Hubris.co.nz

Okay, so I’m kind of cheating this week. The drinks weren’t free. But I could say that I paid for the entertainment and the prospect of finding true love, and the booze was additional. So with that in mind, this week (two weeks ago, fine) the free drinks came courtesy of:

VINO EROTICA!

TUESDAY NOVEMBER 27th

Now this tasting is purely by customer demand (it has nothing to do with us).
Strictly limited to 24 people – this is a night of speed-date-wine-tasting.

Each person booking in for this exclusive tasting must be single and bring a
single friend of the opposite sex with them
(to ensure a high calibre, you understand).

Upon arrival you will recieve an aperitif, and then be sorted into random teams
of 6 people to answer multi-choice questions on each of the wines you will be
tasting. At the end of each round of wine – 3 people must move to the next table
for the next wine and a new bunch of people!

A night sure to be filled of intrigue, adventure, hilarity, erotica and romance!!!!!

$30 PER PERSON
TUESDAY NOVEMBER 27th
6.30pm

PLACES STRICTLY LIMITED – Remember singles only and you must include a friend
of the opposite sex with your booking!

I like wine. And I like my friend Tom, so I went along to chaperone him. Because obviously as an old cougar spinster, I am the ideal chaperone. However, the best thing was that upon arriving, I didn’t feel at all like a cougar. I was at least five years younger than all the other women there. Hurrah!

Actually, that’s a lie. The best thing upon arriving was the glass of delicious bubbly that tasted like it was Italian and prosecco-ish, but was in fact an Australian bubbly chardonnay. We drew numbers out of big jars for our table places, and after another glass of the delicious bubbly, we sat down in groups of three men/three women, and had to announce our star signs. Simple, I’m a Gemini. No one else at the table was, to the best of my recollection. We were poured tastings from a bottle in a brown paper bag, and had to answer three multichoice questions about it. I knew straight away it was a Sav, and I was pretty sure it was from NZ, and Marlbourgh at that. Yay me! But we were assisted in our blind tastings by Nicola’s explanations of what the regional differences were like, had our glasses topped up, and smiled and nodded.

The boys moved over to the next table to be replaced by a new lot, and the question we needed to answer to get was “what kind of car would you be?”. I said I’d like to think I was some big brash mustang convertible in some fantastic colour, but I’d probably be a white prius – not the best kind of hybrid available, and like, so last year in trends”. One guy said he’d be a concept car, and I said “Like Homer’s with the giant cup-holder?” and the table went completely silent and I watched tumbleweeds roll past. Really? REALLY? Not even that basic a Simpsons reference could get recognised? Woah. Tough crowd. And a tougher wine. I think it was a viogner. I can’t remember. Nice work Jo. Perhaps Tom could post if he remembers what the wines were.

In the next group, we had to say what our favourite word was. I thought of a long-gone friend’s long letter to me, and claimed ‘succulent’ as my own. I got to use the word ‘onomatepaia’ in my explanation, which luckily was out loud so I didn’t have to spell it. Someone said “you’ve practiced this answer”. I said “I work in communications”. Other than that, there wasn’t much talk of work. One guy said that his favourite word was ‘Orb’, and I said “so do you like The Orb?” and he was like “well I like the planet earth” and I was like “huh? I meant the early ’90s techno band” and he stared at me like I was crazy, so I was very happy when the guy across the table was like “I like The Orb” and named some of their albums. Finally someone understood me! I wasn’t actually talking crazy after all! In fact, that guy was probably my favourite of the night. He laughed at my jokes, and seemed normal, and didn’t have a mo. I could have put down at the end of the night that I wanted his email address, but that would of course have opened me up to the possibility of rejection, and god forbid I should ever take any chances! We drank some red wine. It was delicious. That’s all I remember about it. Perhaps it was Italian. Or Argentinian.

In the next group, we had to give examples of the best or worst pickup lines we’d ever heard or used. I offered up “Your curtains scare me – can we go to your room?” as laaaaaame (although that worked), and as possibly the best ever, “I’d buy you a drink but I don’t buy girls drinks because they use me too much” as most powerful, because it got us talking, made me buy him a drink to make up for all the other girls, and introduced the user as a wounded flower who obviously needed someone to take care of him. At least three times that night. Heh. We also drank more red wine. There was a girl at my table who was getting most of the wine questions right. The other girl at the table was not very forthcoming with answers. Some of the guys weren’t either. One of the guys in the previous round had said he didn’t have a favourite word. I told him his new favourite word was ‘banana’ and he had to use it in the future. I suspect this meant that he would have had to tell every other group as he went around about it, but somehow I doubt he would have. Shy people freak me out. People at the table talking about how hard it is to meet people when you’re in your thirties and don’t like bars also freak me out a lot. Thank god for being 27.

The next group, with a delicious bubbly shiraz was all about the “naughtiest thing you’ve ever done”. Both Tom and I, comparing notes later, were very much like “Seriously? WTF?” about people’s “naughtiest” stories, which consisted of things like “knocking a book out of a teacher’s hand” at age five, or their boss – not even them – throwing up in a cab. My story was of revenge in a toilet stall. It got shared in front of the whole group. Awesome. At least I was happy to participate. I’d had Lominger Competencies earlier in the morning at work, and had been pissed off then too by people who wouldn’t talk and join in. What’s the point? So I had some more wine, and then ran off to Quiz Night where the quiz master told me to shut up because I was drunk. Heh.

EDIT: Tom says “The second one was a Pinot Gris from Argentina, there was a Malbec there somewhere, plus a Negroamaro from somewhere in southern Italy (Puglia, I think).

Your description of the night was bang on. All I remember was getting drunk quickly and acting too loud and inappropriate for what was pretty much a bunch of wallflowers.”

Of course, he could have commented that for himself, but oh well.

So Cheney is briefing Dubya on the events of the day, and of course Dubya isn’t paying much attention because he’d rather be playing with his toy cars, but when Cheney says “…oh and three Brazilian soldiers were killed today in Iraq,” George looks up and his eyes seem terrified. “Dick,” he says, “how many is a Brazilian?”

Aha ha ha ha ha. Yes, that’s right, I created a whole Country Club theme just so that I could tell you that very lame joke.

But before there was Brazil there was driving out to the airport in the crazy wind to pick up KateH on Friday night, and then cooking her rare sirloin steak sandwiches in fresh french bread with tamarillo chutney and caramalised onions, and then being picked up by our (and everyone’s!) chauffer for the night, the everylovely Miss Lisa who took us to San Fran to see Sam Flynn Scott play with Lawrence Arabia. They sounded good, but I was tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiired and coming down with a nasty sore throat and cough. Katie meanwhile had enough energy to get up and sing on stage.

The next morning she and I went and had brunch at Elements before picking up more party supplies, and she vacuumed while I made Brazilian rice and finished off the feijoada. Then we jumped on my bed (Smoo declined our invitation to join us – wtf?) to listen to the Wellingtonista on Public Address Radio, which you can download here and I giggled at the fact that I got bleeped once but I mostly sounded fairly articulate. The mp3′s not online yet, but I’ll post a link as soon as it’s up. I think that we sounded like pretty smart, on-to-it people, and that’s good, because that’s who we are. And I sounded less nasally and cackly than I expected to.

After that it was nap time before finishing off preparations and heading off to pick up Lisa and Jimmy. I was planning on dressing up all fancy in my hott green dress, and fishnet stockings, and my 4.5 inch wedges, but by the time I’d found my suspenders I’d lost my stockings, and given how low cut the dress is, I thought it was also a bit short (boobs or legs, not both, after all. Not that I’d normally go for legs, until I get to the bit where I write about my day today) so I wore jeans underneath, and didn’t risk breaking my ankle on my shoes. One day I’ll find an occasion to actually wear them. Honest. Maybe when I act out a Tori Amos lyric with someone sometime – “he liked my shoes / I kept them on”. Speaking of Tori Amos, I discovered that someone most unexpected is really in to her music, but I will keep his secret. I was very very surprised though. Anyways.

Brazil turned out to be really good. Caipirinhias are a fantastic drink, especially mixed with copious quantities of cerveza. Rice’n beans is tasty, and Jimmy had made some fantastic sweets that went along with his fact that Nestle stole all the cocoa in Brazil in the 1940s and imported mass amounts of condensed milk instead. Who knew that Nestle could be so tasty and so evil at the same time (well, me, since I’m currently writign a piece on Fair Trade – and calling it Free Trade 70% of the time. Whoops)? I had bought planes, trains & automobile lollies to illustrate my facts about Brazil’s capital Brasilia having been laid out in the shape of an aeroplane and built from scratch in 1960, and also the fact that someone else snaffled, that 40% of Brazilian cars run on ethanol made from corn. I also found tasty ranch-flavoured corn kernels in the scoopermarket bins that went with the theme very well. We didn’t get around to eating fried bananas, but I did scoop out a pineapple that Karen had brought along and serve communal pina coladas in it. In fact, as the night wore on – and oh lordy, did it wear on – many, many more cocktails were served up in that same pineapple and delivered to the boys who were outside playing “soccer” and to the girls sitting civilly on the couches using many many words starting with ‘C’ for some reason. I tried to pressure people into joining the Wellingtonista Bowling League, and since everyone except Barbara, Jack and Nicole were Country Club veterans, there were many facts to be shared. Blair showed up with his iPod so we could listen to CSS and Sepultura instead of our very inauthentic attempts at Brazillian music (One Million Dollars), but no sambaing was done.

Instead the night wound down around 4am with some highly amusing and rather disturbing antics that involved a lot of mocking, bluff-calling and toe-sucking. When are people going to learn that I will always call their bluff? And when I laugh at changes in morality, I am taking the piss out of myself, as I watch myself acting out in jest parts of actions that I’d used in previous lifetimes but then in a serious capacity. This is what happened in that bathroom. This is what happened after the Placebo concert. This is what happened when you so conveniently happened to leave your laptop at my apartment and came back to pick it up at 3am. This is what happened when the boy I was hooking up with at the wedding wouldn’t come home with me so I decided to substitute you instead. And it makes me laugh, and I will always, always go for the cheap laugh.

Sunday was very slow. I went for coffees and the paper and sat and read it on the front steps in the sun while the house was cleaned up behind me, hurrah! Brad came over and did the dishes on Monday as well, so it was like, easiest party evah! We watched a million episodes of The Simpsons off the hard drive and it made me remember how horrible the time around New Year’s was for me. Shirley came down visiting from Palmy in the evening, and we all went and had dinner at Cambodinia in Kilbernie (it’s Cambodian, in case you couldn’t tell), because I wanted something more interesting than the very bland Nahkon Thai in Hataitai. Then we played DVD Cluedo and I went and finished reading the Anthony McCarthen book that I think is called The Death of a Superhero but I’m not entirely sure. If only there was some system of tubes that I could type into that could deliverme the answer…

On Monday I was still coughing up my lungs – assuming that my lungs were dry like wheatbix, so I didn’t go to work. Instead I lay on the couch and napped on and off and moaned with sickness. Brad came home and cooked us dinner and I thought about breaking Katie’s legs so she couldn’t leave but instead I took her to the airport. Today to work I wore my new green dress from Torrid with my new black opaque tights and boots. The dress is, like all my torrid dresses, too short to wear over bare legs (but not bear legs), but I thought it would be fine with the tights since there was no chance of my vajayjay showing. I was super paranoid about the dress coming up, and the tights rolling down – although being footless helped them keep their crotch in the right place – but I like the way it made it look like I had legs a million years long as I strode purposefully down Lambton Quay to meet Jessie for lunch at Kapai. We walked down to the waterfront and sat and shot the shit, and watched the Water Whirler whirl. Good times. Tomorrow I have the day off, hurrah!

Am I the only person in the world who has any kind of moral fibre at all?

No I’m not talking that kind of bullshit, no sex before marriage, all gays are going to burn in hell shit, and you bloody well know that. I’m talking about people being decent human beings to the rest of the human race.

So tonight, Katy asked if i wanted to go to a party with her before Atomic. I like going to parties, so of course I was like “yes”. And so we met up at The Krazy Lounge, and went off to a party(*).

For the greater part of this party, Katy and I sat in the hidden courtyard off Ghuznee St, drinking and probably talking a little about boobs, before I jumped into the conversation on the other side of me about Peter Dunne, and I was like “no, he’d not actually a good politician to have in power, he’s a cunt” and it led to the inevitable discussion about voting for what you believed in (ala Ralph Nader) vs voting for the greater public good (in this case Greens vS Labour). So the guy and I started a big long discussion after he said “I am more likely to vote for National now than I have ever been”. I kept the puppy eating comments to a minimum, because I figured he was actually left wing and I wanted to hear his view points. Interestingly enough, I also said many timesd that I would rather have the ACT party than National in power – and in case you’re not from NZ, I should tell you that ACT are more right (as opposed to left) than National – but the difference is that they’re more socially liberal, and I’ve realised that being socially liberal is more important to me than being economically left. If you would like to blame that on me maybe someday thinking that I might end up with a woman for a life-partner, and thinking she will be curvy, and thinking that being curvy may lead to being more infertile, and being infertile may lead to adoption, and adoption may lead to a need for gay adoption, then that’s fine, but I would hope that there’s some Greater Good in there too. But if you’re trying to understand me totally, you must know that I’ve always been raised to be upper middle class, and that I am in the top tax bracket right now (at least I think I am), although admittedly for a total of 2k, and I do not work hard for my money. So, economically, I live a fairly cruisey life, but I do know that most people don’t. Anyways, so this guy that I got in discussion with was like “wow, you’re so interesting” a lot. He said he didn’t meet many people as good to talk to as me, and in my head I went “just because I am wearing a low cut top does not just mean I am stupid” and when he kissed my hand in my head I went “just cos I’m fat doesn’t mean I’m not dooable”, but if we go back to the theme of this entry, at least he acknowledged a couple of times that he had a girlfriend, even when he was all like “so are you and Katy close? will I see you again?”. He reminded me of JeremE. Later on the balcony at Indigo we got all talking about life and stuff, which was fine, he was good to talk to, but I was a little like if he was my boyfriedn, I would be pissed off.

And then there was Fucktard. You guys dig that this is on level 2 yeah? and that means that if you’re reading this, you’re pretty special. Anyways. So I’d never met Katy’s ex b/f before, I’d only ever heard bad things about him. Tonight she was like “fuck, I just saw Fucktard on the stairs” nd then later I saw her standing by the bar by some guy, so I went over to say hi, and the guy grabbed my pearls, and touched my hips, and was like, “you’re gorgeous, come dance with us”. I was like, okay, gay friend, (would you please stop loving me, gay men?), so I went over, but the guy kept touching me, and pulling me close, so I was like huh, and danced up on Katy, adn was like “is that Dick?” and she said it was, so I was like na uh, you ain’t going to be touching on this ass, and moved away, but he still kept grabbing the hood of my hoodie which was tied around my waist and stuff. I was like no no no no no, so I danced off somewhere else, but still felt his eyes on me. Later when i saw Katy at the bar without him I apologised, and she was like “I saw that, but knew it wasn’t you” and I felt really crap, because hi, how many of my ‘friends’ have done that? At least seven, and that’s counting one of them as one (when it’s like, six now, at least). But then he came up later, and was telling me how hot I was, and I was like “omg, no one tells me how hot I am, this is the stuff I want to” on the inside, but of course, principles, so I was like “please stop touching me” and he was like “but you’re so hot” and I was like “dude, seriously, if you ever want to have sex with anyone I know, then stop touching me” and he was like “anyone you know?” and I was like “OMG YOU ARE STILL HAVING SEX WITH MY FRIEND KATY” but I didn’t say that out loud – instead I was just like “yes, that’s right” and walked away. Then later still Iwas out on the balconey and he was like “i Love your necklace” and I was like “cheers” and didn’t give him a chance to make any pearl necklace jokes or say anything else cos I walked away after he was like “so, having a good night?” and it sickens me that she still went home with him. Yes, if you must, have ex sex (there was a girl in the social group, and I was like hmm, you’re friends with Skank and FuckCunt, but although i was tempted, I didn’t broach the subject with her), but seriously, if your ex was that much of a sleazy asshole, would you still? I mean, I don’t think he was angling for a threesome (but of course, if she’d have been into it, I would have done it). FUCK I HATE THE HUMAN RACE!

Okay, so just because someone produces the magic substance that wakes you up does NOT mean that you should trust their decisions. Oh no. So if the boy who makes you coffee once or twice a week recomends that next time you have a VANILLA soy latte, don’t do it. Even if you love Vanilla Coke. Even if you’re easily swayed. Don’t do it. It tastes RANCID. Moral’o the story is, don’t take tips from men who listen to lifeFM or happy hardcore, and have mutton chops.

Oh look, Jo’s talking real trivial issues, she must be feeling better!

And actually, I am. even if Cipramil leaves me with a dry mouth and totally inadequate orgasms and weird dizzy spells sometimes. Oh, plus I have a totally burnt thumb. But I suspect that has more to do with Guy Fawkes than any other mental affliction.

So where were we? We talked about the coffee, which sucked. I trained today to do the WebDev Guy’s job while he’s away on leave. He put a sign on our office door that has the Communications Administrator Job being done by a “Joanne” McLeod. Apparently this is his reaction to Bridget telling him off for spelling it “McCloud”. I was like “Skew, you just gave me all your passwords for the webserver, are you sure you wanna say bad things about me?”. I hope he knows I do actually like him, even if there is a little “friendly” tension between me and Terri’s replacement. I’m still infamous at work for doing so well at the quiz on Friday night, and of course for the Hula dance that went along with it.

I worked from 10-3pm today, serving at Skew’s leisure so that he could teach me before he gets all mad panicy, and then I went for my eye appointment, which is very heavily subsidized by my organisation, as long as I made it clear that I need glasses to operate my VDU. I made it very clear. The guy was all young and nice, being a final year Opotometry Student, and it turns out that my glasses are WAY TOO STRONG on my left side. He was nice but too close in some parts, and I felt like I was supposed to pash him, because really, that’s the only time you’re supposed to hear people breathing like that. And then we got to the room where to try on frames, and he put the first pair’o frames on me, and he was like “yeah, that’s so it” and we tried on lots more pairs, but he was right, the first pair really suited me, even though they were $300 frames, and we couldn’t find anything nice that was cheaper (“I have expensive tastes!”) plus when someone is so convinced that something looks that good on you, it’s hard to argue, isn’t it? I told him off during my (incredibly long) eye examination cos he kept laughing at me when I was so obviously wrong reading letters, and he was like “hey, it’s boring to be so clinical”. He also got an abridged version of my full medical history because he damn well asked for it, and yes, thank you, I appreciate why I’m having dizzy periods, and I’m paying $120 an hour to sort that out, and I appreciate that you’re taught to do this, but seriously, get back to writing me out a new glasses prescription. Thank you.

And then this evening there was Quiz, but when Clay and I got there, who was sitting outside but *IV (damn, I wish I was into full name disclosure styles, cos it’d sure as hell make things easier) and I was like umm “okay, I’ll go get the beer” because i am LAME and because he totally wouldn’t even look in my direction at Justin’s last party, and then KateH showed up, and eventually Peter (Hi peter, you’re choice even if you’re not scrawny in a tight tshirt anymore) and a friend of his, and that was our quiz team, although Bo and Leo put in an appearrence for a little. At one stage, I went out to the bathroom, and *IV was out having a cigarette, so I kicked his chair, and said hey, and said that he didn’t need to be afraid’o me cos I didn’t mean to cause trouble at all in any way. He said he was back with his g/f and I said that I knew that, and that was cool and I understood, and he was like, “but you were the first girl since her” and I said that he’d told me that at the time, and then I told a kinda lie and said that I was in love with the boy who’s party we’d hooked up at (a lie in that it wasn’t LOVE as such, but definitely some kinda big feelings) and he was like “what, Justin?” and I laughed my head off and I was like “don’t you remember – we were at a party in Herne Bay” and he was like “ooooh” and I said that he was quite probably the nicest boy I’d ever had sex with, and I’m sorry that I’d snobbed him the first time I saw him after we’d had sex but I hadn’t expected to see him again quite so soon, and he was like “I got a snub in the Hub” which was actually really funny and we were both like, mutal admiration for how cool each other was, and he said that he’d got the note I left him in his letterbox that said he was a total sweetheart, which is true, and he said I had great taste in music, and we had a laugh, and just parted on super terms. So that was lovely.

Meanwhile, back at Quiz. OH MY GOD! Okay, so every Tuesday, we call ourselves “The Slab” on account of it being our apartment name, right? Well, tonight not only were there “The SLAB” but there was “Peanut Slab” as another team, and also “FUCK THE SLAB” as a team name. ATTITUDE! Anyways, we won, and so that’s a $50 tab for us to drink next Monday when I’ve finished my first exam. No more Quiz nights at Vesbar anymore, at least not over summer. He took my number and said he’d call if he started working somewhere else, but Meh, I doubt that’s what I would like it to be, then him and me and KateH played with Sparklers in the Quad. It was pretty choice. ANd then I went up to Kelly and Rowena’s and we set off fireworks on their roof and I burnt my hand. I went home cos I was so drunk I could hardly stand up anymore, especially in the rain, and Kara and Clay and Bo and Leo were all watching Harry Potter, and there were Nachoes on the stove, so I was stoked, and that was cool, except, my god, maybe kids have mucher longer attention spans than I do, cos I so could not be bothered concentrating, so after an hour and a half, I headed off here.

But doesn’t it make you happy? Look, Jo all conscious and stuff – and like, sure she’s drunk, but that just means that her OOS doesn’t hurt as much, and yes, I am, I am looking after myself, MUM. ANd soon, I will post you a rant about happiness, and also about Therapy. White MiddleClass Girl Angst etc. Love you all – well okay, that’s a lie. Love all of you who you know who you are, and care about some of the rest of you, and are glad some of you read me, adn would very much like some of the rest’o you to fuck off now please. Thank you. Xojo.

So it’s our LAST EVER HR assignment, and somehow I make it through the seminar, and then somehow manage to sit through all the other seminars through the day, and then we’re drinking at the bar afterwards. I strike up a conversation with a girl I’ve only ever talekd to before once after our meet&greet function when she was fucked, adn then another time at Justin’s party, so she’s all “how do you know Justin?” so we end up compering friendship circles. So it turns out that she used to go out with this boy that I “knew” and then we compared stories, and oh, so it seems like he has this full on routine. Like, oh, I found out that his lines weren’t original, but the whole “somneone I loved died, I need sympathy” thing was so up my alley, and so outpouring, adn then it turns out that sure, it was true but it was also a completely practiced well pat routine, and FUCK, you absolutely fucking disgust me, eh. Especially other things she said, and fuck, I’m a smart fucking girl, so what the fuck is wrong with me that I didn’t fucking see that? I can’t believe it, I was so mad I wanted to scream and shout and I was so fucking disgusted that all I could do was laugh. I feel nauseous now, at the end of a good night when I can actually sit down adn think about it, but for now, I will go and lean on Clay. oh, and classes are over, full stop. Oooh, cheque from Morrison, kick ass. And I yacked to Clay, and I’m like, “okay, so I’m down with you using the whole ‘i’d buy you a drink but…’ line, but jesus fucking christ, using dead parents to get blowjobs is NOT cool.” At least the boy who used to tell me that he loved me thought he meant that, even if all he meant was that he couldn’t be alone. Wannnnnnnnnker. And oh yeah, I would say that to your face too, so it’s not like I have any issues with putting it in my journal. Stay tuned for other excitign news.

Tuesday September 17th, 2002

1. Oh really, Crushmaster? Someone has just all of a sudden developed a crush on me using “ae” before my domain name? and “gs”? Really? Oh, silly me.
2. When the fuck did I originally design this page if I just used “indigo” as a BGCOLOR instead’o a sexi-hexi decimal number?
3. Am I going to be sick tomorrow? I guess I am, right?
4. One of them had better have been sober-driving it home, or I will be SO mad.
4. I’m sure you knwo me well enough by now to click as to why i haven’t written in ages, if I haven’t written in ages.
5. Bo+Clay+Me flatdinners kick some ass.
6. I don’t think I’ll go to quiznight anymore – I think that ship has sailed. Plus, I have a supershort attention span, and oh yeah, I dunno. Some rant about pointless semi-rockstar semi-crushes etc etc. He’s still real cute though.
7. Clay and I, staggerign up the street, punchdrunk on $50′o liquor with just KateM and Nigel, and he stops to look at some guy, and I figure he’s just angling for a fight cos I thought the other guy bumped him, and I’m like all, oh no, BUT! BUT! It was goddam LEYTON. You know, the first flatmate that I ever kicked out, cos he wasn’t a team player and I wanted Brad to move in.
8. Brad McCormick, calling me on my cellie from work in Whakacarnie after I txted him going “OH MY GOD THE DRAMA” cos he knew I was talking H&A (I love our psychic bond) and he wanted a full description. Oh Kirsty and Kane, when will you find happiness together?
9. I really want to smoke pot with you RIGHT NOW, even if it means that you don’t end up talking at all after that.
10. Should I try and hold out for 32 points?
11. I had a big talk with Joseph today, and feel much better about my PR Practice paper now, even if we probably did quite badly in our report (oh, sorry Haley, I should email you, but to be perfectly honest, I’m more than a little squiffy right now, and I do have semi-proposal type things to write and send you, and then I’ll email you. Oh, that’s not like a “will you marry me?” thing, just in case the audience as a whole didn’t get thta).
12. I’m still loving my haircut and the other Hayley (with two y’s, not one) by default as well.
13. Who was teh fucking mongrel that listed me on crushmaster in the first place? No one has crushes on me. At best, you’d like to put your penis in me for a little while, in one way or another, or just engage me in witty conversation. I know the score, chief.
14. Welly and some valuable chillout alone time tomorrow, yay!

Tuesday September 11th, 2002

Grr students and interviews and mentors and work and grr and grr and grr. GRRRR! Grrr $218.42 to get the phone reconnected. Grrrr going to work where Terri was also having a bad day. GRRR at ANZ. Grrrr at the HR lady calling me Love and then saying that no, they still hadn’t made up their minds. Grrrr at the memory of the dead mice in the cupboard. Grrr at dynamics that just don’t work. Grrr at the mean receptionist at my doctor’s who told me that Dr. White refused me a new prescription but didn’t say why (yeah, like I can afford $50 for another consultation right now – if my blood pressure is raised, it’s her fault!). Grrr at thousands of clippings to do, adn then GRRRR at problems with avmed stuff. Grrrr at getting rained on the way home. Grrr at Clay being sprawled out on the couch watching some stupid movie when I just wanted to be alone. Grrr at hearing Kara while i was hiding out in my room, rereading the Blind Assassin for the trillionth time. <!– homage mode: He follows her into the empty room, concrete floor bare except for the mattress, piled with messy sheets and pillows.  When she sits on the windowsill, he pushes her against the glass and kisses her intensely, until they move to the mattress. When her moans that she had never heard before have subsided, he tells her his tragedies, and she kisses him every time words fail her. You intrigue me he says, I feel like you’re holding me at a distance.  And she can see his eyes casting around her room, trying to find some clue to her, but there’s nothing, nothing but her Blind Assassin poster on the back of her door.  What’s that about, he asks, pulling her in tightly to his chest.  It’s about lovers who lie in bed telling each other stories, she laughs.) –>

But they went out, and I drifted in and out of conciousness as I have been doing a lot lately, and then I got up to eat spinach soup and watch Buffy. KateM came over half way through it, and asked a lot of questions, but she’s allowed to cos she’s cool. Oh, and I finally got my invitation to Justin’s party, so I can put that slab’o paranoia aside. After KateM left, I ran around my room trying on various clothing combinations. Fuck I need a needle and thread. The slit at the back’o my black dress has split basically almost up to my slit, so I won’t be wearing that tomorrow (eww, did I just use the word “slit” instead of “vagina” or even “panties”? Dirty). Tomorrow is, of course, our industry evening where we all try to impress PR bigwigs and get jobs. I debated wearing my cleavage top, but it doesn’t cover the hole in my bright pink skirt which I really wanna wear, so I think I will stick with my stretchy black skirt, providing it dries in time, damn excess soap powder, and my boots, of course. I figure standing at least 6’1 is one way to make an impression.

Oh, and what with today being you know, THAT anniversary, kinda, except a day ahead, it also means that today it’s also a year since I started taking the everlovely fluox. Of course, I stopped in umm February I think, but I still think it was like an important anniversary for me, cos that was such a fucking hard thing for me to do, and it of course kicked off my whole “why can’t I feel anything? maybe I should have another drink or some more cock” phase. Fun times. And I lost someone I cared about. And etc. Oh inncidently, I think I still have about a month’s worth of fluox, which I’ll trade anyone for a month of estelle35, or some more straight codeiene. I also have voltarin and brufen and maxolon, in case you too have excessive nausea. I like my pill drawer, although most of the pills in it don’t do anything, but some of them, like the brufen and the fluox are pretty colours, and it makes me feel like I’m some late sixties housewife.

Thursday August 8th

Very very very much did not want to get out of bed today, as today is a Low Self Esteem Day. Or rather, a feeling that I am just very incompetant and untalented. Realising that there’s actually a boy in my class who’s kinda cute and intelligent made me perk up a little (I told Terri the other day that I’m currently at the stage where I’m almost developing crushes on Door Knobs and other inanimate objects). Plenary meetings brought me down again, just for a change, cos they’re so boring and frustrating and time wasting. Luckily this one ended twenty minutes early, so I was half an hour early to work, and I had Robyn’s zine to read on the bus on the way in, which was good. Choice even.

I bought donuts for Skew Terri and Bridget for our WIP meeting. No really this doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that today I also did my application for Terri’s job. Actually it doesn’t really. I just have the feeling that Skew doesn’t like me and that I hassle him too much, and yeah, donuts seemed to be the easiest way to fix that. I had to make like 30 phonecalls too, checking contact details before we put out our second majorest publication, and mostly got people’s answerphones so I had to leave the same message over and over and over again. It made my head hurt a lot.

And then I was walking home across the Grafton Bridge and it was freezing cold when suddenly there was a girl yelling at me out of a car, and I was like ???? but it was Annoushka (I’m sorry, I can’t spell your name), of course. I mean, it’s just logical that my sister’s best friend would be in Auckland, when I haven’t seen her in years, since waaay before she got married. But anyways, her and her husband gave me a ride home, cos they were staying in the same street, and it was much warmer in their car. And it also gave me the chance to test out my hypothesis that it’s quicker to walk home than face traffic at that time’o day – verdict is that it’s slightly shorter in a car.

This evening I was moping at home alone cos my mind was just mush from too many meetings nad hten having to do horrible job applications and freaking out about the implications of me not getting the job (I am NOT going to have another bout of what I was like the last time I was on the dole, i am not i am not i am not (also, side note – I dreamt about K sometime last week, and in the dream she was telling me that she never gave up on me, i just got it wrong)). Bo was out babysitting and Clay was off filming some random short film somewhere (apparently our house is going to be taken over by vines tomorrow) and I was all Meh, so I was just parked on the couch, although there was nothing on TV and reading would have taken too much brain power. Anyways, BradC showed up, and I was like “clay’s not home” but then he pulled a piece of cable out of his pocket and was like “I can do your network now!” and looked all forlorn when I said that it was already done, so I invited him in anyways, and we had multiple cups of tea. So that filled in a couple of hours, and then he went, adn then I boiled kidney, haricot and pinto beans to make kickass chilli, and Bo came home and there was love and laughter again, and now I really should go to bed.

On Saturday night, I am going to go to a hotel room at the Duxton to have drinkies. I receieved the invitation via web-based txt and I had no idea who it was from, but I conditionally accepted anyways, then got very worried when the person who sent it identified themselves by their first name only, without any lastname initials or preceeding adjectives or abreviations, and I was like WHAT THE FUCK? cos I thought it was someone else, but then it was just Jezza, so that’s cool. And then on Sunday, I’m going to play dressups with Kyla – yay! i like makeup and clothes and stuff. Planning ahead, it’s Bo and Clay’s birthday on the 22nd, and so we’re gonna have party-type things on the 23rd so that I can go to Matakana on the 24th. And that’s that.

Wednesday August 7th

Please don’t consider this to be a full picture in any way, if you want to know what’s really going on in my life, you WILL have to write me. Or call me (Mazzy, what the fuck? I was talking about three different boys, not the one, and if you were up with the play, you’d know that).

Last night me and Jezza and Morrison and Nigel went to the AUT pub quiz and spent my $20 tab and won a $30 tab. We also bought the quizmaster a drink cos he was cool, and also, if he’s stalked me off my cellphone picture, HI. And we will win the $50 tab next week. And then we went to Oporto and I got groped by a horrible skanky horrible disgusting icky old man. ewwwwwwwwwwwww.

This morning Bo and I went to St. Lukes to pick up a shirt for me, although we were both shuddering at the Mallness of it, and then we went to Roasted Adiquition for breakfast. OH MY GOD their hashbrown stack with turkish pide, aioli, advamacado and pesto is delicious! Oh yeah, but before that, I was jolted outta sleep by Haley calling me to ask which apartment was mine adn I was like “FUCK! I’ll just put on some clothes and come and find you” and we finished our presentation which FUCK FUCK FUCK I gotta do now. No wait, I’ll do it tomorrow morning. Cool. SHIT. Fuck. I can’t believe I forgot about that completely. And about turnign in my CV for the job which I’m really starting to doubt that I’m going to get. FUCK. Nah it’s cool, this way I can fit in seeing my HR tutor tomorrow to talk to her about my hypothesis about Sick Building Syndrome (moral of the story is – go to your tutorials and you won’t be stuck with the lameass topics no on eelse wants). Where was I? Work at 12.30pm, yeah, and longmeetings about Courses and Careers Day, and then I spent the afternoon looking up catering websites.

Anyways so this evening, I left the house with $50, and now I have come home with 2 expensive cocktails, one flavoured vodka shot, one bottle of red wine, one kebab and two taxi rides in my belly and empty pockets, so I guess I did okay, mostly coasting on the charms’o lovely KateH. Lovely Popular KateH who even manages to know people in common with the random “hi ladies – do you mind if I introduce myself?” guy at Deschlers. We drank at the Classic, and then didn’t go to Starks cos we’re still banned, and then Deschlers for ages of course so American Friend Amy could drink Chocolate Monkeys, and then Kate and I had a boogie at Retro Night while Amy slept in the corner and now I’m home, dropping my kebab on my breasts cos I wisely took my shirt off. I can’t feel the cold. ALSO! I had to leave Buffy with like, 15 minutes still to go, how rude! AND I idnt’ even get laid out of it – previously, only boys taking me to the bedroom have managed to lure me away from that programme, adn that was under duress (yes, and one of you knows who you are, with that whole leaving your laptop behind ploy, and as for the other one, well I’d be suprised if he could even write his name, frankly. But we’re way off track. My point was, I think I missed Buffy and Spike having sex, and that’s a momentuous occasion!). But still, I had a great night, especially dancing at the end, and so Katie and I decided that our cheap ethnic food and wine BYO nights will now take place on Wednesdays so we can go dancing after. Kickass