiscoDan and I think I caught her up on my conspiracy theories and she just laughed at me. She also wrote me a note saying that I should tell Clayton she thinks he’s hot and that he should give her a call if he ever breaks up with Kara. I laughed. Oh, I’ll interrupt me with this side story here – Clay is a little grumpy with me tonight, cos he was telling me a story about this guy who tried to pick him up on the bus, who kept quizzign him about his background and what school he went to and stuff, and so when Clay told him, they tried to compare names of people they knew from there but they had no one in common, so Clay went “oh, but I know (umm forget his name) from Queer Nation”, so in the retelling of it I was like “oh of course Clay – all gay people know each other and they all watch Queer Nation” and so he’s shirty with me for accusing him of stereotyping, but oh well. Typical self loathing!

Anyways. Where were we? Oh yeah. So after our very long plenary meeting, Haley and I went to the Playhouse cos we thought we mighta been meeting the fashion students for an interview, but we weren’t sure cos Haley had sent out the email and not checked it recently (grr!) but they didn’t show, as I kinda expected, so we just had a drink and did much gossiping instead. Then I went home and phoned Momma, and booked plane tickets to Wellington. Yes, I’m going back there, even after declaring loudly many times to many people that I never ever wanted to again. Here’s why:

1. Ayna had invited me to her birthday party on the 18th of September.
2. We’re having a PR social down there to meet and greet (and apparently get leered at) by prospective employers.
3. Mummy and Daddy are going away for a week on the 19th, so I will get the house to myself, plus since I’m flying down on the 18th, I will get to see them for a day,which is probably all I can handle of them.
4. Karen and Anji and my KatieB and my FattySi are all down there and I miss them all and wanna hang out with them big lots.

So now I just have to get the time off work, or rearrange my days somehow. Luckily I do have a day in lieu up my sleeve.

This evening James picked me up and I went to see the team named “Stupid Horse” play indoor netball. It was fun! And it made meeee wanna play, although I haven’t since the glory days’o Standard 4. I have no doubt that I would suck at it – a lot. But still. Oh and Kate – I didn’t say this tonight, in fact I didn’t even think of it, but then I was watching Juice, so guess what? TEHEHEHEHEHEHEHHE. Love you baby.

Bo is still staying at her aunt’s, babysitting her cousin, so I rang her earlier today cos lord knows I can’t go three days without her ray of sunshine in my life. I’m so glad she moved in. Speaking of people that I like, have I said lately that I miss you? And I miss you. And you.

I have been having major crazy dreams lately – last night’s involved the cast of Home and Away, and a supervillan who was placing poisonous evil nasty creatures everywhere. It was fucked up. And oooh, I also dreamt about Amy and Andeee, so I really must give them a call sometime. I have a lot of catching up to do, I’m really quite slack huh?

In which Joanna and Bopha have Retro Night

“I haven’t done it either. I’m not a nymphomaniac – I’m a compulsive liar”. Guess who’s been watching ‘The Breakfast Club’ again?

Dreams this morning involved me scoring some random guy so that my friend could cheat on her boyfriend with the other guy that we were with, and one of the those guys happened to be Josh from Home and Away. We ended up crashing a Hercules plane into the desert in French Morrocco, and my friend got taken by white slave traders, and there was much hiding behind rocks and stuff until I woke up. Mm. It’s full moon kinda weather, right? My periods are no longer nsync with the moon, but my dreams apparently still are. Then again, if Bopha and clay jump on me again like they did tonight while I’m trying to swallow my bleed pill and make me cough it up, then who knows what will happen. Chaos, utter total chaos. Possibly.

Human Resources Communication lecture was actually really good, and plus I really like Lenny, so that’s cool. Hey Maz, if you read this before I have a chance to call you (and if that’s the case, then we are LAME) which text books should I buy this semester?). Then, cos I had a two hour gap before my next class, I hopped on a link and went to Newmarket to look for a stereo. Or rather, I waited 25 minutes for a link bus that is supposed to go every 10 minutes, which then took 20 minutes to get to Newmarket. Plus, I didn’t find a stereo. All I want is an Aiwa, Sony, or Pioneer microsystem stereo that has an RCA input plug and looks good for under $400. Why is that so hard? Actually, come to think of it, I haven’t seen a single Pioneer stereo anywhere. What’s up with that – are they just out of my price range or what? See, my parents hav always had pioneers, and me and my sisters have always had Sonys, so you know, I just wanna stick with waht I know. But then again, half the reason I want a new stereo is because the laser in my Sony stereo has been dead for a year and a half. Then again, I did buy it at the start of 1995, but it cost $800 then. So who knows.

OH MY GOD! I almost strangled someone in my Coporate Communication class this afternoon. We were doing an exercise on evaluating a particular politician’s postives and negatives and suggesting tactics for them before the election, and my group was working on Peter Dunne. There was one girl in my group who was like “Who? I don’t know who any of the leaders of any of the parties are”. OH MY FUCKING GOD! Okay, so maybe Peter Dunne was until last week one of the lesser known politicians but you HAVE to know him by now! And so I was like “what? how can you not know?” and she was like “oh, I have no interest in politics – I don’t really watch the news or read the paper” and later she was like “oh, I don’t htink I’ll vote – I don’t know what anyone’s about. Mum doesn’t like labour though”. I was just about ready to jump across the desks and throttle her. SHE IS A THIRD YEAR COMMUNICATIONS STUDENT FOR FUCKS SAKE! There is absolutely no fucking excuse for that kind of bullshit. Okay, it would have been fair enough if she’d grown disillusioned with the system, or disliked the policies of everyone, or was making a protest non-vote, or even if she was voting for Winston Peters cos she liked his three fingers, or ANYTHING like that, but NO! She didn’t have a single thought or opinion. Sure, maybe later years of the BCs didn’t have the benefit of the best Politics tutor in the world, Marcus, but if she can’t follow the media, she has absolutely no fucking right to be doing a A GODDAM MEDIA DEGREE! Especially with a major in PR. In Multimedia possibly there would be the faintest chance in the world that she could bury her head in code and never see daylight, but in PR, it is completely essential you have a grip on the environments that your organisation is operating within, and politics is vital to that. You don’t have to like it, but you should at least be able to identify who the leader of a party is. Even goddam fucking personification of stupid old flatmate Ben probably would have been able to tell you who he was voting for (because he like d cannibas and thought that the Greens were a single issue party in that respect) and would have had one or two issues that would have concerned him – ie the closing of Thames Hospital cos his parents were nurses. But oh no, not this girl. One of the other girls in my group was voting for Winston, which is tragic, but I still really like her as a person, and the other was going National, but she explained her standpoint, and while I didn’t agree I could at least respect it.

But yeah, after wadling up the hill in the rain, Bopha and Clay shared my total and utter indignation at that girl’s complete ignorance, and then I went a little bit mental, completly hypo. Hmm, I can’t remember what teh end of that word is – hypo ummmmmmmmmm. Hyperactive. It was fun, and Bops laughed at me lots, which is also kinda fun. So us two planned a retro night, with liquor and ‘The Breakfast Club’ since she’d never seen it. We were in the bottle store in Newmarket when the guy ID’d us – which is probably fair enough cos we spent ages debating the virtues of drinking RTDs in retroness, and I just laughed at him, and then was like “fuck, actually I don’t think i have my drivers license” and I was rattling out the same prattle that I used to use 8 years ago when I wasn’t actually legal to drink, but then finally I found it, and was hugely relieved cos I was just about to be really embarrassed. Yeah anyways. We tried to play a drinking game with The Breakfast Club, doing shots any time anyone said that their homelife was worse than anyone else’s, anytime anyone was called by their name, any time you saw a clock, any time Allison stole something and anytime anyone swore but eventually got lazy. According to Bops, if I was a Breakfast Club character, I would be Claire the princess, played by Molly Ringwald, with elements of all the others except for the jock thrown in. I kinda think Bopha would be the jock, except she’s so not, but she’s no one else better, and Clay would definately be the nerd. That’s all I’ll say about that movie (for now, anyways).

After that, we was watching music tv, so we had to run out into the hallway and try to learn the dance moves to ‘Step By Step’ by NKOTB on the public staircase. We think we got something going on, except then we were throwing in the panda dance, and also the crazy maraca thing Bops and I had been doing to a Santana song on Sunday night, so it got pretty fucked up. According to her, we’re almost at hte point where we don’t even need to talk anymore to know what each other mean, adn soon we will be communicating entirely in a language of clicks and beeps and “BO BO BO badabibi” I keep telling her stories, and she keeps wanting to meet people she’s heard about, so fi you’ve never met Bops, now is the time to get your act together and drop round.

ALSO! On July 17th, it was Hubris’s THIRD BIRTHDAY. This is very special and important, and hey, actually, I might like, you know, release merchandise soon. THREE! I can’t believe it.

In which I attempt to be a professional student

So I had class today at 11am, which is an excellent time to start the day, but I’d meant to get up around 9am cos I wanted to you know, actually make use of my mornings. Unfortunately, that plan interupted one of the nicest dreams I’d had in a while – I was sitting somewhere when this guy walked past who looked really familiar walked past, so I was like “Simon?” and it was Simon Darby who I had a crush on in 6th and 8th grade (not 7th though, cos that would have been too easy) and he turned around and gave me this really huge big really nice hug, and it was really cool, and like, we just had this big connection in the hug, and so after that, we just had an understanding, and he introduced me to his dad, who was like “Have I ever heard of this girl before?” and when Simon said no I was like “but wait a minute! you had a crush on me in the 5th grade! howcome you didn’t tell your dad then?”. Anyways, it was cool, but then my fucking alarm went off. Still, it set me up to feel all mellow and peaceful.

That of course changed when I got to tech and everyone was trying to figure out their schedules. See, the Grad Dips in PR (that’s me) take Public Relations Practice class, and the BCs students (that’s most of the people who I like) take Public Relations Planner class, and the only difference is that Planner is worth 2 credits so they have to do twice as much work as us. This means that I won’t be able to work with my friends, which is fine, cos I am a grown up after all, but it meant that classes are all fucked up, cos we have a workshop, a lab, a tutorial and a meeting each week, and schedules are all fucked, and room numbers were crazy and I was actually put into a Planners class not a Practice class, and and and. Yeah. Anyways. So, as our Planners assignment, we’re supposed to take on a Not-For-Profit client and deliver them professional results (as one of our tutors said “we’re expecting you to service the clients in any way that they need”). You might remember this kinda thing from my work for the NSCC while I was doing my multimedia major which resulted in the NSCC hiring me after that to do PR for them. Unlike in Multimedia, this time we get to have some input into which clients we chose, so all week we’re going to get presentations from various groups who want us. I will be kinda vague, but I gotta list them to explain to you my choices. The first one sounded interesting, sculpture exhibition stuff to raise money for Women’s Refugee, but there’s already a BCs student working on it, which means that i can’t do it (we work in groups, but in segregated groups). The next presentation was from a cute guy in a sharp looking suit (I’ve decided that dress is very important to me, unfortunately) but he wanted help on a “hugs not drugs” campaign, and there’s where I have to exercise my own personal ethics and say no, because it’s not something I believe in (see, PR people DO have ethics). Other ones that followed didn’t sound at all interesting, apart from the AUT fashion show, so I might try for that, or otherwise hopefully there will be some interesting sounding ones I can pick up later this week. I think it’s about time I had an interesting and styley client.

In other exciting news, apparently I am banned from Starks. !!!. This is cool because I have never been badass enough to have been banned from anywhere before. And it makes me laugh, so much so that Bops and I dropped in on KateH tonight to laugh in person. But we had to leave cos it was reaaaaally hot, and I’d already accomplished my mission of taking Katie chocolate as an act of retribution for crimes I committed against her on Saturday night.

Later tonight I watched an episode of “Queer As Folk” that I’d taped last night after I joyously discovered that TV4 were doing late night repeats of it and ‘Sportsnight’ on sundays. It was still excellent, of course, but I’m sure that Stuart and Nathan were so much hotter two years ago. Perhaps it helps if you’re watching it with a boy who’s similarly salivating.

Hmm, i think Saturn5 is under repairs so I can’t upload right now. Nevermind. I can always do this later, although I should probably go to bed soon. I’ve got a new fetish for my hotwater bottle which I rediscovered in teh great closet cleanout of last week. Now I should just do some laundry so I can actually see my nice new carpet and I’ll be all sweet. Oh, and pay my domainz fee. I already let one lapse.

Can we have a Moment of Silence for the Evening Post please? I used to fucking write for them!

Last night the evil fucking hell migraine/burst bloodvessel/head about to explode feeling jumped up on me very very quickly again, and freaked me out because I was close to feeling like I was going to die, clutching an icepack to my head and a wet cloth to my eyes, and feeling like I wanted to throw up from the intensity of it all. It came back caused by a little strain, so at least I know what brings it on, but not why it happens. It’s extraordinary how painful it is, and how sudden and crazy and stuff. If I still get it in two days time, I am going to have to go to a doctor.

When I woke up this morning (after horribly vivid and disturbing dreams about having sex with one of the doctors on Shortland Street, made all the more disturbing by a possible undercurrent and also he was a premature ejaculator) the headache was back, not in the same magnitude, but still pulsating and not at all appeased by caffeine and panadol. That’s the circumstances that I sat my Communication Strategy exam in, head swimming nauseous circles, so I don’t really have high hopes, but I only needed 16/50 to pass the paper, so I’m sure I did okay really.

Back at home I was still feeling sore and sick, so after chamomile tea, so Bops and I went for a drive to a pharmacy to get me some real painkillers. Ahhh, blessed nurofen plus! 400mg of ibupofen and 25.6mg of codeiene later, I was feeling better – not 100%, but definately better. Bops threatened to confiscate the drugs off me and only dole them out as I really need them. She has a fear of painkillers, I believe. Meanwhile, I worked out over lunch that every single boy that I have fallen for in the past five years has had a fondness for codeine at some stage or another. Coincidence or criteria? You decide.

The rest of the afternoon has been mostly about studying Persuasive Communication, ie watching my video again (I still look ugly, but not as bad as I originally thought), and trying to decide on a secondary topic to persue. I was supposed to do Rowena’s seminar but a) I never saw it and b) I only just discovered today that the notes she emailed me didn’t actually convert to documents. So instead, I’m doing Communicator Style, as presented by Lauren. Of course, once I see the exam question, I might very well change my mind.

Sleeping pills didn’t help me last night due to the massive intensive pains, but hopefully they will help tonight since they are coupled with the lovely nurofen. So we shall see.

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

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

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

Ben pissed me off totally totally by borrowing my car “for fifteen minutes” when I told him multiple times that I needed to go out before three and so he wasn’t to go have adventures. Luckily I was clever enough to delay my work appointment by half an hour, because he got back at 3 exactly. Ooooh I was angry. He claimed he’d only been to work and to Oporto and to the petrol station but then when I got in the car I realised that he must have been hotboxing it. Grrrr. No more car access for him. But anyways, I made it to my 3.30pm meeting anyways and got my briefing. I’m going to need to talk to Maz about it,this whole doing PR work for free for charity.

Oh look, and now I have nothing else to say. My fridge is full of food as are my cupboards though, because I am currently rich, since my parental allowance went through this week, as did my last week’o dole (although to be honest, I have yet to call them and ask them to stop it) AND Ben finally paid me bond, like, five months after he moved in. And so therefore I had enough money to go to the supermarket and vege store, as opposed to only ever having enough money for Mercury Plaza and cheap wine. In fact, I even went to Mercury Plaza today and bought only lemons, because I’d forgot them at the vege store and I realised on my way home that I needed them for my spinach soup. I can’t make spinach soup as good as KatieB, but I suspect that might be party to do with the fact that she puts cream in hers, wheras mine is the vegan version.

Also, I finally hung the big purple mosquito net I got for Xmas over my bed and it looks awesomely cool and vaguely haremy.

I had such a nice lushious sleep-in today, apart from having to wake up briefly to let Justin in so he could be Funny with Brad. I had two disturbing dreams though – one where I was scoring this Dutch guy who was very very very sexy, and not gay unlike in real life, but as soon as I got his pants off I saw he was very very very small, which was rather disappointing. In the other dream, amongst bad people and startac phones and pokemon creatures and hitting people over the head with bottles, I found myself locked in a cage with someone, so I had to score them. Every Full Moon week, I have really fucked up dreams every night. It’s mildly disturbing. But yeah, anyways. I bummed around for a while and didn’t even get half way through the Herald before I got bored and went to do other things – like make an image to go on the cover of a tape Clayton was making for Kate Hamlin of all the music that we play at parties – we called it “The Sound of Garland”.

Around 4ish I think it was, Justin swung by to pick me up. I’d decided previously that i was going to take my car down to Waiuku for Kate H’s goodbye party, not drink, and drive home early, but then Justin decided that he was going to do the same thing, so he gave me a ride instead. Clay and Brad came in Brad’s car, but they went via Bucklands Beach to get a tent from his parents so as to camp over (how intense ha ha ha!). The drive out to Waiuku was really nice actually, all countryside and stuff. We passed a big sign that marked a turn off to the Steel Mill, so I begged and whined and whined to go see the sawmill, as that seemed to be the one attraction in the town, but Justin didn’t call my bluff and take me there.

Kate Hamlin’s house and driveway were full of people, lots of kids and family and stuff. The tech people all clustered together, sitting around in the sun, and it was nice. When it got colder, we put on our coats and continued to sit in the sun. Shirley had her Richard along, and I had to quickly take Clayton away “for another drink” to give him a stern talking to, cos he kept being tactless. I am the thought police. Maree’s b/f James was there too, and yet we couldn’t stop ourselves from making jokes about “going to James’s house”, but luckily once we explained, he joined in too. He was cool. Go maz go.

We watched the sitcom Clay made, on their tv which was black and white but tinged purple for some reason. The reading room in the house had blue wallpaper and blue carpet, and was quite quite cool. Eventually I went to dance with Kate H and sing “Freedom” – wham! not true bliss, which is when i realised I had no voice. That was a little unfortunate, but didn’t stop me from trying to sing “Lydia” later. There was this six year old girl there eyeing up Clayton ever since he had a little dance with her, so I made him waltz with me to make her jealous, and boy was she ever looking daggers at me. He made it up to her later though, by picking her up and waltzing with her. She’s in love with him now. I bet for the next fifteen years she’ll look back fondly at that memory and hope to marry him one day. But then again, what do you expect from a girl called Imadene? Isn’t that the name of a birth control pill?

Kate H’s only going over the summer, but it was still all kinda sad. We’ll probably have coffee before she goes, hopefully. Man, it must be strange, to work at DisneyWorld. She’s promised to bring us home red plastic cups, and in exchange, we’re promising to have a Frat Party (as opposed to a Keg Party, so we don’t have to provide a keg). We’re going to call ourselves Gamma Gamma Garland. On the way back, I whined to go to the Steel Mill again, and said “if you were smart, you’d call my bluff and just take me there to teach me a lesson”, and Justin was like “I can’t figure out if you actually want to go or not” and I said that I didn’t actually know myself anymore. So we drove up to the lookout over the steel mill and it was kinda surreal – this nicely manicured park thing with big trees and stuff, overlooking this industrial wasteland that was all lit up, because of course the factory was 24 hours. I went for a wander around the trees because the grass felt all nice and springy beneath my plastic clogs.

So that was Kate’s yesterday. I got home just before midnight, I think, but didn’t sleep for ages, despite being sick, or because I’m sick, or whatever. I’m so glad Clay had the idea of making her the tape. Brilliant. The boys didn’t even end up camping over, which I’m kinda glad about cos I would have hated to have missed out on that! “Maybe later – I’ve got creamy goodness in my mouth right now”