Hubris.co.nz

Yesterday I sent out a twit saying “Oh man, I cheated on Jane & Paul this morning and my punishment was a latte made with trim and a very blah scone. I’m so sorry! #whitewhines”, and that clearly demonstrates both my crime (in my defense, the scone came from the cafe in the Dom Post building where I having my photo taken, all zoomed in on my hands like L** S*** except I didn’t have dirt under my fingernails and the focus was on my sugar scrub instead of my open vagina and I did it for Kimberley instead of NZ Idol). Anyways, today I told them about my infidelity and they still made me the most awesome coffee ever, and I got to have a roast vege sandwich with feta, even though I had to run off to a depressing meeting about the economy while I still eating, but then I had lunch at Cellar-Vate and their dip had salmon in it which I hate, and meanwhile Green Land was giving out rum. So the punishment lingers.

Also yesterday I was twittering about how I was wearing my “I love Helen” badge that Bad Tom gave me for Christmas (hey, so it turns out that public servants are actually allowed to have their own thoughts and opinions! Who knew?) but as punishment from the gods, I was working on a comms plan and I had to emphasize the value for money and the outputs for the public in it. As my (life-long public servant) father had said right after the election and I’d been missing work to stay at home and cry “awww it’s so cute that you think things will actually change with the change in government”. It is still the same project that my intern and I have been working on. It still has the same purposes, ideas and findings. We just have to wrap it up in different language, because apparently, that’s value for money. Retch.

Other crimes and punishment themes that I meant to expand on. I still need a spanking. Wait, what’s the line between want and need these days, in this post 9/11 world? And when will Austrians find Nazi jokes funny?

On that note, I spent the day working from home on Wednesday because I wanted to concentrate on doing some serious writing on case studies instead of being distracted by wiki issues, which meant that I was in theory about to watch the Inauguration, but without Sky there were too many people talking on TV3 so I went back to sleep and read Gawker media commentary on it later and cried. Then I went to Lisa’s to watch Skins 2 and hang, and in the car on the drive home I cried when Roxette played on the radio, and then I cried in joy watching The Daily Show coverage, not least because of all the joy that was so clear in them, not just because it was change that they could believe in, but it was challenging comedically too to capture those moments that were so amazing but to still be all Daily Show all up on them.

Kowhai says that she wishes she could be as in touch with my emotions as I am, but this is me with total motherfucking eat a bag of dicks PMS and I feel like the world is ending, and I want to eat all the bread in the world and oh my fucking god, could I just start bleeding already please? Please? Tonight I was bitching furiously to Good Tom and Good Anita (did we decide to call her that?) about my period’s control over my body and how like, nine years ago KateB told me to have a keep-a-nigga baby when Ass was doing the very long drawn-out breaking off, and I was like “OMG TERRIBLE” but I think there are too many signs of an imminent period (not to mention the whole thing where I’m probably infertile) to think that there was something amiss, especially since my last period was two weeks long.

I was going to go home and get drunk and cry by myself after work today, but I needed to buy a new cellphone charger cos mine has died, and also potentially a new remote control for the lounge dvd player cos that bitch is a fucking bitch, but then there was TCD store open which I’ve never seen before and it was so pretty and shiny, and there was this sexyass dress, and then on the other side of the shop it was available in purple, and I didn’t think it was right and then I thought “what about if I had a belt?” and I thought “what would Joan Holloway do?” and just as the shop assistant was asking me if i wanted help, Good Tom rang to see where I was at, and I asked him if I should buy the dress, and he said “does it make you look ugly?” and I said “no” so he told me to buy it, and the shop lady complimented me In on my whole outfit with it, so I bought it. And now I am poor. #whitewhine. In fact, I’m feeling like an exceptionally poor mother right now, because we’re out of cat biscuits, which means I’ve been giving Sebby extra wet meat, which of course he loves. Also that last expression sounds so eww.

Also, there’s things and there’s stuff, of course, and historians – or rather me reading this two year from now will go “what history? what stuff?” but for now I will nod smuggly. Mostly, being pre-period makes me totally feel like there’s the end of the world arriving, and I know that it’s not, but it’s like you try playing “So here we are” as loud as possible by Bloc Party and put your head down on your desk and see if you don’t cry. I’m considering creating a fictional list like the FCC fictionally assembled after 9/11 of songs that are all no-gos. Pretty much the only things I am left with is hip hop. I know that all things considered, that was as best and as good as it could be. But like still, I’d rather be in Samoa eating snails right now, if you know what I mean.

It’s funny seeing your old workmates on TV. I still <3 the Brandon Calhoon lookalike and the young gumshoe and the girl who shows her nipples while drunk , and the guy who was the only one of my workmates to come to my flatwarming afternoon tea muchly, but it's like someone said on NZm tonight, if you wanna talk conspiracy theories, my, what splendid timing! (This is some degree of sarcasm, okay? Good. So excuse me if I seem a little b-wordy tonight, I’ll get to the oh the pain angst real soon. I promise!)

Or, as I said tonight:

Jo Hubris says: wow that’s a bad dress

* says: which channel?

Jo Hubris says: 1
it’lll be on 3 as well

* says: hahaha russell

Jo Hubris says: hahaha drink!

* says: hahahaa!
man, the whole current affairs thing just keeps becoming more and more of a massive circle-jerk

Jo Hubris says:
that’s what I’ve been saying for YEARS
YEARS AND YEARS

* says: yeah
but I only really noticed recently

(speaking of which)

Jo Hubris says: Robyn got two PA shoutouts today

* says: yeah, noticed
I was a bit disappointed with her poem

Jo Hubris says:
yeah
i wrote nzidol slash tonight
it was much better

It was late one night at the Idol House, and Steve(n) had eaten so many Allen’s lollies that he couldn’t sleep. The sounds from the bed next to him suggested that his special room buddy Jesse wasn’t asleep either.

Jesse thought for a minute, and then realised that as a married man, it was his duty to fill Steve(n) in on a few details, so he did.
“Jesse,” said Steve(n) finally, “I want to save myself for marriage, but right now I’m just so frustrated, and my shiny young manhood is longing to find shelter. I know it would be wrong to sleep with a girl before we were married, but do you think…”
Steve(n) didn’t get to finish his sentence because he immediately felt a crushing weight on him.
“Steve my boy, tonight I’m going to show you no ordinary love. I’m going to take you higher. I’m going to teach you the missionary position” promised Jesse as he waggled his fingers in…..

Hahhaha.

And now the angst! After the black holes in Friday night, I was afraid to go into work, which meant that I got almost zero sleep, and then combind that with Daylight Savings, which even my internet boyfriend hates and it’s just a recipe for badness. And to make things worse, I ended up feeling like a character learning her lesson in an episode of The Brady Bunch, learning a valuable lesson never to gossip again – oh the snappage. But no one said anything bad, so that’s a good thing. Still, stupid having to shop after work, and stupid groceries whilst standing on the bus, and stupid non moving people, and stupid heat and stupid stupid uncomfortable shoes and then when I slipped on the outside back steps cos of the rain and fell and jammed my feet really hard again seperate walls, and arms and limbs went akimbo and I screamed I found that all I could do was sit there and howl for a good ten minutes, because this is how I am going to die when I am old and alone.

I’ve had my left foot elevated all night with ice on it earlier on, but it’s so fucking sore, and so is my neck, and so is my other foot, and so are my wrists. Time to break out the codeine shortly. Mmmm codeine…

Also, hurray, no more merkin!

Sometimes it’s nice to know that your employer values you – or at least is happy to shell out a large amount of money on opportunity costs of having your entire company running around on Friday afternoon with DV cams making little videos about your company. Did I ever tell you that I work for a New Media company? I suspect that the previous sentence might have revealed that if you didn’t already know. Because we didn’t have any video production people in our group – we were mostly project managers and editors, we decided to take a really ‘organic’ approach and shoot our video in sequence to save on the editing. We went with my idea of making a recruitment video, and loaded it up with really bad puns and me hosting the video with signs, saying things like “To work at *, you’ll need to be great at juggling many projects” – to have the camera pan over to someone juggling potatos, and “it also helps to be really flexible” with workmates doing back bends and somersaults in the background. For the “you’ll be working closely with your colleagues” we had three sets of feet visible under the shower curtain. Hott.

After that (although quite a lot later, cos most of the other groups finished really late although we finished quarter of an hour early), there were drinks. Many many drinks in fact, and although I was supposed to go and meet Karen for dinner, we’d got pizza so I wasn’t hungry, and I was having far too much fun having very inappropriate conversations with my workmates (the word “quiffing” was used a lot, which they claim is a fanny fart. I’m not entirely sure that it’s a real word). But I knew Karen was pissy at me, so I headed over to her house just before 9pm. Arriving with leftover brownies, and also potato chips and wine appeased her somewhat, I believe. So we chatted, and I had a shower (and didn’t puke in it) and we trotted off to Indigo to meet up with Dave and his friend who turned out to be rather cute and exciteable like a puppy – but not Humpy-like, if you get the difference (or even the injoke).

I’m being stalked – again. Friday night, and then today outside my place of work, oh and also that one time in March 2002 (<3 google desktop, although if I ever decide to become obsessed with anything that I’ve been obsessed with in the past, I will be in a lot of trouble – assuming that you define trouble as “reading many old entries” as I sometimes do). But anyways, the stalker. I was at 24 Hour Party People, and I went to the bathroom, and there was a cute girl there who was like “HEY! You’re Joanna!” and I was like…….. and she was like “I’m blah blah blah, and we’ve actually met before” and I was like “oh yeah!” and I did actually remember who she was, which is incredibly impressive for me, and she said she was stalking me, and had a crush on me, and it might have been then that I picked her up and swung her around as much as I could, or that may have been later when she introduced herself to my companions as “Joanna’s stalker”. Awww how sweet! Except I think she was laughing at me today. But like with any stalkers – or indeed the very minute number of people who say that they have crushes on me, it’s like “and then?” (speaking of Chinese drive through people, Anji and I discovered that the Chinese takeaway in Hataitai is awesome. But back to the main narrative…). Or, as Katy – and the bard – put it “Would you leave me so unsatisfied? / What satisfaction can you get tonight? / Howsabout you lick my clit, bitch?” Ahh people who quote Shakespeare, how nice it is to know you.

I impressed yet more of Katy’s friends by not taking shit from them, and dishing it straight back (“Oh, you work at a cinema huh? So what’s your film script about then?”) and we hung out until around 4am when it was time to go home via the takeaway shop and some very amusing discussion with some very very drunk young boys.

Oooooh Nightline just played some remix of the Prodigy’s ‘Voodoo People’ and i got an involuntary flashback feeling in my stomach. Crazy. Nevermind. Let me catch up with myself. Hmmmm, where was I at? Saturday? Ahh yes. Saturday. The day was really weird and I had no idea of what was going on because I’d lost my cellphone – Anji kindly ended up picking it up for me from Indigo and I don’t have a clock in my room. In the evening after the aforementioned good Chinese, I drove her into town for SJD and swung past New World for brunch supplies cos I was hoping that either Anne or Brad would be joining me for Alf’s 60th birthday party the next morning.

As it happens, I ate my brunch alone, and got choked up when they showed a brief flashback of Shane dying on a rock. I am crazy! CRAZY! And I napped, and drove Ethel back into town to pick up Anji, who is the new proud parent of an iPod Mini so she’s gone Walking Crazy, and we did the supermarket shopping, and I made a tangine, and Brad came over for dinner, and Shiny Shiny Steve(n) sang CREED and Oh, I was overwhelmed with a strange combination of lust and amusement.

Work was a bit streesssssssssful today. They’ve put me on the schedule so that I can be booked like any common resource. Oh the pain. Then I had lunch with Mum, which was surprisingly pleasant. The Tasting Room does food + a beer or a coffee for $15. Since I am doing Hard Work (my email to limegreen today said something like “I am supposed to be writing a guide to the wazoo when I don’t even know where it is!” and he said something about how he’d heard how large and impressive my wazoo was, and I got offended, cos dude, who wants someone to say “my, what a large roomy asshole you have”?) so I had the coffee instead of the beer. The steak sandwich was served with really really good fries, and also two big onion rings in it, but it’s on very garlicy garlic bread, so make sure if you eat it you pick up some peppermints afterwards.

I just had a moment of remembering exactly why I used to be so in love with The West Wing when CJ told Josh she’d cook him dinner, and he asked if she’d wear an apron and she said she’d wear anything he wanted, and his eyes went !!!!!!!! I think I’ll stop this now. Oh, and some guy saying to Toby “what if they have seven or eight kids?” and Toby says “tell them to try renting a DVD sometime instead” – remind me again why I stoppped watching this show?

Man, I am so fucking tired of it all. I’m tired of National being ahead in the polls, I’m tired of wondering why the fuck every single American isn’t protesting about the appalling treatment of the people who are left behind in New Orleans, tired of thinking about how awful it would be if that was me, tired of worrying about Sebastian with the couple of recent cases that’ve been reported of people doing awful awful things to cats in New Zealand, tired and bewildered at this world we live in. And of course, I’m doing very little to fix it.

Heal the world, make it a better place. Seriously. Meanwhile, I’ll be literally (ha ha, using the word ‘literally’ quite literally is like figuratively my favourite thing to do right now) sitting over here in the corner stressing out about a bunch of bullshit crap in addition to the great big woes of the world. But while I’m here, I suppose I can catch you up with some recent events in my life, yeah? Even though they’re pretty darn trivial all things considered.

Oh! Just before I do that, how much am I laughing at the fact that my favourite carcrash of a site to read is all “oooh go national!”. Although I hate to think that anyone is voting national, that post almost took the title of my favourite away from the previous “bitch scratches her beamer, no one cares”. And while we’re talking snipilly, who else saw 20/20? Miss Lisa Fur and Brad were over at my house then, so we watched it together in squealing squirming horror. It might just have been the television event of the year. But it wasn’t.

On Friday night, I got very very drunk with my workmates. I don’t know how it happened – I could have only had about two bottles of wine, maximum, but still. We were going to go and have drinks at my old work building, on account of the cheapness of BYO, and the balcony there for smokers so that nonsmokers wouldn’t have to stand around on teh street like we do at Ponderosa (as the new blood, I’m starting a quiet revolution) so a couple of us girls went to get wine from New World and we met up with others at the building, but it was all locked up inside and I never bothered learning the access code, and the boys were out of cellphoneage, so we went to Monsoon Poon instead, where my suggestion of its balcony was well received. We drank most of a bottle of wine before we saw the boys from one office walking down to the other, so we decided to catch up with them – ten minutes later they still hadn’t been let in. But we got it sorted eventually. Later in the night, people were guessing other people’s star signs, and they got to me and I was like “hmm, well you now how I don’t talk very much during the day and now after a couple of glasses of wine I am happy to talk about vaginas all night….” and they guessed Gemini. Clever. Also: there was much vagina talkage. Eventually I decided it was time to go, and waited forty minutes for a bus (while being texted updates on who sang what at the live Idol show, thanks Murray) but then abandoned that idea in favour of getting some J&M goodness instead. Shortly after I got home – or maybe after I’d watched an episode of The OC, I don’t know, Anji came home in a similar state so we got to watch the taped Rockstar together, but neither of us could remember who had sung what. Nice work.

Saturday I felt a little bit ill, but Anji brought me home chips and we sat in the sun on the front steps to eat them, and then we cleaned the kitchen. Well, I pyramidded every dish on teh bench, and dried, and mopped the floors, but she did all the heavy lifting of moving another table in there so we have more bench space. Then I got STUPID PERIOD CRAMPS and there were no drugs. Booh. I wanted to hide under my blanket and stay on my couch, but instead I went and met Brad at the bus stop and then Katy at Liquor King on the other side of the tunnel. I made us take a taxi down to Katipo though, and our driver told us all about his toasted sandwich. Bless. With some hastily purchased nurofen from New World, I was ready to party.

Now, Katipo may very well apparently be the new Treehouse Cafe (ie: full of lousy hippie goths) but it was closed for the night for a private party, since many of the partiers were staff, so I don’t think the people there were representative of its usual crowd. Or maybe they were. I thought that it was Lisa-whose-house-I-went-to-last-weekend-who-still-isn’t-Lisa Fur’s birthday party, but in fact it was Lisa-from-Atomic-two-weeks-ago’s party(*), but I was still apparently personally invited, and expected to debate political issues. Brad, on the other hand, felt very obtrusive and sat back in the corner, texting Dave to help him get over the pain the pain the pain of me uninviting him. Katy has a lot of movie loving friends. Some of them are quite cute. Some of them highfived me when I said that The House of Leaves was terrifying and I had to only read it during the day. It was strange to be sitting in a cafe and have it full of smoke. It was even a little nostalgic, but mostly just very smokey. After the nurofen and the red wine started kicking in, I realised that I was having a very good time, even though my head was a little crazy.

On Sunday I cried and shivered in delight watching 7 Worlds Collide which Miss Fur had leant me in exchange for series 3 of her new addiction. Fuck it was an amazing concert. I must buy the cd. I made lemon pie to take to Karen’s for dinner, and beef burgandy for tonight’s dinner. When we got home from Karen’s three and a half hours later, the house was filled with the delicious odour of the stew. Guess who’d forgotten to turn the stove off? I am a fucking moron. The meat’s deliciously shredded now though. It’s also greatly reduced in volume. I will have to pump up the volume somehow. I suspect another can of tomatoes will be involved.

If you think that the above paragraph was boring, you should a) consider yourself lucky that I didn’t subject you to a line by line retelling of dinner at Karen’s (I was hungry, cold and tired) and b) dude, Christian Slater references! Almost fires! Culinary excellence! How can that be boring?

Hott news!

Hott food: Pods.

Oh how I love pods. If I ever find out who did the copywriting on the box, I will be proposing marriage. I just want people to get out of the kitchen so I can go and get a glass of milk without the inevitable strange looks that grownups drinking milk generally get. Also a hott food trend: whatever the goat cheese from a great cheeseboard was that I ate on Saturday night at a very pleasent if floorbound gathering I was at.

Hott fashion: Morrocan bead necklaces, turquoise singlet bras, and boobs boobs boobs.

Except not all together. Well, maybe. On Saturday night, Katy had to assure me many times that I didn’t look like white trash. Actually, she never said that I didn’t look like white trash, because she just said that I looked hott – so maybe I could still be white trash? It was probably a bad idea trying to match my eyeshadow to my bra, but I don’t care!

Hott TV: Rockstar: INXS, NZ Idol, The O.C Season One.

Every week I love Rockstar a little more. I’m wondering though why they haven’t done any U2 songs, and I’m thinking it’s because of a HUGE BIG FEUD between INXS and U2. Except that I’ve just this minute remembered that ‘Stuck in a moment’ is apparently about Michael. Oh well, there goes that theory then. Or does it? Meanwhile on Idol, I am drawn in by Steven’s shiny shiny hair, and continuously repulsed by the Merkin, and disappointed in Nik and Teresa. On Saturday night before we went out to Lisa’s (Not Lisa’s, though!), Katy and I watched the first couple of episodes, and then I watched a couple more. So much more betterer than season two! Also hott: getting texts from people I leant my Buffy DVDs to going “Oh my god! Angel’s EVIL!”. Not so hott: people that I leant Angel DVDs to lending them to their friends, who then absconded with them to Australia, probably. Telling me that they will be replaced though is back on the hott list.

Hott way to kill time at work

Move to a new office. Have them give you a morning tea and a string of compliments last week. Be let in on a secret club in response to a scandal. Have workmates set off stinkbombs. Spend the day trying to reconcile transcripts with clips of Michael Hurst talking about Macbeth. Eat too many pods.

Hott personal trend: Agreeing with people when they try to insult you

This one is lots of fun, and incredibly disarming.

Hott entertainment trend: taking Dave over to my parents’ house in an attempt to save their marriage

Thanks to him, Mum can use the computer again. In the meantime I got drunk. Just for a change.

Hott shopping trend: everything in sight, but especially headphones, rechargeable batteries, groceries, hotel rooms, lip gloss, salt scrub and corona.

Every fortnight I seem to spend most of my pay packet in one go. I’m sure that’s probably a bad thing.

Hott sex life

:
Sigh. I suppose that’s what the rechargeable batteries are for.

Hott SRHNness: Still me.

So there.

Hott edits: Reasons why I haven’t posted lately

I was kind of busy. On a completely unrelated note:
ro

Today we’re link-crazy with hot and not lists!

Things that are Fetch:

Hi! I’m back from Rarotonga. Here are some things I have to tell you:

1. If you’re interested, you can find the start of Penny and Kevin’s relationship covered in New Idea this week (with the “Charlotte Fights to Live” cover which unfortunately isn’t about Dawson). They’re on page 32 34. The article is called ‘Chamber of Love’. The reporter and her mother were at the wedding to cover it. I will write about it later when I have my photos downloaded. Suffice to say, it was beautiful and wonderful and awww.

2. In theory, I should call her “Hoyle” instead of “Penny” now, but then again, I never called her “Penney” anyways, so why change?

3. It rained every single day in Rarotonga and didn’t go over 20 degrees. I still had fun.

4. I just bought my ticket to Shihad for Saturday. I thought they were in a couple of weeks time. I’m bummed that Dave can’t go because introducing English people to Shihad is top of my list of favourite things to do. Nevertheless, I have been listening to the one Die! Die! Die! track that I have on the server lots today because it is really great. I didn’t like them so much in Martina’s ridiculously crowded apartment, but I am digging them now.

5. Speaking of that party, I really must text back my old Volcanic flatmate Dan who is apparently in Wellington this week and wants to catch up. I’m a little surprised that he still keeps in touch – I would have thought that conflicting values of him and the combination of me in an active period of gentlemen callers and Jonny in his usual lifestyle that were probably factors in Dan moving out might have meant that we’d never have kept in touch, but obviously he is much less judgemental than I am, which is a good thing.

6. My couches have arrived. I am hoping to have a lengthy date with them and Season One Seth Cohen and possibly Katy and definitely lots of junk food on the weekend.

7. Via Mr Russell Brown at Public Address, I am reading the blog of a sex offender, who complains bitterly about being persecuted all the time, but who has now been jailed for abducting a little girl and killing her family. I can’t stop reading it, although it’s making me think all kinds of uncomfortable thoughts about things that I haven’t decided what my opinion is on yet. Like, vigilant hounding mobs are bad, but also, so is rape and abduction and murder. Right, okay, so obviously I do have some opinions, but they’re very Miss America like in their simplicity. I’d like the whole world to hold hands, because you can’t make a fist when you’re holding hands. Etc.

8. Speaking of Public Address, has anyone else read the Metro article yet – or more specifically the sidebar of interchanges between him and Dog Biting Men? See, this is why I hate people who willingly attach the name “blogger” to themselves. Keep the circle jerk in your pants, boys. There’s more important things in the world to talk about – like how you’re oh so depressed. And how much better than Fiona Jackie Clarke is. Journaller fo’ life, fo’ reals yo.

9. I have a buttload of writing and reviewing to do before tomorrow at home (*), and also a lot of work to do at work. So I might go and do that now then shall I? Okay.

10. Oh but before I do, are there any websites that you read that are just so horrible you want to punch the people who write them in the face every single time their page loads – and yet you still can’t stop reading them? Can you please tell me about them? You can do so on the secret footnotes page if you want to remain semi-anonymous.