First, off, in elsewhere links, I got my hair done at  a new hair salon on Cuba Street and I liked it a lot. And you like food reviews? Here’s one of the Cellar-Vate dinner for Coney Wines.

Now some pictures so that if you disapprove you stop reading there.

This picture of Kane's enormous penis is because he's coming to stay this week

My ass, my gash.

I think the reason that I tend to only update my journal when I’m about to get my period is because this is when the noise in my head , that occasionally dies down to the faintest whisper if I’m exercising and taking my lexapro and happily employed and not financially struggling etc, tends to build up into the loudest roar which comes at me like being in the ocean on a windy day at Lyall Bay but without the bracing feeling of really being alive that comes with the cold cold water. See, even that sentence – so fucking belaboured and over the top. Shut up, Joanna.

And more than the normal pre-periodness, the past week has been clusterfucked with intensity. Wellington is too fucking small. I found myself last night telling someone who doesn’t really know me about why my Friday had ended up with me having a lounge room dance party with Kim and Kelly and Kate and why I was so fucking drunk that I ended up falling over and sitting on a wine glass and consequently have gashes in my ass, but the explanation of why I felt the need to get so drunk was really ridiculously complicated like “he abandoned his family and left his underpants on my deck and we tried to set fire to them” and “she’s a whore although I had a week of trying not to say nasty things and Mean Girls says calling her a whore doesn’t make me any more pure” and “in ten years she’ll show up and get the black baby I’m trying to adopt” and “and I was having an affair with him but then he hooked up with her” and “I hooked up with him a bunch of times to try and get over someone else but it didn’t work, and then there was this crazy girl” and  ”he used to make me cry every day at work” and really, what one should just say is “why the hell were you drinking with all these people anyway?” to which the inevitable answer involves the smallness of Wellington, and something about Rihana. And of course what I was saying in my head was “shut up Jo shut up shut up shut up” but because I was tipsy when I had this conversation but not drunk, I just kept babbling.

So my current theme is I should run away from Wellington as far as I can, but then today of course was a series of highs and lows. Most of the highs initially revolved around Piako yoghurt, which is of course the drug de jour for my set of friends. And Wendy at Cultured gave me more cheese. And Amie gave me petrol money when I drove her home tonight after the Girl Geek Dinner when of course I asked a question of the woman from Park Road who spoke about 3D about the impact it’s having on the porn industry and was rewarded with a Google notebook for my trouble. And I won a prize I’m going to give to someone who deserves it much more than me and will make much better use of it. And I pledged to join more community projects. So there are many good lovely things about Wellington, of course. It’s just that in the week before my period I struggle to remember them sometimes.

The lows are financial and no one wants to hear about that, and also dealing with this email that I got yesterday which just makes me want to bawl my eyes out. I’m worried that I’ve given up faith in myself and if I don’t have faith in myself, how could anyone else? Trying to explain to someone who doesn’t really know me that I’m terrible at freelancing because I’m so shit at talking myself up, he was all “but you seem so confident and able to sell yourself” but alas, Jo Hubris may have the ability to talk people into bed (after all the angst of all the issues of the weekend, being able to use a very simple “hey I want to shag you” is very refreshing) but Joanna McLeod is a pile of failure in getting anyone to pay for her services, although she has been rather busy lately providing expert advice and guidance in the S***** M**** area to friends & acquaintances in exchange for coffee and pints. And she still has some work to do tomorrow, so really she should go have a shower because she has coconut body wash, find some clean sheets (side effect of slicing your ass open when you’re drunk – waking up covered in blood and having no idea what the fuck happened until people tell you on twitter) and PJs and watch Dorota & Vanya get married on Gossip Girl and hope that she actually will sleep tonight before 7am. And stop talking about herself in the third person.

Last time I wrote, I was planning for Martha’s new Wanda Harland opening, and now that was a couple of weeks ago. I had a tremendous amount of fun. There was the most amazing cheese in the whole wide world there (one was called “OMG Triple Cream Brie” by Over The Moon) and because I was so in love with it, I get to go to eat more of it tomorrow at a super secret cheese tasting. More details will come on YASE at some stage soon, I’m sure. It is a great space, and there are many pretty things in it that I want to buy.

After the shop opening, Karen and Megan and I went for dinner at Arashi, and then up to Hooch for a quick drink. A couple of bottles later, we’d had enough of old men from Nelson who were up for the rugby and decided to hit on us but accidently showed us picture of their wives. We really should have stopped drinking earlier though so that I could have been less hungover in preparation for the roller derby on that Saturday.

The roller derby was fucking amazing! I wrote about it on Pretty Pretty Pretty and you can also see photos of how hot I looked. Sure, the leopardskin bustier gave me bruises, but it was totally worth it. I was really happy that when I was taking photos of the girls afterwards they’d mostly all heard of PPP, and so I felt totally full of love for Wellington and the internets.

Afterwards, we went up to Hooch for a Cowboys + Indians night. There was a guy in a horse’s head! Behold!

The horse is made a million times more awesome by the guy in the background

I ran into the girl from #madbad and ended up pinning her to the bathroom wall and pashing her until one of the female bartenders came in and told us we were too drunk and she would lose her bartender’s license. I think that was somewhat of an exaggeration. But I went home and did not accept her text invitations to go up to the duck’s house. I had to get up at 9am to go to the airport to pick up Kat and Kane, after all!

The airport mission was pretty heinous but then Kat and I went into town to meet up with the Wellingtonista at Mac’s Brewery because we’d finally managed to literally organise a piss-up in one. We drank our tab we’d won at the Webstock Quiz the year before, hung out in the lovely weather, introduced new people to the delights of knowing the best people in town, and many people brought along their kids. It was thoroughly delightful to sit in the sun afterwards, eat gelato and plot starting up our own crocodile bike business.

Having Kat and Kane around always makes me feel very mellow and content and full of love. I cooked a big old lamb roast for nine people that night, and we crowded around the table stuffing ourselves, drinking red wine and having hilarious conversation. Kat did all the cleaning before and after, which I felt bad about but I didn’t want to fight her on it too much! I was really happy with the way that everything went, that it reminded me what fantastic lovely people I have in my life. Awww.

But I didn’t have too much time to reflect on it, because on Wednesday, Miss Harvestbird was in town, just in time for the RASSLIN! The rasslin’ was being filmed for TV, so it was held in a warehouse here in Newtown with tiered seating and great lighting for taking photos, but of course I didn’t get around to downloading my pics before my camera was stolen. However, the lovely Miss Fur took pics, of course, so you should check hers out. It includes this gem:

Chris DeLorean and Lazarus Volt - bum pinchers!

After that, it was time to go to the Watusi to listen to some lovely drunk girls read out Olsen slash fiction in bad Russian accents. It was very very entertaining. I got somewhat drunk and melancholy afterwards, which was a bit weird, given how happy I’d been previously. I got to spend the whole day in bed on Thursday though, which was a great way to unwind in preparation for the madness that was to follow.

On Friday I went to the Montana World of WearableArt, which again, you can read about on PPP. I got to go in the media room to hang out with Kowhai and Robyn and Russell Brown and Fiona from Public Address, and drink free wine and stuff my face with spicy nuts. It was a really great show, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. Afterwards I went to Hooch with Kowhai to have a heart to heart, and apologise to Johnny for being snapped the week before in the bathroom making out with that girl. He just laughed.

I’d texted Smoo to see if he wanted to share a cab home from work and he told me he’d been robbed, and I was thinking he meant his restaurant, but no, it turns out that our flat was broken into, two days after the neighbours had been burgled. They took my laptop, my eeePC, my iPod, my camera, his playstation, El’s camera and iPod. Needless to say Saturday was somewhat of a blur of phonecalls with the police, talking to the police, being told that we need to be more social in our flat, crying down the phone to my mother, welcome visits from Anji and Bambi – who told me that I’d sent him a drunken email on Wednesday night asking him to tell Tingle to call me and that actually it wasn’t Tingle who tried to climb in my window. Naturally because Bambi is smart, he saw the 2am timestamp on the email and decided to wait until I was sober before he replied to it. I think I might put the math goggles thingie onto Gmail. And my lovely mother came over as well, and then Lisa came by in the evening to watch 21 Jump Street. Sure, the cops who came over were nice, and seemed to know what they were doing, but they weren’t no Johnny Depp. Le Sigh.

On Sunday I went to buy a new laptop (no, I don’t have insurance), and spent the afternoon fighting with Vista. Firefox wouldn’t install, so Chrome is totally my new lover for life now. Then a boy said he’d buy me consolation beers so we went to Hashi Ogazeke, and I bought him a beer from Invercargill that tasted like bacon. He was still there in the morning – and then the afternoon – which is something I am very very unused to, and I didn’t know how to act. Plus, I really wanted to check my email. There have been sleepovers with girls, but the last boy I woke up with would have been Good Tom, all the way back in 2004. Apparently when you have sex with married men, they go home to their wives afterwards and don’t spend the night. Who knew? And I don’t like sleeping in other people‘s beds either. Etc. Anyways. Today continued the lesson that Wellington is a very small place, and that I really do know everyone and everything about everybody.

Yesterday I went to the new bar Betty’s with the lovely Amie to try Tohu wines and find out all sorts of gossip. I will write about that sometime on YASE – the wine and venue, that is. And then I went to dinner at Thai House and Quiz Night where I got to have a good gossip with Anji, which I really do need to update. I didn’t manage to sleep at all though, so I was still awake at 11am waiting for the tsunami. I don’t know what to say about that without sounding trite. The place where Karen and I had an amazing holiday - Coconuts Resort is apparently completely destroyed as are of course many other houses and lives that I have no connection to other than, y’know, having  a heart. So I baked cupcakes for Megan instead, and now I am wondering who will get to see my amazing new dress first.

Bullet point lists make the world go around, right?

• The everscrumptious Miss Heather has switched over my site design for me, so bear with me while the kinks are ironed out. My semi-secret RSS feed seems to have temporarily vanished, and of course Twitter is blocked at work, so I’m not sure if that’s feeding in properly, but now at least if you run my site through a validator (don’t!) you should only get four or so errors and not sixty like the old one. Goodbye to the hump though, sadly.
• If you receive a text message from me that sounds a little strange, it’s because I no longer have an ’8′ key on my phone, so therefore I have no ‘t’, ‘u’ or ‘v’. It makes things like giving directions to Superfino read “On Ghznee s, opposie Bdg Cars, by Bicoria S”. That makes perfect sense, right? Also, do make your way to Superfino, please. We spent a very pleasant Friday night there. I recommend the Pear & Vanilla Punch especially, but not reaaaaally the Blood-Orange and Cinnamon Martini.
  

• We’ve taken to going to the Quiz at the Southern Cross on Tuesday nights. By “we” I mean sometimes some Wellingtonistas, and sometimes my sisters & Bambi. I am, just for a change, in love with the Quizmaster. You know how I fancy people who know more things about something than I do (music, depression, computers or – in the olden days – drugs), that rule of course applies to someone who has the answer sheet on quizes.
• Before you come up to the Cross for the quiz, I’d like to recommend Le Metropolitain for dinner, and I’d say that even if I hadn’t been called “Madame Jo” on the phone in a hot French accent that I discovered was attached to a hot French waiter. He brought me the wine list when I was waiting by myself instead of making me wait, and was efficient, friendly and good. Everyone’s favourite public servant blogger might not approve of their cassolet, but damn my cow face (read: beef cheeks) were tasty, and since Bambi ordered snails I got to try them for the first time. They tasted like mushrooms, while the mushrooms that they were served with tasted like garlic and cream.
  
• You might have gathered due to the increase in the number of photos that I’m displaying that I’ve taken to carrying my new camera with me everywhere. That’s because the batteries don’t fall out, and it’s got a 1 gig card in it. And I like taking photos, of course. I’ve started to take a series of portraits of people with ‘my eyes’:
  

  

  

• I’ve been watching Season One of Veronica Mars with my lovely new flatmate Kat. She guessed who the killer was correctly, which I didn’t manage to do the first time I watched it. She’s a smart one, that girl. I love watching shows with big reveals that I know are coming up with others, although her little shriek when the killer was in the back seat was nothing compared to Lisa on finding out who killed Laura Palmer. Kat’s fiance Kane is a pro-wrestler! How awesome is that? It means he has no fear of cavorting around in tights, which he demonstrated in his costume as a ballet dancer at Country Club: Back in the USSR on Saturday night.
• I haven’t downloaded my photos from Back in the USSR, but once I do, you’ll be able to see a steady progression from tipsy into disturbingly intoxicated, despite all the food – I made pierogi, and potatoes, and sausages, and Frances and Karen both brought blini, and there was caviar as well, and chips, and really disgusting solid rye bread, and kisial – which was of course vodka jelly, and Moscow Mules, and by the end of the night there was white rum as well. Some people had splendid costumes – Anji brought along a bear so I had to hump him. I also gave lap dance versions of the panda dance to the boys who were complaining about the poor service at Dream Girls that they’d got the night before. My heart bleeds for them. The party was lots and lots of fun, and I was stoked with the turn out. I gave someone a big long speech about how I am not what they need, and how they really shouldn’t fancy me. I thought it was a pretty convincing speech, and it was the right thing for me to do, so I was a little disturbed when I woke up next to the speech recipient. I would be later more disturbed to discover that somehow a glass of water had managed to get knocked into my underwear drawer, leaving me with moist panties everywhere. It was a much nicer discovery, when I finally got up at 6pm on Sunday though, to find that the whole house had been cleaned. WOO! And then last night over flat dinner I heard that people had been spraying my new Cinderella Coconut Bathroom Cleaner into their mouths as it is billed as being so very non toxic. Disturbing!

Friday night was Heavenly Burlesque. I got grumpy before hand because there were so many people and they were all running around and it was all crazy and mad, and Karen and I went to sit with Anji and Barbara and there was one seat too few, and then we lost the seats we could have had, and ended up sitting on the sides in the crappy old chairs, and I’d had two lots of caffiene that day, and my heart started going kapow. I thought I was going to stay grumpy, but it turns out that ladies in panties doing tricks with hula hoops and songs about cunnilinguis are good at making me cheer up.

Saturday was a cruisy day and then in the evening Smoo and I went off to Bart’s birthday party. We played a game that involved throwing a hula hoop over a pitchfork, which is actually much more fun than it sounds, and some card game that involved a lot of drinking. Everyone liked the cake I made, because it was peach and almond, and I am awesome. Lani thought Bart was turning 30, which made me laugh. One of Bart’s friends was like “Jo! The last time I saw you, you were upside down over a keg!” which is awesome as a statement. And ummm, then I finished my bottle of vodka, and there were many texts to Dyl trying to find him, and eventually we walked down to meet him on a street corner, and went off to Priya’s prom in Thorndorn. That party seemed to be winding up somewhat, but I talked to someone who remembered me from IRC in the olden days, and I think I was like “oh yeah, you’re the really sleezy guy”, which perhaps wasn’t the most polite thing to say. But yes, the party was breaking up, so we got kicked out, and then there were more more long walks.

Dectective work involved seeing inappropriate emails sent later on to the Wellingtonista mailing list, and in the morning there was a puddle of balsamic oil on the kitchen floor, and a smashed leg of a dining room chair, and today I found the remains of an iskender mostly untouched which suggested that I got otherwise distracted when I got home, and Lani is laughing at me an awful lot. And fair enough I suppose. All’s well that ends well, it’s cool.

Yesterday I was on fire. I discovered that my doctor had given me a three month prescription so she obviously doesn’t think I am at risk of taking all my pills at once.I went to the gym and wore a singlet instead of a tshirt because it was so fucking hot, and you know what? The world didn’t end. After work I met Karen and Anji and Lisa down by the lagoon. It was my intention to dive off the plank that’s up on the wharf there, but it was surrounded by squealling teenagers and much higher up than I realised, so Karen and I swam from the floating dock instead. The water was reaaaaaaally warm and nice and it was fun. But there were SO MANY PEOPLE THERE, I felt kind of watched. Eventually I decided that I’d hate myself if I didn’t jump off the plank – especially since it was my ambition to give it a go whilst sober and it being light outside in preperation for inevitable drunken night-swimming, but when I swam to the ladder I discovered that it didn’t go into the water and I didn’t have the arm strength to pull myself up onto it. And it would have been a dreadful hassle to go all the way around and back over the bridge just to jump in again, and while I am becoming more confident, the idea of that much walking around in my togs – hott as they are – in front of so many people wasn’t too appealing. So instead I will steal a photo that Lisa took to show how beautiful it was down there in the water:

Lisa is teh awesome photomagrapher

Then it was 6.30, so Lisa and I went up to the Boatshed for the Great Blend. It was too hot inside, so I got a glass of wine from the ladies at the bar who got nicer and nicer as the night went on, and while I shuddered at the fact that they only had Chardonnay, at least it was unoaked, but I will still blame it for my feeling so seedy today, and we ran away to sit in the shade outside and await Martha and talk about Hanson for some reason. We couldn’t think for ages of what the name of the ugly one was, and Lisa called him Baboon Face. I said that if there was a Q&A session in the talks, and they said did anyone have any questions, I would stand up and say “what is the oldest Hanson brother called? Can you tell me? No you can’t, because you don’t know, you don’t knooow oh oh oh” and then I laughed at myself lots, partly because I had some wine at work before I left. As it happens, Lisa was right and his name was Issac, which I didn’t think it could be because there was a Zack, but that’s short for Zachary. And then we went to meet Martha. I was briefly dismayed at how quickly she brushed me aside to go and meet a puppy-eater, but she came back and fufilled her BFF duties. Plus, she introduced me to fun people like Sally and Sue. And Glen bought me a glass of wine when I already had one, so I quickly looked a lot like a lush. Which is of course not at all how I really am. I talked to Tom and Kim about the magical transforming properties of a lei to make one fit in a tiki environment, and made fun of Stalker. The Back of the Y stuff was hilarious, and it was interesting to see what they’d done for MTV in the UK and how it was exactly the same stuff but much more expensive. I remembered watching it when I was living in Mt Roskill and thinking how awesome it was. I laughed a lot. The second panel was not quite as interesting to me, so I spent a while whispering stupid things to Sarah like “you have to marry one person on the panel – who is it?” (the answer is of course the guy who works for Google, cos duh, rich), before I decided to take myself outside and stop annoying her. So I talked to Joel for ages about what year a particular magazine was worse. We had very different opinions.Mostly I just drank and told everyone how much I wanted to jump off the plank. Sue told me she liked my blog and I was like “!!! I don’t have a blog!” but she redeemed herself instantly by saying that she had ordered the same swimsuit as me because it is so awesome. I introduced myself to Russell and also asked Che about his heart. Good times. The bar ladies seemed to love me even more. In fact, I’m pretty sure that everyone was digging my vibe. Eventually I slipped into the bathroom and slipped into my togs again, so when I left with a group of people I’d just met (I think), I strutted over to the plank and plunged in, followed by Sally. Hurrah! Night swimming is the most awesomeness. Sue carried my bag down to the lower dock for me, and I got changed in public. Lovely.

Then we went to Mighty Mighty and once again more good times were had. I wasn’t even embarrassed seeing Baby Hitler there and remembering how I’d asked him to dance and told off the DJ. Feeling good about yourself really does have positive flow on effects, it’s quite perplexing. I mean, it’s entirely possible that everyone did think I was a dick, but I don’t think so. I had lots of fun. On an extension of that topic, a while ago someone tried to insult me by leaving the comment “but I was just expressing my dismay at your blog [sic]; the purpose of which seems to documenting your desperation for a meaningless pash” and I was like “umm… duh! That’s the whole point of having an online journal, right?” – so in that vein I should declare that I “shared a taxi” home with a boy, which meant he had to wait with me on Ghuznee St while I called a Combined Taxi and babbled about my bad experiences with other companies. Later on the boy told me he saw my left boob when I was getting changed on the dock, which struck me as a most amusing thing to say, and then I laughed at him for a while teasing him about how he didn’t evne know what my name was – before I admitted I couldn’t think of what his was either. And tonight I bought Smoo pizza to make up for the fact that he said he’d gone to sleep with his eaphones in playing music and yet we’d still woken him up. Heh.

Maree emailed me this afternoon to rave about the article in Next with me in it that has apparently come out now, but all I could find was the February issue, not the March one. She said I sounded intelligent and that the photo was gorgeous. Hurrah! That made things more gooder today. I was grateful that I had many mindless web updates to do (adding in div id=”page” tags to about 20 pages and so forth) because I was somewhat tired and not feeling in the best health. I also seem to have bruises on every part of my body, a hole in the bottom of my foot, a cut-up toe from last Friday night when I peed under the X-Air hump, and a lump in my arm. I also had a couple of knots in my hair about the size of my fist that took half an hour of brushing to get out. I like salt water in my fringe, but man, I really should have combed my hair a little more often this week. Tomorrow Lani’s moving in, hurrah ,and then I am going to Ngaio for my Mummy’s birthday party. All in all, things are pretty fucking awesome. Everyone loves me. Including me, right now.

So apparently, in case I sober up and forget about it, I got laid tonight. We had lots of fun and apparently the condom was red and that made his cock look like a savaloy .It was weird. He was nice enought. Ithink we were discreetful on leaving. But MAN is my head dreaded now!

HA HA remebe how you were all like “now i a,m om drugs I’ll get laid agaom?”

turns oout I was right

June 1 – Saturday

In three hours, I will be watching Pluto, and in six hours, I will be bowing down in awe at the feet of the mighty Pacifier/Shihad. !. !!!!. Bow down to me.

I’m just hoping that by that stage, I won’t be feeling so hungover. When did I last write? Probably a couple of days ago I guess. I’m feeling much better. It’s amazing how destressing work is, I guess becasue I know what I’m supposed to do, and it’s like Problem to Solution, easy as pie. And that’s very different from trying to tell someone what they should be doing in regards to their personal life. Yeah. Anyways,

So Thursday night there’s top secret meetings and secret plans and cool potential and stuff, and meeting a whole lot of new people, which is always interesting. I’m excited, I think. And when I got home, my KatieB showed up a little later, and that was completely lovely. It annoys me though that she’s been known to ring me up and scream blue murder at me very early in the morning for neglectign to tell her about a random kiss I received from a not-so random boy, but meanwhile, she’s been seeing someone for like six weeks without mentioning him once to me. You are an EVIL GIRL KATIE!

Friday was working, and I was trying to write an article, and of course I remembered that I just completely can’t remember how to write news articles anymore. But then Skew came back with lots of food he’d pilfed from a meeting, so that was nice. Oh yeah, I’ve thought of psuedonames for the three people I work with, and I’ll just have to keep remembering them. The kickass thing about work (well, one of the many things) is that I’m on a salary, rather than an hourly rate, and so whenever my work days fall on public holidays I just get paid for them regardless. Choice, especially since I work full days on mondays and half days on Fridays. Hmm, friday was yesterday, wasn’t it? Yes it was. So early last night, I got a txt from Justin saying he was down at Murphy’s drinking with Wayne Hope (Mass Com tutor) and I should go down and meet him and we’d proceed to JeremE’s birthday party from there. I decided that sounded like a good plan, so I got dressed, but then Kate told me my breasts looked weird and made me change my bra (and then she tells me I’m paranoid!) but eventually I got approval and she dropped me off at Murphy’s.

After I walked into Murphys and looked around for ages trying to find Justin, the bouncer came up to me and made me go back out to the front door to show him my ID. I thought that was more than a little unnecessary, but if it made him feel like a big man, then so be it! I managed to find Justin and sink some pints. There were more people who said that they’d met me before, and this time I actually managed to place them – “Oh, we talked on the stairs for ages, didn’t we?”. One day I am going to make myself flashcards to improve my name-face rememberence levels. Wayne Hope said he remembered me from two years ago, and I was like “I didn’t work very hard” and he was like “but you had charisma” and that made me laugh a lot, because really, drunken lecturers are funny. And a bunch of us (us being me and Justin and Justin’s friends) went to go get some food. They were madkeen on Nando’s, so we went to the Atrium on Elliot foodcourt but everything was just shutting, so no one got a very good meal. But hey. Then we cabbed it to Nick’s house in Ponsonby via Liquorking. I’m still really surprised at how nice Nick’s house was, and I told him so many times – “like, I’m not saying you’re all that scungy or anything, but I would have expected your house to be”. There was a bidet in the downstairs bathroom.

So yeah, lots of drinking sitting in Nick’s porch, and then Brad came along and drove us all to JeremE’s house. Brad kicks ass. We hung out and talked a lot. There was a dj and house music playing in the living room, and couches in the hall and stuff. I talked to people that I knew, but mostly to Brad and Hamish. It was a good atmosphere though. Eventually one of the boys that I’d been drinking with earlier came and sat next to me, ripping my skirt in the proccess, and since there was three of us on a two person couch, he put his arm around me and then when Brad left, I suddenly realised that he was giving me the eye, and that I was giving him the eye too, and I was a little surprised. But hey, I went with it, and when we thought no one was watching we kissed, and he invited me back to his house, promising me chocolate and a lock on his door. In keeping with the whole discreet attempts, he said he’d meet me on the street, and left, so I left a couple of minutes later. There’s me trying to keep a straight face telling Brad and Justin that I was really tired and going to leave. I couldn’t figure out if they were clued to me or not, cos I would have thought Justin would have said something (or asked for a percentage) but hey, whatever. And so I met the boy on the driveway and made out against a car with him (classy!) before our taxi arrived.

He was a real sweetheart; he played Jeff Buckley and had an electric blanket and he called me gorgeous, and made me a chicken enchillada, so that was cool. He also put up with me making long cellphone calls to Tom and KateB because he was a nice boy. <!– SUCH a sweetie; he looked like the singer of Pluto, but Jesus, someone needs to teach him that hey, you know, maybe Foreplay would be a good idea! –>And as such, I left when he was sleeping and walked home – you know me and my _sleeping_ with people issues. KateB was fast asleep in my bed when I got home, so I pulled out hte couch in the lounge, watched Tool videos and had a very amusing conversation with KateM who was in Wellington.

Sometime in the middle of the night (okay, well it was 4am when I got home, so maybe 6amish?) I woke up and had absolutely no idea where I was – I knew i wasn’t in a boy’s house but it was the whole sleeping i the lounge thing that threw me off, so I ahd a minor freakout but it was okay. Around 10am KateB got up and climbed under my duvet with me and we spent a couple of hours with her bitching about house music, poking each other and screaming and squealing and laughing and giggling and it was awesome. Clayton’s psycho mother kept calling – why doesn’t that boy have ANY nice women in his life (me included)? Around 2ish, Kate and I went to Occam to meet Derek, who stood us up. On the way, we stopped by the boy’s house cos I was feeling a bit bad, and I put a note in his letterbox which said “Hey *! Thank you for the enchilladas and I hope I didn’t make you feel like a man-whore leaving while you were sleeping. You’re a total sweetheart, Jo”. No number or anything, cos it wasn’t that type’o deal.

Now I feel a little ill from the food and the hangover and stuff, so I will have a nap, and then go to True Colours in time for Pluto. I’m going by myself because I’m cool and secure. KateH will be there though, and hopefully I will see her. And anyways, I will see her tomorrow for sure because there’s a new series of Dawson’s Creek starting – wahoo! And then I will need to do my assignment. My arm is really really sore – I suspect it’s from carrying a dozen all the way from the liquor store to Nick’s house.

K, naptime now. I’m happy and bouncy today, and that’s cool. Also I should call Brad and apologise for not hanging with him very much. I feel a little stink for having left the party so early, but I guess sometimes a girl has to do what a girl has to do. Also, don’t forget my birthday.

Saturday, May 6th, 2000

Ten minutes ago I was having sex, now I am in my room alone crying. Go figure. This was not my choice.

Is this because I don’t enjoy shitting blood? I’m not entirely sure, but I don’t want to be as shallow as to say that’s the reason.

I feel so fucking dumb and stupid. I kissed another guy tonight. By another, I mean not my lover, the boy I am used to. Another as in a totally different guy. I won’t name him here, but he’ll probably read this, so, Hi. Sorry. I don’t know what happened. I really don’t. One minute we were talking, and the next, it was all soft and warm and nice, and so i told him that, but luckily he said it was probably a bad idea, and I said no, come away with me, and he said it was a probably a bad idea, and yeah, he was right. And then he kissed me again and went away. I giggled for ages, it kind of amused me.

That was at Jeremy’s 21st. I told my lover and he said I was just cute, but I felt bad about it. And then we came home and I guess I got carried away. And then thrown away.

Fuck I feel like such a dumb bitch, such a cheap hoe. I am tacky, nasty, cheap. All those nasty horrible adjectives. This sucks. I don’t deserve to feel like this. What did I do wrong?