Hubris.co.nz

Right now I kinda wanna tweet “Hey weirdo, my window is open again. At least if you rape me while I’m sleeping I’ll get a proper hard good dicking & stop being a lesbian…” But I can’t. Because that’s 141 characters. And also that wouldn’t fit in a “oh wait, too soon?” or a #iamdeconstructingyearsoffeministtheoryandalsobadpeoplejudgementandtakingthepissbecausethisissuchawrongopiniontohave,andalsoitkindafreakedmeoutsoofcourseiammakingjokesaboutit hashtag.

And in things that would only make sense if you’ve figured out the secret code of this site as opposed to the old one (it is no longer the source code and as another hint it rhymes with what Glen and Rebecca and Amy are) I had a wall-touching moment just before when I was peeing just now. It was kind of amusing. But let’s backtrack back up to this morning, when I discovered that although webstock satchels are awesomely strong and enabled me to carry two bottles of wine to dinner at Emma and Simon’s last night, but apparently they did enable those two bottles to crush the leg off my new sunglasses. And you know how fucking difficult it was to find those glasses!

But oh yes, in further backtracking, dinner was a magnificant thing. I ate amazing mushroom bourgouin, and delicious bread, and average green beans (I don’t want all the praise to go to Emma’s head TOO much) while I heard the most adorable D&D related story that I’ve ever heard. And then there were cats on my lap, and faces in Emma’s pudding, and Simon did his sexy dance for me, which LITERALLY (my loud English neighbour says “literally” a LOT when she’s not necessarily meaning figuratively, but the literally is sort of superfluous. But in this case, I know I say I do things a lot, like omg I totally died,  but I didn’t actually die etc) made me go “tehehe!” and almost blush but not quite. There were a lot of eyebrows.

And now we come to the total and utter degregation and humiliation of a WINZ seminar. I was in a group with two people who maybe aspired to work for a supermarket, maybe. This should not have been a group discussion, no way, no how. It wasn’t fun for me and I’m sure it wasn’t fun for them either. Hey, did you know that jobs are advertised in the newspaper? And also online? And sometimes places aren’t hiring? I wrote UGH in my notebook in a very steady stream.

After that I felt disgusting and gross and violated and so fucking dirty and disheartened and untalented and every other bad adjective in the world, but luckily, it was time for me to text Megan and go and meet her for lunch. Because the day was so gorgeous, we went to Beach Babylon on Oriental Parade. We basked in the sun, and the food was tasty, but the service was pretty terrible. I’d almost call it appalling except that I know they were dealing with a broken till at the time. Megan is one of my current favourite people right now because I get to gossip with her about other people and she knows almost all of my secrets but not quite all. I still haven’t told her that I’m actually Batman, for example.

Tonight was Karen’s dinner at Miyabi and it turns out that their chicken teriyaki is battered and deep-fried beforehand. Excellent. Then there were drinks at Watusi and I got to see Jane from Green Land who I miss insane amounts and is  one of my main motivating factors for kind of wanting to work in Molesworth Quarter again, even if it means work drinks at the Back Bencher, but if it means Green Land coffee and Green land scones, and love from Paul and Jane then maybe it’s worthwhile? I mean, apart from the actual job of course, which would be great. Speaking of jobhunting in a not related to WINZ way, I got a call from someone I’d interviewed with a couple of weeks ago, inviting me to go to WOW, so that was nice. I like people who like me.

Yesterday I sent out a twit saying “Oh man, I cheated on Jane & Paul this morning and my punishment was a latte made with trim and a very blah scone. I’m so sorry! #whitewhines”, and that clearly demonstrates both my crime (in my defense, the scone came from the cafe in the Dom Post building where I having my photo taken, all zoomed in on my hands like L** S*** except I didn’t have dirt under my fingernails and the focus was on my sugar scrub instead of my open vagina and I did it for Kimberley instead of NZ Idol). Anyways, today I told them about my infidelity and they still made me the most awesome coffee ever, and I got to have a roast vege sandwich with feta, even though I had to run off to a depressing meeting about the economy while I still eating, but then I had lunch at Cellar-Vate and their dip had salmon in it which I hate, and meanwhile Green Land was giving out rum. So the punishment lingers.

Also yesterday I was twittering about how I was wearing my “I love Helen” badge that Bad Tom gave me for Christmas (hey, so it turns out that public servants are actually allowed to have their own thoughts and opinions! Who knew?) but as punishment from the gods, I was working on a comms plan and I had to emphasize the value for money and the outputs for the public in it. As my (life-long public servant) father had said right after the election and I’d been missing work to stay at home and cry “awww it’s so cute that you think things will actually change with the change in government”. It is still the same project that my intern and I have been working on. It still has the same purposes, ideas and findings. We just have to wrap it up in different language, because apparently, that’s value for money. Retch.

Other crimes and punishment themes that I meant to expand on. I still need a spanking. Wait, what’s the line between want and need these days, in this post 9/11 world? And when will Austrians find Nazi jokes funny?

On that note, I spent the day working from home on Wednesday because I wanted to concentrate on doing some serious writing on case studies instead of being distracted by wiki issues, which meant that I was in theory about to watch the Inauguration, but without Sky there were too many people talking on TV3 so I went back to sleep and read Gawker media commentary on it later and cried. Then I went to Lisa’s to watch Skins 2 and hang, and in the car on the drive home I cried when Roxette played on the radio, and then I cried in joy watching The Daily Show coverage, not least because of all the joy that was so clear in them, not just because it was change that they could believe in, but it was challenging comedically too to capture those moments that were so amazing but to still be all Daily Show all up on them.

Kowhai says that she wishes she could be as in touch with my emotions as I am, but this is me with total motherfucking eat a bag of dicks PMS and I feel like the world is ending, and I want to eat all the bread in the world and oh my fucking god, could I just start bleeding already please? Please? Tonight I was bitching furiously to Good Tom and Good Anita (did we decide to call her that?) about my period’s control over my body and how like, nine years ago KateB told me to have a keep-a-nigga baby when Ass was doing the very long drawn-out breaking off, and I was like “OMG TERRIBLE” but I think there are too many signs of an imminent period (not to mention the whole thing where I’m probably infertile) to think that there was something amiss, especially since my last period was two weeks long.

I was going to go home and get drunk and cry by myself after work today, but I needed to buy a new cellphone charger cos mine has died, and also potentially a new remote control for the lounge dvd player cos that bitch is a fucking bitch, but then there was TCD store open which I’ve never seen before and it was so pretty and shiny, and there was this sexyass dress, and then on the other side of the shop it was available in purple, and I didn’t think it was right and then I thought “what about if I had a belt?” and I thought “what would Joan Holloway do?” and just as the shop assistant was asking me if i wanted help, Good Tom rang to see where I was at, and I asked him if I should buy the dress, and he said “does it make you look ugly?” and I said “no” so he told me to buy it, and the shop lady complimented me In on my whole outfit with it, so I bought it. And now I am poor. #whitewhine. In fact, I’m feeling like an exceptionally poor mother right now, because we’re out of cat biscuits, which means I’ve been giving Sebby extra wet meat, which of course he loves. Also that last expression sounds so eww.

Also, there’s things and there’s stuff, of course, and historians – or rather me reading this two year from now will go “what history? what stuff?” but for now I will nod smuggly. Mostly, being pre-period makes me totally feel like there’s the end of the world arriving, and I know that it’s not, but it’s like you try playing “So here we are” as loud as possible by Bloc Party and put your head down on your desk and see if you don’t cry. I’m considering creating a fictional list like the FCC fictionally assembled after 9/11 of songs that are all no-gos. Pretty much the only things I am left with is hip hop. I know that all things considered, that was as best and as good as it could be. But like still, I’d rather be in Samoa eating snails right now, if you know what I mean.