Now I am 27, and thusly, I have been living life to excess. It’s the rules of being the age of a dead rockstar, after all.

First, I should tell you about my party. It was many many boxes of supplies that I lugged over to Karen’s house which involved many trips and much lugging. Things like couches, blenders, and stacks and stacks of canned goods from a long excursion to Pak’n Slave (man I hate that supermarket!) found their way up into her spacious apartment. More crap got dropped off. I spent Friday night on the couch at home with Lisa and Jay watching Twin Peaks. Mmmm Agent Cooper. I haven’t been out on a Friday night for around a million years, but I knew I would need my energy for the next day. Saturday involved Karen and I trekking around Moore Wilson’s for a long time because obviously four boxes of food and booze wasn’t enough, and then I cleaned her bathroom and we set up the house for the party. I went home to chill out, get ready, pick up al the stuff i’d forgotten (so many lists!) and grab Lani, and we went back early to make sure everything looked perfect. This is what the bar looked like at the start of the night:

Oh HELL yes! Glassware, mixers, syrups, tools, booze, garnishes, fruit, canned mixers, pear brandy champagne fixings in the blender

Karen and Lani both looked like total rockstars, as you can see in this photo:

So obviously it was time to start drinking. Intially, it was me who made most of the cocktails.

This Appletini made with Rhubarb Syrup was possibly my favourite drink of the night.

People started showing up, including Karen’s flatmate in a stunning Beyonce outfit, and Anji and her friends, and some more of my friends, bringing booze with them to add to the collecion. And then, holy crap, Dimebag and a friend showed up! I thought he was dead!

Bart and Blair are awesome like WOAH

The lovely people from the Wellingtonista showed up too, and foolishly placed themselves far away from the bar which meant that by the time I got to them with a blender full of whatever deliciousness was on offer, it was mostly empty. But they still managed to humour me through flat camera batteries long enough for me to take this picture:

I so wish that you could see Martha’s “Human” and “Being” tattoos in this photo to add to her fierceness

And here’s some more photos out of order probably.

I started sharing cocktail-making duties with this very attractive young lady who was called tAtu 1. Well, that wasn’t really her name but I kept forgetting what it really was. Later she and the boy she was with-ish showed off their genital piercings, so Bart pulled out his as well. When I heard that he was showing everyone but me I demanded a look and so I saw his weiner in the kitchen. It was indeed pierced.

There is a sixteen year old in this photo. Guess who it is? In other discussions, see how many people there are packed into the kitchen? It was pretty much like that all night, which made it rather hard to mop up after one particularly drunk gentleman, who’d been Captain McGrabby Hands all night causing some people some distress got a drink thrown in his face, and then also spilt water all over the floor. And puked in the bath, but his fiancee cleaned that up, luckily.

See all the red plastic cups? Yeah that’s right it was a special-enough occasion to break those bad boys out. And yet we still resorted to all drinking from each other’s cups without washing them. Now everyone is sick. Also, how disturbing are Bart’s cutoffs? SO disturbing, and yet so erotic!

On the stroke of midnight, I was in the kitchen making cocktails, when a very drunk Lisa who’d shown up late announced it was my birthday as it was now the 17th. I was giving someone a hug when all of a sudden everyone rushed me all at once. I was thinking it was a group hug, but it turned out it was a group hump. Apart from squealling a lot, I ended up being speechless for about five minutes afterwards. It was a GOOD kind of shock though, honest!

What else were highlights? Seeing Kartini and Mike again. Drinkign many delicious cocktails. Having Shirley there, who’s told me a couple of times since then how nice all my friends are and how they all said lovely things about me. Aww shucks. So here’s some more photos:

Check it out, it’s my old boss (from VUWSA) front’n centre. See how demonstratably employable and sociable I am? Yeah!

This was near the end of the night long after most people had left, and we sat around the table making up shakers to share.

So yes, that was my party. At the end of the night I managed to convince a young lady to come home with me, and so we played records “and stuff”. We were happy in the morning and it didn’t seem awkward but then Lani walked in on us, which means that i’ve decided that my new Matariki resolution, since I’ve achieved the waking up with someone one is to score someone in my house and not have Lani walk in on it. Sheesh, you’d think she’d knock before she walks into the lounge or my bedroom next time. Heh. So anyways, the girl texted Anji to come pick her up, so I texted Anji to bring us coffee. She jumped in bed with us and it was very amusing. Then we went for brunch at Roxy, and to clean Karen’s apartment which reeeeeeeeeeeeeeked of booze.

I was super super tired but I didn’t nap after that, I don’t think. Instead I bonded iwth my couch and the Gilmore Girls before my parents came to pick me up with Anji and Karen in tow, and we went for my birthday dinner at the Tinakori Bistro. It was BYO so I tried to drink the hangover away, and we had lots and lots of food. I got handy presents from people – a seven day pill box from Karen so now I know when I’ve taken my meds and when I haven’t, and an iPod cover to go with my early birthday present of a Nano from my parents, and Anji gave me an awesome carved hairstick, and a purple melamine tray. Karen also gave me a Wham! vinyl, and oh boy, I can’t believe people didn’t realise that George Michael was gay a lot earlier. Dinner was lovely, and I got to tease someone there a lot about someone else that they’d hooked up with the night before (key line used in anything even loosely vaguely able to be interpreted in a dirty way like “I just stuffed it in the envelope” is treated to a round of “That’s what * said!”. heheeh. Between that and the OHMYGODSOMETIMESMYYOUNGESTDAUGHTERISLIKE,ALESBIAN, my poor parents were rolling their eyes a lot. It was a lovely time.

Then what did I get up to this week? I wanted to go to Webstock Mini on Tuesday but I realised I so did not have a spare $75. We had a delightful flat dinner on Monday with much much humourous banter and Lani laughing at me and thinking that people actually know more than they’re letting on. I had a job interview on Wednesday and had to work in the afternoon because I was off sick for Monday and Tuesday with my brain trickling out of my nose. On Thursday I umm I dunno, nothing? No wait! I went to MG’s work with Alan and Sue and Martha and was seriously impressed with the cleverness of them all. We had some wine and some cheese and then went to Medina for dinner. Thanks again MG! I love the way that by describing the night in one sentence I made it sound so cilivised. Heh. When I got home I found that not only had Smoo removed the dead mouse that Seb had caught last night (I presume he ate the other one that was still alive when I ran away tearfully because the mouse kept going up to its dead friend before Seb would pull it back in again. And when I say that he ate it, I mean Seb, not Smoo. Although if Smoo wants to eat dead mice I won’t judge him) but he also cleaned the house so I was very very stoked. And of couse I’ve since messed it up again. And then on Friday Lisa and I hung out with Agent Cooper some more.

Yesterday Shirley and I went for brunch at the Maranui Surf Cafe, and a lack of tables led us to sit outside and freeze to death happily over our deluxe fish burgers. Then we decided to throw a mini cocktail night to try and finish off the booze leftover so I didn’t have to find a home for it all in the overful cabinet. We invited Lisa and Bart over, and Smoo was off work which was exciting, and of course Blair showed up as he tends to do all the time. We had tasty Grasshoppers, and Lisa updated my journal for me, and umm, good times. Lisa and Shirley are making fun of me for something, but that is okay. And today I’m at my parents’ house doing laundry and eating their food. I was supposed to be working on my zine, but hte file corrupted over email, apparently. So instead I’m watching terrible reality TV. But I think my second load is dry, so I might take off now. Woo ha!

Yesterday I was on fire. I discovered that my doctor had given me a three month prescription so she obviously doesn’t think I am at risk of taking all my pills at once.I went to the gym and wore a singlet instead of a tshirt because it was so fucking hot, and you know what? The world didn’t end. After work I met Karen and Anji and Lisa down by the lagoon. It was my intention to dive off the plank that’s up on the wharf there, but it was surrounded by squealling teenagers and much higher up than I realised, so Karen and I swam from the floating dock instead. The water was reaaaaaaally warm and nice and it was fun. But there were SO MANY PEOPLE THERE, I felt kind of watched. Eventually I decided that I’d hate myself if I didn’t jump off the plank – especially since it was my ambition to give it a go whilst sober and it being light outside in preperation for inevitable drunken night-swimming, but when I swam to the ladder I discovered that it didn’t go into the water and I didn’t have the arm strength to pull myself up onto it. And it would have been a dreadful hassle to go all the way around and back over the bridge just to jump in again, and while I am becoming more confident, the idea of that much walking around in my togs – hott as they are – in front of so many people wasn’t too appealing. So instead I will steal a photo that Lisa took to show how beautiful it was down there in the water:

Lisa is teh awesome photomagrapher

Then it was 6.30, so Lisa and I went up to the Boatshed for the Great Blend. It was too hot inside, so I got a glass of wine from the ladies at the bar who got nicer and nicer as the night went on, and while I shuddered at the fact that they only had Chardonnay, at least it was unoaked, but I will still blame it for my feeling so seedy today, and we ran away to sit in the shade outside and await Martha and talk about Hanson for some reason. We couldn’t think for ages of what the name of the ugly one was, and Lisa called him Baboon Face. I said that if there was a Q&A session in the talks, and they said did anyone have any questions, I would stand up and say “what is the oldest Hanson brother called? Can you tell me? No you can’t, because you don’t know, you don’t knooow oh oh oh” and then I laughed at myself lots, partly because I had some wine at work before I left. As it happens, Lisa was right and his name was Issac, which I didn’t think it could be because there was a Zack, but that’s short for Zachary. And then we went to meet Martha. I was briefly dismayed at how quickly she brushed me aside to go and meet a puppy-eater, but she came back and fufilled her BFF duties. Plus, she introduced me to fun people like Sally and Sue. And Glen bought me a glass of wine when I already had one, so I quickly looked a lot like a lush. Which is of course not at all how I really am. I talked to Tom and Kim about the magical transforming properties of a lei to make one fit in a tiki environment, and made fun of Stalker. The Back of the Y stuff was hilarious, and it was interesting to see what they’d done for MTV in the UK and how it was exactly the same stuff but much more expensive. I remembered watching it when I was living in Mt Roskill and thinking how awesome it was. I laughed a lot. The second panel was not quite as interesting to me, so I spent a while whispering stupid things to Sarah like “you have to marry one person on the panel – who is it?” (the answer is of course the guy who works for Google, cos duh, rich), before I decided to take myself outside and stop annoying her. So I talked to Joel for ages about what year a particular magazine was worse. We had very different opinions.Mostly I just drank and told everyone how much I wanted to jump off the plank. Sue told me she liked my blog and I was like “!!! I don’t have a blog!” but she redeemed herself instantly by saying that she had ordered the same swimsuit as me because it is so awesome. I introduced myself to Russell and also asked Che about his heart. Good times. The bar ladies seemed to love me even more. In fact, I’m pretty sure that everyone was digging my vibe. Eventually I slipped into the bathroom and slipped into my togs again, so when I left with a group of people I’d just met (I think), I strutted over to the plank and plunged in, followed by Sally. Hurrah! Night swimming is the most awesomeness. Sue carried my bag down to the lower dock for me, and I got changed in public. Lovely.

Then we went to Mighty Mighty and once again more good times were had. I wasn’t even embarrassed seeing Baby Hitler there and remembering how I’d asked him to dance and told off the DJ. Feeling good about yourself really does have positive flow on effects, it’s quite perplexing. I mean, it’s entirely possible that everyone did think I was a dick, but I don’t think so. I had lots of fun. On an extension of that topic, a while ago someone tried to insult me by leaving the comment “but I was just expressing my dismay at your blog [sic]; the purpose of which seems to documenting your desperation for a meaningless pash” and I was like “umm… duh! That’s the whole point of having an online journal, right?” – so in that vein I should declare that I “shared a taxi” home with a boy, which meant he had to wait with me on Ghuznee St while I called a Combined Taxi and babbled about my bad experiences with other companies. Later on the boy told me he saw my left boob when I was getting changed on the dock, which struck me as a most amusing thing to say, and then I laughed at him for a while teasing him about how he didn’t evne know what my name was – before I admitted I couldn’t think of what his was either. And tonight I bought Smoo pizza to make up for the fact that he said he’d gone to sleep with his eaphones in playing music and yet we’d still woken him up. Heh.

Maree emailed me this afternoon to rave about the article in Next with me in it that has apparently come out now, but all I could find was the February issue, not the March one. She said I sounded intelligent and that the photo was gorgeous. Hurrah! That made things more gooder today. I was grateful that I had many mindless web updates to do (adding in div id=”page” tags to about 20 pages and so forth) because I was somewhat tired and not feeling in the best health. I also seem to have bruises on every part of my body, a hole in the bottom of my foot, a cut-up toe from last Friday night when I peed under the X-Air hump, and a lump in my arm. I also had a couple of knots in my hair about the size of my fist that took half an hour of brushing to get out. I like salt water in my fringe, but man, I really should have combed my hair a little more often this week. Tomorrow Lani’s moving in, hurrah ,and then I am going to Ngaio for my Mummy’s birthday party. All in all, things are pretty fucking awesome. Everyone loves me. Including me, right now.

A rediscovered fragment that should have been in 101 Stories if I’d remembered about it, that I found tonight when I was looking for a story I wrote about The Gathering to send to Ali.

The sex I used to have made me feel like a bystander in my own life. He would move my legs around, hoist them over his shoulder, turn me on my side, or whatever he wanted, and I would lie there compliant, thinking “it’s not him”. It was only when he went to hold my hand afterwards that I felt that something was wrong. I am not in love with you, please don’t try to force intimacy on me. I am fucking you precisely because you are not him.

And it felt weird, someone different touching me in different ways, in different places. His cock was totally different, of course, and the feelings involved were different. It was easy to spell them out in this case: I am drunk, you are not him and I need to be with someone who’s not him to prove that I can be with someone who is not him. That could be the mantra of each thrust into me. I.am.not.the.man.you.are.in.love.with.I.am.not.your.whole.world.I.have.not.left.you.for.your.best friend.

So it doesn’t matter that he seems like he is a sexual deviant. It doesn’t matter that he rejoices in my hairy legs that he takes the time to rub his cock up and down. It doesn’t matter when he licks my armpits, or tries to fuck me in the morning when he’s still wearing the same condom. He is no one. He is nothing. It doesn’t matter.

I’m not sure of the words we said to each other or anything, only the look that he gave me; the single dirtiest look in the history of one night stands EVER. It wasn’t a “I want to fuck you” look; it was a “I’m going to fuck you in this position and this position and this position, and you’re going to love it, because you’re a dirty whore and you want nothing but my cock inside you” statement. And of course he was right.

If only it could have been simply that simple. He was a mystery, a boy of extreme contrasts. He was sweet and charming in conversation, but he had my clothes off the second we got in his bedroom door. He didn’t call a taxi as soon as I said I’d go home with him because he said that would be presumptuous, but straight away on his bed he told me he had a treat for me and rolled on a spearmint condom. For a nice guy who told me that he hadn’t had sex outside a relationship before, he still managed to fuck me in half a dozen positions, transitioning seamlessly between them. He played me Jeff Buckley, and then a song he wrote named after a girl with the same name as me, but also wanted to fuck me in the ass.

That’s the first time, of course. The second time is a year later, when he’s had a chance to get back together with his ex girlfriend and then break up with her again, and I’ve had a chance to realize that running out while he was sleeping because I thought I was in love with someone else and terrified of developing intimacy with him and using the excuse of not having a Connection was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. There were two beers each in a pub, conversation where we talked about our families and how bad Sex in the City was, and we really seemed to be on the same page. I was able to say that I wished I had got to know him the year before, and he smiled at me. It felt really nice, but I was still completely surprised when he said “How about I come over to your house later with a bottle of wine?”

Then when he kissed me on the street outside, my legs felt like they were going to buckle underneath me and I ended up walking down the street in a total daze. At home later, I watched videos with my flatmate in an attempt to keep calm – after I’d changed my underwear, of course. He arrived, shyly knocking on the front door, we opened the promised wine. My flatmate stealthily retreated as soon as the movie ended, and him and I were left together on the couch. So, alone, not at a party, or a bar, or a cafe or any of the places I’d seen him since we went to bed. Over the course of the conversation, my legs crept up onto the couch so that our knees were touching. Our tastes in music were dissected to find places where we were compatible. And finally, we put our glasses down on the ground and he took my hand and we kissed again, this time for much longer than the pavement encounter earlier that night.

If I had melted into him at that very moment, I wouldn’t have been surprised. He’d been on my mind in various guises for a year – first in sweet nostalgia, and then in regret for leaving, and then in “I WANT HIM AGAIN NOW” capacity.

I wasn’t talking to her. He wasn’t talking to me for that reason, and it all stemmed from the same thing – good lovers making great enemies and best friends falling out over a boy and all the usual cliches. And there they were at the bar that I was at, and I’d been drinking beer, bubbly, and more beer. As soon as I saw them I sunk shots of Green Chartreuse to hide it, but it didn’t work, I still knew they were there. And why should they get to run me out of every bar in town? Plus, I’d run out of money for liquor and I knew that they had large bank balances. I stumbled over and plonked myself down in their line of vision. I was hot and knew it, after all. My boobs were on display for the entire world to see and it felt really nice.

I’m not sure who was more surprised – her or him. I guess we’ll say Her, because I did sometimes talk to him, even if he’d been ignoring me as of late. “Oh my god,” they said, “Joanna’s talking to us”. I suggested to them that they owed me a drink or two and she scampered off. More Corona with shots beside. I told them how no one liked me anymore. I was leaning forward to talk to them, my arm resting across his knees. They knew all the names that I was mentioning; they asked me over and over if I was okay, if I was really all right. They genuinely cared about me. I leaned forward more. She moved off to talk to other people and I took her seat. All of a sudden we were kissing each other with more fierce intensity than we’d felt in three years. Hands were all over each, in places that shouldn’t be in a nightclub. If it had been possible, we might have devoured each other whole. But instead, I was across his lap, whispering filthy things in his ear, rubbing his cock through his trousers in what I thought was a covert manner, promising him pleasures beyond what we’d ever experienced together before. I don’t know where his wife has gone, but really, it doesn’t matter as I follow him into the men’s room. He has me pinned to the wall and his hands are so rough in what inside my jeans that I have to tell him he’s hurting me as my top is dropped on the floor and my bra is pulled up. Our mouths are dissolving into one another, his hands are rough on my breasts and all I can do is tell him how much I want to fuck him. Always responsible, he asks me if I have any condoms, but of course, my bag and my jacket are somewhere back out in the bar, stashed under the seat where we first started getting dirty, and so that’s a no.

He has a solution for this of course, and he shoves my head down to his crotch, telling me to suck his cock. I do this gladly, reaching into his jeans like I’ve done a million times before. I want to show him how good I am, how much better I’ve become since he left me, and why he never should have left me. I do the best I can, and it’s not long before the pre-come is dribbling into my mouth, the salty taste turning me on instead of grossing me out. The fact that we’re in this barren concrete space makes the whole experience that much hotter. This is illicit near-fucking, and my god that’s a turn-on. His hands are on my head, pushing back my hair to secure his view and to make sure I don’t move my mouth away. I can taste his tang and it’s all I want for now, all that I could ever want, but there’s a knocking at the door, and he says that it’s her – his wife.

Don’t worry, I’m not about to go all Heather on you, although I feel it is only fair to warn you that generally these days her proposed solution to all my problems is “want me to kick their ass for you?” No, instead I’m going to talk about that whole thing when you know what each other have been up to on the weekend, but you’re just like “hey”, and have usual conversations about kebabs and Nazis, with only a “well you’re already going to hell” as an allusion to the other stuff.

Well, that’s pretty much all I’m going to say about it. I’ve been trying to reign in my gossipy nature (haha! How likely do you think it is that I’ll actually succeed?), although that said, when I showed up at Curve on Saturday night, and Katy said really loudly in front of the passively pursued boy and his new girlfriend “Hey Jo, how was your PASH?” I pledged my eternal love to her. Because I am a small petty man. Or um, large petty girl.

You’ve already read about Friday, so you can probably imagine that after getting home at 6am when I woke up at 1pm on Saturday I was like “FUCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCK I’m supposed to be at the food show!” and then I rang up Karen and apologised profusely but explained that I was pretty sure that I was still drunk. Then I responded to Jessie‘s text, since she’d obviously been talking to Lisa while I was still unconscious. For the record, a shiny young boy pashed me on Friday night whilst off his head. That’s all. He’s just a hilarious associate who appeared to blush yesterday when I saw him again in passing. Part of me wanted to yell out “dude! it was a pash, and while it was lovely, and you’re cute, that’s it and is sweet as eh, so you have nothing to worry about. Pashing is just nice and I’m sure you know that I actually fancy your friend, even though I do accept the opposite of an asshat rejection speech he gave me” but given that he was surrounded by older women who were cooing over him like he was their son, I just kept my head down and tried not to feel like a child molester instead.

So back to Saturday, I spent the day feeling very very shakey. I ate pizza and drank too much coke and tried to nap but my heart rate decided to go insane and beat at like, a trillion beats per minute. I blame the caffiene, but it’s kept being a little off since then, so I wonder if being around people in small spaces who were smoking pot has made me have traces of anxiousness again. But that’s just gay, so I won’t accept that. Maybe I should just give up caffiene. HAH! Why don’t you tell me to give up drinking while you’re at it? I certainly didn’t give up drinking on Saturday night. Lisa came and picked me up and we went to her house and played records. I have decided that I need to get a record player and start collecting vinyl. I feel like i don’t value music enough these days as I get most of my CDs for free, and I just play it all in the background instead of taking the time to go through the ritual of listening to music. And if I buy vinyl, I can in theory show my appreciation for the bands I really like even if i got their CD for free (although sure, in practice I may end up buying second hand). I am all about the ritual.

Once we’d worked our way through her stack, we took a taxi up to Jimmy’s party in Brooklyn. Jimmy’s house was lovely, as is Jimmy, of course, but every time a Phoenix Foundation song came on, his flatmate would go and change it, so we decided that he was an ass hat (although I’m sure he’s actually quite lovely), and since he was wearing those slip-on Vans, I decided that they’re actually just PLIMSOLES and made fun of him for wearing them. Lisa was like “but you know who else wears them?” and I was like “that’s the point also”. And then there was a girl in unspeakably tight pants, so I made lots of Helen Keller jokes. Again, I’m a little surprised that they let someone who is as obviously 12 as me drive a car and live by herself.

Eventually we said farewell to Jimmy and shared a taxi back into town, and I went to Curve Bar where the KKK were spinning records. Well, Mike and Chrisana were anyway, under the moniker of ‘Guns’n Amo’, which is awesome, as was the music they were playing, but even though the vodkas were $5 each, I was still feeling shakey and not quite up to dancing, so I stood outside and talked to people instead cos I hadn’t seen most of them for ages and ages. Plus someone told me that there are starfish in Antartica that are forty feet across. I bet you didn’t know that. Of course, I can’t confirm it, but maybe you can google it. I had an odd moment at work today when one of the boys rang me up and started going on and on about how he couldn’t sleep the night before because he was up thinking, and I was like “omg, wtf does this have to do with me?”, and yes, I thought in abbreviations like that, honest, before he asked me if I knew what the origins of the phrase ‘Pardon my French’ were. I said I didn’t know exactly, but figured that it was because the French are all dirty and uncouth, and then googled it and found out I was right. Awesome. But back to Saturday night when I saw who the girlfriend mentioned in the second paragraph was, and went “oh! that makes sense!” and was really happy about it. Katy and I shared a cab home, and I babbled my head off to the driver the rest of the way.

On Sunday, it was time for the food show. I love the food show. I wish I could marry it. I especially love almost all of the winemakers on the very very long (60+ wines) Wairarapa stall, whom we got to at about the time that our initial wine-tastings hit us in our hilarious banter spot. I was so upset when I reached the stage that I didn’t think I even wanted to try any more wine, although all food was snapped up with much gusto. Mmmm food show. I bought two bottles of dessert wine, a Stonecutter Pinot Noir (who keeps the metric system down? I do!) and some half baked bread. I also tried whitebait for the first time ever, aaaaaaaaand ummm started to get into a fight with Karen luckily right when she had to get off the bus.

Then Lisa and I went to see the Phoenix Foundation at Chow. They were drunk, and I thought that made them all the more awesome. I like that every time I see them it’s in a different venue with a different vibe. I was sitting by a window, and would every so often see people outside in the complete freezing cold and would think “why the hell aren’t you in here seeing the awesomeness that is this?”

It was a fucking exhausting weekend. I was very very shakey on Monday, partly from the cold, no doubt. Coooooooold. Cold like now when I’m waiting up for Heather to stop having a life and come online. And there we have it, the circular come around thing. I am actually Stephen Colbert, if you hadn’t guessed by now. Or maybe I’m just high on fumes from cleaning the oven and doing the floors with large amounts of bleach. Flat inspection tomorrow. Boo.

So! Hehehe. Friday night I’m out with some boys and Lisa, and we’re getting pizza, and we’ve been drinking for a while, and having conversations along the lines of yes, I will show them my boobs if they will pash. And then the boys get ahold of some pills. I of course am crazy (like, LITERALLY!) so I can’t participate, but watching their pupils dilate is hilarious, and being the good sport that I am, I run my hands down the back of their heads, and their wrists and skin and all that sort of carry-on, which is awesome when you’re pilling. The boys start getting a bit handsy – I mean, C had already been giving me lap-dances, but now he was crawling across the floor pretending to be a cat, and pulling up my skirt (hurrah for jeans under) and kissing up my arm, and lap-dancing me some more. D meanwhile was sitting in the corner stroking Lisa’s hair going “your hair is purty – sorry, i know you don’t like being touched” and I’m laughing my head off at that, and then C started kissing my neck and I was like “aaaaaaaaargh” and he was trying to kiss me, and I think we all know that I’ve been keen on D for a long long time. But C is young, and shiny, and cute, so eventually I have to turn my head and WOAH, I’M PASHING! And then I look away, and giggle, and try to pretend that I’m not blushing.

And we stay there for a while, and there’s some more pashing and I am so conflicted cos a) it’s C I’m pashing, not D, and b) we’re in my favourite bar that we go to every week and we’re being tacky and c) I’m feeling stink on account of Lisa also, because dude, I’ve been the “oh my god, what the hell is my friend doing?” friend many many times before, and it’s not cool. So after I have a scorched orange martini I convince people that we really should leave, which at least takes care of problem b). And D declares “well since I’m going to hell anyway…” and reaches over and grabs my breast, and I’m like “awesome!” and I laugh and throw goats. Somehow we end up at Maya, and oh man, it is taaaaacky. So I suppose I deserve to be there. But the hands-i-ness continues when D and I are standing at the bar together because stroking people’s skin feels good even when you’re not high, but then he’s like “ooooooh man, we shouldn’t do this” and I’m like “well, why not?” and then it happens, the thing that I’ve been waiting a good six months or more for – he says “We shouldn’t because I don’t feel about you the way you feel about me” and I am like HOLY FUCKING SHIT, YOU ARE THE MOST AWESOME PERSON IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD, and he may have apologised, and I was like “seriously, you are the total opposite of an asshat right now”, because to be high and handsy and no doubt horny and to have it offered up and turn it down on the grounds of serious matters of respect is fucking amazing (and makes me heart him even more, but we’ll ignore that fact). So that was absolutely awesome to hear, and then plus it made me feel much better about pulling C off into more of a corner to make out with him some more. He was like “you’re one of the best kissers ever” and I was like “are you making fun of me?” cos my self esteem is radness. The other thing he said a bit was “but we’re still friends right?” and I laughed lots because dude, we’re drinking buddies, not colleagues anymore, it’s no big deal. Ahhhh young boys on E, so cute. I apologised to Lisa many many times, but didn’t stop doing what I was doing, which makes me a dick. But I was very much aware of how often this would happen again (like never) which helps with the cognitive dissonance. And so cute and shiny. Lisa eventually left, and I was left at the bar by myself for ages, so I had another glass of wine and went “what the fuck is going on?” before deciding to leave, which meant trying to find D to give him back his jacket whihc was lying at my feet. When I did find him, he was like “OMG, thank you so much for taking such good care of my jacket!” with seriousness, and I was a little overwhelmed. They decided that they wanted to dance, so I went to Sandwiches with them, but instead of dancing I think C and I pashed some more while D was buying us drinks, and I stroked his cock through his pants under the table. Ahhh feeling like you’re 21 again, it’s hilarious.

I don’t know how long we stayed at Sandwiches, but eventually we walked up the hill to D’s house to listen to Tool. He had the same bedspread as my parents, and a LOTR poster, so I was like “awesome, I’m glad you turned me down” in my head. They smoked pot, and I laid on the bed and giggled a lot. Over the course of the night when C had floated the idea of coming to my house i was thinking I would say “You can come home with me but I can’t gurantee that I’ll have sex with you” but eventually I think their pills wore off, and I was really tired, so I called a taxi although I ahd a hell of time trying to think about where the fuck I was, and i was carrying my shoes in my hands and the puddles were icey, and then I saw the clock in the taxi and it said it was 6am and I was like AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH.

And yeah, it was very very amusing to me and i hope it was to you too. The part that’s making me laugh the most right now is that C’s mother is the accountant at work and I will have to try and keep a straight face when I see her tomorrow. Hurrah! Also, I want C to digitise my Garland tape for me, I hope he won’t consider that to be stalking. I have more gossip to tell you but for now I am too tired and must go to bed. So later skater xojo

So apparently, according to everyone and also me, I haven’t been writing here very often. That kinda sucks. It means that my writing is pretty much restricted to stupid little snippets of everyday banter about what I’ve been watching on TV, or endless melencholy about people that have touched me (literally) that don’t get aired much. Well, maybe I can change that. I could write a bit long piece here, or I could publish dirty snippets that I must stress are not related to one another, nor are they chronological. Maybe I’ll do both.

For a nice guy who told me that he hadn’t had sex outside a relationship before, he still managed to fuck me in half a dozen positions, transitioning seamlessly between them.

Yeah! This is going to be fun. Plus this way I get to pretend that I’m still hot and desirable instead of sitting around wearing old jeans in desperate need of a decent haircut and some proper shampoo.

So, Jo’s life as of November 25th. Well. Still searching for the perfect job. Still not sure how she’s going to pay the bills. Still questioning the meaning of life. Making sure she takes her pills regularly every morning and never lets doctor&pharmacys fuck her around again so she ends up going ten days without them.

Other than that, what ho? Hmmmm. Sebastian went AWOL for eight days, causing me no end of worry. I pashed a hot boy who looked like he was from The Strokes, but he was British, and British boys NEVER come home with me. I don’t know what’s up with them. What’s up with you Brits eh? Are you all prudes? (Actually he had a girlfriend. Whoops). I need two flatmates. I moved my bedroom furniture around. I may move the lounge furniture around although now that La’s gone I no longer have a willing helper monkey. And that’s it. That’s all that’s happened to me in the past shit, nearly two months. Fuck.

So it doesn’t matter that he seems like he is a sexual deviant. It doesn’t matter that he rejoices in my hairy legs that he takes the time to rub his cock up and down. It doesn’t matter when he licks my armpits, or tries to fuck me in the morning when he’s still wearing the same condom. He is no one. He is nothing. It doesn’t matter.

I don’t have new things going on in my life which is kind of a problem given that I need constant stimulation to keep me going. I feel very out of the loop now that I no longer receive free movie tickets and cds. I haven’t left the house in ummmm two weeks to go anywhere but the shops. No work and no play makes Jo a dull girl. No work and no play makes Jo a dull girl. No work and no play makes Jo a dull girl. You get the general idea. So right now I’m trying to correct that, in the sense of downloading free mp3s from NZm to see if I can find a great new NZ band I can love and hopefully I’m going to a show tomorrow night. Must. get. out. of. the. house. Of course, all donations of mix cds, tapes, old books and magazines will be most gratefully accepted.

I also should be creating more than I am. Maybe I oughta do my portfolio site. In fact, there’s absolutely no maybe about that at all. A few more job applications wouldn’t go astray either. I’m bloody sick of rejection letters though. If only the dole paid about $50 a week more – or my flatmates were able to cough up for their bills instantly – life would be so much sweeter. I could go out! I could do things! Oh yeah, did I mention that my car is totally dead? That kinda sucks some ass too.

What I need I think is a makeover. Maybe the Fab Five could come over and laugh at my clothes (“you have HOW MANY bonds tshirts? and they’re all tight on your nipples like that?” “What are these shoes? Silver plastic? Are you from the Jetsons?” “Christmas lights? Tack city! And what’s with all the saris?”) and change my life. Already half the time I think I have Joss Whedon doing commentary over my life (“And in this scene, Jo’s watching TV. Again. The empty dishes piled at her feet adn the newspaper opened to the ‘Situations Vacant’ are there to really drive home the loneliness she’s feeling, while soon the demons she’s battling will come back cos we’ve cut off her cipramil”). I think maybe instead I need less TV in my life. But Heather Havrilesky is the best thing about Salon, and if I never watched TV again, how would I know what she was talking about?

His hands are on my head, pushing back my head to secure his view and to make sure I don’t move my mouth away. I can taste his tang and it’s all I want for now, all that I could ever want, but there’s a knocking at the door, and he says that it’s her.

Oh yeah, crack out the porn, Jo. I do think that I’d probably have a good career in Erotica writing. I just need to get me a laptop so I can be more savvy about it. How exactly does one become an Erotica Writer? Or rather, a Writer of Erotica Who Makes a Living out of it? Perhaps even An Erotica Writer With A Shiny Laptop AND an Aeron Chair? An Erotica Writer with a Shiny Laptop and an Aeron Chair Who Can Afford to go see Her Hairdresser Again And Fill Said Hairdresser With Accumulated Scandals and Gossip, And Who Can Also Find Another Pair of $30 Jeans from Farmers That Fit All Lovely Except That Now They Have Big Thigh Holes And Are Thus Rendered Useless. Yeah, that’d be sweet.

PS: my hubris mail went down for a couple’o days, so if you emailed me and didn’t get a reply, try again. Cheers.

So today I am in a happy blissful content mood, and it’s lovely. Maybe it’s because it was gorgeous and sunny today and KatieH stopped by and suprised me, and we went to Devonport together and ate wonderful food and then walked by the water getting icecream all over my hands. Maybe it’s cos my drugs have kicked in. Maybe it’s cos I know that I’ll be okay, jobwise, cos I can stay working where I am, cos it’s only $16 a week less than the dole, and i’m really liking the people I work with. Or maybe I’m happy cos’o the crazy party last night, at the Rogues’ house, with mad crazy drumming styles improvs in the kitchen, and a man in a reverend collar, and lots of crazy people and fireworks and making out in the kitchen with a lovely young lady. Actually, it was really more just a lot of kissing than actually making out – I tried to restrain myself. But anyways. Life is definately looking up. Stuff is all going to be okay. So maybe this is what happiness means to me – security and not needing to worry about everything so much. And that’s great. I have more to write but I might go call Tom instead cos my wrists hurt, adn I have an exam tomorrow – for corporate com, which I’ve already passed. Kickass.

Sunday August 25th, 2002

Oh my god, if there’s Carnies in the Tane, then there’s Sheer Total Carnage in Matakana. You have to excuse me if I sound a little rambling or crazy – I have an ear ache and also I was woken at 6.30am so that Andy could get back to Auckland in time to go to church. I kid you not. But we’ll take the narrative back to yesterday, which gives me more time to figure out if I wanna include some things that happened last night that I am very not happy about or not, or if we should just leave that in the “really someone else’s business even though it really shoulda been MY business” basket or not. Did you know that lately I have been all about figuring out which baskets to put things into?

So anyways, since I was informed on Friday that the party was to have a SchoolBoys/Schoolgirls theme I went and bought me a tie, which I paired with my tight black shirt, my denim skirt (which I rolled up at the top to make it shorter), my burgandy maryjanes and some black and white striped socks which I borrowed off Bopha. She put my hair into two bubbles on either side of my head, and I loaded up on blusher, eyeliner and blue eyeshadow. The look I was after was Slutty Schoolgirl, since I have never worn a uniform in my life, and since I was very chaste in high school. Clayton wore his hockey uniform – purple top and short shorts. Mmmm lovely. It felt really weird to be wearing a skirt that ended above my knees, but I was feeling good. I felt even better when I got into Andy’s car and Jody handed me a mizone bottle for the trip filled with vodka lime soda. Ahhhh liquor from water bottles, how very highschool! So yeah, the hour plus drive up to Matakana was really fun, singing along to crazy lionel ritchie mix tapes that Andy had made. It was crazy to go out through the country and drive through Warkworth and everything.

When I got to the party, straight away KateM was like “DID YOU SEE HIM? HE’S HERE!!!” and I was like “no way!” and she was like “he’s totally here” and you’re like “who who who?” and I’m like, *I, of course, the first boy I ever pashed, the one who told me that my hair was choice and who I was in luuuuurve with for a year after we scored, and who i never talked to again. So that was very exciting, and naturally, there were carefully orchestrated trips to the kitchen to try and get a look at him, but I felt like i was being too obvious and felt dumb, so instead I just went into the dining room where they were all playing drinking games and asked what they were playing and was told to pull up a seat. Nice. So we played Musical Instruments, which is like Sexual Connotations, except that, obviously, instead of sexual actions, you play pretend instruments. Eventually, I had to do *I’s instrument, and he was like “right back at you, Jo” and I was all !!!!! oh my god he remembers me! Heheheheh I am such a geek sometimes. But of course, me being me, that nessecitated lots of whispering to Jody and KateM and Clayton in excitement afterwards.

And then there was assorted dancing, and more drinking from the mizone bottle and all that sorta shenanigans, and lots of bonding with Jody, and talking to various people, until at one stage, *I came up to me, and was like “hey, I thought I’d be social” and he said that he remembered Clayton from the Gomez concert (you remember how I bitched that Clay had got to see *I and I hadn’t?) and then Clay took the hint from me and drifted away. He was like “so..” and I was like “wow, you remember me – I’m so impressed” and he was like “yeah, and I wanna apologise for anything wrong that I might have done to you – I’m a lot nicer person now” and I tell you, I just about swooned. He was still really really tall and spunky looking and we chatted for ages and ages. I told him he’d been the first boy I’d pashed and so of course I’d had a crush on him, and he seemed all sorry, and I was like “oh don’t be! you didn’t do anything wrong except not call when you said you would!”. And he apologised again. My god, I know it was like, six and a half years ago, so I’m just totally completely impressed. And just a little smitten again, he was so charming. I told him like my entire work history, and he told me about what he’s been up to, and about Sarah and Dylan and yeah. Eventually he was like “well, I’m going to get a drink” so I was like “it was really cool talking to you” and he’s all like “oh, I’ll talk to you later!” and I was just yeah, a little puddle on the floor. I’m so impressed with my ability to chose well at age 15! Although really, there wasn’t much of a choice. But that’s beside the point.

Anyways, that was definitely the highlight of the party, cos pretty much everything went all downhill from there. It was a very very very very very weird night. Do I want to spill my beef? Yes, okay I will. Because it super super super bugs me. You know Jody, my good friend? The one who was trying to organise to get me to score *I again, cos she knew how much of a crush on him that I used to have, and how much I was lusting after him that night, and blah blah blah? Well, yeah. You can guess what ended up happening. And the goddam house music just didn’t stop. It danced on and on and on and on. And there were some cool things that happened too, but thre were too many weird situations, and I ended up taking herbal sleeping pills and codeiene cos the music just wouldn’t stop and consequently had very fucked up scattered dreams on the couch and then was woken at 6.30am by Andy taking me home. And I’ve lost my denim jacket and that really fucks me off. I tried to sleep in the back seat, still wrapped up in my duvet, but I had to make him stop so I could throw up on the wall of a gated community in Albany. I felt like it was a political statement as well.

I showered and went to bed as soon as I got home, but eventually Bo was being a loud crackwhore cos she didn’t realise I was home, so she woke me up. I went to KateH’s to watch Dawson’s Creek, and then we went to Occam for some excellent food. That’s all.

June 1 – Saturday

In three hours, I will be watching Pluto, and in six hours, I will be bowing down in awe at the feet of the mighty Pacifier/Shihad. !. !!!!. Bow down to me.

I’m just hoping that by that stage, I won’t be feeling so hungover. When did I last write? Probably a couple of days ago I guess. I’m feeling much better. It’s amazing how destressing work is, I guess becasue I know what I’m supposed to do, and it’s like Problem to Solution, easy as pie. And that’s very different from trying to tell someone what they should be doing in regards to their personal life. Yeah. Anyways,

So Thursday night there’s top secret meetings and secret plans and cool potential and stuff, and meeting a whole lot of new people, which is always interesting. I’m excited, I think. And when I got home, my KatieB showed up a little later, and that was completely lovely. It annoys me though that she’s been known to ring me up and scream blue murder at me very early in the morning for neglectign to tell her about a random kiss I received from a not-so random boy, but meanwhile, she’s been seeing someone for like six weeks without mentioning him once to me. You are an EVIL GIRL KATIE!

Friday was working, and I was trying to write an article, and of course I remembered that I just completely can’t remember how to write news articles anymore. But then Skew came back with lots of food he’d pilfed from a meeting, so that was nice. Oh yeah, I’ve thought of psuedonames for the three people I work with, and I’ll just have to keep remembering them. The kickass thing about work (well, one of the many things) is that I’m on a salary, rather than an hourly rate, and so whenever my work days fall on public holidays I just get paid for them regardless. Choice, especially since I work full days on mondays and half days on Fridays. Hmm, friday was yesterday, wasn’t it? Yes it was. So early last night, I got a txt from Justin saying he was down at Murphy’s drinking with Wayne Hope (Mass Com tutor) and I should go down and meet him and we’d proceed to JeremE’s birthday party from there. I decided that sounded like a good plan, so I got dressed, but then Kate told me my breasts looked weird and made me change my bra (and then she tells me I’m paranoid!) but eventually I got approval and she dropped me off at Murphy’s.

After I walked into Murphys and looked around for ages trying to find Justin, the bouncer came up to me and made me go back out to the front door to show him my ID. I thought that was more than a little unnecessary, but if it made him feel like a big man, then so be it! I managed to find Justin and sink some pints. There were more people who said that they’d met me before, and this time I actually managed to place them – “Oh, we talked on the stairs for ages, didn’t we?”. One day I am going to make myself flashcards to improve my name-face rememberence levels. Wayne Hope said he remembered me from two years ago, and I was like “I didn’t work very hard” and he was like “but you had charisma” and that made me laugh a lot, because really, drunken lecturers are funny. And a bunch of us (us being me and Justin and Justin’s friends) went to go get some food. They were madkeen on Nando’s, so we went to the Atrium on Elliot foodcourt but everything was just shutting, so no one got a very good meal. But hey. Then we cabbed it to Nick’s house in Ponsonby via Liquorking. I’m still really surprised at how nice Nick’s house was, and I told him so many times – “like, I’m not saying you’re all that scungy or anything, but I would have expected your house to be”. There was a bidet in the downstairs bathroom.

So yeah, lots of drinking sitting in Nick’s porch, and then Brad came along and drove us all to JeremE’s house. Brad kicks ass. We hung out and talked a lot. There was a dj and house music playing in the living room, and couches in the hall and stuff. I talked to people that I knew, but mostly to Brad and Hamish. It was a good atmosphere though. Eventually one of the boys that I’d been drinking with earlier came and sat next to me, ripping my skirt in the proccess, and since there was three of us on a two person couch, he put his arm around me and then when Brad left, I suddenly realised that he was giving me the eye, and that I was giving him the eye too, and I was a little surprised. But hey, I went with it, and when we thought no one was watching we kissed, and he invited me back to his house, promising me chocolate and a lock on his door. In keeping with the whole discreet attempts, he said he’d meet me on the street, and left, so I left a couple of minutes later. There’s me trying to keep a straight face telling Brad and Justin that I was really tired and going to leave. I couldn’t figure out if they were clued to me or not, cos I would have thought Justin would have said something (or asked for a percentage) but hey, whatever. And so I met the boy on the driveway and made out against a car with him (classy!) before our taxi arrived.

He was a real sweetheart; he played Jeff Buckley and had an electric blanket and he called me gorgeous, and made me a chicken enchillada, so that was cool. He also put up with me making long cellphone calls to Tom and KateB because he was a nice boy. <!– SUCH a sweetie; he looked like the singer of Pluto, but Jesus, someone needs to teach him that hey, you know, maybe Foreplay would be a good idea! –>And as such, I left when he was sleeping and walked home – you know me and my _sleeping_ with people issues. KateB was fast asleep in my bed when I got home, so I pulled out hte couch in the lounge, watched Tool videos and had a very amusing conversation with KateM who was in Wellington.

Sometime in the middle of the night (okay, well it was 4am when I got home, so maybe 6amish?) I woke up and had absolutely no idea where I was – I knew i wasn’t in a boy’s house but it was the whole sleeping i the lounge thing that threw me off, so I ahd a minor freakout but it was okay. Around 10am KateB got up and climbed under my duvet with me and we spent a couple of hours with her bitching about house music, poking each other and screaming and squealing and laughing and giggling and it was awesome. Clayton’s psycho mother kept calling – why doesn’t that boy have ANY nice women in his life (me included)? Around 2ish, Kate and I went to Occam to meet Derek, who stood us up. On the way, we stopped by the boy’s house cos I was feeling a bit bad, and I put a note in his letterbox which said “Hey *! Thank you for the enchilladas and I hope I didn’t make you feel like a man-whore leaving while you were sleeping. You’re a total sweetheart, Jo”. No number or anything, cos it wasn’t that type’o deal.

Now I feel a little ill from the food and the hangover and stuff, so I will have a nap, and then go to True Colours in time for Pluto. I’m going by myself because I’m cool and secure. KateH will be there though, and hopefully I will see her. And anyways, I will see her tomorrow for sure because there’s a new series of Dawson’s Creek starting – wahoo! And then I will need to do my assignment. My arm is really really sore – I suspect it’s from carrying a dozen all the way from the liquor store to Nick’s house.

K, naptime now. I’m happy and bouncy today, and that’s cool. Also I should call Brad and apologise for not hanging with him very much. I feel a little stink for having left the party so early, but I guess sometimes a girl has to do what a girl has to do. Also, don’t forget my birthday.

Please chose a letter to begin with, and then just follow it on with the >>>. Where you want to start is up to you. It’ll be fun! And crazy! And wacky! Oh yes. Thank You.

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And the bit I don’t understand is why you kissed me tonight.