Hubris.co.nz

Why hello there! I am back from Vanuatu. It was fantastic. Karen and I stayed at Breakas, got lots of sunshine, ate amazing food, drank a lot of French wine, did the most amazing snorkelling ever and read huge stacks of trashy books, magazines and watched many episodes of The Mighty Boosh at night on my laptop. You can see all the photos in this flickr set, but here’s a couple to whet your appetite:

The restaurant & pool at Breakas at night

This is what holidays are all about. Even though they didn’t have sex in the book til page 270.

One night we went to Iririki Island for dinner as we’d almost been going to stay there. It was beautiful.

Other girls staying at the resort traded magazines with us and gave us booze when they left.

Good times. It was lovely to be offline and away from Wellington. I turned my phone back on when we were taxiing into Auckland Airport and was immediately like UGH! Sometimes I really hate the internet.

And then sometimes there are days when I drive out to Petone with Megan, listening to power ballads all the way, to buy things from Martha at Wanda Harland, and in the evening I go to Lisa Fur‘s house and twirt (ha!) with Emma, and I get to see Wellington twice from the motorway and realise that I really couldn’t leave this city.

What else? The post office haven’t delivered us any mail since July so today I picked up all the packages waiting for me. It was fantastic. I got 21 Jump Street and Dollhouse on DVD, and some fantastic tights that I wrote about on PPP. IThe other day I got all dressed up and took photos of myself, like this:

I’ve been posting outfits to Fatshionista on Livejournal and today someone commented “*fans self* I’ll be in my bunk” and I squeed and squeed in glee. I adore easy self-esteem boosts. I also like it when I do nice things like send KateH flowers in London, and forget that I did it and then be all surprised when she thanks me for it. I really should do more nice things for people.

Finally, a list of things that have been making me happy lately:

• Wheat gollums
• Marlee Marlin impersonations
• Stalkers
• Getting paid in cheese and wine and beer at a GOVIS talk
• Plans to get dressed up like a slut and totally ask to get raped
• Drinking zombies at 11am in the morning to celebrate my new tiki mug, and also to kill my nerves at a thing I was nervous about that is actually happening next week instead.

You guys like role-playing right? Okay, so let’s pretend for a minute that you’re Jonathan Davis of Korn fame. You’ve dealt with my urge to call you Jonathan Brandis, and you weren’t on Seaquest and you didn’t kill yourself. You wrote some tunes that some people stood around in a circle in a lounge in Johnsonville when the parents were away pretending to headbang to, and you wrote the soundtrack for a dreadful movie that Stuart Townshead wore leather pants in and looking very fucking hot and so much better than Tom Cruise in. So, your guitarist quits, and goes off to write a tell-all book, and become a born-again Christian. Do you use your down-time to help puppies and also to train your bassist to wear his bass up around his middle not his knees, or do you learn to play the bagpipes?

Yeah, exactly.

So I wrote a journal entry last night, as you have no doubt read. Since that time I had a nice sleep, I drank some coke, I watched some episodes of America’s Next Top Model (I am totally on Team Isis and love Faux-Kimora for her open mind. And there’s just been the Irene Cara ‘Fame’ song on TV and I’ve realised that pretty much the entire cast is Isis, not least because of their bad hair). Then I got my shit together and put on my old red dress and went into town and Cafe Istanbul for Megan‘s redrunkening.  Her friends were mostly couples but I won’t hold that against her, and also I was amused to see the girl I used to work for at Ausm/Debate and we had a quick bitch session. I couldn’t believe how busy Istanbul was, and we managed to try to leave at the same time as another big table of cute lesbians so it took forever to do the bill and pay.

Then we went to the Taste of Korea to do karaoke. As is my way, I grabbed a mike and opened things with ‘Wanted Dead or Alive’ as I always rock the fuck out of that on Rockband. Our Soju “cocktails” were neither strong nor actually cranberry flavoured (raspberry miranda is NOT cranberry) but people warmed up eventually and we all sang some more. I ended up getting another hour, and because I didn’t know the people I didn’t ask for any money, which possibly was not the best financial decision ever, but Megan got the first hour, so whatever. Anyways, so mostly I sang power ballads. I sang “Sweet Child’O Mine” because I now take any chance to exercise old demons. And then I sang ‘Careless Whisper’ but I am too used to the Gossip version, and also having the lyrics up on the screen was like a punch in the face. As these things go. But anyways, I fucking adore karaoke like so much. I could sing all night.

Except that we only had two hours and we finished on “We are the world” and most people went home, so I went up to Atomic to find Karen. I couldn’t spot her on the dancefloor initially, but I did spot Smoo and Blair out on the balconey so I hung out with them for ages,  before I went and had a sweaty dance (I was all in synthetic fibres, stinky) and found my friends. I alternated between dancing and hanging with the boys after that. Acgtually, I also managed to combined the two, making Blair slowdance with me to OMD’s “If You Leave” as a tribute to John Hughes.  Blair and Smoo had some guy with them who managed to believe that Karen and I were identical twins – after I sadi that I’d eaten all the pies. He did some clever detective work, asking me what my birthdate was, and then asking her, and strangely enough, she said the same date. Karen was in very fine form that night, saying that there had been quite a few young boys hitting on her that night, including the duck – “but then again, I am moving/have a pulse. Not that I think he’s that fussy.”. Blair and Smoo didn’t seem to accept “Not married!” as a justification for anything, and if you add that to the fact that Smoo has a cricket bat in his room for chasing intruders then you’ll understand why i left a note on his door when I got home telling him that I fricking adore him. And now it’s 4am, and kebabs have been eaten, so let’s finish this journal and maybe have sleeps, yes?

Right now I kinda wanna tweet “Hey weirdo, my window is open again. At least if you rape me while I’m sleeping I’ll get a proper hard good dicking & stop being a lesbian…” But I can’t. Because that’s 141 characters. And also that wouldn’t fit in a “oh wait, too soon?” or a #iamdeconstructingyearsoffeministtheoryandalsobadpeoplejudgementandtakingthepissbecausethisissuchawrongopiniontohave,andalsoitkindafreakedmeoutsoofcourseiammakingjokesaboutit hashtag.

And in things that would only make sense if you’ve figured out the secret code of this site as opposed to the old one (it is no longer the source code and as another hint it rhymes with what Glen and Rebecca and Amy are) I had a wall-touching moment just before when I was peeing just now. It was kind of amusing. But let’s backtrack back up to this morning, when I discovered that although webstock satchels are awesomely strong and enabled me to carry two bottles of wine to dinner at Emma and Simon’s last night, but apparently they did enable those two bottles to crush the leg off my new sunglasses. And you know how fucking difficult it was to find those glasses!

But oh yes, in further backtracking, dinner was a magnificant thing. I ate amazing mushroom bourgouin, and delicious bread, and average green beans (I don’t want all the praise to go to Emma’s head TOO much) while I heard the most adorable D&D related story that I’ve ever heard. And then there were cats on my lap, and faces in Emma’s pudding, and Simon did his sexy dance for me, which LITERALLY (my loud English neighbour says “literally” a LOT when she’s not necessarily meaning figuratively, but the literally is sort of superfluous. But in this case, I know I say I do things a lot, like omg I totally died,  but I didn’t actually die etc) made me go “tehehe!” and almost blush but not quite. There were a lot of eyebrows.

And now we come to the total and utter degregation and humiliation of a WINZ seminar. I was in a group with two people who maybe aspired to work for a supermarket, maybe. This should not have been a group discussion, no way, no how. It wasn’t fun for me and I’m sure it wasn’t fun for them either. Hey, did you know that jobs are advertised in the newspaper? And also online? And sometimes places aren’t hiring? I wrote UGH in my notebook in a very steady stream.

After that I felt disgusting and gross and violated and so fucking dirty and disheartened and untalented and every other bad adjective in the world, but luckily, it was time for me to text Megan and go and meet her for lunch. Because the day was so gorgeous, we went to Beach Babylon on Oriental Parade. We basked in the sun, and the food was tasty, but the service was pretty terrible. I’d almost call it appalling except that I know they were dealing with a broken till at the time. Megan is one of my current favourite people right now because I get to gossip with her about other people and she knows almost all of my secrets but not quite all. I still haven’t told her that I’m actually Batman, for example.

Tonight was Karen’s dinner at Miyabi and it turns out that their chicken teriyaki is battered and deep-fried beforehand. Excellent. Then there were drinks at Watusi and I got to see Jane from Green Land who I miss insane amounts and is  one of my main motivating factors for kind of wanting to work in Molesworth Quarter again, even if it means work drinks at the Back Bencher, but if it means Green Land coffee and Green land scones, and love from Paul and Jane then maybe it’s worthwhile? I mean, apart from the actual job of course, which would be great. Speaking of jobhunting in a not related to WINZ way, I got a call from someone I’d interviewed with a couple of weeks ago, inviting me to go to WOW, so that was nice. I like people who like me.

Because I’m trying to get everything tagged and tucked away and imaged and stuff here on Hubris, I have been reading through many many many entries, and woah, I sure have a lot of angst, don’t I?

I don’t, so much anymore, or at least not all that much today. It is nice to start your day with lunch at the Med Warehouse with Megan, and gossip your hearts out, and then to cruise the aisles looking at tasty things you want to eat, and then do the supermarket shopping, buy healthy vegetables and stuff and make huge big pots of dhal. It is also nice to have a Lisa Fur visit you and to watch Flash Dance together and sing along and twitter incessantly about Sassy Black Friends.

This unemployment thing is handy in that now I am coming off the zopiclone I am not sleeping at night at all so I am sleeping all day, but trying to be financially responsible means that my going out is severely curtailed. That is probably for the best, I suppose, because I am running out of people to drunk text. Getting cease & desist emails was a good thing, and the reaction that I had been pushing for.

Being home during the day means more amusing conversations with Smoo, and also being beaten by him at both Wii Tennis, despite my Williams-y grunting, and at bowling although I’m normally good at it, but beating him at Wii Baseball. It also means that I get to spend more time with Sebastian:

It sadly does mean that I’m churning through bandwidth at alarming rates, although I’m defaulting to simple things, rereading Harry Potter (I have lust for young boys, who knew?) and rewatching Angel.

I’m excited that I get to attend the cheese celebrations of Miss Harvestbird in October, and I’ve booked my flight on airpoints. Nothing good ever seems to happen to me in Christchurch (sorry Good Tom), but perhaps three times is a charm.