Hubris.co.nz

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?

Okay, time for you to step up to the plate and confess: which of you has been feeding me castor oil as I sleep? Every morning for the past week about half way through my shower I have been hit with crippling stomach cramps that have me rushing to dry myself so I can make it to the toilet, and it’s making me run at least ten minutes late every day. And the pain still hangs around for about an hour after I get to work. What the fuck? Yes my diet could probably use more fruit and veges and fibre, and less liquor. But that’s not new. So I would like to know exactly what’s going on please. When I was watching Big Brother Uncut earlier this week and Michelle was talking about getting a colonoscopy I was almost tempted, just cos I’d like to clear this shit the fuck out. Heh.

Being sick at work (besides the stomach pains I have a cough coming on) means that I do more surfing than I probably should, and I have discovered that Llew seems to be making logical arguments on every single page in the whole wide web that allows comments. I don’t know how you manage it, but I like your style. I just tend to shake my head in disgust or yell out “fuck, you’re a fucking cock monkey” when I come across nasty opinions that I disagree with, unless they’re on NZM, in which case I can rest assured that there’s at least a handfull of people I know who will also be thinking what I’m thinking – and will generally provide the stats to prove my points.

Speaking of stupid people saying stupid things, I have a phrase that I tend to use in regards to annoying people who aren’t hideously ugly – “she couldn’t whine if she had my cock in her mouth”. I wonder if it’s possible to write asinine entries whilst taking mildly dirty photos in order to attract more attention (To which I could of course say: I don’t know, but I’m sure going to try it!)?

Other things that have had my attention this past week have included communities dedicated to discussing NZ Idol and the related craziness and viewability of the vagina (and all the way up through her nostrisl, it seems) of the Ginger Whinger, communities of consisting of me and Robyn arguing about our Internet boyfriend(*). And then of course there was that attempted rolling that my former boss also wrote about. Ha ha losers, suck it. Wait, that didn’t sound like I was telling Amanda to suck it, did it? No of course it didn’t, you were smart and followed the link and knew she was on the same wave length as me.

On Wednesday night I saw House of Wax. Paris Hilton gets killed in it. There’s some choice special effects. There’s characters from ‘The Gilmore Girls’ getting their comeuppance for adultry. There’s characters from ‘Dawson’s Creek’ getting their smack on. It’s a Dark Castle film, so if you like that sort of thing, you might like it. It’s gross out gory. Next week I’m going to The Island although I’m already convinced that it’s a crime to put Ewan and Scarlett into jump suits. Jump suits! Why, for the love of god? Why not let him get his cock out and let her boobies be splendid?

As far as weekend plans go, there is much couch & Sebastian loving scheduled. I also plan on making pancakes. As I just said to KateH in an email “I used to make pancakes aaaaaaaaall the time at Garland, cos I could pour one, go answer an ICQ message from Thomas, flip it, reply, pour one etc and the timing was really great, but then of course the Skank happened, and we bought clayton a waffle iron, I went vegan, and then Ben III set my pancake pan on fire and ruined it so I stopped making them. But I discovered that Anji has a really good frying pan for them, so I’m off on a pancake trip again.” Another winning combination is a my George Foreman grill and Beehive honey-smoked streaky bacon.

Other weekend plans include watching ‘Veronica Mars’ tonight because Heather Havrilesky from salon.com rates it, and because Willow is going to be in it later. Plus, Anji just got back from Samoa last night, so she hasn’t had time to catch up on previous episodes of ‘Top Model’ yet. Okay, I’m totally a Havrilesky groupie, I’ll admit it, I have no problem with that. What I find more disturbing is the amount of time that I’ve spent lately on whedonesque.com. But I do plan on leaving the house tomorrow, oh yes indeedy, to catch up with Jessie. And to meet Miss Ratpony, perhaps, although I worry that she might think that I am a dick in real life. It’s been a while since I met any new people from corrosponding with them online, the Wellingtonista aside.

On Saturday morning, after a bunch of stupid spam texts, and a stupider “don’t spam me!” text that I got before the others, I went flathunting with Anji. We looked at three properties and debated in the Aro Cafe for a while about the merits of the one in Mt Vic vs. the one in Hataitai. The Mount Vic one, while being full of character and featuring a built in liquor cabinet had a tiny skoddy bedroom, while the Hataitai one was HUGE, and so we took that one. Hurray for three bedrooms and a lounge AND a dining room. It will be very good for entertaining in.

Speaking of entertaining, after I spent the rest of the day cooking and cleaning, I went and picked up a vanload of she-males on Marion St, and took them back to my house for a “dinner party”. According to all reports, a good time was had. I didn’t even go psycho! That’s always good. I did try to get everyone to stay with me forever and ever, but I’d forgotten to make that wish with a vengence demon within earshot, so they took off sometime after 1am. I thought five courses (if you include canapes and cheese) would have been enough to render everyone unable to walk. Maybe next time I will have to cut off their legs.

Yesterday Karen and I watched Team America (fuck yeah!) and I ignored all the mess. I can’t de-stretch the dining room table by myself, so why should I clean the bottles and glasses off it? But I do intend to clean up tonight. And write my reviews that I promised to get to the lady by tomorrow. And change my sheets. And all that kind of stuff. Yeah.

Thank god it’s only 20 sleeps or less until I’m on holiday. Of course before then I have to move two households, do a buttload of work and prepare a workplan for the time that I’m off (on leave without pay, I did mention that, right? Bah!). In the meantime, I will continue on my quest to find the perfect Mee Goreng at this end of the city. It’s not at Cintra, although Cintra’s is better (and much much cheaper) than Satay Kampong’s. Istana Malaysia is currently leading the pack, except that it’s not open on Mondays and Tuesdays and they say when I walk in the door “Mee Goreng Chicken, medium hot, no egg”. Knowing how I want my coffee is fine, but knowing how I want my noodles is just embarrassing.

Hi, this is Kate Benton speaking. You know, like, that girl with that like, magazine and shit. You know it.

Anyway, today I am going to tell you a story about identity theft. Has that ever happened to you? Like, someone totally pretends that they’re you? Well tonight, it happened to me.

There’s this guy, and he’s like, crazy, and on his website he wrote:
“Oh yeh get rid of “Teen” orientated magazines too – Cleo, Cosmopoliton, TV Hits, Pulp, Girlfriend – They are all Criminal publications and MUST be banned – The magazines creators and journalists as well as the retailers MUST be destroyed in a massive firey purge while those caught in possession of such should be subjected to a beating, Criminal Record, jail time not exceeding 2 years and/or an unlimited fine and loss of civil and human rights for life. Such magazines shalt be chucked into a bonfire ala the infamous “Burning of the Books” – we need to get rid of “disruptive” influences of an american controlled media amongst our young people. ”

Now, if you’ve been paying close attention, or have ever looked at a masthead (and I don’t mean in pirate sense, arr) you might have gathered that actually, my name appears as editor on one of those fine publications, and if you have any kind of sense at all you’d realise that hey, Jo (as in like, Jo Hubris, as in your lord and master since you’re obviously a Hubrette to have gained this level of readingship) also writes for that magazine. So, obviously the idea of being burned in a massive purge doesn’t reaaaaaaaaally appeal. What DOES appeal, however (despite our series of misgivings and worrying about turning someone who seems postal into someone who acts postal) is prank calling people when we’ve had a glass or two. To this end, Joanna assumed my identity and made a phone call to a particular bogan in Upper Hutt.

This is how her script went. Sort of. It’s hard to pay attention when you’re dying to laugh and also have hit the wine:
“Hi, is * there please?”
Disgruntled sounding female: “I’ll just see if he’s around. *(extended name!”
Bogan: “Hello, this is * Last Name speaking”. Joanna tells me he sounded very curious and eager and confused all at the same time.
Joanna as KateB: “Hi, this is Kate Benton speaking. I edit * Magazine. One of my writers reads your website, and she told me you’d been saying you had some problems with the magazine?”
Bogan who actually talks very much like a bro:”Ï don’t have any problems with your magazine.”
JasK: “Well I was told that you’d said some things on your website like that you believed we should all be burned on a bonfire?”
Bogan: “Can I ask who told you?”
JasK: “It was one of my writers called Joanna McLeod”
Bogan: “Oh, she’s a friend of mine”- you should have seen Jo’s face at this point, I can’t believe she didn’t collapse laughing and give the whole game up. She is a true professional and I am going to give her a huge pay rise. Or at least, like, pay her. And go to her wedding when she marries Butch Vig.
Bogan: “well, we know each other on the internet”.
JasK: “right, well she saw it and was concerned”.
Bogan (very hastily): “I can take the website down if you like…”
JasK: “This isn’t a legal call, I’m just always interested in people’s opinions. I mean, I’ve been in this job for less than a year, so I’m always keen for feedback”.
Bogan: “Well I think my opinions are quite different from other people’s”.
JasK:”It’s just that I don’t really think of * as being that similar to Cleo or Cosmo. I mean, it’s not like we run 50 different sex positions every week. Our fashion isn’t just about people in mini skirts. So we’re interested in getting people’s opinions”.
Bogan: “I don’t want to be in a story.”
JasK: “That’s not what I had on my mind right now. I just don’t think you’re giving * a fair go. I mean, we write a lot of things that you might be interested in. I mean, I hear that you’re quite a heavy metal fan, we ran a story on Velvet Revolver last issue”.
Bogan: “I don’t really read magazines”.
JasK: “well I’m not really here to telemarket, I just thought that you had some things to say about the magazine, so I was interested to hear your opinions”.
Bogan: “I don’t want to be quoted”.
JasK: “That’s fair enough, I just thought if you had a problem you should talk to someone involved with the magazine. Thank you for your time.”
Bogan: “Okay, bye”.

We nearly died. Totally. Oh the hilarity. I haven’t laughed so hard over a prank call since Joanna told me just now that in Japan she and her friend used to call up random numbers and ask in their very limited language if the callees liked to eat shrimp. Genius.

Apparently according to a certain forum’s certain-wind-me-up member, I have no right to be personally offended by alleged homophobia. Riiiight. Heather said yesterday (before that last post actually) “when you posted yesterday I had visions of you storming around the office with snakes waving around your scalp and laserbeams coming out your eyes. Actually, it wasn’t an unpleasant image.”

I am actually Medusa. Didn’t you realise? Oh no that’s right, you didn’t, and now you are stone. Ha ha, sucks to be you. I guess you’re not interviewing one of the most influential producers/now musicians of the late 20th century this afternoon – but if you do have any questions for me to pass along, please feel free to pop them on. Should I give you a clue who it is? Nevermind.

Hehehe. Fuck I’m hilarity. Yes, personified.

This past weekend was very cultured – there was Swan Lake by the Russian Imperial Ballet company, which was very grand and great, except that it had a happy ending (I know, right? Also: oh dear, did I really just say “I know, right?” ? I am totally turning into Lindsay Lohan. All hail the boobs), and then a surprise party for an ex workmate, who was apparently surprised although I got there late. A very scary woman who had been drunkenly grabbing everyone’s asses asked me out to the ballet and I declined. When she was like “ARE YOU TURNING ME DOWN?” I had to try to politely wrangle my way out of it.

On Saturday I did nothing much at all, which was great. Oh, I made corn & zuchini fritters based on a pikelet recipe and they were great. On Sunday morning Momma dyed my hair for me. I wanted the new bright bright red that Napro Live has, but in deference to the swag of job interviews that I have this week (well, two) and in anticipation of some more (although I hope not) I went with a dark brown which is actually a little more maroony than I first thought. Then we went to see Pegasus Moon which is a collaboration between the dance and the drama students at Toi Whakaarei that Brad was in. Since Toi is housed in the old show buildings, their theatre is a huge empty space, so when we first went in, it was so black apart from the lights on the bleachers that I had no idea about the depth of its space. I thought “this is just like in the House!” for a while, and then I stopped and contemplated how both Heather and EM raved at length about the book, and I loved it though it freaked me out too much, and then how both Karen and Brad were like “meh” when they read it. Nevermind. The dancers were all very attractive people, and I found myself doing a lot of oggling – just like at the ballet. I think I should get myself neutered.

Then last night Brad came around for dinner and the-week-before-last’s O.C and a recap of what i’d read on the televisionwithoutpity.com’s recap of last week’s episode which I’d neglected to tape, and then we watched Mean Girls with the commentary subtitled turned on. We made a tentative date for next week to watch another episode (since i’ll miss this week’s cos I’ll be at my GOODBYE DRINKS), and also Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen. Exciting! I can’t talk about Lindsay Lohan without expressing my appreciation of her boobs. It was choice.

And in an end of the day update: Joanna Vig has quite a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? Lovely man. So quotable.

Here’s a lesson for you all. If you’re planning on moving house on a hot summer’s day, it’s probably a good idea NOT to drink nearly four bottles of bubbly the night before. Yes sure, it’s fun at the time, but you’ll pay for your happiness. What makes yesterday’s hangover even more infuriating is that everyone else there wrote gleefully about not having one.

But my (now ex) flatmate J’s 30th party was good. Hubrettes in attendence included Jess, Jessie, Jimmy and Joel. In fact, that was all the Hubrettes. Karen was also there for a while, but she left pretty early. We mostly sat in the garden and talked. Once everyone had left I wandered down the road to another party by myself, where I danced for ages. Then I wandered back home and danced for ages. The vibes at the two parties were totally different, which was interesting. I felt like I was on a very very mild trip, it was grand. Then when I checked the time it was 4.30am, so I went to bed, despite the noise, and turned off my tv sometime after 5am. I nearly saw the sun rise.

Stupid fucking sun. SO HOT. Moving is horrible. Sebastian being freaked out by being put in the van is horrible. Having to get up before 8am is horrible. Reconciling to the fact that I’m now living with my parents again is pretty horrible, because it makes me feel like I did NOTHING last year, and accomplished nothing. That’s never cool.

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…..

Here’s a lesson for you all. If you’re planning on moving house on a hot summer’s day, it’s probably a good idea NOT to drink nearly four bottles of bubbly the night before. Yes sure, it’s fun at the time, but you’ll pay for your happiness. What makes yesterday’s hangover even more infuriating is that everyone else there wrote gleefully about not having one.

But my (now ex) flatmate J’s 30th party was good. Hubrettes in attendence included Jess, Jessie, Jimmy and Joel. In fact, that was all the Hubrettes. Karen was also there for a while, but she left pretty early. We mostly sat in the garden and talked. Once everyone had left I wandered down the road to another party by myself, where I danced for ages. Then I wandered back home and danced for ages. The vibes at the two parties were totally different, which was interesting. I felt like I was on a very very mild trip, it was grand. Then when I checked the time it was 4.30am, so I went to bed, despite the noise, and turned off my tv sometime after 5am. I nearly saw the sun rise.

Stupid fucking sun. SO HOT. Moving is horrible. Sebastian being freaked out by being put in the van is horrible. Having to get up before 8am is horrible. Reconciling to the fact that I’m now living with my parents again is pretty horrible, because it makes me feel like I did NOTHING last year, and accomplished nothing. That’s never cool.

Heather is in town, which would mean a whole lot of debauchary was in order if it didn’t actually mean that right now the two of us are both sitting as silent as church mice or the dead baby mouse that Sebby brought me the other day, typing away on our respective laptops. Of course, she has the Internet connection, which means that I am reduced to merely writing down the stories that I want to tell in Notepad, but since I think she’s debugging Hubris, I guess I will forgive her. Somehow I will find it in my heart.

Last night she and I and KateH ate heartily at Chumeez, and I got confused about what city I was in, just for a change. I’m the one who’s supposed to be the visitor, not them. However, because it was my local I was able to guide us to the good food on the menu, rather than the scary alien mushroom dish, although the orange beef was described as “meaty chocolate” at one stage. Now there’s an appealing dish. Before that Karen and I had been drinking bubbly in the hot hot sun, but I wasn’t drunk, more just sleepy. Not as sleepy as the other two, who called it quits at 9pm. I suspect they snuck away for a secret rendevouz, which is like, totally wrong and naughty.

Despite the sleepiness, I found myself thoroughly unable to sleep, and at 4.30am I was staring in horror at myself watching ‘Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner?’ unable to turn it off until I found out who the “celebrity” was (Gary McCormick) and wondering what aliens and foreignors must think if they ever hacked our TV signals. It’s not a pretty image. If we get bombed, I say Suzanne Paul is to blame.

There were vaguely chef-y dreams, probably inspired by the Hey Monkey site, but with added bonus of cute boys, and then I was woken at 11am by Heather calling for brunch. I contemplated sneaking in another 15 minutes of sleep, but then she rang to say that they’d be picking me up so I was good and got my shit together. Heather’s sister Sheryl was driving, so we went to pick up Jessie and then went to Eva Dixon’s out by the zoo. I’ve only been there once before and remember it not being good – like they took forever with the food or something, I can’t remember exactly what the problem was. Probably just too many noisy children or something? Yeah, that was it, I think – I had a mild hangover and it was so LOUD that I couldn’t hear anything my friend was saying and it made me grumpy. That wasn’t the case today, but everyone got their eggs and in fact Heather and Sheryl had finished theirs before I saw a waiter and the counter staff arguing over a plate that looked like mine should have looked, so I got their attention and they finally brought it over, but I had to send it back because suprise suprise, the fries were cold, and I’m not paying 15% extra for cold fries, no siree. Still, the coffee was good.

Then we decided to go to Noizy’s and I managed to bluff my way to finding their street, after stopping off to buy ice cream as a gift. Jessie played soccer with the boys while we gossiped, and then out came the fimo. I made a drunken Frenchman. Do I even need to say that he was drunk? That’s like saying a military solider. In fact, if you’d seen him, in his jaunty beret, I wouldn’t have even needed to say that he was French. But there you go. There was a ridiculous amount of talk Internet and NZm related, so I felt bad for anyone who wasn’t part of that world. I was kind of hoping that Natalie would stop in for a cup of tea, but she was probably drunk somewhere playing pokies. At least I got ice cream in a waffle cone. I’m starting to suspect that dairy and I will no longer enjoy a cordial relationship – unlike Heather and I who are now sitting at opposite sides of my tiny dining room table, and since I now have the Internet connection, I will upload this since I’ve come full circle. Hurray.

I’m now writing this almost two weeks later than events, which is strange cos I didn’t realise that time went by so quickly. Nevermind, let’s plunge into my last couple’o days in the Auck town shall I?

Monday 6th December
I finally managed to have myself a merry little sleep in, tucked away in Oratia, which was certainly very pleasant, even though I felt terrible cos I got a text from Martina going “Okay I’m ready! Meet me on K’Road” and I had to reply going “umm I just woke up, see you in an hour or so?” But eventually I made my way into town and picked her up, and since it was a gorgeous sunny day we drove over to Devonport and had lunch at Manuka. Then, because it was so very nice and because we both found ourselves being the only other people we knew who wanted to do it, we set off to look for a beach. Now, you’ll of course recall that I once spent the summer working for the North Shore City Council and that my job then seemed to consist of little more than driving around all day getting suntanned. However, that was a long time ago, so we went for a rather extended drive up the motorway to Greville Road and then a long way back down East Coast Bays Road (which pretty much doesn’t go past the sea at all!) trying to find a nice little beach, before I took drastic action and found our way to Milford Beach.

There weren’t very many people there, which was great, and there was a changing shed with showers and an open-roofed area like an Italian courtyard which was great, so we got suited up and tried to get away from any boys on the beach. The water was very very cold and it made me hyperventilate a little bit (“sorry Martina, I know I sound like I’m heavy-breathing at you…”) but it warmed up a little, at least enough to frolick and try to do headstands in. When I started trying to do yoga poses and pretty much ended up nearly drowning myself, it was time to call it a day. The showers weren’t warm, but at least they weren’t salty. We headed back to the right side of the bridge to Occam for some more food and a perusal of Civic’s video sale (Cruel Intentions, Far from Heaven and umm something else for $12) before Martina left me for a ride home. I was waiting for Iva to call me so we could meet up, so I found myself a park to sit in and cuddled up with The Dirt. It’s soooo good. I wish I was in Motley Crue, for serious.

It turned out that Iva was trapped on the shore, so we decided to see each other the next day instead, and I eventually made my way towards KateH’s, via a phone call to La to see if he wanted to come along to the party we were going to that night, for a girlie website that I won’t name – which, after I uttered the magic words “free booze” of course he did, so I told him where the party was at and he said he’d meet us there. At Kate’s I believe we probably watched Shortland St together, and got poshed up, me making the last minute decision to switch from my party frock to my cleavage top (and of course SHRN yellow scarf), which I think in hindsight was quite fortuitous, and we set off to pick up her friend Olly, who is British but edits a certain ‘lifestyle’ paper. Haha, that’s me exercising my ‘get out of jail free’ card again. I get to say “but” because we all know that I find British accents ridiculously hot, BUT I try not to waste my time hankering after boys if I know straight away (as opposed to at Ruby on Friday) that they’re gay. Y’dig? Yeah. Anyways. We had to trek around and around and around The Secret Garden looking for La, cos the entrance isn’t actually on the street that it says it’s on, but eventually we kind of gave up and went in, keen to get started on the free liquor. Or at least I was. Given that KateH was driving, I imagine that she was a little more restrained. I got severely fucked off because Horrible Gay Jonny (and let me point out here that the ‘gay’ tag is used because before him I’d had another Horrible Jonny flatmate) was serving drinks and grrrrrrrr he makes me so mad with his theiving and then his fakeness. Bah. I’ve vented about this already. But I am setting the scene for what comes later by giving a partial reason as to why I downed so so so many glasses of bubbly very quickly ie: I was angus and also a little bored until La showed up. KateB was at the party too, but she left pretty early, so mostly I just talked to Olly and KateH (although they knew lots of people) and La, until much later in the night when we were out the back adn the bubbly had run out and I’d switched to beer and was talking to a whole bunch of random guys and a couple of other people I knew. Now, in further stage setting, let me tell you about the toilets at the Secret Garden – they have shower curtains for doors. Yuck! I’d had one piece of cheese that went straight to my bowels and I was like aaaaargh, but then I thought “Well, you know what? These girls here jostling for space to adjust their makeup, I don’t respect them, why should I care about what they think of me?”. Later though the toilets were all floody and still really crowded, so I couldn’t have a quiet puke, which meant that all the beer and bubbly stayed in my stomach. Foreshadowing.

Eventually almost all the people I knew had left – KateH with the oh so subtle “call my cellie when you get to my house – or if you should happen to be staying in (certain address implying that I would be in someone else’s bed), I can come and pick you up from there”. Aww bless her. I imagine I said something like “Well, I’d like to say that’s not going to happen but I’d probably be lying”. Needless to say pretty much as soon as she’d left, perhaps, I found myself making out with a boy, and soon we were in a taxi on our way to his house. Now, I’ve made out in taxis with three other boys before (oh hush, not all at the same time) and the drivers have always been the embodiment of discretion. This driver was an ASSHOLE. Okay, admittedly I can’t remember exactly what it was that he was saying, but I think it was of the nudge nudge wink wink “go on my son” type commentary which was really really unnecessary, and which probably contributed a little to my later unease. Anyways so I found myself in a house that is very familiar to me, and in fact on a bed that I’d been on before, peeing in a bathroom where I’d peed so many times before mid-coitally, and it was just a little bit strange. Before I knew what was what, he had a condom on, and I was like “woahhhhhhh, wait a minute….” I know that I’ve bitched for a year and a half about my total lack of sex, but what with it staring me in the face like that (so to speak, of course), and the feelings that being back in that house stirred up again, I suddenly realised I couldn’t do it, and I told him so. I’ve been without sex for so long I’m a second-time virgin, and I just think it’d be really wrong to do it with someone that I’m not in love with – or failing love then at least Ridiculously Hot wrists-tied-above-my-head, him-whispering-in-my-ear-about-all-the-things-he’s-going-to-do and then how-he’s-going-to-pass-me-onto-all-his-friends-cos-I’m-such-a-fucking-whore Dirty Passion Violent Fucking. Giggly-drunk-friend-scoring isn’t good enough, unfortunately. So instead, I went down on him (well, I would have anyway) but I was in much more of a hurry for him to hurry up and come so that he’d stop begging me to let him fuck me. He still had the condom on at the start, and that was strange, and of course, his dick was hitting the back of my throat, and I was still full of beer and bubbly, so what happened? Oh yeah, I started gagging and my mouth filled with vomit. Now, I thought I’d just swallowed it back (heh) but after he’d finally finished, he was like “umm, I’m going to go sleep in the lounge, cos you threw up on this side of the bed” and I was like “omg, wtf?” and then I got all offended and was like “FINE! If you won’t sleep with me then I guess I’ll go to Kate’s” (cos you know, I totally had the moral highground on my side – hahahaha) and after he’d left, I groped around in the dark (some more, haha man, how many fucking double entendres can one entry have? I guess this is like, a year and a half’s worth poured into one night) trying to find my clothes, since he doesn’t have a lightbulb in his room. I left without a skirt (luckily I was wearing pants underneath) but with pearl necklaces (haha, see previous-to-previous brackets) and hiked up to the main road to get some cash and find a taxi and hope that my cellphone battery didn’t die, which it seemed to be doing. Somehow though I managed to get a taxi, and the driver seemed much nicer when I complained about the previous one, and KateH got up and let me in and all seemed well in the world.

Tuesday 7th

I woke up around 10.30am, feeling pretty damn sorry for myself, let me tell you. Kateh had left a room outside the room that I was sleeping in with her worknumber on it, so I gave her a call cos I knew she was supposed to come home and turn the alarm on when I left. When I told her that yes, I had gone home with the boy, she briefly wondered why I hadn’t just stayed the night there then, but accepted my explanation that it was weird. I don’t know if I mentioned the puke thing or not – I probably tried to conceal it so that she didn’t worry about her flatmate’s bed. Who knows? Anyways, it transpired that she wouldn’t be able to make it home until lunchtime so I had a cold shower (like I should have had the night before, but nevermind) and settled down with my laptop to write the ‘Things Not To Do Whilst Sucking Cock’ entry that only my Hubrettes can read, and to contemplate how much my black and silver skirt meant to me vs the having to go back to the boy’s house and pick it up. Well, when KateH finally got home it was 2.30pm so I realised I couldn’t put it off anymore, so it was off to the boy’s house with me. Him and all his flatmates were all sitting out on the back porch in the sun. I had no idea what he’d told them, but I do know that the walls there are paper thin (and that the girl he shares a wall with is a prudey little virgin, hahahah). I tried to play it all casual, just “hey, how’s it going?”. He was laughing at me when I had to say “so um, did I leave my skirt in your room?” so I double-casualed it by saying “haha, that sounds really bad”. Yeah I’m going to pretend that your flatmates didn’t hear me faking an orgasm if I want to, okay? Sweet. They were like “oh what are you up to today?” which meant I had a trump card up my sleeve – I told them I was going to go see Iva, which was true but also I knew that there was bad blood between them all, so they started going blah blah blah which took the heat off me and I got to leave holding my head up high. Phew!

Next up on my agenda was a visit to Wendy’s and then to the shore to see Iva Beaver. we sat in the sun and talked about Bernard, amongst other things. Ahh sweet sweet dusty cups. Then I went to meet up with OLIVIA and STEVE and KYLA, once I finally found her house, that is (stupid Americans saying “eighteen” instead of “seventeen”, or more likely stupid hungover not-awake&capable of listening me). After cruising Franklin Road to see the lights and marvel at the audacity of the house with a COFFEE CART in front of it, we went to Joy Bong for dinner, where I struggled to question how the tofu was done in a tofu and eggplant dish I was eyeing up (when I’m around vegans I eat vegan). I got a different dish instead cos I was afraid it’d be the squishy kind I don’t like, and as Olivia said of my tofu, it turns out i want it done like it’s a bouncy castle. It was so great to see them again, cos I haven’t seen them since umm forever, but they were tired from the flight, and I was tired from the debauchary and found myself only able to say “the thing with the stuff” and “so hot right now”. Whatever happened to Verbacious Joanna? We fought over the bill and I thought I won and paid it but the next day I found some cash in my bag so either they slipped it in or I am just terrible with money. Then we went back to Kyla’s to watch half of Harry Potter 3 and make dirty jokes about paedophilia. Have some chocolate little boy, and all of that. Of course the night didn’t last nearly long enough, but sigh, I guess I’ll get to see them again in a couple of years or something.

Wednesday 8th
Having stayed at Kateb’s again, I got up in time to do some research on a Certain Band Who Have A Lot of Members adn Wear Robes because I was interviewing their frontman. He was a little grumpy and the line wasn’t that good. Sigh. Then I drove back to Welly and Sebby was overjoyed to see me. The end.