Hubris.co.nz

Hi peeps. My name is Lisa and you can find my little interwebbed foot home at Ratpony. It’s a crap website.

Hah. Anyways, so like I’m at Jo’s right now with Jo and Shirley.. we’re all incredibly drunk. Jo just witnessed me huffing nail polish remover and then tossing the bottle with numb fingers behind the couch and then giggling sanely… and uh she said “You should write a Hubris entry” and I was all YEAH BITCH. So take it all.

We’ve been drinking the leftover booze from the party last weekend. We used Timtams as straws to drink minty or caramelly cocktails and then ate the delicious booze-infused biscuits. It’s been a good night.

We started out watching Bart and Smoo play some gay soccer game on PS2. So gay. Then they left and we stayed behind and talked ABOUT THEM. Yes that’s right.

I am rubber faced. I can’t feel anything. Hahahah. I keep laughing like Muttley from that show… with Dick Dastardly… or precious pup. HEY! Remember Shirt Tales? Kip! Bogey! Great cartoon.

Anyways, I really have nothing to say of great value. Jo has a lot of groupies… I’ve been with her when she’s been approached. Where are my fucking groupies?”??? Is it because I’m boring?? Is it because of my big ears children? EH?

We love Justim Timberlake. And the Bloc Party. And the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. And Sebastian. And Bart Smoo and Blair. And me. And Jo . And Shirley… who has recently moved to Wellington which I am excited about because she is awesome. I tend to like all Jo’s mates. She has WAY better friends than I ever had.

So. Do you like stuff?

Uh…. I can’ tfocus. I’m going to wrtite this next senticen without looking at the keyboard! hEY HOW DID i DO? i AM awesomese!!!!

Ok.

Bye for now eh. Eh? CANADA EH?!?!?!

In the time that I’ve written lately, IK really should have given some shoutouts to Harvestbird because a couple of Saturdays ago, Lisa and I spent some awesome time in her company.

Oh yes, that’s right, did you enjoy that link? Cos it’s going to get more linky. So linky. Like when I talk about how we went to Bic Runga and it was so much more awesome than Alan’s experience, like Lisa’s photos will no doubt show you. Highlights include Bic stopping to point at a man peeing in the bushes. SO AWESOME! SO Intimate. We got seats RIGHT AT THE FRONT and enjoyed them mightily until some fuckwits came and sat in front of us drunkenly and talked and talked and oh man, I wanted to bottle those fucks. In fact, the ten dollar venison burger was plenty tasty but didn’t fill me up so I could have eaten those dumb fucks. Oh yes. But, as I said to Alan tonight, I wanted to retract all the things I said about kids befre, cos they were so much more awesome than the stupid fucking drunken grownu dicks. Oh, and I must give mad props to the girls (ummmm Georgie and Lindsay?) who came up to me and asked if I was Jo, Jo Hubris, and said that they loved my website, and made no mention of my blog or of Next (unlike the cleaner at work, and the woman behind the counter at the gym). Hurrah!

That was Saturday. Friday night was the gorgeous Peti’s 30th at the Southern Cross, and that was much much fun. D&D were actually rather drunk, as was Miss Fur, who was somewhat of a sad panda, and while I would hope that I’d never take advantage of that, I totally took advantage to stroke her hair and cuddle her like woah. Perhaps the boys were drawing off me in their insanely handsiness – apparently my Mary-Kate and Ashley locket is a total magnet. And yes, I will take some responsibility for like, the total hottness of my boobies, but like, woah. WOAH. Heh.

Which brings us to Sunday, which was officially (by me) declared to be Jo Day. This meant an hour and a half brunch at the local cafe with the puke-filled paper (OH MY HOLY FUCKING GOD I HAVE so MANY THINGS TO SAY ABOUT THE POLICE RAPE THINGS), and then a swim at Lyall Bay in which the waves were over my head and there was so much sewaweed it ended up in my togs when I was showering, but the insane dunkings were kind of fun. And then I saw Ash in the supermarket so she came over for a beer in the sun, anad we talked about oh, you know, being crazy. I’d hoped to have a BBQ but of course that didn’t work out, so I fought off the associated “OMG EVERYONE HATES YOU” feelings in favour of a “wow, it’s entirely possible that one day someone will die from food poisoning as a consequence of you, but meh” feeling.

Monday was very very meh, and pretty much the only highlight was my parcel from torrid.com, that included patent wedges with 4.5 inch heels that are SO FUCKING HOT all capital letters-esque, but you know,the practicality of actually walking and existing in them had me trying on many outfits (well, okay, two) for Lani and Smoo’s thoughts. Naturally we ignored what Smoo had to say, because he’s a boy, so of course he’s going to go for the red dress. Which meant of course that tonight found me wearing my brand new purty suit, for which I spent much of the evening giggling and chuckling at my pretense of actually being grown up and professional and all. Of course, that’s frequently like totally not true, although I did do a fuckload of work today, despite spending two hours stuffing envelopes. Apparently if we get another 300 people on our mailing list, we get to outsource the job, so are you keen?

But yes, so I went to the Paramount for Webstock Mini all dressed up and pretending to be a grown-up. I was of course there to support Sue and to support Martha, but I was also interested in what the speakers would have to say. Naturally I found myself giggling like a norty school girl in the back row, with other Wellingtonistas, but I felt I redeemed myself when someone (actually a sort-of client) was trying to introduce me to Skank, and I was like “oh yes, I used to know her” and he as was all “but she’s here tonight, you should meet her!” and I was like, wow, what’s the best way to put the emphasis on Iused to that would make it clear that I kind of wish I was 8 so I could scratch out her eyes. Do eight-year-olds do that sort of thing? Well, I suppose they don’t go to jail for it anyways. But blah blah. I’m pretty over people who are all “yes, we met before, I was there when you went swimming, remember?” because clearly I DON’T remembver, as well. I cheered loudly for Martha when she spoke, and when they asked if anyone else wanted to get up and talk about how the internet had changed their life, I knew exactly how I’d start, and it’d go a littl elike this: “Recently I got an email from a Canadian. this isn’t that unusual on the interweb, of course, but the fact that he told me that I was the reason that he stareed taking his bi polar medicine is pretty fucking special”. And the speech would go on to talk about the online community, and how in many ways you get the same giggling cliques (ie: the Wellingtonista giggling before Martha spoke), because of the bigger numbers even the most outside of the outsiders could find a place. Yeah!

But instead of saying that, I just talked to Martha & Glen and Sue, until they left and I still had a glass of wine in my hand, so I ended up going to Sweet Mother’s Kitchen for dinner with some people I knew and some I didn’t. we of course couldn’t get a table straight away, so I was drinking margaritas in an alleyway with the postboxes, and when we could sit I talked to our sort of client – or are we their sort of client? – about how their presentation was hilarious because their page of doodles included a couple of doodles of jizzing cocks, and umm, hi, inappropriate, but HILARIOUS. and it’s okay cos two of the Comms team are married, so they explained it to us. I had fish tacoes but I think almost no one got the “heh heh heh” of the title, and I got bored whilst eating and someone else finished it off for me. And then at the end I had another margarita and things were cool and fun, and I was talking ot a handful of people, but then the boy that I fucked a couple of weeks ago was all “so is your insulin level the way it is cos you’re fat?” and I was like “What the FUCK?” and got really angry, and stated loudly for the record and also for me that umm hi, my insulin levels are actually really fucking awesome (I have been tested many times and do not have diabetes), as is my cholestrol and my everything, except for, you know, my blood pressure in December. And that just made me so rarked up, like, oh, so the whole time that you were fucking me and I was feeling good cos I thought I was all like, good times and confident and awesome, you were all “wow. your. diabetes. is. like. amputatative. And. I would. like. to fuck. your stump. hole. ” and he wouldn’t step away from it, and I got so angry, because yes, I’m fat (okay, you didn’t notice?) but hi, I go to the gym at least three times a week, I go swimming at least three times a week, excetera, excetera, there are so many ways to be in which you can be worse than mine, and I always thought that my fucked-up part was my mental health, not my physical, so I left with the whole “Okay bye, nice to meet you”, “nice to meet you”, “nice to meet you” “wow, you’re a fucking cunt and I thought you were actually a nice guy” goodbyes and laughed at the “ooooh”s. So I took a 14, and got moody, and ended up crying at the foot of Smoo’s bed (or mattress) while he sat there not entirely knowing what to do but offering sound logic instead of hugs instead. Poor Smoo. It was just about the how things that make you feel good about yourself can sometimes backfire, and that’s dumb, and boo. And also, one of the guys tonight who did his two minute talk about how the interweb changed his life had talked about literal life-saving in the Balklands, and that’d made me want to cry at the time. Like, for serious,yes. Blah blah. Waaaaaaaaay too tired to write more now.

Edit: this morning my breasts are totally glassy, so ooooooooooh, I’m premenstrual! Aha! It all makes sense now.

Thursday 4; Febuary, 1999
I have a new friend on ICQ. Her name is Kini, and you can see her breasts here or her page here. We talked for an hour or so last night and when she went she was like:

“*does the “I just chatted to a journal goddess for hours” strut all the way to the bedroom* nightnight ”

She rocks.

Going through my inbox, I came across emails from my grandfather, and that’s weirded me out too much.

Tuesday the 5th of January, 1999

I guess the fact that Oma rang me twice while I was still trying to sleep should have cued me into the fact that it wasn’t going to be a good day. At one I worked for three hours at Leonie’s, finally managing to finish cateloging all her Japanese books that she bought from my grandfather’s collections. How can one man have so many books? Have had, sorry. There’s a tshirt at the Markets that says “The man who dies with the most books still dies”. Mum wasn’t impressed when she saw it, for obvious reasons, but I had a good chuckle.

So yeah. After finishing work at four, I veged at home for a bit before Charly rang, wanting to be picked up from town. She said she’d hardly talked to Graeme all day that she’d been out with him, which I really think is a bit off, if she came to Welly to sort things out with him. So yeah. We had dinner and stuff like that. While she watched “Party of Crap” I came online and did a bit of work on my journal and stuff – I’m falling behind, sorry. (I know there are people that care, because I’m addicted to checking the stats page – which doesn’t make it go up). I’m so vain and self absorbed, it’s terriffic!

Anyways. Then we watched some more of the taped Glastonbury. Charly had the audacity to diss Nick Cave AND Jarvis Cocker. Some people wouldn’t know class if it ran them over in a green MG. I logged on to Ihug for her (since she doesn’t know how to log in, and she doesn’t have my password). I saw that the K Man was on, and I haven’t seen him for aaaaaages and I really really felt like talking to him, but Charly wanted a go, so I told him I’d talk to him in an hour. Sweet, cos he said he’d wait for me. So yeah. I went off and had a bath and shit (mmmmmmmmm rose oil and candlelight – that’s making me sound really seedy – oh well). And yeah, then after an hour, i went back into the computer room, bored and wanting to do my computery stuff, and she was like “oh, Graeme just came online” and she gave me OH such a sincere “Sorry”. So that just right royally fucked me off. I know that I’m too possessive about my computer, but she knew I hadn’t talked to Kamahl in ages, and that I have journals to do and I have people to talk to as well, you know? And I just have so little sympathy for her and the whole Graeme mess because she got herself into it. Okay, that sounds too harsh. It’s just that I know how fucking crap and pointless internet relationships are, and if there’s a problem, I’d rather talk it out than sit in silence and get on a plane and then sit in silence again.

Okay, so after that spew, what did I do? I was like “fine” and left the room, and went sulking into the lounge, where my parents suggested I go to town or something, since I couldn’t bring myself to kick her off my puter. So I did, rejecting the idea of going in my pajamas, so I had to throw on some clothes first. So yeah. I was so mad I was fuming by the time I got to town, so I’m glad I managed to drive okay. I went over a hedgehog before I realised what I was doing, but I think it was lined up between the wheels, so it should be okay. So yeah. I stopped into United Video, who tried to tell me that my prize was probably sent to Mount Roskill – bastards! Anji wasn’t at Axolotl, so I had a hot chocolate and talked to Kirsten and her friend Amber, who was really cool and we instantly got chatty. Then as I went to call Anji, I heard someone call out my name, and it was Nicola! So yay, I talked to her for a while, after finding out Anji was in bed. Although we email and talk on the phone occasionally, I haven’t seen her since Onslow ended. She was looking SO styley. Great hair. We’d sit in Economics talking about our hair all year long. No wonder I had to learn the whole course in a day long mass cram with Kate. We ended up getting exactly the same mark too, which is kinda amusing.

Anyways. So I walked back to the car, and bumped into Siobahn, who invited me and Jo to come out and play on Saturday Night – YAY since I’m going back to auckers on Tuesday. Mmmm. I got back to the car, and put Little Earthquakes on, which probably wasn’t a very smart idea at all. It came in right at ‘Tear in Your Hand’ and I suddenly got very melencholy, singing my heart out, and I just wanted to keep driving and driving, so I decided to take a long way home. Then of course, it was ‘Me and a Gun’ which made me cry. I mean, I’d been worked up enough as it was, but well, that song……. I was driving along feeling really really bad, when suddenly I felt something go bang, like I’d hit a dog or something. That completly freaked me out, and I started bawling, but I couldn’t stop because there was a car right behind me. As soon as I could, I turned around and went back, but I couldn’t see anything. I was so blubbering my eyes out, at the thought of having just killed an innocent animal and a beloved family pet. I was so freaked out that I’d go back and find a wounded animal and it’d look into my eyes accusingly as it died, but I couldn’t see anything. Then I remembered that there’s a big hole in that stretch of road, and that was probably what had shaken the car. I was so worked up by that stage that I just stopped the car in the Ngaio library carpark, and after checking the front of the car for blood, I cried my eyes out. Then I really wanted someone to talk to, so I drove past Kate’s house, but I couldn’t see any lights on, so I went on home.

I snuck into the house so quietly because I really didn’t want to talk to Charlotte, but she was waiting up for me. No sooner had I crept up the stairs than she told me that her and Graeme were all over (no duh). I mean, I do feel bad for her, and I’m a terrible friend and all, but honestly, there’s like nothing I can do. So I talked to her about it for a bit, and leant her a teddy bear. She didn’t ask me where I’d been or anything, so I don’t feel quite so bad.

Wednesday the 23nd of December

Another 8am waking. This is evil. Why does working have to be done at that hoour of the day? Anyways, I was quite busy all day – people came in waves. I didn’t sell a single piece of jewellery though, which is good, because people who want it are always fucking indescisive, and I have to stand there while they hem and haw, since I would have had to open the cabinet for them. People picking over pottery can usually help themselves, apart from asking if the stuff is dishwasher/microwave/candle/being dropped off a tall building proof. In case you’re wondering, it’s all of the above. But I’ll just tell you now – if you drop pottery off a tall building, it’ll shatter. Use those shards to enrich your garden.

Fuck I’m an awesome saleschick. I sold about $1500 worth today, which is HEAPS. More than half of it was Paul Winspear’s stuff. He minded the shop while I went to grab some lunch and say hi to Jo (“Boxing Day!”). I got back to find him selling a $390 piece of his, only he charged them $3.90, because him and the eftpos machine don’t get on too well. Luckily a) the people were going to collect the piece the next day and b) they were honest and came back once they saw the mistake. So I rang up that sale correctly. Shit, did I just say ‘rang up that sale” ? How American can I be? I love zapping cards throughth the eftpos machine. Changing the roll in it wasn’t so much fun though.

Momma came into the shop in the afternoon and minded it while she sent me off to get Cousin Jacinta an Xmas pressie. I also got Karen a silver and green bead necklace from the lovely Jo at Narnia. Weren’t those books the BEST? Except once I realised how Christian they were. That sort of killed their rosy glow. But I digress.

In the evening, Amy and I went to see ‘Stella Does Tricks”, only it had finished its season, so we saw “Love and Death on Long Island” instead. It was quite good, I thought – Jason Priestly taking the piss out of himself. It was really nice to spend quality time with Amy too. She lost a ten dollar note somewhere between the ticket counter, and the table we sat at, three metres away. Truely truely bizzare stuff. It just vanished into thin air. I tried to pretend like she was just going crazy, but no! Apparently we both are. Sigh. I’m senile at 18. Then again, maybe there’s a black hole operating around me. I lost three eftpos reciepts today, and I haven’t got the faintest idea how, since I always put them straight into the cash box. I lost my wallet at the Rialto in sixth form too – maybe the two events are connected.

Afterwards, since all we’d eaten for our evening meal had been a large box of scrumptious popcorn, we went to Axolotl and had not one, but two plates of nachoes – the kitchen fucked up and cooked them twice. Yay. It’s so good, knowing the people I know. We had a really really good long chat too, which is Yay (good england!). I’m going to Midnight Mass with her tomorrow – but ONLY because she asked, and because we’ll go with her (scary) parents who know the owners of the Big Sleazy so we can get free drinks. I’m such a whore for alcohol. OOoooooooh scary thing happned today – I whored myself out for POTTERY of all things. Paul had this gorgeous purpley pinky plattery bowl in the shop today, and I fell instantly in love with it. It was priced at $90 – I knew he’d let me have it for less, but it’d still be expensive, so I asked him if I could do his next duty (on the 29th) for him in exchange. He was thrilled at that idea, so I get the platter. Now I’m worried, cos I normally hate and despise pottery. Hmmmmmmmmmm. Oh yeah, it’s for the good of the flat. That’s right. I’m sacrificing myself for group benefit. Besides, it’s not like I’ll have much else to do on the 29th – and I bet the shop will be deserted anyways.

I went to Midnight Mass last year too. I hate carols. I hate organised religion. Why am I doing this???

Oh, weird thing that happened, just before I go – I got an authorization request from this chick on ICQ saying she’d seen my page and she wanted to talk to me about it. Intrigued, I authorized her, and added her to my list too. This was a couple of days ago. I’ve been to her website and she’s a 15 year old American girl. We live in different time zones, and she hasn’t left me any messages. How bizzare. I sign people’s guestbooks, or if they really turn me on (like, not sexually), I’ll email them. Never ICQ. That’s just weird. That said, if you wanna ICQ me, by all means, go ahead!

Monday the 21st of December

JoannJo: “I wanna see a journal entry from you, missy”

Thomas: “it’s better than TV, now that Shortland Street isn’t on anymore”

Ahhhhhhhhhhh fans. They’re the shit, bro! You see, today was a fairly non day. I mean, I slept in, veged aroudn, did two hours of work at Leonie’s. She was collating replies to a survey of students who went to Japan on an exchange.

Q: What was the highlight of your trip?

A: The plane ride.

It made me realise that even if Japan did fuck me up some, at least I made the most out of my experiances there. Mum was asking me if I wanted a book of photos of Japan, ‘to help you remember it’. I was like “um -there really isn’t all that much about Japan that I want to remember”. Which is mostly true, but surely in all of those four years, there must have been some good bits, other than Beth and Brittany. Yeah this is teenage angst, and it’s largely incoherant, so I’ll change the subject. My stories are elsewhere. (Look Mom, no link!)

Aren’t online journals fun? Yes they are, but I’m just clutching at conversation straws now, so I’ll leave you with another picture. The cartoon last night was a self portrait of Penny, drawn in fifth form and coloured in with care by me. This is from the same series, and it’s me. Don’t freak out too much if you can help it.