Hubris.co.nz

Tuesday the 26th of September, 2000

I just cleared the dishwasher, because I figure I’ll save fighting with my dad over dumb little things for another day.

Oh yeah, for the information of those not on the list who already know this, I’m back in the family bosom again. I was a bit worried yesterday though that I wouldn’t make it. You see, Mum had rung me up about 8am leaving a message on the machine to say that it was snowing on the Desert Road, so I should go the other way around Taupo. I rang her back, and she named me all the towns that I’d go through going the other way round. Of course, what I didn’t realise at the time was that the list she gave me was from an Atlas, not a road map. So, her list and road signs did not corrospond. I got lost in Hamilton, which is never fun. And I could have gone another way and bypassed it all together, so I cursed Mum many times. I figured she’d just devised her route as a way of ensuring I couldn’t eat junk food on the way down – between Hamilton and Bulls, there was not a single Macdonalds etc on the way. On State Highway One, meanwhile, they’re in practically every other town. Ahh well.

So eventually I found signs pointing me towards National Park and I knew i was going the right way, and that’s when my car seemed to slow down. I figured maybe I was on a hill that I couldn’t see, so I changed from 5th to 4th, and then to 3rd. But that did nothing, so I went back to 4th, and my car was only going 40km an hour by then, so I had to change down, and I was in 2nd gear when I realised my car was dying, so I tried to pull over, but then it died completely. I was on a hill, but I couldn’t roll it down to the side in neutral either. I was not impressed. It was literally freezing outside of the car, and I was in open toed shoes. I put my hazard lights on, and prayed that there’d be enough coverage on Vodaphone for me to call the AA. There was, thank god, and while i was on the phone to them, two women pulled up to help me. They tried to roll it to the side too, without any success, but then a truck driver stopped too, and he pushed it a little bit, and it started it, amazingly. He opened the hood, and my battery was all bubbly. The women had a thermos of hot water which they poured over it, and so I thanked them profusely, and high-tailed it to the first station which I came across – BP in National Park. They werent’ actually a garage, just sold petrol, but they were still very nice, adn boiled me up a kettle of water which they again poured over the battery, and suggested it had probably just died because of the cold. As it was startign to snow, I could very easily believe them!

So it was more than a little nerve-wrecking driving through the snow, especially since I didn’t want to stress my battery out on headlights or the car heater. I stopped in Ohakune hoping to find something to eat (it was like 3pm then and I hadn’t had breakfast) but everything was shut, so I got snowed on and rang my mother to let her know i was finding my way. Neil had rung me a couple’o times but my crap cellie kept cutting out. I was rude and hung up on him cos you kinda need two hands on the wheel when it’s snowing. I finally got something to eat in Taihape, and was sooo soo grateful of the big gas heaters in the deli. Just on the edge of Taupo, I spotted the same hitchhiker that I’d felt bad for not picking up outside of Waioru, so I pulled over and he jumped in. His name was Robbie, and he was quite cute until I realised that he reminded me of the last guy i shagged, except Maori and with dreads. Still, he told me really amusing stories. He’d been playing a gig with his band in Hamilton, and when they left they were all quite pissed, and so they thought that a shape covered with a blanket in the van was him – except obviously it wasn’t, so that’d left him stranded. The guy that picked him up before Tokoroa was still so drunk from his 21st on Friday night (this was monday morning) that he made Robbie drive, and when they got to Tokoroa, he didn’t know where he was. The guy that had dropped Robbie off in Waioru had given him a thick shirt because it was so cold. So I felt good to be doing a good thing. People helped me out, I helped people out. Cool. Except of course that havign a hitchhiker meant I couldn’t sing. But I could talk to him, so that was cool. And I put the heater on as well.

Of course, one of my headlights was gone, so unless i had them on highbeam, which I couldn’t do all the time, vision was dodgy, and it was storming all over the place, so all in all, it was a very scary drive. I took Robbie all the way to Paraparumu, chatting intermittently, and then as soon as he was gone, ZM was turned up, and I started bopping along to pop again. I finally got here after 10 very very stressful hours on the road, but a hot bath and taking my contact lenses out made me feel much much better.

And today, Mum took me shopping, YAY! She warned me it was the last time she’s ever taking me shopping, as apparently soon I’ll be havign to support myself and all, but we’re going again tomorrow to finish up. I got a pair of fantastic pants. They’re flared, and they fit really really nicely, and they’re dressy, and they’re cool and they’re lilac. I wanted them in black, but they didn’t have them, so lilac it is, and that’s cool. Everybody wears black after all, so this is my new media savvy statement. Do you know how hard it is to type and do little quotey movements in the air at the same time?

Also, we went to Napolean in the Old Bank Arcade (which is just completely like the QVB for you Sydniers – inncidently, why is it that all of my favourite online journals are from that town?). The stunning woman in the shop who had red glitter in a thick line on her eyes (it looked absolutely amazing on her) who called me Sweetie did wonderful things on me with shiny green and blue eyeshadow, and I bought the green shade. Mmmmm makeup. I haven’t bought any in SUCH a long time. I wish I could have bought the whole store. They do half hour makeovers there for $40, and if I lived in Welly full time, I’d go there before our end of the year dinner. But I don’t. I wonder where else offers a similar service in Auckland.

Later we went to the airport to pick up Karen from the airport, only it turns out she jumped out of a plane while in Nelson. I so wanna go parachuting too, only I dunno, I’d probably wet my pants on the way down or something. Either that or the adreniline would turn me on so much that it’d finally be orgasmic. Karen’s apartment is still very cool. We’ve made plans to hang out some tomorrow, and hopefulyl she’ll come and see Oma with me. I intend to read a lot while in Wellington, to give my wrists a break. However, I do also have tech work to do.

Oh yeah, I got $230 worth of repairs done to my car today at the local garage – I needed a new alternator and shit. I knew that before i left Auckland though. I owe my mother that money, because I didn’t have a cheque book on me. I wonder how my conscience would feel if I didn’t pay her back.

They had a “Survivor Reunion” on tonight. I dreamt this morning that I was back in Room 6 at high school, where my social group always ate lunch, and i was pashing Greg off the show. He was a really interesting kisser too. Quite nice, just did strange things with lips and teeth.

Okay, I cold now. I will take the margaret atwood book I stole from Karen and retreat to bed. Baileys stolen from my parents’ liquor cabinet has made me sleepy. It’s funny how naughty I feel for doing that.

Oh yeah, talking on the phone to my sister Anji yesterday, she told me not to mention her, and threatened to hack me. Go on Anj! (that’s not an open invitation to the rest of youse guys though, just family only). I rang Kini hastily tonight thinking she was already gone, but she wasn’t, and I was very glad. She did, however, chastise me for picking up a hitchhiker, something my parents didn’t bother to do.

Oh, and I dunno what happened ot the entry for September 24 – I guess i didn’t upload it or something, and so now it’s trapped on ym Auckland computer until I go home again.

Sunday 24th September, 2000

It’s Brad, Clay and my one year anniversary today. That’s right – Brad moved in a year ago. We figure we have about 50 years left together as flatmates. Which is pretty cool. I thought Kate B was coming home tonight, but I guess not. Ahh well, I won’t be saying goodbye to her then!

Today we had our flat lunch at the cafe where she works. Me, Clay, Brad and Justin sat in a booth and commented on how nice it was not to have to cook or clean up as she walked past. She punched me. I should have complained to her manager. Then later when she jumped in the booth too, she sat on the end of my scarf and nearly choked me to death. That didn’t impress me much, but lunch did. Any food with lamb in it that’s called “baa baa” is just amusing. So lunch took nearly three hours, all stretched out and leisurely like, twas great.

I’m currently having Napster Angst, because I want the Gatecrasher song that’s on the new gatecrasher ads, but I don’t know waht it’s called, so I’m having to download like all of them. Okay, so that’s not real angst, but still. I wish my car stereo worked properly, instead of making all tapes sound sickly. There’s just a certain uncoolness in lugging along a ghetto blaster if you’re in it for the long haul. Then again, I was never the epitome of cool, so what am I worried about?

I’ve been reading Trainspotting, having dragged it out of Kate’s wardrobe blindly groping around in there (honestly, thiefing from flatmates would be so much easier if they’d keep their rooms tidier!). And of course, it’s written in a Scottish accent, which makes it a bit hard going at first until you’re in the swing of things. Braveheart was on TV tonight, and they were speaking in scottish accents, so I could suddenly see them all shooting up and beating each other senseless. But there were no drugs, which is probably a good thing. It’s very strange hearing friends telling you about their struggles to get into the methadone program, and having the program tell them that they need to be worse off and more addicted before they can help them.

Instead of packing, I’ve been doing little tweaking things like writing myself a new bio. It’s amazing how many things I can think of to do when there’s other things I should be doing. I have an awful suspicion that Justine is only coming to Auckland for a short time, and I won’t be here for that. Hmmm. (There you go again being a celebrity, Jus – just don’t let it swell your head okay?) It’s always nice that someone signs my guestbook .

Okay, bed attempts for me. Oh man, the other night, Tahlullah was being fully human. She was all snuggled into my shoulder and neck, and put her paws out to pull herself in closer to me. Then she was stroking my cheek with her paws and kissing me, little whiskery smelly cat kisses. I figure she’s actually a prince been turned into a cat, and just as soon as I find my golden ball and possibly stop feeding her the cheapest brand of catfood, she’ll turn into a prince, and i’ll be a princess and we’ll live happily ever after. That is unless the prince also scratches at the door when I’m in the bathroom.

Saturday 23rd September, 2000

So it’s half past three and all I’ve done so far since I got up around 2 is read the paper. It’s a big paper on Saturdays, takes three different reading positions to get through it all. I was still up at 4.30am today, reading Marie Claire because the other kids were still up, very suprisingly, and so that meant I couldn’t sleep.

Popular Kate invited herself over last night to watch our tape of Dawson’s. Kate Benton and I had already watched it while devouring home made sandwiches, so I didn’t watch it with her again, because it was a way too gruelling 2 hours. I rang my parents and got really annoyed with my dad for some reason.

After Brad and Popular Kate had watched Dawsons, me and Clay played that postit-note/forehead game with them. (Not the game that Kamahl’s famous for – leaving a postit note on the forehead of some random chick that he’d brought home with his name and a summary of the previous night’s events when he went out and left her sleeping because she was so drunk he didn’t think she’d remember). Brad was “myself”, and it took him ages to work out who he was, even after we said he’d been on TV, but did a radio show more often. Clayton and I were practically yelling when Popular took like half an hour to figure out she was Snoopy. I was “an inanimate object” and also female, so at one stage I was like “Am I a phillips lady shave?” but no, of course I was Barbie. There’s always one Kate or another in our house. I’d say that they were interchangeable, but that’d be a bit cruel. Then they made me watch the greatest commercial ever made three times over. I mean, I am LOVING the m&m one where they’re all sitting around eating themselves, but this ad for Rotorua is even cooler.

Anyways, it was about 2.30am or so by that stage, and so we decided to walk up to Shell for some foodage. But just as we were about to walk out the door, Clayton started playing “Billie Jean is Not My Lover” so we all stoppped to dance, which was quite odd. Needless to say, we were quite hyped up, so we walked up to Shell arms linked, singing songs from the Wizard of Oz. I decided I was the tin woodman, cos that was the song that I knew all the words to. That’s when disaster struck. The doors were SHUT at Shell, and the man standing at the counter counting money pretended not to see us. We debated several courses of action, including knocking, swallowing petrol, and just making off with coke and assorted other beverages that were stacked outside, but eventually we just settled on going back to the house for my car (parked two blocks down because of all the fucking people that park in our street by day) and driving to the BP higher up the road (none of us had drunk a drop). And I had me some m&ms. I am not crispy, and therefore it’s okay for me to do that.

Yesterday morning, I went on a field trip to Software Images in Ponsonby, this place where they make cds. Upstairs past a zen water sculpture, the offices were all cool and hip new media-y, all light wood and sandblasted glass, and I’d like to work there. Then downstairs it was a sweatshop, hundreds of ugly people packaging and boxing up cds. Interesting contrast, i thought. Helen and I went to lunch at Atomic Cafe afterwards, and chatted for ages. It was disturbing though, because she kept mentioning things I’d written in my online journal.

As I type this, Clayton is on the roof breaking off tree branches and dropping them past my window. He’s very frustrated with our TV ariel and our Channel One reception. I didn’t realise he was up there at first, and it was quite quite scary. I think i should have a shower, get my act together and find myself something to do tonight. Yes, that’s a good idea! He had lunch at his aunt’s today and says he’s seen the footage his uncle shot at his 21st. Apparently, there’s a lot of me dancing. I’m very scared.

Thursday 21st September, 2000

You know how I said that I’d been having trouble sleeping lately and I didn’t even have a decent book to read? Well, last night I had sort of the opposite problem, because I went into Kate’s room and rummaged through her closet and found “Looking for Aribaldi” which is an Australian book that’s about to come out as a movie here, and then I couldn’t put it down. It was a teenager book, and it reminded me heaps of the Alex series which every NZ girl knows, I’m sure. Popular Kate told me today that “Looking for Aribaldi” is the book most stolen from Australian libraries, which is kinda cool. I can understand why teenage girls would wanna hang onto it. The girl in it, Josie, is Italian Australian, and struggling a little with her background, and being illegitmate, and the whole usual raft of teenage problems, and it was just written really well, really real. You could definately see it all in your head, and identify with parts of it.

So I was reading it sitting outside in the sun today, and thinking about MY ethnic roots, which are pratically non existant. I mean, my mother was Dutch, but she renounced it and claims to be a total Kiwi now. I wish I’d learnt Dutch, that would have been cool. I imagined this whole scenario whereby I’d go back to Holland and try to find my roots, etc etc. Of course, that scenario is made so much more attractive by thinking about all the Dutch men that there’d be over there. But I was just getting carried away. I really wanna go see Oma, actually. I find myself adding chilli paste to almost everything I cook, and as a family we’ve always mocked her for keeping a jar of it by her plate. And I miss my grandfather a lot lately too. I just wish that I’d known Dutch so that we could have had proper conversations without him strugging with English – although I guess he didn’t struggle that much cos he could speak like half a dozen languages. It was just me that didn’t have the time to spend with him. And then one of the last times I saw him I was like “no, there’s no money in writing, I don’t want to do that, I want to be a record company executive and roll in cash” which was just facecious, and where the fuck is all of this coming from tonight? Bottled up angst, I tell you. I’ve been having a weird night.

I did this thing for Shirley this afternoon, and I think I really fucked up, and ended up sounding like a total dork. I thought I was fairly articulate, but I guess not. Then Brad and I went to Happy Hour at London Bar, and met up with Helen and Andrea. It was really weird, cos in class today, Helen was like “Where’s your webpage?” so I was like “but if I tell you,t hen you can go and read my journal” and she was like “why do you put it online if you don’t want people to read it?” which is a very good point I was momentarily overlooking, so I gave her the address. I have to go into town super early tomorrow to pick Helen up at 9.30 (which is super early for me, because I’ve decided I’m on Perth time or something, four hours behind the rest of NZ). We’re going on a field trip to some cd pressing plant. Wahoo! We’re hoping for freebies. Especially pens if they’re as cool as our macromedia pens.

Evening was all blah and boring, until The West Wing was on, which was good. Then later, I found myself staying up to watch re-runs, only Seinfeld wasn’t on so I watched “I love you to death” instead, which is a really amusing movie with Kevin Kline and Tracey Ullman and River Phoneix and Joan Plowman and Keanu Reeves and Harvey Keital in it. I’ve seen it before, but yeah, like I said, it was entertaining. Plus I was flicking between that and grainy black and white coverage of the gymnastics at the Olympics. There was this one Russian girl who looked like super tall (she was 5’5, which is relatively tall for a gymnast) and her legs seemed to go on forever, and she was absolutely amazing on the floor. I was completely in awe of her. But the Romanians won all three medals, and for some reason when they were standing on the podium, I found myself almost crying. Gymnasts amaze and terrify me. All that dedication and composure and effort and self control. Wow.

I’m very emotional today, and I’m not entirely sure why. I’d blame it on hormones, but once again, my period is late. I’m blaming Kate Benton for this as well. Of course hers was all fine and dandy on time. Damn her scent. And speaking of her, I haven’t seen her in the past ooh 36 hours or so except very briefly at tech and she looked sick so I told her to go home but she’s not here. Tut tut. Oh man, I am SO flatmother, it’s scary. Brad and I decided to move to Dominion Road because we were too lazy to walk up the hill to catch our bus on Symonds Street. I wonder if we can take the house with us. It’s not like Ron would notice. I wonder when they’re going to finish painting our bathroom. And when they’re going to cut down the annoying tree. And fix other stuff. Our toilet cistern keeps filling and running unless you prop up the bar-y thing inside it, and then it doesn’t flush. Lucky we have one in the laundry as well, but dammit, i wish my daddy was here to fix everything.

Two weeks holiday now, but I realised yesterday when I was filling out our progress on Microsoft Project that I have a shitload of work to do. I have to do my client work, do my Instructional Design, there’s like 2 things I wanna do for my site, and I have to make Momma’s site, plus general maintence and somehow still have a life, find a job, get paid and make a grand a week to hire us a maid. Busy busy.

Every day I keep meaning to write a list of all the people I’m missing in my life that I wanna get back in touch with, but then I don’t. I’m still SO impressed that Beth managed to track me down through my dad of all people. It’s so cool being in email contact with her .

I was emailing Olivia today during class, and she was mocking the way I tend to start many sentences with “man” so i feel all embarrassed now. It sucks that I start using phrases to take the piss and then get stuck on them. Ahh well. Articulate smiculate.

Updatefu Stalker Page

Wednesday 20th September, 2000

I think I’m getting RSI, which is never a good thing for a girl who has much computer work to do before the end of the year. Oh yeah, and then at the end of the year is hopefully going into some computer related job. I think I really must find myself a better chair, so that at least I don’t have to raise my arms up to type all the time.

Annette said she thought she maybe overheard some people talking about me on a bus she was riding today, but we figure they were talking about a different Jo, because my associates aren’t doing Mass Comm this semester. Shame really, I’d love to be that notorious. Or have it be that coincidental. Other people’s conversations are always so fascinating until you realise that actually no, they’re really boring and so are the lives of the people you’re eavesdropping on. Kinda a bit like journals maybe.

Where’s my point at? I don’t know. I think I only decided to write an entry tonight because I felt like the Internet really needed some more content. Only of course, because I have little to say, I am delivering crap content. I’m letting the whole system down, and I’m really sorry. This wouldn’t have happened if fucking TV3 hadn’t taken Buffy off to play the goddam cricket. I mean, who cares, a bunch of people running around in a field after some ball. There are vampires that need to be slain, people! She’s trying to save the world and a little help would not go astray.

Survivor Party last night was very cool indeed. And MAN, was it a good episode! Unlike Justine, I won’t talk about who won, because my readers in Kazakistan might not know yet, but wow, brilliant last episode, oh the drama! Clayton brought home a video camera too, and so we made a mini documentary on it. And then just got silly. It’s funny though how comfortable all communication students are in front of the camera after three years.

I can’t sleep, again. It’s getting ridiculous because I have nothing to read so I have to get up and go and watch late night tv like “Telly Laughs” instead. And that’s never a good thing. The other night I went through a stack of horrendous cds that Courtney left behind after the party, marking cheesy pop tracks I wanted to tape with orange postit notes. That’s right, tape. Not mp3. I’m being retro. Mp3s are cool and all, but they just don’t seem to have any soul. Maybe that’s more to do with the quality of my computer speakers, and the fact that I’m generally by myself if I’m at my computer but generally not alone if I’m listening to tapes or cds. In fact, I’m sure that’s what it is. Oh well.

The Student Association is giving me and Maree $560. Well, actually they’re hiring us two buses – one each, for our third year dinner we’re organising. I put notices about it in everyone’s pigeon holes today, exciting stuff.

I’m disturbed at how interesting I’m finding a webpage on urban legends at Disneyland. I guess the fact that Popular Kate will be working there this summer makes it slightly more relevant to me. She’s read us bits of the handbook they’re given, including their superstrict dress code, and also told us how the janitors have to clean up “protein spills”. (that’s vomit, not cum, Tom!) Did I spell protein right? I’ve always had a fascination with Disneyland, although not Tokyo Disneyland as I used to go there a couple of times a year when I lived in Tokyo, so I guess it lost its magic a little. One of my very first memories is of when I was one, and we were on our way to Germany via LA. We were at Disneyland, and my sisters wouldn’t let me go up into the Tom Sawyer treehutt because they didn’t want to have to look after me. They’ll deny this, but it’s true. Before we moved to Tokyo, I used to obsess over the Disneyland pamphlets we had in scrap books from LA. It just seemed like the coolest place in the whole wide world. O think I’d be scared to go back though, because nothing would be sadder than being bored by Disneyland. I hate Disney movies, but the Magic Kingdom is something else indeed.

Apparently “we” are not doing too well at the Olympics. I don’t feel let down, however, because I know I’ve done nothing to support the athletes, so they owe me nothing. I’m just glad that our channel one coverage is so crap that the boys aren’t too tempted to watch it too often. Oh, the thing that DOES piss me off though are Serena Williams’ s comments about how she had to take time out of her busy scheduale to play tennis for the US at the Olympics. I mean, sure maybe it doesn’t pay as much as her regular gigs, but aren’t the Olympics considered to be the pinacle for any athlete? And for that matter, I thought the Olympics were for non-proffesionals only anyways. Or maybe that rule’s changed. I don’t pretend to know what the fuck I’m rabbiting on about anymore.

Don’t forget to send me stuff for enList. Honestly, chose a file at random from your hard-drive and email that over. Ta. There’s like a hundred of you who read daily, give a little back eh?

Updatefu Stalker Page

Monday 18th September, 2000

Someone at Microsoft.com has been looking at my webpage. Hi Bill!

Stats are fun.

Oh yeah, my day? Average to boring. I spent a lot of timing emailing lists to Kini. What am I going to do once she goes away on holiday? I mean, Jeb’s got a job now so I can’t email HIM all day long, and I only feel right emailing my tech friends when I’m actually AT tech. Oh the dramas!

Anyone know how to get trodden in mud out of a carpet? And anyone else wanna hire us a skip so we can get rid of the overflowings of rubbish we have as a result of our party? I must say, the most disturbing aspect of the whole party was the sudden emergence halfway through of a Tom Jones poster on our toilet door. I mean, being at eye level with this ugly Welsh guy when you are drunk and peeing is more than a little unsettling. No one has claimed responsibility for it, so I am presuming it was the work of Justin.

Actually, it was kinda cool in some ways having someone else have a party here, because although I did spend most of the day cleaning beforehand on Saturday, then I got to sit down and drink Sangaria while watching Justin prepare food and shit. I baked him a birthday cake, and he said he hadn’t been given a cake in like the last ten years, so that felt good. The not-so good aspect of it not being our party is the fact that we didn’t know all the people invited, and at one stage, the lounge was so overflowing with first years that we were scared to go in there, so the Gang + assorted hangers on went and danced in the hallway instead. But then we felt bad for fragmenting the party.

Instead, we went to the dining room, and played the Sexual Connotations clapping game, which was very amusing, but then Like a Virgin came on, and we all had to go dance. Ahh Madonna, how faithfully you have served. Then Shirley showed up, so Maree and I made her drive us to Foodtown for more wine. While we were there, these girls started staring at Maree funny, and once we got in a checkout line with them, they explained that they liked her skirt. In the carpark outside, they asked me if I’d bought the fabric and had mine made – I said yeah, it’s like really old Thai Silk and my mummy did it for me – they were going to a wedding, apparently, and were considering their fashion options. And then they complimented Shirley on her pants so that she wouldn’t feel left out either, how lovely.

Okay, I’m bored of writing all chronologically and everything, bring on the li tags.
Courtney, the first year that was co-hosting the party with Justin (although all she did was provide strong vodka jellies in admittedly very cool little wasabi/tomato sauce lidded containers) came up to me and Maree and Clay and Brad and asked us what we were thinking of majoring in. We were floored at first. Courtney went on to vomit on Brad’s toothbrush, steal his towel, and pass out in his bed.
We ran out of glasses, or there were too many people in the kitchen or something, so I ended up drinking my wine straight from the bottle. Todd told me off soundly for that, but it wasn’t my fault! Todd’s actualyl a teacher at Macleans now. Brad and Justin’s old drama teacher, Mrs. Winnel (sp?) came along too, and she was actually really choice. I don’t think I know any other 40+ people who’d seem so comfortable at one of our parties.
Although it wasn’t exactly OUR party, as they played Fat Boy Slim at one stage – ewww. Leyton quote from last year: “Now what could you possibly have against fat boy slim?” The other thing about the first years is that most of them smoked, wheras most 3rd years don’t. Go figure.
Nigel showed up really late and was like “I hope you don’t mind, but I brought along Lance and Daniel”. Hmm, now do I mind that he brought along Daniel??? Let me think about this one for a minute. (see last halloween’s entry for a full story). I ended up talking to Daniel in the kitchen, completely drooling as per usual, and was by that stage fairly drunk and reduced to being a babbling idiot – since we were standing right by the whiteboard, I explained Flat Survivor to him, but he didn’t look convinced. He was like “Is your bedroom still blue?” and I was thinking “hmm, is that like an invitation?” but Kate M told me he’s apparently engaged. Although where he found time for that after buying a housebus, I do not know. So that was cool.
Courtney bumped into Kate H, and spilt her red wine all over the carpet. I was horrified when Maree responded by instantly pouring white wine all over the stain, but amazingly, it worked!
Eventually, I went to the bathroom, and coming out, I decided that my bed looked very very comfy, so I went and laid down. Then Shirley came in, so we had a really good talk, and then Maree and Kate M, and we had more amusing talks, and took the very cheesy photos that I linked to yesterday. Finally, photos of Kate M can grace my web page. So yeah, hilarity all around really. Shirley claimed to be a sober driver, but I dunno if she was, really. She took Maree home eventually, and Kate M passed out in Brad’s room.
Almost everyone had gone when I went and sat on the couch outside with Kate B and Abott. She’d been obsessing before because people had the audacity to sit on HER couch, which she wanted to reserve. But she was happy to get it back. Eventually, I ahd to wake them both up to yell at them not to sleep on the couch cos that’d be heinously uncomfortable.
Justin and Ed were thinking about oging into town because everybody had left, but eventually they decided to pike and just go home, which didn’t impress me much. Brad and Kate H came back from their walk right about then, so I watched Dawsons with Kate H. That was the third time I’d seen it, and then I saw it yesterday with Maree as well and it wasn’t even that good an episode. But I wanted to hang out with Kate H some. She thanked me the next day for saying I was worried about her, and when I said I didn’t remember that, she was like “I knew you wouldn’t remember, that’s why I told you”. Heh.

So that’s about the party. In the morning, I dreamt I was in this bakery, when I saw a guy I’d seen once before. We chatted for a while and then he was like “I really want to see you again” so I was writing down my phone number for him, but I just couldn’t remmeber it, and he went all psycho and started smashing cars and windows because he was annoyed that I was taking so long, and there was blood everywhere and yeah. Interesting dream.

Okay, beddy byes for me now, I think, although Lullah has yet to come pawing at my door. She loves me more than Kate B, ha HA! Although Kate’s now back with her ex b/f John, so I don’t think she’s too upset.

Sunday 17th, 2000

Who me, hungover? Not that badly I guess. Justin was cooking eggs this morning, ewwwww. It’s so strange and yet so natural to have our house full of people who all feel like they live here when they actually don’t all sitting around eating breakfast together.

I haven’t the inspiration to write up the party now, so I’ll just say a thing or two about it now. It was very fun. At one stage I went to the bathroom, and when I came out I thought “hmm, my bed, now that sounds very appealing” so I went for a lie-down and Shirley came in and started talking to me, and then Kate M and Maree, and I said to Kate M that I didn’t have any webcam photos of her because Maree was taking photos with an Izone Polaroid she won off Static, and so we turned on my computer and took some photos with my webcam and you can find them here. That was a very long sentence. Oh, the other thing I wanted to say is that Flat Survivor is now over, apparenlty. Kate B, Clayton and Justin were all on 9 votes each, so they teamed up and all voted for each other and are now all cooking dinner for us together. The menu is being negotiated currently. Wahoo! I’m a winner mate. No really, really I am. I mean, I managed to refrain from writing a really drunken journal entry last night, didn’t I?

In honour of my camera working again now conviently located at joanna.is.a.woos.org, i have decided to make this journal entry an excerize in cam-psuedo-art-wank.

Thursday September 14th, 2000

Wahoo, Journal entry! It’s amazing how inspiring a few drinks can be!

I woke up this morning before nine because the darn cat was mewing, and I found a nice package waiting for me outside my bedroom door. So, I opened it up and was thrilled to find Robyn’s contribution to my magaziney ideary thing (send in YOUR submissions now, everyone, literally anything at all will thrill me). And it was very very cool. But it was still very early, so I went back to bed, and as a result, I dreamt of Robyn, not that I have ever met her. But you can rest assured, because it was just an emaily kinda dream.

What else? Oh, I had finished my assignment last night, which was great, except for the rmps which I needed to change today at tech after I’d put them on the server. Went into tech, yawned my way through Instructional Design. I think my external email has been cut off again for having my balance being too low, unless youse guys were all being slack and not replying to me LEIGH and KINI I’m looking at you in particular here. Ran away for coffee, and came back in time for Multimedia Broadcasting. We’re going to be broken up into groups, and every group has to do a two hour live broadcast from the Multimedia expo we host at the end of the year, scary. We learnt about webcams today. Hmm, have I had any experiance in that field? I wonder. Oh speaking of which, I really must sort mine out. Right now my cam is uploading to joanna.is.a.woos.org but there’s no webpage there because I can’t access it through an ftp program, so it’s all crazy and blah blah blah, I really must sort it out unless my favour Sydney Tuna Eater does it for me .

And so after I uploaded my shit to the server, and Shirley had popped in to let me know she was back at tech, I left my cellie # with Helen, and ran upstairs to the radio room, where I spent a pleasant almost hour in a very comfy chair in a lovely patch of sun. Peter had bought a Bros picture record, so he was playing that and we were singing OOOOERRRRRRRRR and dancing. And telling injokes, and talking a LOT about Survivor. There’s a Survivor Party @garland on Tuesday Night, naturally. We’re going to serve Fish and Rice. And people can bring their own Tropical Alcohol. Maybe we’ll all dress up as our favourite character. But I doubt we’ll be posing for Playboy, although I certainly would if I was offered enough money. Nigel had some woman in the studio that he was going to interview on Chivalry, so that sparked a big big discussion, and we were all trying to think of examples that happened to us. And DAMMIT, I thought of one tonight when we were at the supermarket and Brad hadn’t offered to carry the basket and I was like “But Thomas always did” and he was like “well I’m not Thomas” but of course I didn’t think of that chivalry then.

Just before the clock hit 5pm, me and Peter and Brad and Shirley hightailed it down to London Bar for Happy Hour, and damn we were very very happy mostly. Helen rang me and came down a little later, which was very very cool. Damn she’s choice! There are actually some very cool people doing Multimedia, and I’m glad I’ve got to know her, and Andrea, and Karin. And it’s such a fucking relief to have that goddam streaming project in! Around 7, we left the bar to go play Final Furlong, but there was like a fire in the Imax building or something, so we couldn’t. Instead Brad Shirls and I drove home, stopping at the supermarket to buy dinner.

I came home to find Kate B who I hadn’t seen in over 24 hours all sad on the couch, which was horrible, but at least we’re not pissed off with each other. I apologised for asking her and Abbot to be quieter the other night, and she was like “What? You asked us when?” so that was cool. It felt really strange to be giving her the same consoling speeches about her ex moving away that she gave me a couple of months ago. Shirley wanted me to scan in her photo and help her fill out her Treasure Island application, so I did, and then did the same for Kate.

Vodka, wine and Corona’s probably not the most ideal combination but at least my arm doesn’t hurt anymore! Oh do you want to read Stickybeak and Creedwatch from yesterday? Okay, sure!

Stickybeak
Events raged out of control at the MTV video music awards on Sunday night. Rage Against the Machine usually save their anger for big coporations not disimilar to their record company Sony. However, bassist Timothy Commerford, disappointed at losing the Best Rock Video award to Limp Bizkit, lept on stage, smashed a guitar and climbed scaffolding, delaying the show for twenty minutes as police tried to bring him down. Commerford wouldn’t move, and repeatedly yelled to onlookers “darn it, I won’t do what you tell me”. Eventually however, he was coaxed down, and taken away. If convicted he could face up to a year in prison on charges of resisting arrest and disorderly conduct. Benefit concert, anyone?

In other devestating news from the awards ceremony, many New Zealanders who had previously avoided finding out who had won Survivor were incensed when the winner presented an award. Stickybeak unfortunately knows who won, but will refrain from spoiling your fun if you’re looking forward to the big two hour finale next Tuesday. Meanwhile, television viewers who chose to watch the Emmys instead are also understandably upset. The comedy “Everybody loves Raymond” picked up two best actor awards baffling many. The show deservedly bombed on New Zealand television, suggesting that maybe the title should be changed to “Americans who like their food bland and their television blander might watch Raymond because it’s easier than getting up out of their chairs or changing the channel”.

And finally, savvy listeners may have noticed that in the past, Stickybeak hasn’t been completely serious, and may possibly have taken the mickey out of a few story items. However, today I have a story about an artist that i completely worship. Singer Tori Amos has given birth to a baby girl. The pregnancy was not announced to the media until the birth as Amos has suffered a miscarriage before which inspired her beautiful album “From the Choirgirl Hotel”. Stickybeak would like to wish Amos, husband and daughter all the best, and we hope this will not keep Tori from touring here sometime soon.

Creedwatch
Let’s go there!

Last Creedwatch, it was announced that everyone’s favourite bland rockers had sold five million copies of their album “Human Clay”. I think my source may have been slightly out of date, because now that number has been certified six million. Together with sales from their first album “my own prison” Creed have carved a new niche in grudge totalling over ten million records sold. Lead singer scott stapp was quoted saying “we created our own fortunes, and we embrace this with arms wide open”.

Creed fans will of course be guttered to learn that “Higher” did not win at the MTV video music awards. To make matters worse, the trophy went to none other than Limp Bizkit, Creed’s arch enemies. Accepting his trophy, Fred Durst said “We’re the most hated band in the world”. Creed have yet to comment officially on the matter, but it is believed that it was singer Scott Stapp who encouraged fellow loser Rage Against the Machine’s bassist to climb the stage scaffolding in protest, urging him to “take it higher”.

The Pentecostal Church of America has denied that it offered Creed eternal salvation in exchange for using the band’s music in recruitment videos. Creed spokesperson Marcia Wallace said “Although the band make many references to God in their songs, and believe in God, and would like others to believe in God, they are not a Christian Band. They go to strip clubs just like other rock stars”. But what if they dared? What’s this life for if not to convert the masses to Christianity after all!

I watched “The West Wing” premiere tonight, and it seemed pretty good actually, yeah, that’s choice. Umm, I’m losing it, eh. Ahh well, I don’t think I ever really had it. Lullah, WHAT are you doing in the hall? I swear that cat’s on drugs, eh, skittering all over the place. Apparently phone cords are the coolest playtoy in the world. Okay so I will go now. But remember, send me stuff. Anything at all, okay? Just do it, be part of my magaziney thing, which I’m hearby christening enList. Updatefu Stalker Page

Monday September 11th, 2000

I was still half asleep as I was drying myself off from my shower this morning. Possibley that’s why when I heard a beep beep sound like a blip on a radar screen I temporarily thought there was a Russian submarine in our garden. I think I was still dreaming. I have crazy dreams lately, as per usual. I slept really badly last night too, which was more than a little annoying.

But anyways, eventually I managed to rouse myself and get my shit together, and I went and paid a phonebill on the way into town. I was nice and gave Bradley a ride in. He repaid me by taking the empty bottle Kate M had dangerously left in my car back to her. I hate people who leave rubbish in my car, because once, a beer bottle from Simon rolled under my feet as I was driving, and that’s kinda dangerous. So yeah anyways, where was I? Oh yeah, the computer room at tech, spending three hours trying to do my codec shit on quicktime, and then embed it. Bah fucking humbug Quicktime, I loath and despise you. Fuck up my 300kb/320×240 one will you? Grr! So yeah, that wasn’t much fun.

But when I finally left the labs at some time past 3pm, I was so stoked that I hadn’t got a parking ticket that I decided to be good to my flat, and so I went to the supermarket on the way home and did a quick shop. Brad hassles me shitless for buying Basics Sugar because their packaging is so goddam sexy, but honestly, what criteria do YOU have for buying sugar? Probably none, I’m guessing, and so why not go for looks? It’s just sugar for gods sakes, it may as well look good! It’s not like it’s more expensive or anything. Rant rant rant. And then after I got home I made pumpkin soup too, just to complete my domesticness. Not that anyone was home, but hey. Brad showed up eventually, which was good. Justin rang in the middle of shortland street to ask for a banana cake recipe and I told him he was dangerously close to getting another vote, which would have meant that he was off the island for good and had to cook us a three course dinner. He got six votes in the space of 2 minutes over Sunday Lunch. Call us a police state will you? Never!

After Shorters, Brad and I made an emergency beer run back to Foodtown, also so that I could show him blue corn chips retailing in the organics aisle near you at $6.75 a bag. Have I mentioned my “3rd Watch” obsession? Last week’s episode made me cry so much that I would have been wholeheartedly mocked if Brad hadn’t been sniffing a little himself. Well anyways, we taped the MTV video awards so taht we could watch 3rd Watch, and then the Emmys. Morrison was around too, so we played the Emmys game. We had two catergories you could win in – the show you WANTED to win, and the show you thought was going to win. Kate M won overall on seven points, I had six and Brad had five. Kate B rang me up from John’s house where she was supposed to come home from last night to complain that she now knew who won Survivor, because they’d presented an award on MTV. I sympathized with her a little, but I was worried cos she sounded like she was genuinely crying. She’s left FIVE pairs of shoes lying around in the lounge/dining room, which is getting to me just a little so I hid them all apart from one pair which I put in the fridge. I bet she won’t notice.

Yeah okay, so stuff seems a little mundane around here. I’m calling sugar sexy, I realise that I’m falling from grace. I have an assignment due, I had a big weekend, I have another big weekend coming up, etc etc. Sometimes I worry that I drink too much, but then again, I do everything to excess except the stuff that’s good for you, so it all balances out in the end, right? And it’s not like I’m drinking alone, or drinking to hide or forget, or that it’s the centre of my day, so I’m not really all that worried. In fact, I doubt even my parents would worry. I told them about how I spend my evenings standing on chairs and they just laughed. I also had on/off conversations with Karen, who I accidently kept hanging up on, and she just laughed at me too. What is this, am I just a source of amusement to everyone? Oh wait, hang on, that’s what I try to be. Brilliant.

Ooooh! Exciting news of the year for me? Tori Amos had a baby girl! Here’s where I go all verdana, and just gush about how happy I am for her, because she so wanted a baby, and she so deserves one, and goddamit I’d love to be Tori Amos’s daughter.

I should be looking up information on the best kinds of footage to stream, but instead I’m not. Oh, I guess trying to stream down the new Spice Girls video counts under that catergory, doesn’t it? Really. And I’m downloading Radiohead’s new album too. Fuck I love the Internet, I really do .

Oh, I put this out on my update list a while ago, but if youse guys who aren’t on the list would like to play too, that’d be nice:

Hi there Gang!
Yes, it’s your friendly list owner here. Again.
I’ve just had me a bright spark of an idea! I always get ideas for projects when I have the most work on. Anyways, I wanna make a magazine. Well, not really a magazine. More of a collection. A umm scrap book, if you will. But I’m bored of my content, so I’d love for you all to send me something, anything at all, and I’ll collaborate it all together, and we’ll just see how it goes. So can you do that for me, please? ANYTHING at all. Poems, stories, photos, your shopping list, scans of your grandmother, whatever. There’s a few people on this list, and if you’d all send me just one little thing, I bet I can make this work.
Thank you! I love you like Robbie Williams. You can email me your stuff to joanna@hubris.co.nz obviously, and if you wanna send me snail mail, just ask for my address.
Don’t be a Not A Team Player Nigel, okay?
xoxo

Peter already sent me his contribution, and it’s very cool, but I’m not sure it’s quite cool enough to make up for the disturbing conversation we had at Randy’s 21st. And other people high on cold medicine have said they’re sending me stuff, and all, so that’s cool. I’m excited. If only this damn spice girls video would stream properly. Although, quite franky, video over the net is DUMB! Especially if it’s Quicktime. Oh, and props for anyone who emails me tomorrow to joamcl03@aut.ac.nz because I’ll be at tech codecing and would much rather reply to emails.

Updatefu Stalker Page