Hubris.co.nz

Last Friday was, if you recall, the Prom. Of course, you should all have known that from coming along, but if you did, then you’re people that I don’t know who didn’t introduce yourselves. Wankers.

But nevermind that. Let’s talk about going to Spotlight at lunchtime with Kateb for netting to promify our dresses, and how I was going to get black but the call of the pink was just too strong:

Then let’s talk about how the skies opened around 4pm and I had holes in my shoes, and my car was parked a long way away and luckily I’d given Kate the spare key to it cos I got to it late, and then we had to schlep over to Newtown to decorate the hall and I was soaking wet and freezing cold and reaaaaaally not in a good mood. Plus decorating was tiring and hard, and we were running late and Brad’s friend who was helping us kept on talking and talking and oh oh oh, just the drama of it all. But when we were done, the place looked fucking rad:

Kate came over to my place to get ready, and since I knew I needed to snap out of my grump, I went to “spend a couple of minutes by myself” (read: rub one out), before showering and sorting out my hair. Of course, we ended up looking fabulous, as the above photo will prove. We spent a while having some drinks and trying to convince Bart and Del to come with us, before abandonning that idea and jumping in a taxi. The hall was pretty empty at first, so I was very worried for Brad’s sake, and I was trying to count and do maths and things, but eventually it filled up, helped along by the arrival of these two, Katy and her flatmate:

We sat and drank coruba & coke for a while, cos it was donated, and then Brad started playing ‘Get into the groove’ which is one of my favouritist songs to dance to evah, and since my friends weren’t feeling it, I went and jumped into a group of strangers including this girl Holly:

They were very very rad people and were very complimentary of my outfit, so I decided that I was ON FIRE that night, and that everybody would be my friend. When Katy and I were slowdancing the first slowdance, I spied two boys standing at the side so we grabbed them instead and they didn’t appear to mind at all. Later I fell in love with one of Brad’s tutors (although I suspect I didn’t realise who he was at the time) when he whirled me around the dancefloor and told me to stop leading. How powerful and manly! Oh how I was swooning.

At one stage, I went outside to find Kate, and found her talking to a 15 year old kid who’d wandered up to boast about how he was on his 20th beer. When he turned around and said to the Asian girl behind him “I don’t like Asians!” I decided that was enough, and it was time for him to move on, so I went and found Brad, who grabbed a very tall friend of his and politely asked the young lad if he had a ticket. He moved on then. Apparently he was also kicked in the balls by a friend of the Asian girl. Excellent.

It was just such a fucking fantastic time. I danced and danced and danced, and although I didn’t win Prom Queen, I certainly felt like it, and so I successfully vanquished all my demons from dances at ASIJ 12 years ago. Oh yes, that’s right, all my demons. I’m totally a demon-free zone now. Honest. Here’s some more photos from the prom – if you want to see them larger, go to my flickr account page, obviously. And the best part of all is that Brad made a whole grand.

When Kate and I got home, we found Mark and Bart sitting out on the front steps drinking, so we stayed and talked to them for a long time, and I did the most awesome fall-flat-on-my-face fall ever. Radical.

The next morning, strangely enough, I felt like I’d been hit by a bus, but I dutifully rolled out of bed, showered and headed off to pick up Anji and Karen, via a ten minute wait at Macdonald’s for them to serve me up a burger instead of the ick that is the Macdonald’s breakfast. Not that their burgers are much better, of course, but this was an emergency. I got Anji to drive to Waikanae, because I still felt drunk. We went to Swell Cafe for Mum’s birthday brunch, which you might remember from the news stories about its quarter mill bronze statue being stolen. Or you might not. I don’t care either way. Ha! It was really nice there, but oh boy I was feeling ill. Then we went to Oma’s house to sort out more stuff and pick up more furniture and I puked some more and sat on an outdoor step and cried. I was very very happy to get home and unload the buffet and bookshelves.

After a nap, I went to the supermarket and made awesome sandwiches of streaky bacon, camenbert, hummus and rocket. Hurray! And I tried gingerly to drink some beer, but then switched to red wine. Around 11pm, I headed off to Nial’s house for Blair’s goodbye party. Luckily it was a very mellow night, just lots of sitting around in the very cute garden. I didn’t know people at first, but I was overly tired so I was in very giggly very saying lots of stupid things mode, so it was alright. The boy who I’d originally thought was gay talked loudly at me about how gay he was, and about how he used to make his ex girlfriend wear a Hayden Christensen mask when he flipped her over, and I felt ever so slightly embarrassed but mostly I just laughed at the things I was thinking in my head (*).I did tell the hot Canadian right as he was leaving that I fancied him rotton, and he laughed at me. Well, it wasn’t quite a “ha HA, like you could ever have a chance” kind of laugh, or even a laugh of pity, it was just a laugh and a “I’m sure you’ll get your pash this year”. And yes, I told him right when he was leaving, because I am laaaaaaaaaame like that, but at least I told him. So that’s all very well and good, and I don’t feel bad about it. And it’s good that he’s gone, because while he was a very easy crush to have, I just have far too much going on in my head right now(*). Oh, and of course he’s also a stupid maple syrup-eating surrender monkey.

Having been up until 5.30 texting, Sunday was a day for lying on the couch groaning and watching season two of the OC. I think much of the week was like that, actually. Hmm. On Wednesday I saw Capote, which wasn’t the feel-good hit of the summer. Then I decided I needed to stop feeling angsty about the number of people in my house (it’s strange getting used to having two boys and one girlfriend who is still trying to find a flat around, after living with only Anji for six months, but there’s no need for me to have a bug up my ass just because oh the pain, they’re sitting on my couches watching tv when I want to lie down and watch the Gilmore Girls in quiet), so I cooked a flat dinner for them and Brad. I was going to make a pear cake too, cos our tree is loaded down with pears right now, but when I got home, Del was already making one. Great minds and all that.

On Friday after work my workmate Sarah and I escaped down to Monsoon Poon for some very good conversation and some wine. She’s getting married in less than a month, and so she keeps asking me questions about things like invitations or social graces, or accomodation and stuff, which is fine, cos I’m happy to help, but it’s making me plan my own wedding something crazy, and hello, I’m not gettign married for another five years (that’s assuming Brad’s still single then). We were joined by the boys a while later, and then by Rene who is an ex collegue. Eventually KateB showed up to and by that stage I’d consumed quite a lot of wine. Sarah left and we had a platter of food which probably wasn’t nearly enough in proportion to the amount of wine we were drinking, and we went to Ponderosa where I watched Kate pee and she did the same to me. Not like, cos we were doing it in public or anything, just that we assumed that there would be stalls but it was one big room and so we decided to have a significant bonding experience instead. I was thinking that the bathroom looked mighty familiar and then I realised yesterday that it’s tiled like the one in Veronica Mars in which she does all her business. Ha HA ‘business’, do you like what I did there? (Yes, wow, that is a poo you should be proud of).

Somehow we managed to convince Dylan to come to a uni party with us (I did mention that the last time I went to a party at Jess’s there were both nipples shown AND a person in a panda costume), and we headed up to Kelburn via the supermarket for more wine. We probably didn’t need the wine. I had a good time at the party talking to Arthur and Brad who are at drama school together, and the fabulous Jess, and also Robbie, who as it turns out isn’t Lemon Cohen at all, and most awesome of all was that there was no one else from Salient there. Then Kate was a little worse for wear, so we decided it would probably be a good idea to get her home(*). When I saw Jess yesterday in Aro, she laughed at me for being like “omg, leave my friend alone! She’s been my best friend since we were 5, don’t hurt her!” cos people had placed flowers on her head. They laugh because after delivering that speech, I delivered Kate an all-mighty slap. Sorry babe.

Yesterday morning was consequently not much fun either, but I rallied by around 4pm when Anji and I went up to Mum and Neil’s for a BBQ. Boy it was hot, so very hot. I like BBQs. Then I went and picked up Karen and we headed over to Aro Park for the Bitchcraft carnival. I bought pretty earrings and we went and got fish’n chips and settled down on the grass to watch the Dukes of Leisure play. They looked like this:

I’m aware that you probably can’t see that much, but I’m hoping that it’s just that I have a crap monitor. If you can’t make it out, that’s a tree with a string of dead dolls hanging behind them. Anyways, the Dukes were very cool. They’re kind of sonic soundscapey like HDU or Jakob, and since I was lying on my back looking up at the stars, it was perfect. The Bitchcraft fair looked awesome when all the stalls turned on their little lamps. I felt like I was in an alternative Stars Hollow, and that is a rad thing to feel.Then I went home to dance the panda dance for Brad. I contemplated going to the Bitchcraft afterparty, but it was on the other side of town and my hands were still tingly with hangover. One of these days, I’m going to cut down on the amount I drink. For serious.

Prom tonight. Vote for me for prom queen. Brad came over last night to discuss decorations, and he ripped some music for slowdancing. Please, for the love of all things good and shiny in the world, will someone slow dance with me tonight? I want to be all triumphant and “check out how much cooler I am now than when I actually went to a real Homecoming dance” but there’s a part of me who’s scared I’ll sit on the metaphorical bleachers and cry when they play Guns’n Roses’ ‘Don’t Cry’ and the cool kids will laugh at me.

But I don’t really have too much time to worry about it, because I have to go and buy black netting at lunchtime to promify my skirt, and then after work KateB and I must rush over to the Wellington Pipe Band Hall to decorate it, and then rush home and get dressed and rush to get drunk and go back in. I also need to make sure I pack a change of clothes, cos while the twins will be definitely coming to the party, I may not be quite as free with my movements as I would like to be in that outfit.

It’s been very rad having KateB back in town. We’ve been eating lunch together every day this week since she’s been freelancing around here, and on Tuesday I took her home with me for drinks and soup, hair dying and watching of the Garland video. I can’t wait until Brad becomes a famous actor so I can unleash his dancing upon the world. Actually I really should take the clip of the Garland Gang cd rom and put it up on the interweb. That sounds like an excellent idea. I’m sure he’d thank me for it. Also, who knows a good place in Wellington to get a crappy old VHS digitised so I can keep it safe forever? You’d think I could do it at work, but the developer was all “no no no”. Dammit, I know how to do it (or at least I did five years ago), you’d think I could borrow the G5 in my own time.

Bart’s been living in my house for nearly two weeks now, as has his girlfriend, who is having trouble finding a flat, so if anyone knows of a place going, please please please let me know. He and She and Mark who is yet to move in are all trained chefs, so I’ve had some dinners cooked for me. That’s great, but a little strange. I’m used to being a much better cook than the boys I’ve lived with. But they’re all lovely, and I’m getting bits and pieces of furniture trickling in from Oma’s in order to fill in the gaps, and that’s great. I’ve also got a car now. Or rather, I have Mum’s old car and I’ll be paying for insurance and registration and all that, but if any of the cousins need to borrow it they’re allowed to. Can you drive, Cous? Not that I’m expecting to see you in Wellignton any time soon probably though.

I saw Brokeback Mountain on Wednesday and decided that I should just punch the girl I fancy in her face and ask her to go fishing with me. I thought there was a little too much scenary, and that Salon’s review of made some really good points, and that if I was to speak like Joss, I’d say that it did more telling than showing. But it was still great, and there were boobs, and hot boys pashing (although not enough), and I cried. But I saw it at a Newstalk ZB preview, and they were the worst audience ever. Maybe because they’re used to talking to the radio they thought it was okay to talk through the film and wear way too much perfume and go “oh yes” and “oh no!” out loud the whole way through? Stupid long time listener/first time movie watchers. And while we’re on the subject of sexuality (oh yeah, Newstalk ZB is like, sooo sexual), I read an interview with Dan Savage in the Onion AV Club, in which he said (to paraphrase) “if your boyfriend is a homophobe, that means he’s also a misogynist because he’s reacting to the belief that in gay relationships one person assumes the role of the woman and he’s seeing it as a bad thing to be a woman” and I was like “yes!”. I like it when people who are smarter than me articulate things real good.

And I think that’s my lot for today. Just come to The Prom okay? And vote for me for Prom Queen. I made the ballot forms so I really should have rigged them, but I was good and didn’t.

Shall we call this a level 2 entry? should I try to censor myself? oh man, I am so conflicted. Mostly I am SO ANNOYED that I left my phone at my old building, but since this is in theory Level 2, I can say that if you want to get ahold of me before Monday (umm…… Lisa?) you can call me on ummmmmmmmmmm 386 4631? But I don’t answer the phone and also I’m going to my parents’ tomorrow night for dinner. While I mention them, can I also add how disturbed I am that they changed their phone number? Yeah, they switched over to Telstra for broadband, so now hte first digits of their number are 970. It’s wrong. It’s wronger than when all of Welly had a 4 put in front of it. You know that the reason (well, one of) that I ahven’t switched to a telecom mobile is cos I’ve had my 021 since it said “bell south” on the phone. I am a traditionalist.

It appears that Sebastian is a tradiionalist too, and has once more run away over Guy Fawkes. This makes it three years in a row, and I know that if he disappears for eight days like he did the first time, I won’t survive. But for now, I will sustain myself on giggles that Miss Rat Pony and I can share over a subject called “A.” and it’s really got out of hand, and honestly, I am sick and diseased and I think I decided tonight that there was no point and that I needed to stop.

Anyways. Tonight I went up to my old office (same company still, but we have two buildings – have I explained that enough?) to watch fireworks above the harbour go bang. I was actually incredibly impressed. After that one time in Japan, when my parents made me (against my wishes) ride a stupidly crowded subway for an hour and a half and then walk for half an hour and then sit on a crowded tapualin for half an hour watching some big display, I have not been the biggest advocate of fireworks, except for sparklers, the occasional bang at Halloween and and that one time that Si, Morphone Matt and I were letting off fireworks that night we stayed up all night drinking barcardi and theyclimbed the tree that’s been cut down now.

I am watching Starsailor on TV right now. I deliberately smoked half a cigarette last night. I wonder if thses things are leated, like that I am trying to sabotage my life, like maybe I am “oh, those things that y7ou want, they’re not going to happen, so why don’t you just crash your ferrari, and kill Razzle, and go to jail?” I have also been rereading The Dirt again, in case you didn’t get that reference. I’d give it all up to have Sebby back here cuddled up to my thighs. And Starsailor says “my wandering soul found solace at last” and wow, I don’t even know what solace is anymore, if I did ever. And I am going to enter Cosmo’s erotica writing competition, and you know I will be good at that, and while we are talking erotica, let me go again “OMG SO SMITTEN” but I decided tonight that I am wrong. Also, while we are talking aobut tonight, can we please get a FUCK YEAH for Mt. Vic being on fire?

Also, since we stayed late, and played silly games at work,I’d like you to say which of these three statements is wrong, since no one else got it: A) I refer to my breasts as Mary-kate and Ashley because of their size discrepency B) I lost my virginity when I was 13 C) I have a fondness for age discrepencies with thte people I sleep with?

Also for right now, I’m praying that someone will heed the invisible signals that were probvably totally inaudible as well and come over and we’ll sort this out> I bet that won’t happen though. Still, a girl has two fingers.

When I sat down and thought about a date to have my belated birthday party on, I texted the three people that form the core of my friendships in Wellington, to make sure that they’d all be free that night, and to reserve them in advance.

On Saturday afternoon, I got a call from one of them saying that he’d had to go to Auckland, and therefore wouldn’t be coming. Okay, two out of three is fine, and I was more concerned for his welfare. Then later, the second one called me, and said that surprisingly enough, complications had come up with something that was bound to get complicated anyway, and so he wouldn’t be coming. Righto. I’m aware that I’m being very much less than supportive here, and that makes me a bad friend, but when I hear through my SISTER about another friend being ***, when my sister doesn’t even know that girl, I get more than a little shitty. And this isn’t about the *** friend, it’s about the inevitable feeling of being replaced (ie: it’s all about ME. And also about the vicious circle of me becoming more pissy and less pleasant and therefore less desireable as a friend). At 9.30pm when no one had showed up and Anji and I had tired of taking photos of each other’s boobs (we were both in corsets, making us go “kaboinga”),

I decided that if the third person from that original trio didn’t show, I would move back to Auckland.

But then at 10pm there was a big rush and everyone (excpet for Karen) arrived within ten minutes of each other, of course. And then it was choice, and mostly very civilised, except for setting off fireworks in the backyard and forgetting that there’s a grannyflat with a very nice nurse called Eve who lives under us. Here’s a photo that doesn’t feature my boobs – or in fact, me at all:

Karen stumbled in very drunk very late and so I made up a bed for her in the study, and Al and Korina were the last to leave around 2.30am. I had a really good time, although someday someone’s really going to have to teach Joel that when you say “oh and this is my workmate”, the correct thing to say is not “but you don’t do any work, Jo, you just post on your site all day long”. Nevermind. There’s glitter on my sheets and also on Sebastian from my very good imitation of a pirate (everyone said I needed an eye patch – I said “I’m a good fighter and I’ve managed to avoid getting poked in the eye”). Miss Lisa Fur and I got to exchange Knowing Looks about something else too, and that was very amusing.

There’s also oh so much mess now. How can fifteen people trash a house so much? It just doesn’t make sense. And cleaning is something I’m pretty much very very over right about now, given that on Thursday night I broke into Mummy & Daddy’s house (oh okay, I used Karen’s key) and cleaned their kitchen and lounge for them as a nice surprise cos Mum’s been very stressed out lately. She rang me today and was very grateful, so yay, good times. And then I cleaned lots on Saturday to get ready for the drinks. Our house looked fabulous, by the way, with fairy lights and candles everywhere. Very civilised. It functions very well as a house for entertaining in, which is great even if my couches are so comfy that Al fell asleep for hours on one. So instead of cleaning yesterday, Anji and I camped out on the couches after a hearty lunch, eating leftover food (there’s still chocolate crackles and garlic bread and wedges if you’re interested, but sixty something jelly shots have been shot) and watching the last five episodes of Buffy Season VII, both of us crying our little eyes out over ‘Chosen’, of course. Keeping it spoiler-free, it’s the final speech that kicks back in as a flashback, with Buffy walking around in her living room wearing a fancy blouse that I can’t figure out if I love or hate, and then the girl with the bat and oh oh the tears they bucket out at that point, every single time I watch it.

I had a long conversation last night with Miss Fur about how dorky I am, in terms of how much trashy television I watch, and the Buffy obsession, and the reading of tabloids, but she says that my dorkiness could be endearing. Hmmm.

EDIT: Here’s another picture of me that Anji must have taken at the party and I rully like it. Please note the partial throwing of goats.

Karen McLeod to me, Angie McLeod
Eats, drinks and no leaves
Ok: how does this sound: I make:
Foodage: pesto frenchbread crostini; pita bread & carrot sticks with hummus for dipping; chippies; cracker mix; brie.

Sound alright? There’s probably going to be approx 20 people for drinks, 12-14 for dinner.

My Saturday night is going to be yummier than your Saturday night. And there will be vegetable tempura in the middle of that. Not that I always order the same thing at Hede, oh no.

Now my big dilemma is about what to wear. I have two tops in mind, and they’re both a gift to the world (in terms of twin views, y’know), but one of them is very hard to sit in. I might wear it for drinks before and after but not to dinner. We’ll see. Dressing up is fun! Also, I’d just like to apologise for constantly writing ‘dilemma’ as ‘dilemna’. I just looked it up and I promise to try to do better in the future.

I took a Mental Health Day yesterday cos I hadn’t slept (again) and it really really helped. It made me remember that duh, I haven’t taken St. John’s Wort in weeks, so of course I was spinning out. I have taken it now. Next time I talk about going on antidepressants again, can one of you please remember to ask me if I’m taking my St John’s? I’d really appreciate it. Chur.

So this week there’s been some aaaaaaarghing on my part, but there’s also been some entertainment. I took Dave to dinner at my parents’ house on Wednesday night because he kindly volunteered (or was pressganged into) to retrieve files off my old computer for me and reformat it for my parents in exchange for a roast dinner. I don’t think he knew quite what he was in for – cue me not knowing what password I’d put on my bios, and my father having decided without telling Mum that he was going to build himself a new computer and blah blah blah blah. But he was very patient and good about it.

Last night Anji and I took her (STUPID DUMB AND I HATE IT) surprisingly heavy (AND STUPID AND DUMB!) small ridiculously small couch over to Karen’s place for Karen’s party. My vitriol at the couch is based on a) it’s not big enough to stretch out on, and I needed to stretch out with my leg up when I was sick with gangrene and it didn’t deliver, and b) damn that couch is heavy, and I was just so uncoordinated last night I could hardly lift it, and it was just ridiculous. I suspect this is about me being a spaz in my pajamas rather than the couch, but I don’t care. What, are you from the Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruel Words about Couches or something? I don’t think so. Fuck off.

Okay stalkers, time to get your diaries out. Next week I have dinner for Karen’s birthday with the Olds on Monday, and then The Wedding Crashers on Wednesday, and then Brad in The Seagull on Thursday, and then possibly a very expensive dinner on Sunday. In between you’ll find me on the couch. loving ‘Rockstar: INXS’. It helps that I never liked them as a band much so I don’t mind the trainwreckness. Plus: NO R.KELLY! EVER!

Dear Bra Makers of the world,

I am not ashamed of my breasts. Why the hell are you? Bras in my size with “minimizer” tags indeed. Why the fuck would i want to minimise them? I want to show them off! You can assist me with this by designing bras that
a) acknowledge that just because I’m big around the back does not mean that I need a cup size larger than my head
b) are made out of smooth material because hey, I like to wear fitted clothes and I don’t want that lumpy seamy lace look
c) and while we’re at it, how about a balconette bra that’s not a 10A? I’d like to be able to wear wide necked low cut things so I’d like straps that are wide-set. I’d like to be able to see my breasts all heaving like an 18th Century countess over the top of a half cup. Don’t try to fence me in, man.
d) in bright colours rather than “flesh” tones. Call that flesh? Of what – a corpse that’s been floating in sewage for six months?

Cheers. As you may be able to tell, I went shopping today, and broke one of my New Year’s resolutions for a black skirt from Zebrano, but it’s embroidered all over in white, and it has a white skirt underneath, and it was about $200 off cos it was on sale, and the woman knocked it down from $168 to $150 for me cos I said it was more than I’d intended to spend – which is true. Then once I finally managed to find it in Petone, I bought a Victorian blouse at The Carpenter’s Daughter which was $85 down from $145. It’s white with black pin stripes, and hooks all the way down the front, and black trim across the bodice and around the neckline. It goes perfectly with the skirt and will be what I am going to wear for my hot date on Friday. It’d be perfect if I had a heaving balconette bra – my Lindasy Lohan bra is too showy around the sides. Bah. I also got a pretty chocolate coloured sleeveless top with satin inserts for $20. Hooray! I went to the Dutch Shop for some cumin gouda and chocolate hail, and the women in there said that they knew Oma when I described her as being this tall {} and owl-like. Then I went to Kmart Plaza in Porirua for the underwear search (the balconette bra I did manage to find was pale pink mesh with green embroidery that showed through my shirt and made me look ridiculously grossly veined, and it was a size too small anyways). I also bought a beach bag for the Fiji preperation, and a green bandana cos I couldn’t find a hat. Right now I’m wearing the bandana and it goes really well with the mint green bedsheet that i’m wrapped in. Add in my naughty librarian glasses and it’s quite an outfit.

Holy fuck, I just realised that this entry makes me sound like the blog I hate most out of the whole NZ blog circuit. Whoops. Nevermind.

Also, have I mentioned lately how much I hate being referred to as a blogger? I’m a MOTHERFUCKING JOURNALIST. Oh yeah. Fuck that blogging shit.

Cheers.

PS: speaking of journalism, the new Pulp should be in stores now and you should go and buy yourselves a couple of copies. I have a big feature on Velvet Revolver and a profile of The Polyphonic Spree in there.

PPS: my profile didn’t mention what a grumpy man Tim DeLaughter was on the phone.

PPPS: Anyone seen Q with the “Best of 2004″ cd yet? Cos I crave it bad.

PPPPS: please update your profiles with your website addresses if you have them. Also, please like, become a Hubrette if you’re not already. Rock.

If I wanted to pretend to be all oh I’m so political, I’m so intelligent Blogger type, I would say that when I got to work this morning I realised that there was someone asleep on our couch behind a stack of insert boxes, and I whispered to the editor as she was making coffee “do you know that there’s a homeless man crashing in our office?” when she told me it was Matt Nippert, who I have of course met before. Still looks like a homeless tramp but…

But I wouldn’t want to be a political circlejerk blogger. I’d much rather be a cliquey journaller, which means that I get to tell you about how when I was in a three way (chat. Sigh) with Heather and Martina the other night I told them that I was going to leave them for the second sexiest pair of females in the universe (being Lorelei and Rory, of course), and then later on Mary-Kate&Ashley and Hilary. Oh it’s funny to me.

You’re sending me Valentine’s Day Cards aren’t you? Just remember that my PO Box (600, Wellington) isn’t entirely mine, so you’ll need to put my full name (Joanna McLeod) and the name of the part of the organisation that I work for if you know it on there. If you don’t, it’ll still get here, just slower.

Last night me Karen and Anji made a three course meal for Mum’s birthday, which is actually today, but it’s our first production night so god knows when I’ll be able to get away. We figured if we cooked her dinner it would reduce the chances of a repeat of the drama over Neil’s birthday dinner, and we had it at Karen’s house, since Anji’s is too small. I did the entree, which was individual pear, blue cheese and walnut tarts, which I think I have finally perfected. We drank a Pegasus Bay Sauvigon Semillion with that, which cut through the cheese really well (hehehe cut the cheese). For the next course Karen made a salad of chicken baked in orange juice and chilli, strawberries, almonds and various other goodies, and we had a Rymer’s Change Rose with that, which I first tried at that winery when Karen and I went to the Hawkes Bay in 2003. It was all strawberry like, and the most gorgeous colour, and it was an excellent match. Then Anji had made four fancy espresso mousses in champagne flutes, and one small bowl of leftovers when she realised that for nearly twenty five years now there have been five members of the McLeod family, with which we had almond biscuits and a Saints Noble Semillon dessert wine. Oh what a splendid dinner it all was, and a thoroughly good time was had by all. You know what I’d really like to receive for Valentine’s Day? You know, besides like, a valentine in general? A vineyard. Yeah!

I think whoring mysef for a living is wearing me out. If only I could just lie on my back and spread my legs and let them have full access to Hilary, that’d be fine. It’s the trying to rattle up business that drives me crazy. Still, I made over 14k today, which is nice.

Oh yes, Hilary. Today I observed that in this bra, Mary-Kate & Ashley collectively look like Lindsay Lohan boobs (ie: hott but padded), so I figured why not try for a full set – plus, I can go all cockney rhyming slang with Hilary Duff/Muff. Oh the hilarity! And oh the hilary! And if I ever feel political, it can become Clinton, not Duff.

Not that Hilary is going to be doing any campaigning any time soon (or promotional tours, or singles, or what have you). It’s kind of distressing to think that even if people were queuing up to get in, I just don’t know if I want to. I think my confidence has been shattered by the puke incident (I was supposed to be great, and yet all of a sudden I develop a gag reflex? What’s that all about?) but also I’m disgustingly still pining for another boy. Nevermind.

In happier news, there’s a Red Wine Cake baking in the oven, although it sucks that the recipe giver will be leaving the country very shortly. Also, if I counted correctly, there’s only 101 sleeps until I GO TO FIJI. Wahoo! I will be staying here and going on this (and if you see the words “open bar” and presume that’s how Kate and I picked it, well, you’d probably be almost right), if you want to book your tickets now to stalk me. On a stalking note, you know how people talk about how owners get to look like their dogs? Who knew the same happened between husbands and wives (although maybe they’re the same thing), and that a person could go from logging on five times a day during the high drama period a couple of weeks ago, desperate to figure out what was going on, to going cold turkey?

In TOTAL HAPPY NEWS, you know how it was like, no more sleeps today when the good thing was supposed to happen? Well it happened at work. Hoepfully it’ll happen at home too. Soon.

What else do I have to tell you? Probably not very much. My father’s wearing my pearls right now, which is vaguely disturbing. He also hasn’t got the hang of when something’s widescreen and when something’s not, but hey, nevermind. Mum’s trying to figure out Morocco, cos they’re going there soon. Hopefully I will have a flat by then, of course. Katy gets back soon, and then we’ll have the incredibly fun task of flatfinding. She wants Mt Vic. I’m dubious. Nevermind. We’ll see.

Okay, it’s time for me to go and take Marie Antoinette’s advice and eat cake. Wahoo! Oh yeah, and if you’re new, and not a Hubrette yet, and you’ve just come here from Bizgirl (like most of you do), and you’re like “omg, this girl has just told me about the name she’s given her vagina, and I don’t know who she is, and wtf?”, well, get used to it. And do come back. But you know how people write about what they think about? Well I’m like the Korn song, so be warned.(Also, how fucking cool is it that The First Lorelei was renting out her house to Korn? Even though Korn suck.) However, since my image directories are down, y’all can imagine me as being the hottest bitch in the world, and that will be cool. I am, you know. Just maybe like, two or three of the hottest girls stuck together. With a normal amount of arms.

Sometimes I feel like I must appear to be such an asshole to the outside world. I’ve cut down my “you’re a fucking idiot” type posts on NZm, but there’s twice as many bubbling inside me (and to my defence, this is possibly the funniest topic ever, especially given what a fuckhead that poster has shown themselves to be in other topics. And if he’s a made-up troll, then he’s doing an unbelieveable job!). I bought Brazilian beer yesterday just cos I liked the packaging and I’d never seen it before (it’s labeless, with yellow and green paper over the cap). I bought a Lindsay Lohan movie at the same time as I bought a Michael Winterbottom one. I’m a fucking asshole. Perhaps I’m not quite as bad as Anji, who wrote the answers to those dumb picture puzzles in the Dominion Post next to them in the cafe today at breakfast, but still….

As an asshole, I am well within my rights to bitch about the wind and the cold and the fact that I am forced to wear a hat and scarf in my office in winter, and now complain about how it was probably close to 30 degrees in there on Thursday. I left on the dot of five to go home to cold beer and a cold shower, and the editor was like “oh, you’re not staying for the party?” Party? Oh yeah, the BYO liquor, BYO pizza money in the office “party”. Right. What a shame I missed that one. I also skipped a workmate’s party last night because while she’s great, it was a combination of her party and her 18 year old son’s. I’m not sure if I could handle the young boys. Worse case scenario, I would have ended up ‘handling’ one of them, and that’s never a good thing. Plus the party was in Wilton, which is in the middle of the bush, so it wasn’t really a logistic possibility, unless I was to not drink, and drive instead. Yeah right. It’s okay though, cos she didn’t actually give me the address until I saw her yesterday in the supermarket, so I didn’t have much planning time any way.(*)

Since Mum & Neil are away in Martinborough for the weekend – Mum’s doing the fair, but they decided to spend two nights there in order to save early morning trips, and just so they could have a mini break (haha Bridget) type thing for Mum’s birthday – I have been very rapidly spreading mess through the house, which no doubt i will have to pick up in a mad dash before they come home. I watched Return of The King – the extended version – last night, but their TV’s sound was so good I had to leave the lights on cos it was a little scary. When did i become such a wuss?

Today I am dancing around in my panties and singlet to The Sisters of Mercy. Well, I’m not dancing very much. A shake here or there and then it’s too damn hot and I have to stop. I’ve had two showers already. I had brunch today with Karen and Anji at Coco. I wanted to go to Yum Chow, but Anji had dinner there last night. Anyways, the corn fritters at Coco were, as it happens, great, and a good time was had by all. Then I drove home via The Warehouse in J’Ville, where I purchased a singlet in a size 6 sizes smaller than the bra that I also bought, but it fits and it is the SHRN Yellow, and plus, it was $4. Meanwhile, the bra cups are a little too big on Ashley and rattling around on Mary-Kate, but you get what you pay for, and plus, it’s damn near impossible to find small enough cups with a big enough back. Other things that i’ve been doing is mixing a drop of vanilla essence and a teaspoon of sugar into my parents’ Smirnoff in a bid to recreate Absolut Vanilla, but suprisingly for me, I only had three drinks last night. That’s the most i’ve had all week – three drinks. Something weird’s going on! Surely it can’t be too hot to drink? Surely?

And on that note, it must be cocktail hour…..