Tag: frindigo


Silver and gold

September 2nd, 2007 — 9:43am

Some fucker stole my golden lampshade out of the garage. You’re a fucker, fucker. How did it get there in the first place? Well, that’s a good question. On Friday, I bought a chandelier for the lounge at a store called JoJo that’s on the corner of Victoria and Manners St. I could have bought the same chandelier for the same price in that little store full of shiny things in the Duke’s Arcade, but the scary woman in there scares me too much. If I had a camera, I’d take a photo of it to show you, but of course you know that I lost my camera a couple of Fridays ago.

There wasn’t really a chance for me to have lost my camera this Friday though, as it was terribly civilised. I hiked up to the Herd Street Bra after work to meet up with Tom and Che and MG and their respective partners for a drink. Karen came along and we headed off to New World for dinner supplies and to be picked up by Miss Lisa. We shredded roast chicken and tossed it with chickpeas, feta, avomacado, cashews, red capsicum, spring onions and coleslaw fixings and ate it in piles with walnut bread. And then we watched Captain Tightpants some more, woo hah. I suspect sometimes that I should find a new expression other than “woo hah”, because while it is awesome, it is definitely overused.

On Saturday, I went and had my alonetime brunch at Elements. On my drive there I noticed a filing cabinet inside the Salvation Army op shop in Kilbernie, so on my way back I stopped in and bought it for $35. There was a bit of fanangling to get it into my teeny tiny car, especially since there were still boxes of pottery lying around in it, but with the help of the young guy from the shop we got it there in the end. And I managed to drag it out of my car and into the garage at home, because I am Superwoman. I went to the Meditteranean Warehouse in Newtown to buy a bottle of Amaro for Tom, and also a can of silver spraypaint. Then I had to sand the fucker down, and scrape off old stickers. Hurrah for having turpentine in the house. I am so fucking crafty; craftly like a MONGOOSE. I ran out of silver paint on the third side of the cabinet, so I switched to gold for the handles, and then I spraypainted the round white paper lampshade that’d been hanging in the lounge until I put up the chandelier. But now some asshole’s taken that. Boourns. The cabinet is looking stunning though, with another couple of coats of paint that I raced to the store to buy today after work despite feeling sick sick sick.

Saturday night I got glammed up and hopped on a bus to Sandwiches for Tom’s birthday dinner. They had no pork belly so after Che’s discussion on veal I opted for the vege cannelloni. I sent an update to twitter that said “Last time i was here at Sandwiches i was having the best pashes of my recent years. I miss Shiny! I look even hotter tonite than then though.” Dinner and conversation was very civilised, but I did get an odd look when I suggested to someone that they could fill their attic with dead bodies instead of pink bats as insulation. Apparently that’s not the done thing. When we were leaving, someone grabbed me and hugged me, and it was Bart with Blair, so I made a split-moment decision to go with them instead of going up to the Hawthorne Lounge. We went up to Richard’s apartment on Cuba Street and read catelogues from the Danish Sex Museum and drank and talked shit, then we went to the Southern Cross and wrapped ourselves up in polar fleece blankets cos it was fucking cold outside. When that shut we went to Frindigo, but that was closing a couple of drinks later, so we ended up at Club K, where we did shots of jagermeister and I got dragged onto the dance floor by some girl. Then after Bart and Blair sang a couple of Fall Out Boy songs (haha!), I somehow found myself warbling through ‘Like a Virgin’. I think they turned the microphone off on me, I was that bad. But it was fantastic! And I got home some time after 4am, fell asleep on the couch and then woke up in my bed still wearing my clothes. Needless to say, Sunday was a write-off.

I thought I had more to say today, but I guess I don’t, so I will watch the last two episodes of Season One of Deadwood instead. Tomorrow I’m going to Eagle Vs Shark, and on Thursday is the Great Blend, hurrah! And I’m still looking for a flatmate, grrrrr.

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The Chocolate Weekend

April 10th, 2007 — 9:25am

  • 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.

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