Hubris.co.nz

Hey, remember my adventures last year at Webstock? Well guess what I’ve been doing today???

I should warn you that I am a barrel of all kinds of emotions today. Webstock is the highlight of my professional life each year, because so many of the things I learn are so directly applicable to the work that I do, but it’s also about my extra activities and communities like the Wellingtonista (I wrote the Beginner’s Guide to Wellington for the Webstock Site). I have been pleasantly surprised over the course of the day and also last night at pre-drinks at the Southern Cross to have people go “ohh, you’re in the Wellingtonista!” really excitedly, or even “OMG you’re JO HUBRIS!” from Twitter. The latter girl was rewarded with spare trading cards (my wad is so big it hardly fits in my envelope any more, if you know what I mean) and then when she suggested that I should have my own card because I was such a personality, I was like omg, let me give you all the cards I have in my hand. Except I won’t, because we have a community of shared knowledge that we need to build on.

That paragraph above appeared to be very long. I did have some free drinks before (trading surplus cards for drink tickets was a great idea, and yes I’m that confident that i can do that) and then there was sake at dinner, but mostly if I sound slurry, it will be because of the zopiclone fighting it out with the two coffees.

I FUCKING LOVE WEBSTOCK SO FUCKING MUCH. There, I’ve declared it. I won’t be doing the point by point all my notes here assessment. In fact, I might just step out of webstock all together, and talk about how on Tuesday I took my car in for my warrant. The place was right opposite a Dick Smith’s, so I thought I’d go in and buy a universal remote control because my DVD remote is so completely fucked it physically hurts me to make things go on it. Anyways, so I got it home, and it was all “Dude! Check out my DVD! It’s like, SUPER EASY” so I was all like, okay, sure, so I put it on, but I had to use my old remote to get it to go, and that was aaaaaargh, and then it turned out that manual was much more helpful than the DVD anyway. I managed to tune in the power on/off button, but none of the other keys were working, and while I was sitting on the wood floor in front of the tv, swearing madly at it, George decided that would be an appropriate time (when El and Smoo were off to Aussie the next day) to tell me that he has found a cheaper flat and he’s moving out.l
I swore at the remote control, went to my room, and had one of the worst breakdowns I have ever had, in terms of condensedness. I was hyperventilating and the lack of oxygen made my scalp tingle and the front of my face go numb. I had the metallic taste in my mouth, I was howling out loud along with the tears that did not stop for half an hour, I thought at one stage that I was going to black out and kind of hoped that I would. the thoughts going through my mind was “I am such a fucking smart girl, why can’t I figure out that remote?” which of course was linked to “I am such a fucking smart girl, why was I not capable of delivering a better performance assessment at work, why did I not support my intern better, how could I have allowed myself to fall for someone completely wrong for me, why have I subsequently been begging them for attention when obviously they are trying to cut off my air supply like I’m a troll, why can’t I keep a flat together, what the fuck is wrong with me?” and I howled and howled and every time I thought I’d settled down a bit, my body locked up, so I’d make a move, and I just started crying more and more, The part that was fun though, that I texted back to a concerned sisterly text was that I was blowing my nose on my really big really heavy dark brown Egyptian cotton bath sheet, so I was like “I’m blowing my nose on a bear!” (and speaking of which I so need one of these bags!). The physical aspect of the crying was kind of terrifying, the input of the oxygen and the way it wasn’t going out again, and I was high, and I thought about putting my head between my legs, and my boobs got in the way, and that didn’t make any sense, and quite frankly, it was really not a good time. Until I was like “umm, actually, I think that remote control was actually officially uncompatible with my DVD player, since it’s a DVDr, and then it was easier to see that no, I’m not actually a complete failure at everything, and I actually had a conversation out loud, taking the voice of my counsellor on.

So it was a good rich cleansing cry that has been building up for a very long time (readers of my twitter have obviously seen that), but still today, in Ze Frank’s presentation he talked about how one of his readers asked him to write them a cheer-up song for a situation that sounded really similar to the way I’d been on Tuesday night, and he started it up, and I cried and cried because it was exactly what I needed Luckily the lights were off in the hall at the time, and of course I twittered about it and saw everyone else saying that they’d cried too. Powerful. I shook his hand later and told him he made me cry. Looking at Twitter, an awful lot of people feel that way.

I want to talk more about other things, like venn diagrams (people at the conference that I’ve slept with, people at the conference I don’t want to talk to, and how they overlap but only a little bit and so I’d have to throw in another ring about something), and how much Star Wars sucks, and the free coffee, and the free ice cream, and how much I’m caught up in the trading card game because I’m going to win a baby dinosaur, but it’s like, midnight and tomorrow is going to be INTENSE and I have to replan my outfit since the motherfucking thong in my birki jandal broke, but i realise that I haven’t even mentioned how AWESOME the last half of the Fur Patrol gig that I made it to was, and how I cried again when they were singing ‘Silences and distances’ which is all “Please don’t make this hard – at least be willing to try” and the night was perfect, and the air was blowing hair, and everyone was lovely, and we humped Lisa a lot and I just so adore getting Alan drunk, and Craig Terris has cut his hair to look like Carlos D, so I’m wondering if he also likes to bang fat chicks, and therefore I can get herpes off him and give it to the whole iPhone world. These jokes will make no sense to you, I’m sure, but as my final “this is how awesome Webstock is” for the night – I bitched on Twitter about how i had no handcream and I was twittered back to inform me that there was 8 Hour Cream at the front desk. SUCH BRILLIANT CUSTOMER CARE. <3 <3 <3 and there’s a whole ‘nother day to go tomorrow in which I may just marry Tom Coates. Watch this space.

Once again, I have been unfathomably busy. I know I start every journal entry like this lately, but hey, you get what you pay for, right?

When I left you last, I’d just been to Bar Camp, which was an unconference. Accordingly, I went to a conference on Wednesday at the Stadium. The catering was very average, it was cold in the room, and I was the only person wearing Threadless. Everyone else was in suits. The contrast was very striking. So was the view, as we were up in a corporate box.

I stayed for a couple of networking drinks, and explained myspace and blogging to some people – another contrast to Bar Camp – wow, it’s almost like I should set up a work blog to discuss all these themes – and then hustled my way down the incredibly long Fran Wilde walk to buy $7 worth of cashews (whoops) and be picked up by the faithful Miss Fur who already had her on firmly her jones for Julia and Sam to duet on ‘Good Woman’ at the Cook Strait Social Club. We had drinks and cashews at her house, met up with Karen and then headed down to Mighty Mighty. Handily, Hannah, Anji & her gentleman caller Bambi had already set up camp right near the stage, so we had the best seats in the house, or at least I did, after I stole Hannah’s armchair. We got talking to a lovely American girl named Ingrid, who asked Lisa about gig ettiquite in Wellington.

It turned out it was a particularly awesome intimate gig when Julia came down from the stage to apologise for not learning ‘Good Woman’, and Sam took yelled-out requests (playing ‘Going Fishing’ when that’s Luke’s song, although of course, Sam’s now officially my favourite after that whole bear suit debarcle) and laughed at us when we said “that’s not soon enough!” for an announced October 7 release date for the new Phoenix Foundation album. Emily’s mother talked to me in the bathroom, and I even got up and danced for the last song, which was The Warratahs’ ‘Hands of my heart’. I felt like it was 1989 all over again. All in all, a most excellent excellent night.

On Thursday I made dhal and then got the cleaning bug late at night and I ended up finding about five bags of rotton potatoes, some of which had liquified in the kitchen. Yum! Good smell! But at least it was all cleaned up for the impending arrival of the new flatmates. And of course being virtuous on Thursday meant that I could go out on Friday, so out I went.

I met up with Shirley at Tupelo, and we drank what was apparently their last bottle of red wine, and then had to switch to white. The double Ds came along and were happy that Mary-Kate and Ashley were there too, and eventually we were joined by Bart, before we beat a path to Scopa for pizza.

After that, we followed Bart up to the Mac’s Brewery Bar, which was about to shut (at midnight, what the hell?), and this story happened:

Shame
So tonight Dyl Dave and I go with Bart to the Mac’s Brewery for some goodbye drinks one of Bart’s friends is having. As soon as I get there, some tall boy bounds up to me. “Hi Jo, how’s it going?” I’m all “……… Hi! I haven’t seen you in ages, how are you?” He says he’s good and asks me how I am, so I exchange pleasantries. Then I’m like “So, I haven’t seen you in ages. When is the last time we saw each other again?” and he’s like “a couple of weeks ago at that bar..” and I’m like fuck, is he playing the same game I’m playing? but I suggest the Cross and he says Tupelo, and I smile and nod until he asks me where Bart is and moves off. Later, I talk to Bart, and I’m like “Okay, so who the hell is that guy I was talking to before and why the hell does he know me?”
Bart was all “That’s that guy. You know. That guy”. And I’m like “huuuuuuuuuuuuuh?” and Bart’s like”from my party” and I’m like omg really? I made out with that guy and he came in his pants as he dry-humped me? (Or not so dry). And so I stare at him from across the room and go “damn. he’s really hot. Did I really score him? Really? Because I remembered him being pretty much a loser but maybe I was stereotyping based on the Hawaiian shirt. And I tell Dyl, cos apparently that guy had Dyl’s tshirt, but then we have a disagreement about which guy at the bar we’re talking about, and Dyl’s like “No, it wasn’t that guy, it was that guy!!!!” pointing elsewhere and I’m like fuck, dammit, there goes my thinking that I’d actually score someone hot.

On Saturday morning, I got up at 10 to help Kat & Kane move in, and there was a lot of sitting in the sun talking about wrestling. Karen and Hannah and Anji came over for beers and snacks in the sun, and then I spent the evening doing pretty much nothing at all. Sunday was another blissful day like that, much time spent in bed with Q, putting up new posters and putting away washing. Last night Lisa and her new flatmate came over for dinner. I made my crackling crackle for the first time! And promptly ate most of it before it made it to the dinner table. I blame Smoo for snarfling some whilst carving. Kat brought home organic veges which were very tasty, and naturally we only managed about 15 minutes of dinner before the conversation got filthy. That Lisa, she’s just trouble. But oooh oooh, we set a date and a theme for the next party we’re having: Country Club: Back in the USSR. October 13. Be there!

I have been as busy as a mongoose lately. A mongoose! And consequently, there is not a part of my body that doesn’t ache. Except for maybe my right ear. But that’s it.

After work on Tuesday, Karen and I went to jump into the ocean by the lagoon. Something went wrong with the way I was holding my head as I jumped off the plank though, and as I plunged into the water I felt as if I was receiving an enema through my nose. Not a pleasant feeling at all, I tell you. In fact, it made my throat and ears ache, and made me feel really sick. Add to that the teenage boys yelling “stingray!” at each other, and then the something solid that brushed my hand that made me swim and hide behind Kar, and when she saw a jellyfish I was well ready to get out. So I texted the divine Miss Fur and she came to pick me up and we went to the fish’n chip shop in Lyall Bay then drove out of the sun to go eat on the pier by my secret beach.

On Thursday Anji and I went to a pilates class at our gym for the first time. It seemed easy enough while we were doing it, although I got trembling holding my left leg in the air for so long, but afterwards, my abs were screaming. Oh yes, I apparently have abs. And for the rest of that night and all of Friday I felt like I was wearing a corset, I was so aware of them. I drove out to the airport to pick up Lani and three of her giggling friends who are staying with us, and then Lisa came to get me again for the Julia Deans (that’s her from Fur Patrol for those of you not in the know) solo accoustic gig at Happy. We got there shortly after 9pm, and were told it wasn’t on til 10 so we went to Karen’s house and made fun of her for a while before going back. Man oh man was I tired. Ryan Prebble didn’t start playing until after 11, and even though I’m sure he’s a lovely man and that some people were into his music, I started having fantasies about his guitar strings breaking as he was twanging them so hard and cutting him and him bleeding out and dying on stage so that Julia could start sooner. And then the taste in my mouth let me know that I’d actually fallen asleep for half a minute. But when Julia finally started singing, ti was all worthwhile. She did lots and lots of new stuff, no old Fur Patrol, and ‘Freak show’ and wow, her voice sure is stunning. The annoying part was that someone had brought along a baby, who cried. What the fuck? Yes, the baby was wearing ear muffs, and yes, apparently the mother was known to Julia who stopped and said “I know it’s not the volume cos that baby’s been to Shihad gigs!” but hi, you are not Gywneth, and this is not Live8 (and no one should ever aspire to be Gywneth anyways, because dude, could you pick a more bland milksoppy role model? Maybe Andie Mcdowell. But still.). I can put up with screaming kids at the beach because I suppose I do swim by the kids’ playground so I’m asking for it, but I don’t care if Happy was the first smokefree bar and it was fairly quiet, children are totally inappropriate in that context. Yes sir. But yes, apart from that, good times. I thought about how I can totally see the way I’m replacing you in the role that you used to have, and how even though I know what I’m doing is dumb it’s going to happen anyway, but meh, maybe I will go with this week’s counselling work whereby instead of being all “I should be doing this or that” or whatever, I can be all “I am making a choice to do blah blah blah”. I totally dig on how she gets my semantical issues.

Because Lani’s friends were sleeping in the lounge when I got home I couldn’t have my usual unwinding time with the television when I got home, so I couldn’t get to sleep for ages so Friday morning I was dreadfully dreadfully tired, but hopped up on excitement about the forthcoming weekend. After work I went to the ministry social club drinks where Lani introduced me to her friends – many of whom know my father, and I laughed at where a couple of the boys apparently thought my eyes were. I suppose the Mary-Kate and Ashley locket I was wearing that Martha made me buy at Craftwerk did help to draw the eye down to Mary-Kate and Ashley, which was of course totally the point. But it made me feel appreciated. Yes. I only stayed for one glass of wine though, because I ahd to go home to eagerly await the arrival of KateH and Shirley, hurrah! We had a couple of bottles of bubby while doing much gossip catch-up, and it was lovely. A couple of times I felt a bit weird, because I always used to be better friends with both of them than they were with each other, but of course now I live in Wellington and they don’t, so they have all these stories about people I don’t really know and tales to tell about nights together and I was just like “waah, left out”. But Shirley has just moved to Palmy now to finish her grad dip, so the balance will be restored again. Muahaha. We’d planned to go out to dinner but instead I fished bolognaise out of the freezer while they went for more wine. Then we went to Fia’s birthday party, and I didn’t check the address so we wandered around the top of Ghuznee St for ages trying to find a number that didn’t exist, being invited to student parties playing Metallica before I checked my phone and saw I had two digits wrong. So we got there in the end. Mostly I just talked to Karl and Amber, and laughed at the very very drunk very very young lady who tried to hit on both Shirley and KateH because she was missing her girlfriend. When we were in the taxi home I rang Lisa and decided to go to her house to panda-dance, so the girls went home to watch taped Daily Shows which Shirley didn’t like and is therefore off my weddding guest list.

It was a Saturday the next day, strangely enough, but much like last weekend when I didn’t get to sleep in because I went to the Petone fair with Shayne and Lani to see the wonderful Sue and Martha, I had to get up early to make the most of the day. This meant Shirley, KateH and I taking the bus in to the Cuba St Carnival, leaving like before 11am! I know right, haaaaaaaaaardcore. We were as awake as lemurs. Even though I’m sure it got much more crowded as the day went along, Cuba St was buzzing, and I was so fucking proud to be a Wellingtonian. I was also stoked that all of my “I am the boss of the weather and it will be sunny tomorrow!” blustering had paid off and it was still and baking. We wandered around for an hour or so, People’s Coffee from Plum in hand (I actually don’t really like it. Stink), and KateH bought a top, I found a hat that actually fit my huge head in Frutti so I bought that, and Shirley got a hat too. We also popped into Slowboat to see Ev, and now she probably thinks I am insane. Nevermind. Then it was just after 12 and we’d seen everything so I decided we should go home to get my car and go to my secret beach. So we did. KateH and Shirls were all “oooh eeek arrrgh too cold!” so they sat on the beach and read “Next (heh), while I had a bloody nice swim.

Lani and her friends were on salad duty, which cut down on my prep work for Country Club: Australia rather substantially. I went to the supermarket for beer (VB) and assorted snarlers and charcoal and ice and so on and so forth while Shirley and KateH did the dishes. We made dips, filled up a tub with ice and beer and then I turned our washing line into a pavilion in the style of Spiceworld (remember? In the grounds of the big old spooky house and they’re all wearing different coloured bathrobes, sucking chuppa chups and planning how to set up Debra and Clifford) with the help of a large couch cover, some pegs, some lime green netting curtains and assorted mattresses, pillows and lanterns. It looked bloody marvellous by the time I was done, even if it didn’t provide quite as much shade as I’d hoped. The absolutely fantastic Jimmy turned up and for a very long time it looked like he was going to be the only boy there, so he had to Make Fire by himself, although I stood around and fetched beer. Luckily Dave showed up to be manly with him. I had a period of total Hostess Anxiety because the bbq was going slowly so we thought we might have to cook some things indoors, and I didn’t know what, or when or how, and Lani’s friends were in the house so I thought if we took the food outside they might not get anything, and my friends Anne and Frances were in the kitchen preparing respectfully shrimp and falafel and I wanted to talk to everyone at once and make sure that everythign was going okay and the ghetto blaster on the stairs kept skipping on the mix CD Lisa brought (AC/DC and Powderfinger and Icehouse and Midnight Oil and the Vines and Jebidiah etc) aaaaaaaaargh freak out! So I made a choice to just sit down and have another beer. And things got much easier from then on in. I grilled some venison burgers indoors and the shrimp and falafel were fried, and people ate, and the boys tended the bbq most faithfully and more people came adn the sun went down, and ahhhh bliss. Lisa left for a while to go see the Phoenix Foundation play, and Lani and her friends took off, so it was just my posse hanging out. Instead of eating the pavlova I’d bought to be controversial, we toasted marshmallows and pears over the coals and the sugar cominded with the mango margaritas once the beer ran out made me incredibly fucking hypo. I jumped around and danced in the garden to CDs that reminded me of Volcanic and also the Pulp Fiction soundtrack that soundtracked my first-ever pash, and was just very very amped to go back into town to meet up with Shirls and KateH who’d left earlier and see the Battacuda Sound System, or whatever the correct spelling is.

We managed to squeeze six of us into Miss Lisa’s car so we could drop Frances home, and so Kar and Dyl and I were dropped off by Manners Mall to head up to Swan Lane to the big stage and crowds. I was still VERY VERY HYPER and yes, I am writing much like I was talking and jittering. It was fun. While we were waiting for the band to start the boy from the Great Blend showed up, so we chatted for a bit and it was nice to see that contrary to the stoogling results I’d turned up, he is actually just a secret ginga. Heh. Battacuda were SO MUCH FUN! I danced like a crazy person and so my calves are still aching today, because apparently dancing on concrete is not as soft and accomodating as you might think it could be. If you were stupid. I was all very hyped up so we went to Havana after, and danced some more. KateH and Shirley went home but Dyl was all let’s stay out! so I did, and then after one more drink both him and Kar were like “tired now, let’s go” and I was like you guys are DICKS. But there was a taxi right outside the door, and so that was handy. I told Karen to remember it was a black’n gold one, and texted her when I got home fine. I wasn’t that drunk, but I’m trying to form good habits in case of insane drunkenness at a later date. Ahh taking care of myself, nice work.

When I woke up on Sunday I felt like I’d been hit by a truck, what with the calves, and the pimple just inside my nose, and the cut on my foot and the scratches from Sebby who was a little unnerved by the masses of people at the BBQ – so much so that he almost didn’t want to eat steak – but he dragged it away to eat in private and emerged much calmer – and all, but I still managed to get showered and dressed and to take the girls to the Maranui Surf Cafe for breakfast. We had to wait for aaaaaaaaaaaaages to get a table and then for our food but it was well worth it because dude, Wellington is so fucking rad. I dropped KateH in town after that and said sad goodbyes to Shirley who had to return to Palmy for her first day of school today. I spent the afternoon lying in the pavillion reading Prep (so good! although I expected more sex and panties from a book set in a boarding school) and then bonding with my couch and HDD once the wind got too strong. I did a mountain of dishes and threw away salads and prawn heads, but cleanup wasn’t too bad thanks to the wonders of disposable plates. I discovered that Smoo wasn’t actually dead in a gutter but had instead gone to Hammy with Bart for the weekend. When they got back they came over to bbq up the leftovers. But it turns out that Jimmy is teh BBQ King and they can’t even touch him. Much like Hammer. While Bart trying to catch flaming pieces of paper with his bare hands was somewhat entertaining, we resorted to cooking on the stove instead. Smoo ate about a thousand chops, so KateH and I were looking forward to seeing Bart polish off a whole pavlova, but that didn’t happen, sadly. So there is still some passionfruit pav with Kiwiberries (so weird!) in our fridge if you are hungry. Okay? Okay.

Today I got up early to take KateH to the airport, but she fetched me coffee while I was in the shower so I love her for that. And that’s about all I have to say for now, I think.

So, I’ve discovered the best nightclub in town, bar none. There’s no dress code. There are no wankers. There’s no one bumping into you or looking at you funny. The music is a perfect blend of hiphop, electronica and other random stuff thrown in just to make it fun. It’s convienently located in town and you can dance in your bare feet because it’s carpeted. There’s plenty of access to free water,and there’s couches for resting on, and even showers and beds too if you need. No one looks twice at you if you run your hands all over yourself because your pill makes it feel extra nice. It’s called My Lounge. But most of you probably wouldn’t get in. Sorry.

Friday morning me and Jinan met our mentor and interviewed her and she must have been very effective because much later that evening when I found myself in a bullshit conversation with someone I was able to completely repeat everything that she had told me and believe in what I was saying too, so that was amusing. But I’m getting ahead of myself. What else did I do during the day? Hmmm. I napped, because 8am classes are no fun.

Friday night I got another call from Brad-My-Fiance; he was drunk again and wanted to tell me again that he loved and missed me and was coming up to Auckland soon. I told him that i wasn’t sure if I could still marry him because I was in a man hating mood, but then again, I am a sucker for anyone who tells me that they worship me. I drove to KateM’s house, and we took a taxi together to Justin’s flatwarming. Of course, we got dropped off too early so we wandered the streets of Sandringham for ages because there was some kinda conspiracy where none of the houses had letter boxes with numbers on them,but eventually we got there.

I ran out of beer waaay too early and found myself trying to make conversations with people I didn’t know – well, alternating between doing that and standing in a corner by myself. There were actually a lot of really nice people there but I dunno – I felt a little weary of the whole polite chitchat thing so eventually I just started insultingpeople and starting conversation that way. I really liked the people who took it in the spirit that it was intended and started psychoanalyzing me on that basis. The other party highlight for me was dancing to Fur Patrol with KateM and thinking about boys who like the song Loaded (where are you???). At the end of the night there was a lot of standing around on the driveway waiting for taxis that never came and so I went to town with Nick and Megan who I met at Octoberfest and we played pool, and that was cool. I suck really badly at it though, and also, some fucking moron at the table next to us asked me if I’d come from a 5th form party, so I was like, “yeah thanks for that”.

Saturday morning/noonish, I was sitting sheeted at the dining room table reading the paper when Ben decided to try and convince me that I should go and have drinks with him down at his work. I was like “aaaargh”. I’ve decided that it’s worth the $3000+ dollars that I’m paying for my ‘education’ just so that I can have the yearlong excuse of “having to study” every time I need it. He told me that I need to go out more often and meet more people and so I was like “I went to a party last night! I’m going to another one tonight! What more can you ask of me?” He said I needed to meet a nice boy or girl, and so I told him that I was engaged to a guy in Wellington. When Ben asked why I wasn’t with that guy then I said that he was moving in in two weeks time. He was suprised but I’m worried that he completely believed me. Sucker.

Later that evening I slathered on silver eyeshadow cos I intended to sparkle and dance, and went off walking down K’Road to KatieH’s house. I had to go via the bottleo and then after that, there were no taxis on my side of the road and I was almost at Great North Road before I had the clever idea of crossing to the other side. Duh. Anyways. So once again there was lots of talking to people I didn’t know, and being bailed up in corners by people who claimed that I’d met them previously the week before and “you were really trashed then”. Ahuh probably, but that doesn’t mean that you can invade my personal space, freak. I took my leftovers from Welly that I’d brought back in my bra, because I was curious to see what it’d be like in a non-danceparty environment. Suffice to say that I spent a lot of time stroking the skin on my hands because it felt really nice. When I told Justin he started stroking my face and so I was like “aaaaaargh”. Note to the world: I have a very erogenous face. Don’t touch it unless you mean to start something. Pretty much everyone had left at that stage so I called a cab and went home via Kingsland to drop off Tasha (see, I have no problems in walking home by myself from wherever, but it’s completly not okay for anyone else to do it!) And then at home I danced by myself in the lounge for ages and ages, it was excellent. Then I had a cold shower and wanted to listen to Beth Orton like I always do whenever I’m coming down, except that I don’t have my Beth Orton cd right now (grrr!) but Jeff Buckley was a fine substitute.

Today I was completley and utterly drained so I stayed in bed til about 5. I didn’t really have anything to do, so why not? Tomorrow I will finally have to go and retrieve my car from Mt. Eden and also get tampons since I’ve started on the bleed again (yay regularity!). And I might also do some actual study instead of just saying that I have to, although that could be stretching things a little. Sleep now! Hopefully Ben and his maurauding friends won’t be too loud if they come back again from going out after the Chemical Brothers concert.

My eyes hurt, so I probably should go to bed sometime. I’m in Wellington. We have a massive looming Xmas tree and funny lights. There are big parcels for me under it which I have fondled and am still confused by. The house is all clean. It’s cool.

I had SUCH a nice drive down today, all lovely sunshine and little traffic. I sang and smiled, young, fabulous and free. I listened to Kiss FM for 2 hours whilst in the Taupo vicinity because Jarrod was dj’ing on it. Innnnnnteresting music selection going on there, Fur Patrol one minue and Meatloaf the next. Oh and speaking of Fur Patrol, how fucking cool is it that they’re the Xmas number one in NZ? So fucking cool. The Xmas number one in the UK is probably “Bob the Builder” which I heard on the simulcast of Top of the Pops somewhere in the Manawatu. Eminemem played “Stan” on Top of the Pops as well, but he was strangely cut off before the last two verses. What a suprise.

My father’s trying to tell me that Robbie Williams is gay. As if.

I got a text message today from an unknown number saying “Are your nipples errect?” . I was a little confused, but unsuprised. When I rang the number back, the answering machine said it was Kate, and later i talked to the Bentons to confirm that it was indeed Kate B. So I sent her back a message that said “yes and I’m all wet and ready for you”. She hasn’t replied.

My cat Pixie is sitting on top of the largest present for me. It’s a bigass box, but I bet it’s just a cd with a lot of newspaper around it. I love Xmas pressies. I have to go shopping tomorrow though, which will be a mare.

Simon’s not answering his phone. We still have nowhere to stay in Taupo. No room at the Inn. I guess I’ll just give birth in a manger instead. Hayley never knows who I am when I phone her. Brad rang me today to ask where the axe is. He also emailed me some addresses for home&away related sites. I like this one – http://www.alfstewart.cjb.net/. Stone the flamin’ crows, Ails, you build a website and then those bloody yahoos come in with their caps on backwards and just smash the place up.

My belly hurts too. I should go, although it’s been great having a yarn with you. Oh wait hang on, what are you getting me for Xmas? This is what I would like:

• A nokia 3210/3310
• Bed linen! Queen size duvet covers, and make sure they’re pretty
• Makeup – ‘Juliet’ coloured Poppy eyeshadow, or anything Napolean, or any kinda lip gloss at all
• Money or vouchers
• CDs: ‘Kid A’ Radiohead, ‘Pet’ Fur Patrol or ‘The Altruist’ (or is it ‘Altruism’?) DLT.
• Lamps, pillows and candles (I wanna live in a harem)
• Alcohmahol or illict substances
• Art works – not movie posters
• Handbags (cos you can never have enough)
• a digital camera
• a cd burner
• a trip to Melbourne/Sydney

Thank you. I will give you my postal address on request. Oh and one last thing – my sister Karen wrote this tonight.

Me (in bear mask)”roaaaaar!” Kara: “eeek!” Me:”Sorry, I didn’t mean to score you. I mean, scare you”

I’m on my way
From A U T to hamilton today
ahuh ahuh ahuh

Ahuh. Project reports were all proffesionally bound and handed in today. I am free. Life is good!

Hi Michael Shadbolt. I liked your set on Pulp last year.

Second night of the expo went much better than the first, because I was handing out name tags and was therefore able to grab people’s attention as they came in, and also because I was wearing my New Media Pants. So there. Some interesting oppotunities have arisen as a consequence, which i will get back to you on as more details surface. But for today, I’m going to Hammy to see Andeee and Amy and go to Shihad/Weta/Fur Patrol, wahoo! Suck though that Andee doesn’t have a ticket, but we might scrape a doorsale through. Hopefully. Either way though, it’ll still be fabo to see her and drink instant coffee and hope to bump into the old boys and stuff.

Tomorrow night I’m back to Auckland for Trudie’s 21st, maybe Kate Orange’s 21st and Justin’s farewell party, and then on sunday morning, I’m flying to welly for a week. I’m getting picked up at the airport and then it’s straight off to Oma’s house for lunch, wahoo. So yeah, busy busy. I guess i should go pack now, but that’s boring. All I’m taking to hammy is cheap wine and a change of clothing anyways.

Going out after the Expo was fun – hundreds of us at the London Bar. Clay was there with his tv buddies, so that was cool. Jodie was very sly, which impressed me. I had a conversation with Ben and Kyle about celebacy (I can’t even spell it) and romance as opposed to sex, and it amused me. Later at Macdonalds, Nick Jodie and I were talking about scoring tech people, and when I said I’d snogged a person from tech, Nick was very sure that I’d snogged Brad, which I haven’t, and I never ever will, because no, that’d be like ewww, snogging a brother. And we all know I’d never screw the crew (again). So that was disturbing. The fact that I only paid for one bottle of wine the entire night and yet got bollickingly drunk on drinks bought for me was not disturbing. And having six business cards when i got home was impressive, I thought.

Okay, really must go now, I guess. I like driving, but I don’t like driving in Hamilton – I always get lost. Still, needs must! xoxo “Maybe later – I’ve got creamy goodness in my mouth right now”

I’ve lost my voice. This is really quite distressing. I’m not entirely sure where I put it, either. Oh well, I’m typing now – who needs to talk?

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”

There’s something a little wrong with your taxi driver giving you tips on how to become a high price hooker, isn’t there? I mean, even if he’s just giving you advice on where the rich men hang out. The George in Parnell, apparently, and I was like “sweet mate”. I think I’d just been saying about how I didn’t want to get a job and shit, and he was like “find a rich man, that’ whbat women do, isn’t it?”. Actually, come to think about it, he was a real sexist prick – going on about how much stuff women carry in their handbags, but at the time he seemed funny. I’m gald I didn’t tip him, even if I had to run into the house to get cash. Oh man, apart from paying for the taxi, I didnyt’ spend a cent tonight – how cool is that?

I found myself spending the evening in the bedroom of some apartment overlooking the sky tower and the harbour bridge. There was blue carpet and it all smelt of CKone, because everyone was spraying that on themselves. I realised eventually that the bed was the same one as we sold, and I was like “well no wonder this feels so comfortable” and Jody and I laughed a lot, and then probabyl danced some more.

Oh man, i got the best quote outta Jody tonight – almost “I have a cock in my mouth!” but I can’t remmeber it. Oh wait, yes I can – “if I was drunk enough, I’d do anything with you” – but we were talking about me asking her to sing spice girls with her at Karaoke – honestly. Damn I’ ve been using a lot of dashes.

Tech at noon, group meeting. There’s a computer hooked up on a 56 modem in the lab now, running IE 3.0 and NS 3.0 for us to do testing on, and we discovered that our site doesn’t work at these browser levels. BUGGER! stats from the NSCC say that only .48% of people have used IE 3.0 so we don’t really care about that, but 3.78% of people use NS 3.0 so we gotta do something about that. Well actually, I d unno if we do really, cvos it’s only a couple’o pixels out. And if you’re using a browser that old – even if you’re doing it ironically – you get what you deserve.

Eventually, it’s like 4pm and I’m tired of working in Quest, and having to reboot every half hour, even emails from Kini telling me what she’s eating aren’t inspiring enough, so I go get food with Kate M and Brad, and at 5pm we show up at the TV studios to provide canned laughter for Clayton’s sitcom thingie. It was funny, as were the 3 minuters we made in 1st year that we watched some of. Fuck, first year seems like yesterday, and a life time ago. Arg. I’ve fucked 3 people and snogged 4 others in less than the past year. Nothing like making up for lost time.

After the videos, we head down to London Bar, and Andrew Melville, radio tutor, calls me Joanne and buys me a pint. If people buy me alcohol, I forgive small details, especially when he amends himself to “Joanna” later. After Brad and Kate M have gone, and I’m sitting at the other end of the tables pushed together, Becks Jody and I realise that we’re magenta yellow and cyan in my case. Kate Hamlin buys me a vodka. Stuff is good. Jody Cess and I are the only non radio students – they’re a very inbred group, you know. I laugh a lot observing their social rituals and the inside stories going on. Oh the gossip! Oh the drama!

Eventually we felt like we were under threat of being kicked out becasue we were so loud, and also everyone was hungry. The group seemed to spliter in two, a nd I went with one group down to Glengarry on College Street, which was shut, and many questioned whether or not Randy actually knew where he lived. But we got there eventually, and it was posh. Bex ordered pizza, and got my handful of change to pay for it. There was drinking and drinking – alcohol the radio gang bought w ith the money they’d made f rom the static launch party. They’re not programming it anymore, which sucks cos it’s finally streaming across the Intranet. Dancing to old scary music – Bon Jovi, much stroking of someone’s chest. I got asked if I’d put out for someone in an animal costume, but I think I’d be laughing too much.

“Lydia” by Fur Patrol plays, and it seems group consensus that this is the coolest song ever around right now. It’s such a jilted woman song, and I sing it with a group. Then Jarrod plays Hootie and the Blowfish, and I complain that it’s only ever Saint Pats boys that like this kinda crap, and he’s like “you know nothing about St Pats boys” and I laugh lots, because actually I do. Dylan taught me how boys wank, after all.

Dance dance, drink drink drink, smelly smelly shoes. Gossip gossip, my head hurts, call a taxi, taxi comes, arguing with driver, he’s implying that I’m a whore, runnning into the house for cash to pay, pay, back home, computer on, requests to see my titties, so what else is new? Fuck I’m tired. It w as fun hanging out with people that I don’t know that well. It was also fun to discover the other day that someone I was afraid of hurting has a parallel agenda to mine, so wh00p for that.

More goddam meetings tomorrow, time to feel less sick and then go to bed. It’s been fun. Heh, I amuse me much, thanks Shania. I wonder if everyone’s going to Bar of the Stars now. I wanna go to Karaoke with Olivia again. I was talking to Brad today about Skid Row, and he just had no idea.

I’ve got chills – they’re multiplying

Name the body part.

Ouch.

I think in the future, before I go out with Kate Benton and her friends again, I will write myself a cohesive list of why Limp Biozkit are so bad, because I imagine I’ll have the same arguement with Mike again, and I’d like to be able to express myself a little better than just “they suck”. To think he said Placebo suck. People these days.

Apparently the boy in the cab last night that I shared was Le-at’s brother. I guess it makes a lot more sense now that they didn’t appear to be very intimate – I thought they were shacking up together but wondered why they were so distant with each other. And if they are brother and sister, that explains that they both have such strange names. Well, I guess the names aren’t strange if you speak Hebrew.

I’m excited that “Lydia” is now on ZM’s playlist, because if there’s any NZ band that deserves fame and money other than Shihad, it’s Fur Patrol.

Clay came into my room this morning to steal the Internet Cable (okay, wishful thinking – I mean the phone extension cord) so I was like “Clay, can you please open my window?” and he did, and I asked him for water as well, which he brought me. What a nice boy. I was like “Look! I have a fur cuff! and he was like “where’d you get that?” but I didn’t know. I remembered putting on the red feather band, but where I got the grey fur like Olivia’s pillows from, I have no idea.

Macdonalds is a poor man’s version of Wendys when it comes to hangover treatment.