Hubris.co.nz

Here’s a story I didn’t tell you about Saturday night. Except that in order to tell it, I have to go back a couple of months. So, we’re in the time machine, right? Cool. And so now I’m lying in bed, and it’s like 3am or something, and I get a text message going “Hey Jo, if you hear a loud banging noise, it’s because I’m locked in the toilet and am trying to find a solution” from Smoo. So I got up to see if I could help him, and let him in the back door (if you know what I mean) and then we took off the lock with a screwdriver, and he kicked it open, yelling “L.A.P.D!” as he did it. Awesome. We still had the locking latch, so we were perfectly fine without the doorknob.

However, when we had a flat inspection, I thought I would mention the story of the doorknob and so I got an email or some kind of message from the landlady saying she’d talk to the owners about it. Then nothing happened, and we were like, oh well no biggie. Then, about a week or so ago – maybe two – I got a call from some repairmanguy who said that he was going to come over and fix the doorknob. He showed up late, and had a friend, and they hummed and harred for a long time, then went away. When they came back, it took the two of them like an hour or maybe more – I don’t know, my bladder was hurting – to put the knob on, and then they went away. The new knob had a twisty lock on it as well, but it did seem to be a little bit loose, Oh well, a knob’s a knob, right?

Then on Saturday, after I was exhausted from Strip Club antics the night before, and much much waiting around for the Cuba Street Carnival, I came home totally exhausted with Lisa. I took my sleeping pills and after we watched Skins, she left. I mention this because I was going to pee while she waited for her taxi, but decided to just chat to her instead. Anyways, so she left, and I went to the toilet, read some of the new Idealog and did my business. Then I went to open the toilet door. It was locked. Hmm, odd, I locked the latch but not the twirly bit, right? So I twirled it, and it still didn’t open. I wriggled it, and jiggled it, and it still didn’t open. WHAT THE FUCK?

Oh, did I mention the part where noone was home? Where El and Smoo were both in Australia (apparently not together, but where’s the rumour-starting fun in that?) and that George was out, and frequently is out until like 4am and this was only about midnight? So strangely enough, banging on the door with my fists didn’t help much. I thought about climbing out the window, but peering out into the spiderwebs and the drop and the long bushes and stuff, I luckily remembered that there were no windows open in the house, or any chance of getting them open. I contemplated jumping out anyway and breaking into the Tiki Shack to sleep there, but really, that mattress is for getting lei’d on, not for sleeping on, and plus, I was so tired, I just wanted my own bed so much. So, what to do?

With a lot of wriggling, I managed to get the screws on the knob a little bit loose, and then using the zipper on my hoodie as a screwdriver, I managed to pull them out, but of course the knob on the other side of the door fell off before I could grab its axle. Fucking buggity bugger. I banged on the door some more, and thought about crying, but instead I fastened Ze Frank’s song to combat anxiety in my head, and tried to think logically. I pulled the toilet roll holder apart, and tried to jam its point in the axle-hole and to make it click around, but it wouldn’t fit properly, partly because of the other end, which scratched a circle around it like a compass. I’m very good with these intense mechanical descriptions, right?

Because the guys who’d installed the doorknob had done such a bad job, and because the door is thin-ish plywoodish stuff, I realised that there were broken bits around the hole in which the knob should be, and through those broken bits, I could see the latchy mechanism. I decided that I needed to get in at that mechanism, even if it meant tearing the door apart, so I started hammering away at the hole with the side of the knob that I had left. I kept doing that for a while before I started alternating it with levering the toilet roll spoke into the hole, and breaking bits off. It was a long, long long slow process, and I was cold and tired and about to fall asleep from the zopiclone. Eventually though, my combined hammering and levering had broken off enough plywood to expose the latching system, and I tried fiddling with that for a bit before I realised that it was totally fucked, I had to lever bits of that off as well, metal bending before my awesome might. Fuck I am glad that our toilet roll holder wasn’t made of plastic! Shoving my fingers into the hole, I managed to find a tiny littlle trigger, and with an amazing CLICK, I was free. OMG OMG OMG! Checking Twitter, I saw that I’d been in there for a whole hour. Not how I wanted to end my night at all!

Turns out that George didn’t get home until 5am, so I’m very glad that I got all Mcguyver all up in it, and released myself. It makes me kinda proud at my resourcefulness, even. When George came home, he saw something was up with the lock, and so he tried shutting it – and locked himself out. He raced to get up in the morning to open the door when I got up to pee, and climbed in the window for me, and I pointed out where the trigger was. The latch is now duct-taped open (or shut) so that these incidences can’t happen again, although I have yet to email the landlady and tell her what muppets the “handy”men were. I really should do that now, eh?

Also on a mac note: I made lots of mac’n cheese yesterday, and then beat Good Tom at Trivial Pursuit. That part’s not so related, but I like to boast. In other success stories, I found a new flatmate as well, and also rang up Philips to ask them where I could buy a new remote contrl for my stupid DVR, and they’re apparently sending me a new one, and aren’t charging me for it. HURRAH! If only I’d asked for one a year ago, how many broken nails would I have avoided? And also, I made cupcakes for all the lovely people who organised Webstock and they liked them and that makes me happy. And I think that’s about it, for now,

xojo

PS: the title of this post would be much more awesomer if my last name was ‘Macleod’. But that’s okay.

Tuesday July 2

You have to excuse me if i sound a little shitty while I write this – I’m in the lounge and Clayton is watching ‘Duets’. Yes, the Gwynnie movie. I know he has to do it for his work and all, but still. Oh yeah, and as to why I’m in the lounge, well, my landlady rang me up at 8am today to tell me that I was getting carpet laid between noon and two, so I must move all my personal stuff out of my room, but leave my furniture. Righto. She rang me later at work to confirm that I’d done it, and I had – well, Bopha did it for me cos I had to go to work, and Bopha is a sweetie and everything. I got home to find a note from the carpet layers saying we needed to move the furniture out and vacuum before they’d lay carpet. FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCKETY FUCK FUCK FUCK. Grrr. I was txting Brad angry things about my landlady, and he said I should put on a bear suit and maul her, and so I asked him if he’d do it for me, and he said sure, if I could get her to dress up as a salmon. Heh.

Work today was good, I did the clippings, wrote some stuff, killed some time. There were mini scandals, but nothing to do with me. I did maths! With a calculator and a ruler and everything, figuring out most efficient ad spend. I drew pictures in my report and impressed everyone. So that was exciting. I really must remember to take my muff in to work, cos my hands just about freeze off on the way home. Also, what, you think I didn’t see you lurking in that doorway? I may be blind without my glasses but not THAT blind.

KateH came over after work and we had Thai food together, sitting on the sofa together like the old days, although she couldn’t stay for travel.co.nz which she shoulda! So after she left, I went over to KateM’s instead, and met her new flatmate who was very nice, and kinda intriguing. Ligen ligen ligen. Heh, special personal message to you after all.

OH! Hot gossip scandal I discovered sometime recently…. ummm nah, I won’t break it yet. I’ll hold it in for a while. However, I am hoping that the person it involves will hurry up and get his ass back into the country, or how am I ever going to get laid again?

KateH complained that I hadn’t written up my party yet, but we agreed that by now it’s too late. Suffice to say, it was fucking cool, except for the landlady showing up cos she’d had “complaints” (plural) about the noise – of course our fucking neighbours couldn’t have come and knocked on our door and asked us to turn it down, oh no. And also, why are all Englishmen obsessed with nakedness? And how can people turn up empty handed and expect to be fed copious amounts of liquor at any occasion other than a 21st? But BALLOONS! And my ladies! And when I got up on Sunday, Bopha had already done half the dishes and cleaning cos she felt so bad about getting too stoned to talk. ANd then the next day there was the soccer, and Brazil won, and YAY. Yeah. That was all the good shit.

Dialogue just now: Me “So, who’s playing tonight?” Bopha, about to cry “don’t Jo! You’re evil! Absolutely evil. That’s the bad shit right there”. Soccer withdrawl has set in already. That’s why it’s okay that I’m going to Welly tomorrow.

Today I am dying of the flu. This is the reason that my body has been aching for days, not that all my limbs are atrophying and about to fall off. I guess it was kinda brought to fruitition by me staying up til 4am to finish an assignment. Sure, that probably wasn’t the smartest idea in the world, but I’d had to work for KateM in the afternoon before that, so I couldn’t have started it any earlier (and no, I couldn’t have started it before the day before it was due – what do you take me for?) And maybe I could have worked on it while at KateM’s work, but I was helping a boy send out posters and stuff, and answering the phones, and plus the couch in the staffroom was much more comfy. Etc etc. You know me, excuses are what I do best.

Today I got up around half past eight to finish off my assignment. I’m not really sure what exactly I wrote, only that I was dying while I was doing it, and then I went into my 10am class to give some stuff to Jinan for it. But I was just about to throw up/pass out/something else bad, so I had to walk out midclass to go home. I managed to sleep for a couple more hours after that, until Ben got up and played Linkin Park so loud that all the windows in the apartment were rattling. Thank FUCK he’s gone tomorrow. Bopa’s having her bed delivered at 9.30am, although I’m guessing he won’t be out quite by then. The house is a pigstye but I can’t really clean cos when I stand up I feel faint. I’m chewing airwaves gum like it’s going out of style, popping brufen cos my wrists are hurting from essay writing, and wondering if I can doubledose on my day/night tablets. I hate being sick! Especially when there’s no one to take care of me. I wish someone would bring me lemsips and soup and stroke my forehead – am I asking too much? Clay just got home from work now (11pm) but when I told him I was sick, he hugged me holding me at arm’s length. He’s mean.

What else? Sick sick sick sick sick. I miss Tom who I haven’t talk to in weeks like mad. I miss KatieB. I was getting random text messages yesterday from someone calling me “Spunkrat” and “Babycakes” and I had no idea who they were from until they demanded gossip and used name-abbreviations so I figured out it was Andee, and so that was cool, but still, I miss my friends! Oh sure, I spent an hour at KateM’s last night drinking red wine with her after I dropped off her work keys, and I saw KateH every day in the weekend, but is that really enough? No, I don’t think so! Not when I need nursing it’s not.

Bopa was gonna call the Welly Massive to see if they were coming up this weekend, so I dunno if they are or not. I hope I’m better tomorrow, although if I’m playing Welly games, I will probably just end up semidying again. It’s hard to keep up with some people’s lifestyles!

I was in the high demand section of the AUT library (oh yeah, there’s a huge demand for me, baby) yesterday when my landlady rang to tell em she was shocked at how often our rent autopayments had failed. I tried to explain to her that I’d already told her that, and that it was Ben’s fault and why we were kicking him out, but I got all worried and told her that I’d have to call her back when I got home with dates from when I’d put money through manually. I was completely freaked out and stressed, because I know that I’ve always paid the rent, although admittedly sometimes it’s been nearly two weeks late, plus I hate anything to do with banks. I was just about in tears stressing about it when she left a message on my cellphone saying that she’d noticed that there were lots of anonymous deposits going in and that she figured that was probably me, she was sure I was reliable and not to panic. PHEW!

Tomorrow night Pluto are playing at Leftfield and EyeTV are playing at The Classic, so it would be a dilemna except that there’s no way in hell I would go to Leftfield. The last time I saw EyeTV play was at the Static launch party nearly two years ago when Clay and I won the dance contest, and they were excellent, so I may go to see them. Then again, it’s Bopa’s first night in the flat and all, so I’ll probably just stay home; that works for me too, especially if I’m still sick, which I will no doubt be.

IGSTJKD was on Monday, without ceremony. Yesterday was textfiles inside the covers of cds that people make for me. Today is Wednesday. Tomorrow is Anzac Day. In the lounge right now, Clay is being all chatty with Ben, which makes me laugh cos I think that’s really hypocritical considering how much he goes on about Ben behind his back. At least I’m just flat out grumpy with him all the time since we decided we didn’t like him. This is honour and intergrity, really! And it is also zfree not connecting, despite being on its 83rd dialling attempt.

Wednesday 24; February, 1999

“Woman, you’ve got too many brambles, hiding under these bushes” – ‘Cooling’ – Tori Amos

I felt so nauseous on the bus on the way into town all morning today, not in a hungover way (cos god knows I was awake long enough to sober up). I was glad that Clayton had the varsity orientation magazine which he leant to me so that I didn’t have to make conversation, because I was so not in the mood to talk.

I was late for my TV Production tutorial cos I spent a while hovering in the bathroom wanting to be back in bed for the rest of my life, so I had to sit at the front of a class that was half full of strangers. It was okay though, cos Shirley came in late too a minute later, so she sat up the front with me. We were watching some Nazi Propaganda film and the site of a screen thick with their banners just made me feel ill all over again. It’s funny because the swastika was like originally a Buddhist symbol of life or something like that, but now it’s such a symbol of hate.

Once that class was over, Shirley and I went down to the Midcity, but the movie we wanted to see wasn’t on there, so we decided to go find a paper to see when and where it was. We both also had to make Bank Missions, which I don’t really wanna write about now. Suffice to say, our rent is a week overdue, because of problems clearing money and bank shit. I was shaking once I came out of the phonebooth and telebanking, teetering on the edge of a total nervous breakdown on the main intersection on Queen Street. I’ve started this fun new thing where instead of crying properly, I just start breathing shorter and shorter until I get all lightheaded and just about faint. It’s especially funky when I’m drunk and spinning anyways. Not. So yeah, Shirley saw me and she was like “it’s okay, we’ll check back later – we’ll go take the link now and go to Newmarket”. So we did that, after finding out ‘Elizabeth’ was on at 10.50am – perfect time.

I got completly and utterly nauseous again in the opening scenes of the movie, cos the camera was at a reaaaaaally high angle, and swirled around and stuff – plus it’s never very nice watching people being burned alive. But after that, I got really settled into the movie. It was amazing. Cate Blanchet is one of the most stunning looking women I’ve seen in a long time, and she was astonishingly good in her role. Joseph Fiennes was sex on two legs – or he would have been if it wasn’t for the puffy shorts. Even Eric Cantona was in the movie – playing a French Ambassdor. As a humouress little side note, I was playing World Cup ’98 on Si’s puter the other day, being Holland (of course). I absolutely sucked at it, and Brazil so would have kept scoring on me except for the fact that the computer ran my goal keeper and kept saving my ass. That is until I somehow managed to hit enough keys so that I took over him, and accidentally made him turn around and throw the ball into my own goal. I rebooted the computer before I could hear the crowd jeer.

Okay, back to the movie. I was so inspired by her strength and stuff – as you can probably tell by the quote from the title of this page “I am not your Elizabeth. I am no man’s Elizabeth”. It was so sad and so lonely for huge big lots of it. I almost cried when she cut off her hair, and had to put up my hands to make sure mine was still there. I know that the movie didn’t make any mention of all the nasty shit she did, like burning Catholics and stuff, and apparently there was no way she could ever have had an affair but hey……….. it was dramatic license.

Shirley and I were going to take a tiki tour on the link bus back to town, only it went pretty much the way I thought it would go, instead of the way SHE thought it would go, which was through Ponsonby. So yeah, we sat at the back and giggled a bit. Getting off the bus, I nearly fell over in grand tremendous style and only saved myself by sliding around the pole like some kind of cheap tacky dancer only without the silicone and wearing a lot more and laughing louder.

Then we had to go to a Radio Production tutorial. Dee was really sad cos she got cut off from most of us Dsters when the tut got split in half, but that’s her own fault for not sitting by me (Karma). Our tutor assigned us all a talkback program to listen to – I got Kerre Woodham, 8pm-12am on Newstalk ZB, 89.4FM. I was given that one cos I told the tutor I didn’t sleep at night – she looked at me like I was a vampire or something. I listened to it for a while tonight while playing Cool Boarders 2 (god Si needs some new psx games – I go to sleep at night with snowy trails flashing before my eyes). It sucked. Talkback sucks. And I have to write a five thousand word essay on it.

What else? Hmmmmm. I met up with Simon after class, and rang telebanking but the money hadn’t cleared yet (STILL) so I couldn’t do that – fuck I PR’d the landlord when he rang last night. So we took the bus home, and I caught Si up to date on all my latest crisises. Poor wee lad. At home, both Clayton and Leyton were around, but luckily weren’t playing The Rolling Stones again like they were yesterday when I wanted to play my new Placebo album. But Simon had bought some new hideous NZ hardcore album or something, which was annoying me, as was the other boys talking about supermarket shopping and dinner plans and stuff, so I snuck off to bed, giving Si the power of attorney to make any descisions for me. I was asleep by halfway through the third track. Brian Molko’s heartbreaking voice just has such a lulling effect – sometimes.

Si made us instant pasta for dinner in the evening, which we ate in front of Shortland Street (did I mention how thrilled I am that Mike’s back?) and Friends. Doing the dishes, he made the mistake of sassing me – I had to mop the floor up after throwing so much foam at him. I’ve already mentioned the psx/talkback thing, so that’s about it.

I guess I should maybe say something about yesterday’s entry, but I don’t know what. And I don’t expect others to know what to say either – it’s okay, I understand. And thanks for the support – it means the world. Oh yeah, Isobel’s page is here. And my own little tribute to Amy is here. You’ll find similar traces and puzzle pieces scattered throughout and one day youll wonder how it came to be that you just didn’t know.

9; Febuary, 1999
Voice Outside the Window: “Joanna, you bitch, let me into your house”

Me: “Shirley you fucking ugly hoe, I’m in the shower. It’s not 11.30 yet, so you’re just going to have to wait for me, dumb bitch”

Ahhhhhhhhh friends are so the shit, bro. It’s so much fun to yell abuse and have them know that you don’t mean it. Shirley had woken me up at 10am anyways ringing me to tell me what I was doing today. So I went back to sleep until 11am, timing myself perfectly to be clean and dressed by the time she got to my place, at the designated half hour. But did SHE stick to the schedule? Noooo!

I guess I shouldn’t complain about her though, given that she spent an hour tightening up my bed. See, who needs a man when you have a best friend with a tool kit instead? My headboard doesn’t rock anymore – well – much – so that’s a bonus. Now I can bring people home to it. Hahahahaha yeah, cos the fact that it was rickety was really the only thing stopping me. Honest it was.

Oh my god, I nearly forgot – two of the former tenants came around to ask for the landlord’s number. I so hope they weren’t checking us out for stuff to steal, but HA! if they try it, cos we got the locks changed. They said that they were going to come around on thursday night to take the weights bench, but then after asking if any guys lived here (“YES, three of them” trying to imply like they were big and would beat up any intruders) they said they’d leave it for them. So I gave him the landlord’s number, and their mail. One of them was actually quite cute. They laughed at all the mess and boxes in the hall when I told them that we’d moved in ages ago. It’s like “um, excuse me? you guys are the junkies. I laugh at you”. I didn’t say that though. I should have gotten a forwarding address off them for mail and our assorted weirdo visitors, but I was too shocked at meeting the people that I’d scoffed at so much that I wasn’t thinking straight.

Shirley told me that her new flat has a phone jack in the toilet. We were trying to if that was more dodgy than heroin users. I think it was a tie.

Anyways, once we had that done, we went to Saint Lukes for lunch, and to buy jewellary. Ever really really get cravings for Chinese food? And then you eat it, and it’s so repulisive it puts the cravings to rest for a couple of weeks? Well, it was one of those days. The best Chinese I’ve ever eaten was from the shop near Charly’s house, in Papanui, chch. But I think I will have to keep on searching. It’s become like my life’s mission to find a place serving Chinese that I’d ever go back to.

So yeah, after lunch, we went into Michael Hill, because Shirley has to replace all her jewellary that got stolen when she was burgled, and she has to spend $300 at Michael Hill. Ewww the jewellery was all so hideously generic and mass produced. Give me something from Texan Art Schools or even Glitz any day over that. Even Shirley, different as our tastes are, didn’t like the stuff in Michael Hill, so I busied myself pointing out engagement rings she could buy me. No, we’re not getting married – but hey! Of course, my taste tended to run to the most expensive items in the store. If any of you viewers at home have a craving to buy me rings, I like single set diamonds, as large as possible and as simple as possible. Either that or diamond/ruby or diamond/emerald combinations. Actually, I have a diamond/ameythst/pearl choker from my grandmother, so maybe you could buy me a diamond and ameythst ring, even though ameythsts aren’t as valuable as emeralds and rubies. Choice, glad we’ve gotten that out of the way.

After that we swung past her place on Mount Eden Road to load up the car, and went out to their new house in Ellerslie (yeah I know they’re nuts for giving up their house and location, but it was only 2 bedrooms and too expensive for Shirley once she goes back to tech and isn’t working full time). So yeah, her new house isn’t half as nice in my opinion, but she apparently likes it better which is cool. I have to admit their bathroom is very stylely – huge and with the tub in the middle of the room. However it’s nuts, cos you have to go through the bathroom to get to the back door. The toilet is has a phone jack in it, like I have already mentioned, but thought I’d reinforce, and carpet. So yeah, that’s perculiar. That word is spelt so wrong, but oh well.

Shirley dropped me off home and I geeked for a weeny bit, before taking a great big long nap. Ahhhhhhh bliss. It’s going to be a quiet night in tonight, like every night. I had a dream while napping that I discovered some bottles of red wine I’d been hoarding and I was both really happy and also pissed off I hadn’t drunk them earlier. But it was just a dream.

Isn’t it funny when ALL of your friends give you like nearly identical advice, and you know that it’s the right thing to do and everything except there’s absolutely no way in hell you’re going to do it because that would make too much sense but also because you’ve had like really really nasty experiances doing the same thing before?

Friday 29; January, 1999
I figured it was time I tried to make this page look a tiny bit more classy, so here we are. Typing inside a frame because it’s easier that way. Is that okay? Ooooh, I’m liking the slight change in colour-scheme. I hope you’re liking it too. After all, without you, I’m nothing.

The orange goes so well with the purple, and it’s my little tribute to Jo, too. I miss her stacks. The summer of 97/98 I spent mostly with Amy – when I wasn’t with Matt – but this summer I spent most of my time with Jo, so I’m just used to being able to drive over to Miramar, pick her up and go to the beach or town or whatever. Of course now though, I’m in Auckland, and she’s in Christchurch, hopefully doing okay. Xoxoxoxo to you when you read this, hon.

Gosh, I’m being so damn cliquey in this entry today, huh? I know through one of my many counters (yes, I’m obsessed) where people are finding this site from. Most of the people who read my journal have it bookmarked. Others come to Ego Much? from Holloway, Green Oatmeal and also another site where I have some writing posted. (Oh, is there a missing link there? What, AGAIN? Man, I must be forgetful). Talking about Green Oatmeal, I really do suggest that you go and look at it. I was so thrilled when I went back today and discovered that Beth has a JOURNAL up now. She’s so funny, I love her site to bits.

Oh yeah, and speaking of worship (yes, I know this entry is turning just completly self indulgent and internet-people obsessed) Holloway Matthew had some really really interesting things to say about reading other people’s pages which I’d quote, except it’s like too long, so go here and read it for yourself. He gets brownie points for listing me as a ‘really great person’. Wahoo.

I watched Havoc tonight, which probably explains why I’m being so stuck up and self-indulgent. It was their big-day-out special and all the Hole footage made me go “awwwwwwww” and want to be back there. It was a truely truely mind blowing experiance. I love Courtney Love, so I thought all her banter was great, but I guess I can see how people who didn’t like her would hate it. Maybe that’s what my page is like – to a great lesser extent. I mean, I know there are people who enjoy reading it, because they like me. I also know there are people who don’t enjoy reading it, because they don’t like me. Quick question then – WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU HERE? Everyone can ask themselves that, not just the people who dislike me.

Other things that are noteworthy – ummm there’s more stuff on the Written page in case I didn’t already mention that. It’s all old stuff, but now it’s actually linked to. Also I updated my Leaving page, making it far more snobby, so that it’s all sites that I actually respect. No more links to ugly pages from people I know off IRC that really have very little to offer. Fuck I’m nasty these days. Oh well.

I had the worst night’s sleep ever – I had to get up at 5.30am cos I was too hot, and bitten and stuff, so I booted up my computer and talked to Heidi – that’s Simon’s girlfriend who’s back in Finland now. We’re starting a brothel together. She rocks so much – me and Jo taught her all our annoying little sayings (“you’re malcolm”, “on the piss”, “sucks to my asthma” etc) and she’s still using them, and is doing her best to spread them around. The landlord rang me out of bed at 9am, and came around half an hour later with the locksmith – so that’s definatly worth getting up for. Layton’s bed and desk got delivered, and he himself arrived. I talked to him for a while, then had to excuse myself at 11.30am to go back to bed, where I slept for four hours. I just didn’t know what to talk to him about. Clayton’s moving in on Sunday, so hopefully things will be easier after then. The problem is that I’ve sort of settled into a routine having lived here for a week either by myself, or just with Simon who has pretty much the same habits as me (wake after 12pm, bum around all day online, eat dinner as the first meal of the day, then eat toast at night until about 2am then go to bed). I know I’ll have to get out of that pattern once tech starts up again, but still…. I wonder what it’ll be like living with two people I hardly know that I’m expected to interact with.

Anyways, so that’s probably enough for tonight. Oh yeah, just a little request – PLEASE sign my guestbook if you’re new here, or sign it anyways. I’d love to know what sort of people are reading about me and stuff. Market research and all that.

I’m listening to the Tank Girl soundtrack right now. I miss L7. I miss Grrly 5th form, and Cyst – the zine I made with Penny and Sarah that consisted entirely of putting down Room 6 people.

Thursday 28; January, 1999

gosh aren’t bus timetables fun?

See that? (<<<) THAT is South Auckland. That is where the buses that I ride end up. However, what you won’t see on that map (even if it wasn’t such bad resolution and around the wrong way) is my street, or my house. I know this, because I spent an awfully long time this afternoon (ie ten minutes) trying to figure out exactly which bus I had to take home. I mean, I remembered the number of the bus I took in, but I wasn’t wearing my glasses, and by the time I got to the map, I was a litttle bit tipsy, so it was all a bit confusing. But then I went to the bathroom, where I do all my best thinking, and figured out that my house was off the map, to the NORTH thank you very much. See, I have a complex now, because I’m the most judgemental person in the world, and I’d hate for people to think I lived in South Auckland. Or West Auckland. Or the North Shore. And too far east, just to round it all off nicely. Honestly I’m not a snob. No, reaallly I’m not.

Okay so anyways, on with the show. The landlord rang me out of bed at 9am, which pissed me off cos I couldn’t get back to sleep afterwards. Amazingly enough, I’d gone straight to sleep the night before – I’d thought I’d lie awake freaking out about every odd noise, but I guess Piha just wore me out.

Anyways, he finally came over and I pointed out the leaks and damp patches and he agreed to change the front locks – YAY. So hopefully that’ll happen soon. Layton also rang and said he’s moving in tomorrow, so I’m home alone again tonight (oh shit, you missed your collective chances, didn’t you?). Anyways, back to my story.

I took a bus into town today. How proud are you? I was pretty proud. I took it ALL the way too – down into the terminal. Fuck the bottom end of Queen Street sucks. The top end’s not all that shit hot either, but at least it’s not so sheepskinandpaua-ry. So yeah, I went to the bank (yay, my cheque finally cleared so I’m as rich as I should be) and cancelled my APs to Access Ezy – a storage unit place with a name after my own heart.

Then I bought a V and Pulp Magazine (the BEST read in town), and went and sat in Aotea Square for an hour, reading my little heart out and listening to the clatter of skateboards. It was nice there – it would have been better without the boppers though. Haven’t they got the whole of the shore to hang out on? Anyways, then I went and used the bathrooms in the Aotea Centre. Nice and clean, air conditioned, no one saying I can’t…. perfect.

Since it was by that time after 4pm, I went up to the London Bar, to meet up with assorted atmos/craccum people. I know people man! Hahahah, I’ll just revell in my moment of snobbery. Gareth, the exhalted editor of Craccum had been drinking 15% beer, and well – he was pretty slumped in his seat. The beer was FOUL too. Errrgh. So I sat back and watched enthralled as they talked about all this businessy stuff. I was so in awe, man. In Wellington, I listened intrigued to hours of hospitality talk. Up here, it’s hours of web design and advertising stuff. I love it. Very impressed with the proffesionalism of some of the people there…. and others were amusing. And two-for-one happy hour’s got to be a bonus.

I explained about the map before, so we won’t go there again. I got on the right bus eventually, after hiking up to Symonds Street. Then I got foodage from Wendys and came home. After Shortland Street (NO MACKENZIE NO!!! LET MINNIE KILL OSCAR!!!!) I rang Karen, to find out she was at Home, so I rang there and hung up so they’d have to call me back and pay for the call. I was still sorta drunk then (fuck I’m a cheap date) and I hadn’t talked to Karen in sooooooooo long that I just babbled my little head off, telling her filthy foul stories that had her in hysterics for ages. So that was cool, until she told me she wanted to hang up because I was just repeating myself. And even my own father didn’t want to talk to me. Shock horror! This is made for tv movie stuff, man. “Hyperactive Girl Cast Out By Family ” I had to spend the rest of the night on the net to make up for it. And now my back hurts cos there is no back to this chair. That’s probably something I should invest in. Or if someone wants to steal me one, that’d be cool too please.

Saturday 23; January, 1999

This is not South Auckland. I should become an architectural drafter when I grow up.

That’s my house. Do you like it? I do. Except that Thomas pointed out (this is something I should have known from ‘Trainspotting anyways) that the anti-constipation medicine I found in the wardrobe is quite likely to be related to heroin usage, which would explain the blackened spoons and the fact that my room is the only place in the house that never smelt of pot. So yay. Genuine junkies have keys to my house. The landlord doesn’t get back until wednesday, but he left a message on my answering machine (Hi, Joanna, Simon, Clayton and Layton aren’t home right now……) saying we’ll ‘talk about it then’. Hmmmmm.

But I’m getting more settled in. Sure, I stayed up to 4.30am last night so that I’d be able to sleep straight away instead of feeling nervous (didn’t work) but hey! Once the other two have moved in, it’ll be sweetass bro. The guy that came by yesterday wondering if we had an empty room came back again today. He left his name and number in case one of the flatmates ever decides to move out. He really likes the look of our house and the area. His aunt lives up the road. DOOOOOODGY. I wonder if we’re being cased by the Triads. Life is so colourful.

I scrubbed at the tub and tiles for like an hour today and they’re still filthy. Ah well, I can finish them off tomorrow I guess. We also went to the supermarket – such a domestic day. I can see that I’m going to have to teach Simon to cook. He’s threatening terminal baked beans if I make him do dinner ever. Hmmm the grammer in that last sentence was interesting, but correct, I do believe. His car wouldn’t start when we got out with the groceries, so we had to call the AA. The guy was wearing really short shorts. That made me laugh. But he solved it, so that was sweetass bro.

Did I mention that I watched the Wrestling? Well, half an hour of it anyways. I nearly shit myself laughing. GO GO GO tag teams! Yeah. Ummm. Oh, and play the ‘Where’s That Drink Taking You?” game. It’s really amusing. That’s all.

xoxoxx