Hubris.co.nz

So the amount I’m mangoing, calling everyone “you fucking stupid whore” (although mostly in my head), yelling at Sebastian, using up all our bandwidth downloading porn, crying at everything on TV (including Grey’s Anatomy recaps and reruns of episodes of Rockstar: Inxs – although to be fair, it was the one where Marty sings ‘Wish you were here’) and being as ravenous as the wolf suggests that it’s almost time for the red right hand, which means it’s been more than a month since I was in San Francisco and I still haven’t written up my holiday. Where the hell did the time go?

Well, I suppose I did spend a couple of weeks obsessing over the First Annual Wellingtonista Awards for Outstanding Achievement in the Field of Excellence. I tried to be as consultatative with the group as possible, but in the end I figured someone just needed to take charge and get it done – much like my New Year’s Eve plans with the tripleK whereby I searched for fucking ages to find a bach for us, found a great place in the Orongorongos, everyone said that they were totally keen and now of course, no one can commit to it so it’s off. If I was to continue on a “sometimes I really do feel like my friends let me down when I go to a fuckload of effort”, I’d mention how I was short of five votes to win the best Wellington Web Writer, and how many Hubrettes didn’t vote (not to mention most of my real life friends) but I’m not that sort of whinger am I? No indeedy.

Anyways, the awards night on Friday at Might Mighty was fabulous , even if I arrived late because I spent an eternity blow-drying my hair and waiting for my taxi to arrive.

Self portrait in the Mighty Mighty bathrooms, which are the same intense candy pink as the loos at Occam

Hadyn has handily put photos up in his flickr account if you want to bask in the blow-dried goodness, except that of course I am making a stupid and chinny face in almost every photo. But on the whole, the photos are awesome and it was very exciting having an Official Photographer with capital letters and all. Plus, I wrote out speeches for all the award presenters to read – although they were allowed to say whatever they felt like – so it was most amusing to see grown men speaking like the wannabe valley girl that I am. After quickly downing a cask red wine in an attempt to slow down my heart beat which was having palpitations from eating too many chocolate-covered coffee beans, I drank many a tasty martini made by the nice bartender with the Hitler hair, and then switched to sweeter cocktails. I chatted with people from the blogosphere (haha! I know) and decided that a slightly tipsy Martha is totally my new BFF and ever as we gossiped like mad and she ran around on secret errands for me (*).

Hadyn, Martha, Glen. Note the goats that Martha appears to be throwing. You know who else throws goats? The NAZIS.

Eventually after all my other fellow Wellingtonistas had left – and I was really stoked that they thanked me for my organising efforts and deemed it a success that we will repeat next year – I sat around making Nazi jokes with Hadyn and his friend who reminded me rather a lot of Sammy from AUT, but that might have just been the fact that they talk about sport a lot. My toe was driving me crazy with pain from my drunken “hey, you know what’s a good idea? ripping open your blisters to drain them!” surgery the night before, so I was very glad that I’d eventually accepted there was no point in even trying to wear my heels, as my maryjanes were bad enough.

Nevertheless, I made my maryjanes take me up to Ladyfest at San Frindigo to see Katy dance with the Real Hot Bitches.

The Real Hot Zombie Army

Boy bitches!

I wasn’t actually sure who was going to be there, so I was super glad that Chrisana was there playing records in between acts cos I got to talk to her lots.

Big pimpin’ up in SFB(H).

They’re putting a bar out on the balcony. Laaaaame. The balcony’s already too damn small in summer. Sigh.

They already moved the bar to the other side of the room from where it used to be when the bar was Indigo

There were all flavours of lesbian in attendence, from cowboy dykes to total girlie girls (and yes I am in fact totally making snap judgements about their sexuality, pretty much based on nothing at all, since there were plenty of some straight couples around too), but I was just too damn tired to oggle properly, given how hungover I’d been all day so eventually I just had to take myself home.

Behold the ladies!

After all, the night before, on Thursday – if, like me you’re losing track of the narration, I had attended the opening of Helen’s shop, Modern Love. The shop is at the top of the Plimmer Steps, one shop down from Madam Fancypants, and it’s bloody gorgeous, as you can see in these pics:

Modern Love at night

Horses in my frieze… Well, Helen’s frieze.

The party was also astonishingly packed, so it’s just as well most people were dirty smokers.

Inside the shop

Outside the shop

And again

We ended up sitting in the carpark across the Plimmer Steps because it was raining, and as Helen had managed to get DB to sponsor her opening (product placement: Stark the RTD is pretty damn drinkable as it is sugar free or something like that, and tastes just like flavoured carbonated water), and talked and talked. Eventually after almost all the booze was gone, we hoofed it over to Mighty Mighty, where I stared at a girl for ages before finding out she was the identical twin of a girl I went to uni with (Not Shirley’s Evelyn though), and learnt about the wonders of Castlepoint Ale – a 750ml bottle for $7.50. Nice.

Needless to say, by the time Saturday rolled around, I was fucking exhausted and was able only to go with Karen to the award-winning Maranui Surf Cafe for delicious brunch.

Surf club participants participating out the window

And then we went to sit in the sun drinking frozen daquiris at home. That’s as exciting as the rest of my weekend got. Wahoo. And now it’s Monday, and I learnt how to update our website at work todya which makes me so very very happy, and I’ve been doing our intranet too whcih means I’ve been handcoding all day and so now I think I will bid you farewell.

xojo

Thursday the 11th of July, two thousand and two

Really fuckign nice random mp3 juxtaposition? ‘Morning Theft’ <!– !!! –> then PJ Harvey’s ‘Memphis’ which is a song about Jeff Buckley.

I had an exhausting day at work today, early start coupled with spending almost the entire day on the phone trying to get to talk to various media people about this huge thing we’re doing next week. Fuck I hate voicemail. After work, I had the best hair cut I’ve ever had, so consequently, I look drop dead sexy, except that it got rained on on the way home from the salon. But the lady told me amusing stories, and told me she’d get “real angus” about stuff that I related to her, so I’m definately incorporating that into my vocabulary.

In the evening, I wanted to go out with Brad, but he’d already gone out and left his cellie at his parents’ house, so I was gonna settle for drinkign with Clay and BradC but then we watched ‘Mullholland Drive’ instead, in fast forward cos ti was so fucking awful and boring and we just wanted the lesbian scenes. It was boring.

Man, I look so fucking hot tonight, someone should have saved me from the monotony, even if staying home meant drinking skky vodka.

But oooh, what a way to go – so peaceful, you’re smiling…

Wednesday 9th December

Am I somehow radiating “women, please come on to me” smells or something? I was working in the Bakehouse again today, and this woman came in and was looking at jewellary for over half an hour, which is not a usual thing. She made me model all these earings for her, and wanted to see them with my hair up and down. She was all “how do they look?” – as if I’d say they looked stupid when I’m trying to make a sale. She stopped to comb her hair even, all the while sending out these vibes. Then came the clincher – she said “I probably shouldn’t say this, but you’ve very attractive” – I almost shit myself trying not to laugh. I was so relieved when she left – after buying three pairs or earings, I might add. And so she fucking well should have, after wasting all of my time like that. I felt kind of sorry for her – she was like a Khandallah/Remers woman who realised too late in life she shouldn’t have married that rich suitable guy because she just doesn’t bat on his team. And of course, in her society there isn’t much she could do, so she sticks with her two martinis at lunch and a bottle of wine every evening, and meddles too much in her children’s lives and hits on poor innocent shop girls because she can’t accept that she’s a lesbian. Well, sorry Lady, but your team doesn’t float my boat, and even if it did, you wouldn’t be my sailor.

Nevermind. I still managed to sell like over $700 worth of stuff in the shop today, which is pretty darn impressive. Customers are just so boring though. Then again, so is having no customers. That’s okay. I just systematically destroyed furniture to fill in the time instead. And rang around, trying to fnd a friend.

Eventually I settled on Andee cos she was all that I had left. I picked her up from Amy’s house, out in Llamaville, and we went to town for David Straussan. He was SO funny! I was completly skeptical, given that he is a ventriloquist and all, and Carroll, his manager was so dodg, but no! His show fully rocked my socks off. If anyone wants to buy me one of those dancing dinosaurs, I’ll love you for the rest of my life. Free stuff rocks. I saw Carroll as we were leaving, and said thanks for the tickets. She said “I’m glad you enjoyed it” as she stroked my arm. Andee and I went to Slotatl after that, and Anji made me PAY for the coffees, which shocked me greatly. Ahhhh well. Then I drove her back home to Horokiwi, and watched Amy playing Quake for a while, enthralled. You just know I’m going to become a Quake junkie next year. Someone help me now please.

Oh yeah, and I was thinking about funerals, and music, and I decided to maybe have ‘Viva Forever’ played in addition to ‘Miss World’ and ‘Street Spirit’. I mean, I’ve had so many good times with the Spice Girls, I think it’d be kinda cool for all my friends who come to the funeral to have a chance to laugh – so maybe ‘Wannabe’ would be better. I taught my mother the dance moves for ‘Stop’ this morning in the car – she learnt them like a thousand times faster than I did. Anyways, I’m always curious as to who’d show at my funeral. Pleaaaaaase sign my guestbook now and let me know if you’d come. Ta.

xoxoxo