Hubris.co.nz

Yes, I have been remiss. But yesterday, Kimora Lee Simmons told me that I was beautiful and ultimately powerful, so I know you will forgive me. Yes, that’s right, Kimora Lee Simmons. Told me. Personally. On a swing tag. Attached to my new jeans. That I got for half prize from Torrid, in a 33.5 inch leg, woohaa. That according to Lani make me appear to have no ass (This is comparatively true. Not to Lani, but to other Women With Curves. And also sizedly to my sister and my mother. They got the Stadtman hips wheras I keep my Presbytarian McLeod weight on my puku. Mostly). But which do have a solid gold(esque) butt tag). And according to their sizing I am more Baby than Phat, as they are a little bit too falling down. And they’re too baggy around the knee. And these half sentences have gone on way too long, but they are my tribute to a misunderstanding about comments about jeans that I had with my friend yesterday. So I will keep using them.

That’s a lie, actually. From now on, I’ll try to use full sentences, but if I break off, it’s probably because this is where I’d like to insert a while bunch of swearing, but as someone with a CV out in the marketplace and a number one google ranking, I will control myself. A little, anyway. Haha half sentences!

Kyuss is on the TV now, so I feel like I am in the back seat of Fatty Simon or Milhouse Mark’s car, and we are speeding from Hamilton to Auckland. I spent a long time saying that I thought that Kyuss were a lot more interesting than Queens of the Stoneage, but I’m not entirely sure that’s the truth. I’m watching Watch This Space which I recorded last night, of course, and it’s 8.56pm. Yes, it’s Friday, and I am home alone. The Double Ds failed in their role as the usual Friday entertainment, but given the blackness of my mood, that’s probably for the best. It’s times like these that I wish that Extreme Makeover – Home Edition could still make me cry. I’m not too worried though – I mean I did have Hell Day, but given how I’m also Hungry Like The Wolf and also mangoing like woah, I know that I’m pre period. Which will make a nice change from my cunt stinking like, and oozing out, Canestan. Stupid goddamn yeast! And stupid one dose pills not being enough. At least I only went for the 3 day treatment and not the 6. If only bread and beer weren’t so tasty. And sugar. It’s funny because after the Ginger was such a cunt with his insistence that I had diabetes, I was all “Well I hope he’s saying that because I had a yeast infection and therefore my cunt tasted rancid”, but the boy I was with last week was very nice so I’m hoping it wasn’t all bad then. And speaking of that, it is very strange to have slept with someone who has known me at the time the second longest of anyone that I had sex with. It kind of makes me go “umm, but I am crazy, and I sit around watching TV all day in my PJs, and I overthink everything, oh also, and I am crazy, why the hell would you want to do me?”. Oh drunken me taking advantage of people, you make the world go around.

Yeah no, I totally want Josh Homme to touch me in dirty places now, I totally get the QOTSA obsession.

I pretended briefly that I was upset to be home alone tonight, but that’s pretty much a lie. Life has been waaaaaaaaaaaay too hectic (I almost wrote Hexic, so you can see why my wrists have been bunger lately – and no, it’s pretty much nothing to do with the increased screen time Sara Ramirez has had). When was the last time that I wrote? A bloody long time ago. The 22nd. So that was the day of the last night of Wellingtonista Bowling League? I spent the time inbetween work and bowling crying on Anji’s shoulder. Metaphorically of course. I sat upright in my chair on the balconey at Concrete, and only wept, not sobbed, so i didn’t even have to touch up my mascara. My frustrations with someone at work had led me to run away to the waterfront at lunchtime but there I cursed the citalapram that meant I couldn’t even really cry even thouhg that was all I felt like doing. After work it was a little easier, but tears didn’t fall. Bowling was awesome, and I’m so glad that I started the league, even though I was frustrated with a lack of players who were actually in the Wellingtonista, especially since we had to get in a substitute player from Xero who, umm, was lovely, but not quite up to the standard of a couple of people from the Wellingtonista who’d played in early games, so ClickSuite beat us by 14 points and therefore we came in last in the league. And of course, I didn’t find a job through thet league, or a rich husband, so in my eyes, it was a complete and utter failure. Heh. Oh, but did I mention that Anji and I had a very tasty dinner at Finc before – pork belly and also pear & beetroot dip with lesbian bread (heh), and the waitress was like “I’m the dessert menu!” and I was like “i’m not sure I want to eat you…” (who am I kidding?) and she was like “you’re dirty!” and I was like “tehehe”? No, well we did.

The end of bowling meant that we had an awards ceremony at the Southern Cross on the Friday night. I’d booked 20 people into ‘The Den’ which is the long thin area to the right of the bar at front at 7pm, but by 7.15 I was still sitting by myself feeling like a spaz every time I told people to go away because I’d booked the area. Apparently Silverstripe had shown up early, and, finding noone there had gone out to the garden and didn’t find us for a very long time after that. But then people showed up in a rush which was good. There was a Skank moment in the bathroom but after a quick “omg, eww” moment to the double ds, I totally forgot about that until the next day. I gave everyone their awards and made them shake my hands and let me kiss their cheeks. The darling Sue had made up Wellingtonista badges that I’d designed and we’d had a secret rendevouz in Midland Park for me to get them off her, and they went down a treat. I had lots of fun. The ever-entertaining MG, who was the only one representing Clemenger suggested that he’d set up a meeting for me with someone from a magazine that I have a review of to do for the Wellingtonista. Someone in ClickSuite that I’d never met before invited me to an Apres Ski party, cementing their status as the most sociable team. I gave everyone invitations to English County Club, and fought off questions such as “is that really your house?” and “what’s Tapiri Manor?” Although I wasn’t very drunk when I left, I asked Dave to walk me to the taxi and make sure that he remembered the company because I am trying to make sure that I’ve trained myself into safer habits for times when I’m not so in control. I was proud of myself for that. I wonder how much people think I’m being overly anxious. It’s really hard to make the transition between thinking that you are bullet-proof to trying to do what’s right, so I will continue to salute myself.

Mmmmm Josh Homme. Mmmmmmmmm. Oh yes, lick me like I was your guitar…

I wish Crazy Canadia was online right now. Or that I was in Vegas too.

Umm, that was Friday. On Saturday, Lani and I cleaned the house, then went up to Ngaio to drop off the Mysteriously Broken Chair (“Daddy, I have an exciting new craft project for you!”) and pick up my early birthday present – an 8 gig nano that Daddy somehow bartered the Australian duty-free man down to A$303 (as opposed to NZ$450), and managed to talk my father into making pancakes for us. It wasn’t very hard, it mostly involved me saying “hey, have you guys had lunch yet? I’m starving!”. Then it was back home for more preparation and some stress-related grumpiness and control-freakery for me. I picked up Lisa and also Other Lisa, who I hadn’t met before and who was a little surprised by my embrace. But she took it gladly at the end of the night. I was dressed as Antoinette (my mother’s middle name, not that she’ll admit to it) Chocolat Tophey-Smythe, the second wife of a terribly rich terribly old terribly high society British man, who happned to be away while I hosted the party. Lisa was Emoly McBlack, an exchange student from the future (she had “This ain’t a scene, it’s a goddamm ARM (s race)” written on her arm (SO AWESOME. Despite the badness of the song)) and Other Lisa was Olivia Inkton, the society reporter. My new C4 comment is that Bauhaus’s (Top 10 Alternative 80′s [sic])singer sounds just like Matt Bellamy. I love ‘Ziggy Stardust’. Other people came in their costumes, and we had very civilised food and drink and conversation and back stories. A boy told me I was the most interesting person he’d ever met and I went “tehehe” even if he was taking hte piss because I told him that I’d seen Spiceworld 28 times. A jolly good time was had by all but I can’t remember the exact things I wanted to write about ti. But Oh! The Cult! This fucking chart is totally my sisters’ album collections. And this song (‘She sells sanctuary’) was so ripped off by both the Foo Fighters and The Donnas!

Sunday meant struggling out of bed with sore feet, and Lani and I jumped on the bus down to the stadium (that walkway is so like the walkway to Tokyo Disneyland – a million miles to the station when you have sore feet). We got in to the Food Show, and I had an attack of the grumps, but her savign seats and me going off to find a bathroom (it took me forever, and oh boy, it stung just a little more to see that a company that didn’t hire me was blocking off a female toilet with their stand) and grabbing a latte and a couple of nibbles put me in a better mood. We met up with Anji and Karen to watch Hayden Wood make cocktails, and although the techno music was annoying and he seemed like a bit of a plonker, I love his books, and watching the flairing was very amusing. And he called me Sweetheart when I ran up to grab a Feijoa and rum concoction.

With that icey drink in my belly I felt much better, and we went off to drink our way around the Hawkes Bay. In previous years, Karen and I have started off on the other end, so that by the time we’ve reached that area we’ve been too drunk to try everything, but given how much time we’ve spent with Wairarapa wine lately, it just made sense. There were some very nice drops, and I bought too much, and we bumped into Karen’s old flatmates Alistair and Korina, which was rad. We drank and ate and drank and ate and drank and ate, and then Lani and I got seperated from Anji and Karen, and time started running out so we ran around getting as much in as we could. I thought I did brilliantly at the Prenzels’ Schnapps stand trying every flavour until I found out that Anji and Karen bought the ends of every bottle for $20. But we got free cereal and free tubs of guacamole, and chocolate and apples to take away, not to mention the ton we ate, so woo! Plus I got to semi-shock several older gentlemen showing them my humping unicorns hoodie that I had in my bag. It made sense at the time, but in reality, I got drunker at the Food Show than I did at our party the night before. Woo! $18 is TEH AWESOME. Especially since I’m pretty sure I tried the Wairarapa wines for free since I took a dirty glass from one of the winemakers – on his suggestion (or perhaps my coercion). Heh.

Then on Monday I just wanted to crawl into bed again all day, but instead I went home and made kickass Dhal for Lani and the double Ds, and also Lani’s friend David, which I suppose makes it the DDDs. We tried to rouse Smoo, but he was sleeping the sleep of the dead, even after I woke him up, so no flat dinner was to be had. And Dyl didn’t do our dishes like he was supposed to for not bringing wine, but we did play Cluedo and I did win.

Tuesday was umm, I can’t rmeember. Crappy? I do remember reading Q in my room after work suggssting I was in no mood to talk. On Creative Wednesday, I went for a swim at the pool – half an hour of laps and then half an hour in the spa. Halfway through the laps, I decided that the old man in the lane next to me was perving at me far more than was deserved (me in a swim suit is really not hot), and then I saw a strap trailing in the water and realised that my halter had come undone. AWESOME! *goats motion*. I really wish I could find a fat-person two-piece with a racerback top, but apparently practical swimwear is out of the question. Because people with my shape should just be lounging about,not trying to improve their current situation or something. Same thing with the hardness of finding a proper sports bra.

Yesterday was Thursday and I ummm hmmm, stuff, blah blah blah. Oh! Karen, Anji and I had a most amusing and delicious dinner at Medina, that I must review on the Wellingtonista. And today was Friday and oh man, I think we covered that already today, or at least I have in texts, and forwarded emails, and just AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH. And now my port is empty, so I must go over to my shiny silver tray ($1) and realise that my decanter ($2) is empty, so I must refill my glass (50c) from the bottle from my parents (free) that is in my sideboard (free). So I might go do that instead.

All of todayk, I have been about to collapse over and fall asleep. I didn’t sleep at all last night. Stupid pre-period bright light, lower back pain, stupid brain going tick tick tick. Stupid girl drinking coke at 7pm. Stupid oversensitive-to-caffiene existingness. YEAH! SO this afternoon, I was very very mcuh like “hi, I know we have our weekly production meeting right now, but do you mind if I fall asleep right here and now?”

As it happened, we were actually bidding farewell to a colleague, and they talked in her speech about the air of calm she gave, and since she was one of my project managers, I can totally agree that yes, she was calm-making. And now she’s gone. But at least we had butt-loads of Pandoro goodies to ease the tradition. And we all know that pandoro muffins are so hot right now. Oh I’m sorry, that’s err “da bomb”. I forgot it was 1996. Also, haha Joel, seriously, you’re all crazy and shit – you are planning on the face punch right? Remind me to put those links in when my ISP actually catches up to reality. Did I say my ISP? Oh you all know I’m using my mother’s account. (Edit: see how I blamed my inability to link properly on my ISP, rather than the many glasses of Church Road Sav Blanc? Nice. That’s what my Grad Dip PR Com was for. But I think I’ve put in the right links now…)

It’s funny, cos for five minutes or so, I was like “huh, those ex-workmates of mine that I’m making fun of – what if they make fun of me?” but then I was like “well, what would they say that I wouldn’t agree with?” and then I laughed some more. But on a more serious note, the directors put on some drinks tonight (*) and we were at the Courtenay Arms, which is where VUWSA had its Xmas party last year when I was like “I’m going to be leaving after Orientation, cos I am 10k short of what I should be making”, and now I am 12k up, and working happily, and not having to deal with RANK ARROGANT AMATUERS all the time (and if I spelled that wrong, it was Anji’s fault, cos she spelt it for me,a nd she has like, a degree in literature) and also just, I like almost all my workmates. Where the fuck was I? I can’t remember.

Oh wait, foozeball. I have searched the archives right now, and am curfrenly laughing my guts out about feta jokes that Bo and I made together. Also, WHERE THE FUCK has peppercorn feta gone? I don’t think it exists anymore. And now I spent like half an hour looking for an obscure reference to our first year Peach Pit environment (yes, htat’s Pizza Pizza I’m talking about) or how there happebned to be some boys who had happened to come across half a Nikki Watson poster from Sandringham Road that haapppened to be in our backyard and I was lying on her boobs in the photograph, and wait, what was my point? I totally forget. But I will say hey, remember that time that I had two girl friends,and then there were these three guys that we all hung out with? And remember how the three of us had it all worked out? Yes.

ALSO! FUCK OFF SHORTLAND STREET! Stop having our motherfucking glasses onscreen! It’s bad enough that our three new water glasses are the stripey ones are the same as the ones in the cafe. Tonight Anji pointed out that our gingerbeer cocktail glasses have showed up in Coltrain. FUCKING SUCK IT, YOU QUEERS! (That’s the OC, k? xojo) Because I am a potter’s daughter. I care very much about the vessel things are served to me in, and I feel like you just fucked my daughter’s navel cavity. Hott! But also, unless it’s you making the mule, back the fuck off!

When I said it would be all in one part, I was lying.

Saturday December 4th, continued
Finally I realised that I couldn’t watch Dawson’s forever, and that it was high time I get my shit together and make the journey to The’Tron, via dropping Katie off in town. Of course it started raining then. I’m still not used to driving a car that actually has functioning windscreen wipers (Inco’s scraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaped and scratched) and of course it was that stupid dumb sometimes-sunny bullshit, so I was all confuzzled between glasses and sunglasses, aaaaaaaand (just to bitch a little more) I don’t particularly like the drive to Hamiltron at the best of times, and even less when I’m hungover, but I made it there in one piece. The motel I was staying at, The Airport Motor Inn, was (strangely enough) out at the airport, which is another half hour or so through Hamilton, but luckily it was signposted, cos there are few things I hate more than getting lost in The’Tron (except perhaps getting lost in West Auckland).

My motel room was very beige, as I had hoped. For some reason, I was thinking that the neutrality of it would inspire me to some great writing since I couldn’t have my Doom Generation motel room fantasy. I shattered the peace by bleeding red and purple all over their white towels and also probably got traces on the clean white sheets when I had a nap. I am a deviant. I’d stuck my toe into the outdoor swimming pool and decided against it because while I’m crazy I’m not actually insane. The shower was all needley and great massagey though, which made me happy. I drank many glasses of water trying to rehydrate and then it was time (well, well past time but I stopped to watch the Simpsons) to get my act together and get dressed for Chelsea’s after-wedding. Wedding-esque (not in the long and white and poofy, but in the ‘appropriate attire for a guest’ sense, of course) Dress? Check. Pearls? Check. Cardigan? Check. Pink Lipgloss? Check. Scoddy old silver birkis? Check. Then all I had to do was stand in the motel’s driveway for an eternity waiting for the taxi, but that’s okay cos while I was waiting I got a call from La, who had obviously arrived back from Australia and received the note I’d left at his house threatening to cry if I didn’t have a chance to hang out with him. Excellent. (Wait, again, what tense am I in? Oh who knows anymore.)

The taxi took me out into the countryside dotted with Lifestyle Block type places, and we both cunningly managed to work out that the house was the one with all the cars parked around it and balloons tied to the gate. Given that I hadn’t seen Chelsea since Uni, I was a little nervous. Luckily, I spotted Kyla, and she pointed me towards Elly, who told me to sit down at her table and then as soon as I did, she got up and left. That’s when I went to find a drink. I met all sorts of people who, once they established that I was Jo Hubris and not any of the other Jos, knew all sorts of things about me. Mostly they didn’t even tell me their real names, let alone any kind of web name, so I was left to stick out my hand and say “Hi, I’m Jo,” expecting that usual social convention would compell them to introduce themselves and not reply with a “I know” and keep talking. Pah, feeble social convention, they laugh at usual social convention! Anyways, I sought out Elly and kept her company while she stuffed weiners in herself. Since neither she nor Kyla nor Murray, who had just arrived at this point in my narrative, were drinking, I decided to take it upon myself to drink their share as well. The gorgeous big garden was set up with a series of canopies and pavilion type things, but it was starting to rain so eventually, after I left ridiculously garbled messages on a video for Chelsea (sorry!) we retired inside to watch Richard and Chelsea open their presents. I want to get married! Oh so many presents. Also like, as I did mention in my earlier drunken entry when I got home from the wedding, I’d kind of like to look beautiful and be in love, just like Chelsea. But I’ll settle for appliances. Then there was dancing! Lots and lots of it. In fact, Elly and I got thrown out at the end,because Richard and Chelsea had already left, and I guess Richard’s parents’d had enough of us – which is probably a valid complaint. I had after all been naughty and used the inside toilet, something that made me feel terribly wicked and probably made me have a guiltier face than I did at Dee’s wedding.
Earlier in the night I’d confided in Elly that I’ve been getting exceeding paranoid when I drink and would she please be able to make sure that I got home safely in case I got pissed, and so she was kind enough to drive me back to my motel, even though I wasn’t pissed to the badness point, just the ridiculous amounts of fun and also trying to teach boys how to waltz point, where I logged on and wrote this incredibly eloquent journal entry. Which, as it happens, cost me $10 for the phone call, so I hope you enjoyed it.

Sunday, December 5th
What I would like to know is which bastard decided that it would be a good fun thing for motels to have a 10am checkout. It certainly wasn’t me anyways. But there you have it, according to my receipt I managed to shower and pack in a severely hungover state and pay my $122 bill by 10.07am ($105 room, $6 minibar, $10 internet phonecall, 40cent taxi phonecall). Yay me! And then I rang Brenda and got directions to her house. She’d promised to cook me waffles but I was feeling so ill that I had to make a quick stop into Burger King on the way there. You know their “suck it and see” straws? Well they come with a fucking piece of paper telling you what colour your straw is before you even get the chance. What’s the point in that? None! There is no point. Plus the straws feel oooky and taste yucky. You suck, Burger King. What doesn’t suck is the coffee Brenda makes on her posh machine, and her home made cookies. We sat and drank coffee for an hour and a bit and gossiped. I think she’s fantastic. She didn’t make me waffles though, but that’s fine because I was full of BK and cookies and coffee anyways. My throat was hurting like a motherfucker, as it had started on Thursday what with me singing for eight hours on the drive up, and then continued with the singing and dancing on Friday night, and then the Saturday night, and the unhealthy lifestyling and the talking talking talking. So what did I do? I left Brenda to go meet up with Amy&Andee and talk talk talk some more.

The cafe we went to – Metropolis was cheaper than an Auck or Welly one, and big plates of pasta and yumness. Haha, look at the quality of my England Writering. We got caught up on our current lives (Amy’s doing a PhD! !!!) and settled in to bitch about our old lives as well. They finally told me about how a girl who I thought was my friend slept with the guy I fancied six and a half years ago. OMG! So that makes what, seven ‘friends’ who’ve done that now? You’ll excuse me if I’m a little cynical when it comes to friendships now and put an ever increasing value on the TWO YEAR RULE. I’m looking at you here Jessie, as my newest friend. And Heather too – make sure you keep your thieving mitts off Zach Braff, dammit! Anyways, the story of this girl and boy in question is that she’d been at my house in Mt Roskill when he’d invited us over to his place on the shore, and so she drove us over, and he offered us a smoke and I was like “oh no thanks” cos I didn’t want to embarrass myself by coughing, and then he said that I could crash there for the night so the girl wouldn’t have to go back to Mt Roskill to drop me off since she was from the shore anyways (I should have known better) but I said no to that too, because I was fucking dumb 17 year old, and so she drove me home and apparently went back and slept with him. Nice! I stopped talking to her a couple of weeks after that anyways since someone cut&pasted me the nasty shit she’d been saying about me on IRC anyways. Hahaha IRC. Funny. (Also hahaha if, Mr Boy in Question, you’re still lurking). But Amy, Andee I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU DIDN’T TELL ME SOONER. Heh. Then we went and admired the RiffRaff statue (Hamiltron is so wack) and then I drove back to Auck for nailpainting and facials with Kateb. Hurray.

Where she left a trail of red & spunk & puke across the North Island
So, my trip to Auckland. I’m going to drip-feed it all into the one entry, so keep coming back (it works if you work it).

Thursday 2nd December
Last Thursday, I hopped in my mother’s car and I started driving and I started singing. Nine hours or so later, with stops to grab coffee and laugh at the fact that The Brown Sugar Cafe hasn’t changed its menu in seven years at least, and to eat lunch in Taihape and to gratefully make it to Tirau right on the dot of five pm in order to make it to their nice bathrooms before they shut, and without a stop to paddle in Taupo cos I kept going “next bay, next bay” and then I’d run out of bays, but with a stop in at Volcanic to leave a note for La begging him to call me and to be disgusted at what they’ve turned my proud house into, and with a little extra time spent getting lost in West Auckland, I finally arrived at KateB’s place in Oratia and got to stop driving and stop singing.

Kateb and I drank a lovely bottle of Sacred Hill Rose out of tea cups, ate dinner and talked a whole pile’o shit. I convinced her to let me sleep in their lounge instead of their spare room in which Glyn had been screenprinting, cos it was a little fumey to my oversensitive nose. So lovely to catch up and gossip. I slept really well when I went to bed too.

Friday 3rd December
I had a super hot wonderful date booked at 10.30am in Grafton so I had to haul my ass across town to get to that. Hayley was thrilled to see me, of course, and we spent a long time debating the merits of semi vs permanent, and in the end we decided on an as-permanent-as-possible semi, in order to maximise the shine. I picked a reddish colour for all over, and a darker purpley shade for low-lights. Bright bright bright! We had a wonderful gossip while she did the foils, then her trainee (I think) painted the rest of my head and one of my nails is still tinted from scratching my ear. Whoops. Nevermind. When they put heatery things around my head, they sat me in a chair with a massager built in – oooooooh lordy I giggled at first and they laughed and laughed at me. Hayley gave me a headrub when she was shampooing my hair and I purred. Then she cut the layers back in, and the fringe, and decided to do funny things on my left hand side. She was like “I love that you’re not arguing with me” and I was like “you’re holding a pair of sharp scissors!” but I of course trust her completely. Fuck my hair looked SO FUCKING GOOD when it was done. I told her I was going to dinner with all the Kates (thinking that KateM got her hair done by Hayley, when in fact it was one of the other hairdressers, nevermind) and that they’d all be inspired to get their acts together and book in for another/their first appointment. I got a fiver off for that I think. So yeah, it was $180 all up, but if you saw me on Friday, or even Saturday, you’ll know that I totally got my money’s worth, purely in saunter factor.

By the time I was done, it was midday, and I was heading to Newmarket anyways to try and find something posh to wear to the wedding/pulp party/whatever, and so I figured I’d pop up to Katem’s office to say hi. There’s parking at her office, which is great, and she was at work and thinking about lunch, which was even greater. So we headed down to some cafe on Remuera Rd (Umbria?) for some good food and nice wine and fantastic conversation. The trouble with KateM is that she’s very good at saying what I want to hear, so in discussing a particular boy she was all “I really do think he actually liked you, it was just really bad timing for you both”- which is great to hear but probably not very healthy cos it means that I obsess more – and lord knows I already obsess enough! But we had a really good catchup and gossip and she told me she was coming to my dinner that night and that I should order her something meaty if it looked like she was going to be running late.

Then I went up to Benediction to have coffee with KateB and she gave me a yellow mesh RJC scarf that she’d been sent but that suited no one, except me because I have fucking great colouring and can wear pretty much any colour. So yeah, it means I get to be way posh, since RJC is all like fancy and stuff, and expensive, and I’m so not naturally. I took the time to consult the paper to try and find a movie I wanted to see at a convenient time where I wouldn’t have to pay for parking. There really wasn’t a hell of a lot of choice, so I ended up going to the 3.45 session of Bridget Jones (again) at The Lido (which, if you are unfamiliar with, is on the cover of Dimmer’s album).

The Lido is in Epsom, which meant that I popped into The Millhouse to try and find something nice to wear. Big mistake. Sure they had my sizes, but the only things I liked were over $500. The Millhouse stocks Trelise’s fat-people range. I get to say ‘Trelise’ because I know someone who works for her, so hehehe check out me namedropping designers in this entry. So so wrong. Anyways, there was no one in the theatre except for me and two old ladies who talked loudly during the ads. The movie was funny enough I suppose, even though I was sober this time around.

I was due at KateH’s at 7pm, so I figured I’d go to St Lukes and continue my quest for Wedding Outfit. I found it! A black dress in flippy floppy material, it’s sleeveless and a little empire-waisted, and it had a pink and grey geometric print on it, which is a little strange, because that’s so much more mainstreamy than something I’d usually wear, but it is perfect for weddings, so (and let me put this in capital letters) YOU ARE ALL ALLOWED TO GET MARRIED NOW since I have the perfect outfit to wear to your wedding. Cos you’re inviting me right? Right? Yeah, anyways, so I can wear my tie-front black mesh cardigan over the top until the liquor sets in and I stop minding my arms so much. Excellent. Anyway, I was running around St Lukes when KateH texted me saying I should get to her house half an hour earlier so that we could go buy snacks in preperation for our slumber party, but I figured since I was already at the mall, I’d just do it myself. Three bottles of cheap bubbly for me, a bottle of Wither Hills Sav for her and a whole pile’o junk food loaded up and I was on my way to Pt Chevalier.

How’s my tensing going? It’s pretty shit right? I mean, for a Grammar Queen, I’m pretty loose. Oh well, y’all love me anyways because I am still SHRN. For serious.

At Kateh’s I got to wash the Auckland sweat off, and we drank a bottle while we got poshed up and watched Shorters. Then we taxied in to Kingsland to Mekong (which the divine Miss. H had booked, and then I’d rebooked to change the numbers from 9 to 11). The guestlist? On the AUT side of the table: KateH, KateM, KateB, Justin, Maree and Shirley (Me: “Just call them all Kate, they’ll get over it”). On the NZm side of the table: Heather (who wrote about it here) & Paul and Martina & her brother Chris. And then there was me at the head of the table. There was some gooooood food and some good conversation. There was a lot more wine. There was sticky rice! I heart sticky rice so much. Dinner stretched out over a long time cos we had entrees first, and people were late and all that kinda stuff. I tried to talk to everyone and to make sure everyone was having a good time, as I always do. I am a good hostess, fo’sure. Well I hope that everyone had fun anyways.

Once dinner and many many bottles of wine were finished, the AUT side headed up to Ruby while the NZm side went home after one drink. I heart Ruby! It’s a small place, but they play great eighties music and make really yummy cocktails which people kept buying for me. All my friends were drunk and they kept touching me, and I was like “aaaaaargh! I haven’t had sex in a very very long time, what the hell are you doing?” We were all dancing and singing in that tight space when a guy came up and started dancing with me. He was very hands-all-over but was very cute, so I was like oooh, and all my friends were like oooooooooooooh. He kept dancing with me and I kept grabbing his ass and we were laughing and giggling for a long time, and so when someone suggested leaving I was like “ummm no, let’s just wait a bit”. He kept leaving and coming back and then hugging me and telling me how gorgeous and wonderful I was, and then finally I realised that every time he left it was to go and talk to another boy, and so click click click, I was like “oh you’re gay right?” and he was like “yeah” and I was like DAMMIT. But we still continued dancing and having ridiculous amounts of fun. Eventually the bar called last drinks and according to my bank statements I paid $49 for a bottle of Deutz. I have no idea what time it was but it was decided it was time for us to leave – since like, they were kicking us out and shit. Plus I’d just about got into a brawl for some reason with some girl – apparently I knocked her drink but she was a total bitch about it. Anyways.

We got dial-a-driver since Maree had her car there and so while we were waiting I had a very entertaining conversation with a very drunk Justin. I don’t remember much of it, but I was probably complaining about all of his friends that I’ve scored, and recounting the conversation about the one in particular that I’d had with KateM at lunch, and he was like “hmmm” and I was like “no, I know we’re right!!!” and then he said that I was one of the most intelligent women that he knew, which is always nice to hear. And then the dial-a-drivers came and it was all very entertaining squeezing into the back of one of the cars and stopping to let Shirley out somewhere. The rest of us went back to Pt Chev and KateH’s to watch Dawson’s Creek. Yay Dawson’s retroness! Justin passed out in the bed I was supposed to sleep in, and KateM went home at some time, so it must have just been me and Maree and KateH watching. The next morning I was supposed to go to brunch with Martina and Heather but I was too hungover so I stayed napping in KateH’s lounge and watching more episodes. Season Two is totally where it’s at, since that’s when they got all self-referential-ironic and actually had a sense of humour that they later lost. I’m suprised by how hot Pacey isn’t though. I’m sure he used to make me swoon. Then again, so did Eddie Furlong – and various real life people who now I wouldn’t touch with a barge pole. Ahh growing up is funny. So is revisiting your not-so-grownupness .

I am in Hamilton. If I wasn’t (or technicality afterwards) at Chelsea’s wedding after-party, I’d be all pretending it was Fiji Baby, but since I am, I’m all about the dude, fake fur (it was fake right?) white fur coat with a wedding dress is like SO HOT RIGHT NOW without even the SHRN irony but also just REAL COOL and I know when you played ‘Mandy’ it was Angel Irony yeah? Yeah!

Anywauyus, so like, I am in hammy. Specifically righty now i am at a motel right by the airport polishing off the minibar. The best surface to dance on is the soft rug of Richard’s parents’ place and if his dad hadn’t been so nice I would wantm to mug him and steal his blazer. Assming like, you know, that it would fit me, which it wouldn’t, so he is safe.

Let’s get married? And it’s not even for the appliances. It’s for the love (like ,the reception love, rather tha n the “we will spend the rest of our lives together love”).

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”

So, they’re recounting the votes in the US. Cool. I could make an effort to find out who’s won, but I can’t be assed, because I was at tech until 9pm today, and that’s quite a long time when you’re as sick as a sick dog. Coffee and a vege sandwich and gossiping with Jody and Jeremy perked me up a little though. Jeremy’s definately moving in, so yay. Kate B and I had a spat last night when she told me that oh maybe she’s not going to sublet, she might just move out, and that so wasn’t what I needed to hear after I’d arranged someone to sublet, and we were both very very tired and grumpy, so I stomped off to my room, but we made up before she went out to Johnno’s so that was okay.

So yes, very very tired. I was relieved to find out today from Mansfield that actually, all our paperwork and website isn’t due in today after all. Plus, apparently he’ll very happily give anyone an extension on their I.D project, and accept stuff with “Under Construction” segments. But that’s cheating. I figure if I can get an A on the planning of it all, I can damn well get an A on the actual thing. But I’m not sure if I will or not. I can dream. It’s all that makes doing an instructional program on how to use the AUT Phone System bearable. We had some career people come talk to us, and they said “You can expect a starting salary of around $30,000 in your field when you graduate” but Mansfield said after that if you go into Coporate Instruction work, you’ll start on at least $45,000. But where oh where is the soul?

I like Director. Well, I like it better than Quest anyways. I think I like it better than Flash too. My timeline is all colour coded and pretty. Arrrrgh, what’s happening to me? Helen asked me and Jody today if we’d had any Fireworks this year – my automatic response was “yeah I have it installed on my machine at home”. Of course, she was refering to Guy Fawkes. Why do program makers try and give their products such fucking bizzare names? I mean “FLASH!” – and how many people start singing “oooooh Dreamweaver, I believe…” AAARGH! Okay, sorry – you can kind of tell that lately I’ve been spending 90% of my awake time in the labs at tech, can’t you?

I meant to change my sheets and stuff tonight, and maybe even do a load of washing, but when you get home at 10pm, the inspiration’s really just not there, is it? Ooh I just made my back crack something lovely. I’m sure it wasn’t healthy, but it felt good. I’m not very healthy, and I intend to change that. My body’s so completley unable to cope with stress that it gets really really sick whenever I need it the most.

The link to my journal page is maybe likely to disappear off my front page sometime soon. This is in keeping with the fact that we’re soon going to have to make our answering machine message less offensive too as I go jobhunting. Damn conformity!

I’ve drank about three litres of water today. I’m pissing on the half hour. If someone was to give me a neck and shoulder massage, I would sell them my soul.

Think my “Night” capsuale is kicking in yet? I took two last night and still didn’t sleep. Too much running through my mind, plus I can’t breathe with a blocked nose, and I can’t sleep when I can’t breathe. My parents are coming up to Auckland next week to go to the Expo. Anji may or may not come. It’ll be nice to see them. I think I must also borrow money off them, unfortunately. I’m looking forward also to getting gloriously drunk on Wednesday night after the expo is over. And going to Hamilton on Friday to see Andee and Shihad and Fur Patrol.

Brain mush brain mush brain mush.

Oh, and just cos I was showing them to Annette, here are the last ten search engine thingies that people used to find my journal page:

• delivered baked goods
• flame test ion
• coloured gifs and jpegs and wizard
• piss jpegs,
• gifs of eart,s rot jpegs,
• gifs of eart,s rot jpegs
• hot jpegs
• fuck her very badly
• Nipple Licking

“You got nipple licking? I’m so jealous!”

Started the day by reading the New Zealand Herald. Brad and Justin came back from Justin’s house adn they took over the table for five minutes. Justin had a hickey on his neck – the back of his neck no less, which probably means he had gay sex. I think sometimes I am too mean to Justin , but then I figure he likes the abuse.

I hung out for the rest of the day and had fish and potato salad for dinner. Brad came hime from work at 10.30 while I was on the phone to Andie. I was screaming and energetic because that’s the way I am with Andie on the phone.

I got off the phone wiht Andie after deciding to go to Hamilton to see Weta, Fur Patrol and Shihad. Clayton Brad and I planned to go to Cornwall Park for a midnight picnic but went to Foodtown to get some chippies and mixers instead. At home we sat around the dining room table, drank, listened to music and showed each other things of our past like my diary, Brad’s comedy stuff and Clayton’s cartoon and sticker books. We bonded and it was good. After a while we started dancing in the hallway to Creed and Briteny until Kate B came home crying. All of a sudden, the music stopped and the dancing ceased. I think they won’t breeak up and everything will be okay, but it sound like a pretty serious arguement.

To end this journal I just want to say how much I love my flatmates. Brad rocks and Clayton is the bomb. Bye

Okay, it’s scary how like my sixth form diary writing style Brad wrote that entry for in me

Monday the 14th of December

Mum had to wake me three times this morning before I dragged my lazy ass outta bed. I’d been dreaming about being in Hamilton again, and it was really weird cos (can I say this without being beaten to a bloody pulp?) I was hanging out with Young Sarah, and I was fully loving her. I guess wanting to sleep is what you get for staying up til 3am talking to weirdos (yes, that’s you) on ICQ. Anyways, it was worth getting up, cos I went Xmas shopping with Momma. After doing James Smith (and fuck he was good!), and picking up $100 cash from Andie for two days at the Bakehouse while there, we went for lunch at Felix. I ordered a passionfruit muffin, but I think the fates were aligned against me, cos it came out with about a half a cup of icing sugar dumped all over the top. Sure, that might not sound that bad, but I’m telling you, it was! The sugar pouffed off everywhere, covering the table, and nearly choking me to death. I couldn’t clean it up, either, not with five serviettes. Maybe it’s anal, but I’m always so mortified whenever I make a mess in cafes, like I’m a bib-needing baby or something. I guess the other way I could have played it was to pretend to be a coke baron, totally in the money. But nah, I was with my mother, and I doubt she would have appreciated it. And besides, after snorting salt once (hey, we were in a military base early morning, we’d been on a broken down train all night and I hadn’t had one iota of sleep and well…. it seemed like a good idea at the time) there is no way I would snort non-illict substances.

Ummmmm so what did I buy? Well, I had the brilliant idea of getting Momma a voucher for a CLASSY haircut from Rodney Wayne, so I got my daddy the Bad Jelly the Witch cd – apparently NZ’s the only country that loves it! I also got him a tie from a trendy op shop, which was $4.50 and therefore kinda expensive. The only good thing about Mount Roskill was the baptist church shop there, which I do believe I was responsible for keeping in business. Anyways, back to my Xmas shopping. I got Anji some underwear from Farmers (classy classy) for her birthday which is on Boxing Day, but no Xmas pressie, cos I just couldn’t think of one. Momma bought me a cool top from the markets which she’s going to give to me at Christmas – it’s embroidered with a large flower, which according to Fashion Quarterly, is THE motif of the season – as I pointed out to Mum, Butterflies are SO last spring. Then we were passing Mischief (the NICEST, FRIENDLIEST shoestore ever) and I reminded her she’d said she’d buy me some shoes, if I could find some that I wanted. So we trotted in, and I picked up a pair that I fancied, and said to the guy “You probably don’t but – do you have these in a size 11?” (don’t mock my shoe size without remembering that I am six feet tall!). Wonder of wonders, they did! So I popped them on, and instantly loved them – we were in and out of the store in 5 minutes, almost. The shoes are black wedgey slip ons, with like, almost platform soles. They’re so trendy you must have seen them around. I liked them cos they were comfy, they fit, and they’ve got to be cooler than my boots. We also got a free inflatable alien with them, that’s lime green and two feet tall. I walked through Manners Mall with it sticking out of my bag, and everyone gave me funny looks. They also yelled out things like “HELP! I’m being abducted”. Ho ho ho. So yeah, that was the shopping. I love Xmas. It’s such a cool time of year.

What other stuff did I do? Well, it was Make Out Monday, so naturally, I was glued to the TV set – except I don’t get to see Savannah cos Neil wants to watch the news at that time. Malibu Shores was SUCH a piece of trash, even by Spelling Standards. Choooice! And Melrose just gets better and better.

I also found out that I won some stuff from United Video – YAY, even if it is only a lost in space tshirt, a swingers soundtrack, and some vouchers. Free stuff is always good. I only won it cos I was trying to help out people put a proposal together for why United needs a new website, so yay, that rocks. Another exciting email I got was from a website saying they’d publish something I wrote – double Yay. Oh look, no link. Go Fish!

That’s all. Only eleven days to get your xmas gifts to me, so get cracking!

Whatever I did on Monday doesn’t actually matter. I’m going to use this entry to write about my weekend. No doubt I’ll go into everything in glorious detail, and if you still want more after that, you could possibly check Jo’s journal, or email and ask me yourself. Loverly. Here we go.

Saturday morning, 9.11am. A train pulls into Ngaio station, and a blonde girl exits from a carriage near the back. A dark haired girl runs down the platform towards her, half skipping in excitement. They hug, and climb into the van driven by the dark haired girl’s mother.

It was like hitch hiking, really. Mum drove us to my aunt Diz’s house, where we went to wake up my cousin Jacinta – Jo got to meet her nose, cos the lazy tart hid under her blankets instead of getting up to be nice to us. Then Diz drove us (us being me and Jo – and that’ll apply throughout the whole entry, probably) out to Paraparaumu Station, cos she was going out to my grandmother’s house anyway, while asking us all sorts of questions about the internet. No, we’re not geeks, honest! At Paraparaumu Station, we waited for Simon to show up in his car car, and Brett to come in on his train train.

We finally got on the road by 11am, and I got shotgun all the way to Hunterville. In Hunterville, we stopped for lunch, and this place that claimed to be a cafe and bar but it so wasn’t. It was a tearoom/pub – and if you don’t know the difference, I’m suprised you’re on the internet. The lady who served us obviously doesn’t get out much because she told me not to break her crystal bottle when she gave me a plastic squeezy of tomato sauce. Jo and I were really tempted to get up and dance to whatever the hidi music they were playing, but we decided to flag because there were no locals there to scare – I can only perform when I have an audience. The good thing about Hunterville is that there’s a little statue of a sheep in one of the streets, so we clambered on that for a photo opportunity. Honestly we’re not sick in the head. Really we’re not.

Jo got shotgun then, and also got to play stereo-nazi. It didn’t really matter what got played, cos I could sing along to almost all of it, except Simon’s thrashindustrial crap. And I tried my best to sing that too. Yeah Soulfly, stacks of talent there. That’s cool though – I’m trying to be more open minded. I pitied Brett heaps, because I do believe he is a homie, and I therefore don’t think he would have liked much of our music at all. Plus he was so quiet compared to me and Jo, and even Simon. It’s so weird having a friend called Jo – if Simon wanted to talk to me he had to say “Jo…Anna”. I’m only Jo to my friends, whereas she’s only Joanna to special people. I spent so much of the trip looking at myself in the rear view mirror. Yes okay, I’m vain. It was just fascinating watching my lips move as I sang. I have a real problem with mirrors, because I get obsessed with my own reflection. Having a black background for this journal (which isn’t done for teenangst reasons, by the way) is a problem too, because I can see myself in the screen and I often stop typing and just stare, or sit puckering my lips. Wow, sharing that is like, really scary, more scary than anything else I could tell you, I think. That’s choice though. Go go Self Disclosure Girl!

We stopped again in Taupo, and walked to a cafe (a real one this time) so I could have coffee. The chick working there reminded me so much of an eighties relic, because of her perm, I think. I can imagine her being a aerobics instructor, in flourscent lycra, shooting up on steroids. But the coffee was good, AND I got a minature chocolate fish with it. We had to sit up by the bar cos that was the smoking area, but the other areas have paper and crayons on their tables. Walking out, I stopped to write my URL down, so we all scribbled ours, and ummmm I think Si and Brett put down porn addresses too. We’re such geeks. The thing is that none of us look like the typical geek. Si’s a retroboi, Brett’s a homie, Jo’s cool and me…. well I looked good too. I guess this is the nineties, and a wide variety of people use the internet now. All I know is that I never would have talked to Brett in school (we were in the same homeroom) because I didn’t think we had anything in common, but he’s actually kinda cool in a mostly quiet way. After taking photos in front of the Super Loos, we sped outta Taupo.

We stopped in Tirau really briefly so Jo and I could be photographed in front of a giant sheep shaped shop, and a dog shaped information centre. Once I’ve got my film developed, we’re going to make a webpage together documenting our trip – that’s assuming I get a scanner for Xmas. After Taupo, Jo was in the back seat, so we both sat there together fully drooling over 3D’s voice. Risingson has got to be THE sexiest song in the universe, along with Inertia Creeps and Karmacoma. I want him bad. If I ever met a guy with a voice like that, he could have me with just one word. We’re both really obsessed with him now, but as it says on Jo’s page, I get to marry him. By Sunday, our obsession had gotten to the stage that by the time Angel was drawing to a close, we’d both be in hysterics of anticipation, threads of saliva dangling out of the corners of our mouths almost.

Simon wanted to go to Te Aroha to pick up some computery things from a guy called James Spooner that he knew off Chat, so we did. However, he only had an ascii map of how to get to the guy’s house, so naturally we got lost. Well, not lost, because it was such a small hole, but we didn’t know where we were supposed to go. Naturally I had to ask for directions because no one else wanted to. The chick in blue blockers that assisted me was spot on, so we ended up at the end of James’s drive. Simon had no sooner driven into the curb (he drives well, but has problems parking) than James – or cmos as I know him from chat – came out with the cds. Talk about Rugger, man! He even had the collar on his rugby shirt turned up. I so didn’t want to meet him, so me and Jo decided to swap names – she was going to be Joanna and I’d be Jo. As we were getting out of the car, I tripped, cos my legs were tired from sitting (that does make sense, if you think about it for a moment) and so I started laughing. We introduced ourselves, but he so didn’t care, cos he was trying to wrangle an invite to the party. She whispered in my ear that he was playing dire straits so we started having hysterics – the boys all told us to calm down, but then I noticed there was a gillete lady sensor blade lying in his driveway and that was just the most bizzare thing ever so we laughed more and more. Mr Spooner was like “have they been drinking already?”. He thought we were literally on the piss, but we knew it was him who was. Driving away, Jo was like “collar down!!!!”. Such a loser was our cmos. He thinks I’m Jo now. I know this cos he told someone else that “wu, twiggy, joanna and some fat bitch” went to his house. I’d be really hurt, but no.

After Te Aroha, Jo and I achieved a great feat – the boys put the Spice Girls on for us. We were so impressed. I was impressed too that I can remember the dance moves for ‘Stop’, which Brad taught me. Four songs into the tape, we hit Paeroa, for the most important of all our touristy photos – in front of the giant L&P bottle. FAAAAAAANTASTIC baby. Then I asked directions from the lad in Mobil as to how to get to Gil’s house, and we found that easily. She gave me a mirror! I love her to bits. It’s a broken record and it’s truely cool. We heard Sublime being played upstairs – apparently that’s a very Paeroa thing, so yeah, we got in touch with the locals and all. Gil crammed into the back seat with me and Jo and of course we used the excuse of doing up our seatbelts to cop a feel. Well, we pretended we were going to, but I figure Gil was traumatised enough as it was. She didn’t know the Spice Girls, or the words to Garageland later either. She did however know a quick back route to Hamilton, so we flew down that, even if Si’s Honda accord isn’t a Holden V8 like she’s used to.

Eventually we got to hamilton and somehow found our way to Andee and Amy’s place. I tried to rush up there before the rest of the car to let them know that Brett and Jo were there too (they didn’t know) but I didn’t really have enough time. It was so sad, because A&A (I’m sure you can figure out who I mean) are moving out of their flat so there were like, boxes everywhere. Seton, their neighbour and one of the main attractions of that flat popped in for a chat, and so he got introduced to everyone. He is SO the man. Such a stud. A&A bitched at each other, and at Si lots. It’s their way of showing affection. I felt bad for gil and jo and brett cos I wasn’t sure how seriously they were taking it, but oh well. I warned Gil and Jo both the weekend would be nuts. Ren showed up, so that was choice cos I love her. Of course her and Andee weren’t coming to the partay, given that they were UNINVITED, but we won’t go there. Jo and I got all girled up – love my lilac eyeshadow long time. Gil was gonna, but then she didn’t. I so love getting dressed up, and I wanted to look good for the crazy party. After a food run to Caltex, where the crazy guy at the counter tried to lock Jo in, we had a couple of drinks (more specifically, I had two midori and lemonades and two shots of bacaardi that Andee gave me) and a bit of a chat. Eight people really filled up their shoebox flat! Then Amy and Ren drove us in their cars to Mark’s place. Us being me, si, jo, gil and brett, since as mentioned before Andee and Ren weren’t invited (not that they would have gone anyways) and Amy didn’t want to go. So yeah. I left my midori at the flat, cos I didn’t want it to all get drunk, so I only took along a bottle of red to share with Jo.

Walking in, the first person I saw was the looser named Tim (Jazz on IRC) who I took a bible to once (long story). EWwwwwww but I was like “Hi Tim” and sailed right past him. Jo knows him from the Undernet, and was waiting to see if he’d recognize her. Gil wasn’t so lucky – he waylaid her as the rest of us breezed into the back yard to talk to Mark. I didn’t realise she was gone – in fact, I forgot all about her – whoops. But eventually she managed to get free, and came outside too. She only stayed for like ten minutes though, cos her friend was having a party up the road, and that was probably less scary. I introduced Jo to everyone as my bitch, which was buckets of fun. I’d be the luckiest lesbian alive if it was true, and if I was – but I’m not. Jo decided to introduce herself to Tim, which was probably a bad idea, given that he spent like the rest of the night following us around after that. We realised that it was going to be a bit of a problem only having the one bottle of red, so I rang up Andee and her and Ren brought me my midori over. I had to wait for them in the driveway, and I was like, dancing all by myself. I thought it was funny.

Tim kept coming over like to talk to us, so Jo and I started hitting on one another, to see if we could drive him away, because he’s very homophobic. However, I think it just attracted him more. We certainly caught the eye of others! We did explain to everyone that we were just fucking with his head, but I think there were a couple of guys there who really wanted to believe I was a lesbian. We said something about snogging, and naturally Hugh was like “yes please”. Oh – apparently it’s not cool to pretend to be bi/lesbian because it undermines the work of the pioneers. I say having that attitude is what sets it back, cos how is pretending to be with Jo any different from pretending to be with a guy? I guess girls are sort of different though. Jo was being really stupid, so she asked me to slap her. I was like “can i really? can I slap you really hard?” and she agreed to it, so I did. The *SMACK* noise of it richocheted around the garden, and heads turned in exclamations of shock. I felt so guilty that I made her slap me back – and fuck it hurt! People were all like “REOW!!!!!!!!”. I do believe they thought we were mad. Hahahahah they probably would have been right.

Yucky Timmy Boy came to sit next to me, and I was so not impressed, so I put my hand on his knee and I was like “so tim, how about it?”. He started to say “yes” so I screamed, and ran away to Mark’s bedroom, where everyone was clustered around this chick called Annmaree. It’s so traj how all the boys want her. I don’t know what they see in her – her personality strikes me as bland, and she looks like Ainslie from Young Entertainers. Plus she doesn’t put out – so I have no idea what’s going on there. Anyways, it’s just sort of disgusting to watch. When Timmy followed us into there, Jo and I hid in Mark’s closet. Looking at the closet again in the morning, I have no idea how the fuck we fitted in there.