Hubris.co.nz

Bullet point lists make the world go around, right?

• The everscrumptious Miss Heather has switched over my site design for me, so bear with me while the kinks are ironed out. My semi-secret RSS feed seems to have temporarily vanished, and of course Twitter is blocked at work, so I’m not sure if that’s feeding in properly, but now at least if you run my site through a validator (don’t!) you should only get four or so errors and not sixty like the old one. Goodbye to the hump though, sadly.
• If you receive a text message from me that sounds a little strange, it’s because I no longer have an ’8′ key on my phone, so therefore I have no ‘t’, ‘u’ or ‘v’. It makes things like giving directions to Superfino read “On Ghznee s, opposie Bdg Cars, by Bicoria S”. That makes perfect sense, right? Also, do make your way to Superfino, please. We spent a very pleasant Friday night there. I recommend the Pear & Vanilla Punch especially, but not reaaaaally the Blood-Orange and Cinnamon Martini.
  

• We’ve taken to going to the Quiz at the Southern Cross on Tuesday nights. By “we” I mean sometimes some Wellingtonistas, and sometimes my sisters & Bambi. I am, just for a change, in love with the Quizmaster. You know how I fancy people who know more things about something than I do (music, depression, computers or – in the olden days – drugs), that rule of course applies to someone who has the answer sheet on quizes.
• Before you come up to the Cross for the quiz, I’d like to recommend Le Metropolitain for dinner, and I’d say that even if I hadn’t been called “Madame Jo” on the phone in a hot French accent that I discovered was attached to a hot French waiter. He brought me the wine list when I was waiting by myself instead of making me wait, and was efficient, friendly and good. Everyone’s favourite public servant blogger might not approve of their cassolet, but damn my cow face (read: beef cheeks) were tasty, and since Bambi ordered snails I got to try them for the first time. They tasted like mushrooms, while the mushrooms that they were served with tasted like garlic and cream.
  
• You might have gathered due to the increase in the number of photos that I’m displaying that I’ve taken to carrying my new camera with me everywhere. That’s because the batteries don’t fall out, and it’s got a 1 gig card in it. And I like taking photos, of course. I’ve started to take a series of portraits of people with ‘my eyes’:
  

  

  

• I’ve been watching Season One of Veronica Mars with my lovely new flatmate Kat. She guessed who the killer was correctly, which I didn’t manage to do the first time I watched it. She’s a smart one, that girl. I love watching shows with big reveals that I know are coming up with others, although her little shriek when the killer was in the back seat was nothing compared to Lisa on finding out who killed Laura Palmer. Kat’s fiance Kane is a pro-wrestler! How awesome is that? It means he has no fear of cavorting around in tights, which he demonstrated in his costume as a ballet dancer at Country Club: Back in the USSR on Saturday night.
• I haven’t downloaded my photos from Back in the USSR, but once I do, you’ll be able to see a steady progression from tipsy into disturbingly intoxicated, despite all the food – I made pierogi, and potatoes, and sausages, and Frances and Karen both brought blini, and there was caviar as well, and chips, and really disgusting solid rye bread, and kisial – which was of course vodka jelly, and Moscow Mules, and by the end of the night there was white rum as well. Some people had splendid costumes – Anji brought along a bear so I had to hump him. I also gave lap dance versions of the panda dance to the boys who were complaining about the poor service at Dream Girls that they’d got the night before. My heart bleeds for them. The party was lots and lots of fun, and I was stoked with the turn out. I gave someone a big long speech about how I am not what they need, and how they really shouldn’t fancy me. I thought it was a pretty convincing speech, and it was the right thing for me to do, so I was a little disturbed when I woke up next to the speech recipient. I would be later more disturbed to discover that somehow a glass of water had managed to get knocked into my underwear drawer, leaving me with moist panties everywhere. It was a much nicer discovery, when I finally got up at 6pm on Sunday though, to find that the whole house had been cleaned. WOO! And then last night over flat dinner I heard that people had been spraying my new Cinderella Coconut Bathroom Cleaner into their mouths as it is billed as being so very non toxic. Disturbing!

I used to carry around a tin that mints from a recruitment company had once come in, filled with half pills. It was of course my citalapram, since I have to take a pill and a half, and they’re crumbly pills so I have to cut them at home with a big knife and a chopping board so they don’t totally fall apart, so I prepare them in advance. When I say “I used to”, I of course mean until last Saturday night, when I lost the tin, so I hope someone picked it up and decided that it was full of half Es, and is now off dancing in a club somewhere feeling really nausesous. Because I am nice like that.

On Monday night we had a flat dinner and I made a fucking awesome roast beef. Then because Bart had found a video that his social group had traded around themselves in 1996, I undid all the feminist thinking that I’d been doing since a post by Tze Ming on Public Address made me realise that I need to do more to reinforce feminist thought – so I bought Bitch magazine – by watching German porn with the boys while Lani did the dishes. It was amusing but also really sad. There was a woman dancing in the video who had breast implants the size of her head, and she just looked like a freak. I know that there are some porn stars who make a lot of money and have a lot of power in the industry, but this woman didn’t seem to be one of them. She was just an object of ridicule and that made me really sad.

On a more upbeat note, Bowling League on Tuesdays is still fun. Surprisingly, I don’t think that the Bowlingtonista are going to win the league, but damn we’re pretty. And it’s so much fun to get to hang out with BFF Martha while the men do the hard work.

On Wednesday I went to a wine night at the boatshed called ‘Meet Your Maker’. There were stalls there from various “unique and boutique” winemakers from the Wairarapa, and everything was free to try. I took a series of very detailed notes that included the following dialouge about a Hudson Sav:

Me: it tastes like silver in the mouth
Daddy: No it doesn’t.
Me: Well I think it tastes Metallicy, and Nothing Else Matters.

Tehehe. My favourite wine was the Julicher reserve Pinot Noir, which tasted like chocolate babies, and also the Tirohana wines because the guy remembered us from when we were up for Mum’s birthday and asked where our other sister was (she was across the other side of the room). And they have a dessert wine that’s like woah. There wasn’t really enough food so I ate and enjoyed ham rolls, and craved more of the duck, mushroom and quince paste tarts. Mmmmmm. But why is the Boatshed always so damn hot? Last time I was there for Public Address Great Blend I could go swimming afterwards, but not in May. Too much heating. Nevermind. And I saw a friend of my parents’ who is an MP whom I hate personally, politically and professionally so I made very sure that I didn’t have to talk to him. Afterwards we had dinner at Ernesto, where I was a little silly and had chicken, which was boring, but the potato and prune gallette that accompanied it was tasty like woah. I was just envious of the pork bellies of Karen and Anji, but that’s okay.

On Friday night I went home after work and napped on the couch, before driving in to town to pick up Miss Lisa and Karen, and see Jimmy and Miss Jessie at Dimmer. It didn’t feel quite as sexylicious as last time, but when they played the long, thrusting ‘Seed’ I still wanted to touch myself inappropriately, but settled for stroking myself behind my ears, as that is somewhat less inappropriate.

Saturday was a very amusing night. I had drinks at home with Lani and her friend Nikki who is staying, and then we went to a party in Kelburn. Nikki and I amused ourselves taking photos with someone else’s camera that had be left lying on the TV. Then I spilt red wine on the carpet so we ran away and I watched very guiltily as someone else cleaned it up. I am not normally the type of person who doesn’t clean up after themselves, but I was all like “they’ve got a white carpet! It’s their fault! Everyone always spills stuff on MY carpet…” So of course I was unimpressed with myself for that crappy attitude, and when I found myself in a bathroom queue with the girl who’d cleaned it up I apologised and confessed. She came up to me later to say it was awesome of me to confess, and so Nikki and Lani decided that she was a lesbian and was totally in to me. I was like “ummm, I don’t get that vibe at all”, but I think we all know that I have little to no female gaydar. I still went and tried to talk to her later (because if she was a lesbian obviously she’d fancy me, right?) but I was saved from myself by the need to take photos with someone dressed as a reindeer. Then we went into town, and despite all my protestations, I found myself at Coyote. Shudder. I hate Courtenay Place on weekend nights, I really do. The music was bad, the crowd was bad, and yet I stayed and constantly had a drink in my hand, and I’m not sure how that happened. At one stage a guy came up to me and was all “oh, you are so beautiful, can I get a kiss?” and I was like huh? But I gave him a kiss on the cheek, and he turned his head and asked for another one, so I did, but then he was going to go for a pash, and I was like “hey buddy, you know nothing about me! You don’t know my hobbies or my interests, how can you want to kiss me?” and he was like “what?” and I was all “I mean, for all you know, I could be a member of the Hitler Youth” and he was like “I don’t know what that is” and I was like “I’m a white supremicist!” and he ran away and I laughed and laughed and laughed. And felt like Lily Allen. “I’ve got herpes!” Because after all, my Matariki resolution (along with doing something that will earn me a slow clap) is to wake up with someone and want them to be there, and sifty guys in sifty bars will not help me accomplish that. After that we finally left Coyote for the best kebabs EVAH from Hadi Gari, and then people were going to queue to get into GoGo and I was like “umm, nahuh, there is no way I’m going to wait to get into that crappy place” so I went home with Lani.

Yesterday I got up half an hour before my family were due for an afternoon tea to break in my cake-plate. It was so very civilised! I provided mini afghans and feta & spinach savouries, Mummy & Daddy baked mini scones and brought cream & jam, Anji brought coffee and shortbread, and Karen made chicken, almond and watercress sandwiches. We used fancy china and a good time was had by all. And we also finalised our plans to go to Rarotonga for Daddy’s 60th birthday and now Mum’s booked the flights. Because my job doesn’t finish until June 29, I’m going a week later than them all, and am consequently paying significantly more for the flights, damn it all. But still, Rarotonga, hurrah! We’re hopefully renting a four-bedroom house with a pool as well, so that should be nice.

Tonight instead of doing the whole flat dinner thing, which I really can’t afford to produce any more, I’m just going to make dessert crepes so we can eat the maple syrup that Lani brought back from Canadia. What’s that all aboot eh?

My conversation with Smoo on Sunday morning when I got up (okay, it was actually 5pm, rather than the morning):
Me: Smoo, will you provide me with an alibi if I go next door and rip off the heads of the children who have been screaming ALL FUCKING DAY stupidhoppeduponchocolatefuckheadsihatesthem?
Smoo: I was going to ask you the same thing. Fuck they’re so annoying, and I’m not even hungover!
Me: what makes you think I’m hungover?
Smoo: I fucking hope you are, cos you look like fucking shit.
Hehehe.

My proudest achievement last week was making my counsellor cry. It was actually because I described the otter video that made me cry, but still! I <3 her lots and lots because last week when I was having somewhat of a breakdown (yes, again), she said that instead of always thinking about what I should be doing (even in regards to doing Healthful Things like the gym or writing creatively), perhaps I could just picture myself as a cat, and chase a bit of string if it comes along, or eat and sleep. Needless to say I spent most of Easter napping in sunny patches and licking my genitals.

The Wellingtonista Bowling League is a go, and I would really like it if you’d enter a team. Please. Our first night is April 24.

I had last Thursday off after playing the stupid-girlfriend-holding-her-boyfriend-as-emotional-hostage card at work and so I spent most of the day at my parents’ house as they were away, and our washing machine was broken. I did some loads, and also started my new zine called You’re so Entertaining. It’s going to be completely different from 101 Stories that I want to tell you and BOYS BOYS BOYS BOYS BOYS in that it’s mostly a collection of recipes. Speaking of BOYS, can someone PLEASE send me a copy of it, or send me their original so I can photocopy it? I don’t have a copy and I’ll like to start re-reproducing it. I’ll reward you with goodies if you send it down to me.

I am in love with magazines right now, but only the good ones. I bought a subscription to Bust because I find it so inspiring, and i’ve been seeking out Jane, Frankie, and, as usual, Q. In my head I mentally tax deduct these as business expenses. This may be part of the reason that my financial state is so dire. Well, that and the crack addiction. And $85 a week counselling. And drunken Saturdays at Frindigo wandering around on the balconey by myself while boys tried to chat up Karen, wishing that I could erase phone numbers from my head because they are not relevant anymore. And cooking flat dinners on Mondays, as well as providing almost all the wine. Still, at least Lani cooked this week.

Speaking of Lani, she’s off to Canadia tomorrow for two weeks for work. I’m madly jealous and I’m going to miss her lots. I went and sat on her floor cross-legged on Monday to catch her up on all my silly gossip, and that was fun. Her partner Shayne was down for the weekend, which was rad cos he’s a very nice guy (he held open a gate for me! what a gentleman!) and things that make her happy make me happy.

On Sunday night, having risen at 5pm, boiled potatoes, watched The Gilmore Girls (I’m really not sure how to feel about them getting married!) and made Papas Garbanzo, I headed to Karen’s house for a dinner party with her and her flatmates and a couple of their friends. Every dish had cheese in it – the salad, the papas, the risotto, the canneloni and the eggplant bake. Cheese is good. I invited everyone to Country Club: Brazil (which is this Saturday and I’m sure you’re coming, right?) and we talked at length about country clubs, and I said how the next one will be a Cluedo-themed English Country Party, and one of the guys was like “oh I can make the best mix tape for that, and I have the perfect suit to wear” and I was like “that’s the perfect attitude!”.

At some stage I went to the preview of 300, and I apologise to everyone else who was there if the fact that I was laughing uproariously the whole way through was putting you off the abs porn, but seriously? Gayer than the gayest gay porn I have ever seen. And incredibly historically inaccurate to boot. And the dialogue was lifted pretty much straight from Team America, right down to the inclusion of a “Freedom isn’t free!” line.

I am so fond of Bart and Smoo right now. I’ve decided that I hope Bart never shaves off his moustache, because I like the compliments, and I like that Smoo’s been home lately to listen to me talk shit, and watch TV with me. Hurrah.

There is a pot of feijoada simmering on the stove right now for Saturday. I have to clean the house before KateH and Shirley arrive. Tonight I must deal with the repairman who is coming for the washing machine again. I tried to get Smoo to do it but apparetnly the man was only available when Smoo was out. This means more racist rambling diatribes. My counsellor uses the same man. That makes me laugh.

I think that’s all I have to say (*).

Oh and! My citalapram increase has kicked in, and holy crap it feels good. The sparkle is back in my eye again, which makes me more approachable, which makes me more confident, which makes me more approachable, etc. I know right now is the euphoria which is only temporary, but wow, the feeling today as I showered at the gym that I’d neglected for two weeks after a sprint was like I’d had a thousand orgasms that I didn’t have to work for. Well okay, every part of my body was sore, except for my wrists, which is very unusual for orgasms. Heh. But still. A lot of people worry about losing a part of themselves if they go on meds, but this is the way I am supposed to be.

Today I changed my MSN tag to ‘slowly losing the will to live’ because it feels like that. My life’s blood is trickling out of me. LITERALLY. And some fuck has taken away the box of tampons that was in the first aid kit in the kitchen. How rude. I took the morning off today to stay in bed, having spent all day at work yesterday writhing around in pain, then taking so much nerofen plus that I got dizzy but still feeling the pain. That left me pretty much unable to do anything except build up a library of RSS feeds and stalk my shiny ex cow-orker after people discussed him in our project managers’ meeting (yesterday with bonus cake!). Now I remember why it was awesome not to have periods for so long. And apparently I have four months worth of cramps to get throught right now as well. Fucking radsville. At least my boobs aren’t sore anymore.

Yes, this is what my life is like. It’s Wednesday afternoon which means that I have to avoid the internets until 8.30pm so I don’t get any Rockstar spoilers before the performance show, but I’m feeling too sick to work. I would dose up on more nerofen but that’d be the easy solution. Yesterday we had a flat dinner for which I made a tagine. It was perhaps not the most authentic tagine ever, but it was fucking tasty. I still had to abandon it to lie on the couch moaning though. It’s just as well that I’m not pregnant, because my parenting skills are pretty crap and I wouldn’t want the second coming to be unable to refrain from scratching the couch.

In another example of how lame and behind the times I am, I dreamt about Chuck Norris the other night. He had grey streaks in his hair so I suggested to him it might be better for his career if he got them dyed, and he was like “I’ve got cancer, you’re so insensitive!”. Luckily I woke up before he gave me a roundhouse kick to the face. In a better example of awesome internets, I got this fantastic email this morning:

“FW: Hubris Horse Shampoo

Good afternoon

I was interested in purchasing some hors shampoo as recommended in Horse and Pony – have I got the right contact? ”

I wrote back going “hahaha no, you really really don’t”. It’s an easy mistake to make, I suppose, although why the fuck would anyone call their horse shampoo Hubris? Do you want your horse to fall? Hopefully now I’ll get like a thousand hits from people wanting the horse shampoo. At least they’ll be a better class of people than the many who land here looking for animal sex. Also, now I think maybe I shouldn’t have run that particular google search since I’m still at work, but oh well. I rang up Bond & Bond on Monday to ask them what the fuck was up with my laptop and they said it’d probably be done yesterday but they’d call me. They haven’t called me. They also said that it wasn’t the power supply, it was something else that was really expensive, so I’d better not have to pay for it if they didn’t contact me to let me know. Hopefully it’ll come under the guarantee. I should have tried to pay more attention, but the guy wasn’t quite the clearest English speaker ever, and it sounded like he was yelling so I was holding my cellie way away from my ear.

I think the new Pulp is out soon with my reviews. I’m never entirely sure though. Other things of note? There really aren’t any. This is totally a filler entry. But you guessed that already, right? And now can I take some more painkillers please? I can’t wait to go and have a spa at the gym after work. Perhaps I’ll even do a little exercise too, if I feel like going crazy. I have another boxing lesson tomorrow and I’m scared because I haven’t worked out how to wrap my hands properly yet. I think I’m getting pretty good at the cross, however, so that’s something. And my arms have finally stopped hurting from the keg stands so at least I can thank my incredible stomach pain for something.

Friday June 14th

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.

I’m so very very tired, and it’s not even ten pm yet, so if I go to sleep now, I’ll wake up in the middle of the night and not be able to sleep again. What a dilema! But oh my god, I’m just so so tired. Clay has Kara and another couple over for dinner, and when we were all sitting around the dining room table, eating by candlelight, I nearly keeled over into my bowl of soup.

I should call Shirley, because I haven’t talked to her in literally a week, which is a long time to go without one of your best friends. Maybe she’s annoyed at me because the last thing I said to her after the Dinner last thursday was me calling her the name that’s synomymus with all things skanky to us in jest. Or maybe she thinks I’m mad at her. Or maybe she’s just as busy as me.

I didn’t go into tech today, because I felt sick. Not hungover sick, actually, thank you very much, but sick as in my belly felt all woozy the way it had the day before, which wasn’t hangover sick either. On further reflection today, I’m even more disturbed by my taxi driver. I mean, we were having the conversation he started about me becoming mistress to a rich man, and he was like “he’ll move you into his penthouse and the wife will have to move out” so I said “well if she’s nice, maybe she won’t have to – I’d hate to put her out” and he was like “so you’re into threesomes then are you?” and I was like there’s a line and you just crossed it, buddy, but I didn’t say anything.

I think I’m worn out from being social. I just want to watch TV all night and not to have to talk to people I don’t know all that well, but Clay’s playing Video Nazi, so I can’t watch the West Wing. I’m starting to respect the most my friends that I can have comfortable silences with. Don’t get me wrong, I love going out and having a good time and everything, but I’m feeling very very introverted right now. I think when I’m tired my levels of tolerance sink even lower, so it’s like every time someone asks me a question I resent them for it. Unlike Clayton, Brad doesn’t ask me questions – well hardly never, anyways. Lately I’ve been coming home every day to announce a new crush on a different boy, and Brad’s always been like “okay, sweet”.

Blech, up down, up down up down up down up down up down. This gets boring real quick, eh. I’m waiting for something amazing to happen to me again. I’m tired of caring about myself, I need someone else to look after. Kate Benton’s moving to Queenstown in December – for the summer. This sucks, I don’t want her to go, but I also don’t want her to be with John if that’s going to hurt her as much as I know it’s going to. We’re going to try and sublet out her room because we would quite like her to stay on with us. Maybe Hot Toddy will take the room – Justin reckons he’d be very keen (but not as Kean as Justin) but I haven’t actually managed to speak to him yet. Todd’s a school teacher, which I find very very funny – so he probably wouldn’t even be working most of the time he lived here. It’ll be a change to live with all guys again – I’ll be losing my primary emotional suppport base. But of course, I’ll be busy in my fantastic new job anyways. Yeah.

“………”

It was really nasty weather when I woke up this morning, all cold and raining, so it was hard to drag myself out. But eventually I managed and fled straight to the shower. Then the weather decided that a thunderstorm was exactly what we all needed. I disagreed. It freaked me out just a little bit. Every clap of thunder had me running to the other end of the bathtub, out of the water stream. I worried for a moment about being struck by lightning, and then figured that since I wasn’t touching the metal shower curtain rod, I’d be pretty safe. Of course, that’s when I realised that I was standing in a metal tub, in a pool of water, no less. Needless to say, I din’t spend very long in the shower this morning, despite trying to convince myself that it was a porcelain tub, so I was fine.

I went back to my room and thought about how I only had an hour tutorial then a five hour gap, and I looked at the rain pouring and pouring down, and shivered and then I looked at my nice warm bed, and went back to sleep. Ahhhhh bliss! So I woke up about 1.30pm and cruised into tech later for my 4pm Digital Communication II class.

I played solitaire throughout most of the class, with my tutor Peter’s full permission. The class was being taught a few basics of file saving and Internet stuff. I got labeled a geek in the first ten minutes of class by saying that I had my own webpage, but apparently that’s not such a bad thing. I explained to Peter later that I do my pages in Frontpage and don’t really know all that much, I just pretend to. We’re going to learn html, which’ll be good, cos I don’t know it, and also assorted macromedia softwares. Matt Sawkill’s superb enough to be giving me all the programs we’ll be using so I can work at home. So yay for that.

Got home, and started dinner for Clayton. Well, I baked him some potatos so he wouldn’t try feeding us floury wedges, anyways. After dinner and requiste TV, him me and Si went to Foodtown to do our groccery shopping. That’s Foodtown Greenlane if you wanna stalk me. Supermarket shopping was lots of fun, as usual. I was chasing Clayt with the trolley, but got held up behind some dithering ladies. I finally managed to turn the corner into the next aisle, and was about to ram the first person I saw, when I realised they were wearing a grandfather hat, and would, therefore, not be Clayton. Being thankful that I hadn’t knocked over some old man, I carried on speeding down the aisle, before I turned around to realise that Clayt had cunningly fooled me by grabbing a hat from the shelf and disguising himself with it. He’s not just a pair of cargo pants, you know. (I don’t think the phrase “pretty face” would be appropriate in that spot). When we were at the checkout counter, Clayt pointed out Lurker, roving the aisles, so we decided to hurry up and get out of there so we didn’t have to talk to him. I told the checkout ladies he was our other flatmate that we didn’t like, and they laughed. They also commented to each other that I had my ID out without being asked for it while buying wine. They didn’t bother to look at the ID though, so it could have even been real.

This evening while waiting for Clayton to get off the phone so I could get online, I scanned in a whole bunch of photos. You can see them here, assuming that I upload them all. Which I do intend to do, so there you go.

It’s exciting cos I’m like excited about tech again – despite already wagging a class, and probably going to wag one tomorrow. I have to present a seminar on ‘Feminism and the Media’ for Mass Com IIb (I still don’t know if I passed IIa, but hey!). I’m going to do it on how the media can’t cope with representations of strong women unless they are turned into sluts. YAY! It’s always cool when I get to do work on stuff I’m interested in. And YAY for a nice cruisy class like Digi Com with a funny tutor and stuff that I’m good at.