Hubris.co.nz

I am no longer a public servant. This means that I can therefore say whatever I want. Because oh yes, I had totally been holding back before, right?

I have been without a job for 11 days now. I’m applying for things, networking through Girl Geek Dinners, booking a trip to Vanuatu. In total white whines Karen and I took ages to decide which resort we wanted to stay at, and then in the end we’re staying at the other one because our first choice only had a queen bed and we don’t want to share. We’re going on August 18, which is a million years away, and it makes me sad because it will mean missing the ONYA awards that I have already bought a beautiful dress for. Still, tropical holiday, you can’t really argue with that.

Saying goodbye at work was really sad. I cried at Green Land when they said they didn’t have any more scones and was very very embarrassed and it was totally my iPod’s fault for playing “So Here We Are” and “The Funeral” together. I had some quiet tears in the bathroom. Yenping cried more publicly. I was happy I got to make out with someone on my desk before I left though. Our goodbye function at the Backbencher got very drunk and raucous and we ended up going to the The’Ho afterwards, and then back to mine because all the bars were shut but there was more booze at my house. There was very stupid ill-thought-out clumsy fumblings in my bed afterwards (“you’re not going to twitter about this, are you?”) and terrible hangovers, and then I had an all-day battle with The Man, by which I mean my shrink who conveniently got sick again right when I needed a new script, and the receptionist at my doctor’s is the living embodiment of the Computer Says No lady, but luckily the practice nurse who returned my call was able to understand what it was that I needed, and so I got a two week script out of them – but then even though I’d rung the week before, my new pharmacy didn’t have any lexapro in stock so I had to wait until the end of the day to get my scripts, and then it was 5.30 and I had to drive to the house I’d booked in Martinborough. I was very very shakey and hungover and it was so misty going over the Rimutakas and I was on the verge of having mad panic attacks the whole time.

I discovered that in my shakiness I had packed one sock and no pyjama pants, but there was a gas fire, and a glorious big bathtub, and I had packed delicious food, so that was fantastic. I had intended to have two whole days with the only time I spoke being when I sang to the rubber duckie in the bath, but the house owners came over to check that all was well, and the woman in the thunderpants store turned out to be someone I used to work with, and the girl in the cafe felt compelled to ID me when I had a glass of wine with my onion soup, and the butcher wanted to complain about his day, so blah blah blah, but most importantly, I was free of the internet and the associated incestuous clusterfuck that is Wellington for a good 36 hours, and that was bloody lovely. I resolved to try and have a twitter-free day every week (that has yet to happen) and I took stock of things and realised that sleeping with other people isn’t really chasing away the memories of someone else as much as I would like it to, so perhaps I should stop doing that. Spoiler alert: I don’t stop.

Back into Wellington I got straight back amongst the clusterfuck by dressing up in a corset ala Moulin Rouge, and going to Phillip’s to drink absinthe. Absinthe was a strange thing to drink then, because it made my mind seem even sharper, while my motorskills became blurred. Nevertheless, I honoured my new intentions by leaving around midnight. The next night I went to Bambi’s drinks at the Southern Cross, drank ridiculously large amounts of red wine and brought home the boy that I had fancied like mad last year – (“you’re not going to blog about this, are you?”). Upon reflection, I suspect what the real issue I’ve had with the last three people that I’ve slept with is that there was very little attempt by any of them to actually seduce me. It just happened. I want the flirting and the touching and the tingles back, not just the inevitability of the cold weather. It has hardened my resolve to hold out for a hero.

Kane came to stay for a couple of nights and it was lovely to see him. It was also nice to have someone more shockable than Lisa around. I cooked some great food for them. I’m trying to get all budgety so I didn’t go out to Kylie’s farewell drinks last night – which is probably just as well from the sound of things. I’m paying Anna Jane to do some cut’n pasting of my old journal to put it all into wordpress which I hope will be done before July 18 when you’re all coming to my party, right? And tonight I’m going to a dinner party at Theresa’s when I don’t think I’ll know most of the people, so I’m nervous about that, but hopefully it will all be okay. I made chocolate mousse.

So that’s me, really. Doing lots of laundry, trying to tidy my room, looking for work, looking for love in all the wrong places. You know, the usual. Hurrah.

Despite all my statements on Twitter that I’m gay this month (because yes, you can totally dictate your sexuality like that, weren’t you aware?), mostly June has been a month of birthdays, and that is a fantastic thing, but it has pretty much killed me and my July schedule is looking about as full, and really, maybe it’s time that you guys all started paying attention to the things I say about you all behind your back, because really, I can’t take all this popularity anymore. It’s exhausting!

So anyways, near the start of June, I was supposed to go to Social Innovation Camp, but I was so so tired from presenting about SMS to people, and so much talk talk talk about work stuff, and I was hungover from something, some drinking after work but where and with who I can’t remember, but oooh, a look at my Google Calendar tells me that I had a glasses adjustment (I got new glasses) that day, so now I remember that I thought I lost my glasses that night, which means that i was playing Rockband with a whole bunch of public servants (I eventually found my glasses days later having torn my room apart and uncovering a dead rat under my bed by following a trail of peanuts – my laptop had crumbs on it so I had obviously been eating something while writing crap on the internet drunk, and then I saw a peanut container by my chest, and so if I’d thrown the peanut container there, perhaps I had thrown my glasses there too, and I had – I’m so Veronica Mars it hurts sometimes). I would not be able to function without Google Calendar, I almost had a heart attack when it went down one day oooh la la. Anyways, back to my point. So anyways, on a Saturday at the start of June I had to drag my ass over to Karen’s house to do secret work on Neil’s birthday present, and Amy was supposed to be coming over to make us up, so I was in ratty tshirt and jeans, and I was carrying food, and wine, and I had to walk up three floors because the lift was down, and I walked in the door of Karen’s apartment and then this happened:


Photo by Jed
It turned out that I was having a MOTHERFREEKING CIRCUS FREAK SURPRISE BIRTHDAY PARTY! Have you ever seen me speechless before? No? Well you should have been there really, shouldn’t you? Oh my stars, it was astonishing. There were lions and tigers and bears and creepy hypnotists, and two-headed freaks, and bearded ladies, and kissing booths and cakes with ponies and decorations everywhere and flaming hoops and gypsies and fortune tellers and cupcakes and umm, just go look at photos from Anji and Bambi and Kowhai and Jed’s and my crappy cellphone photos (I can’t find my camera cable). I was truly truly blown away, it was astonishingly awesome. I have never had a surprise party before, and apparently it was rather difficult to plan one for me as I am so hyper-socially-organised, but Karen and Anji and all the other lovelies did a most spectacular job, and I was just like holycrapwowfuck for a very long time. And they read out nice things from people who couldn’t be there, including KateB who had rung the night before to wish me a happy birthday and I had been like “umm, what the fuck? it’s not my birthday for another couple of weeks, how do you not know that?” and she’d been like “oh, umm, I’m drunk” and I’d laughed, but looking back there were a million little pieces that all make sense now. So yes, birthday party. Awesomeness.

There has been a lot of drinking at work lately as well, because of half of our team losing our jobs, and there’s gradual goodbyes, and finishing off of projects, and writing “No, I rocked” as an answer to a personal assessment question about whether I could have done anything better this past year. I’ve finally published the report that I worked on over the summer with the intern, and I’m having my final say about stuff. I cried a little bit when I wrote my last update for the work blog. Then I got drunk. I had birthday dinner with my family at Elements in Lyall Bay which was amazing – incredible service, value and taste, and then last Friday I had a big group dinner with my friends at China Delight, who were delightful and rang me after I’d left to say happy birthday to me again. I have a lot of friends it turns out. There were more drinks at the Hawthorn Lounge after that, even though we’d just been there the week before for Shirley’s 30th. They always give me extra olives in my martinis now.

It’s been so cold that there has had to be lot more drinking because bars are warm. There was burlesque at Bodega that was squirmy. There were long conversations with Canadians at Hooch about the Zombie Apocalypse and the roles that we will all have to play after that. It’s my standard conversational pickup line, obviously. There actually hasn’t been any gayness at all really despite June being Gay Month, unless we count me making $1.50 showing my sailor bra to Anna Jane in the kissing booth at my party, but since I refunded her money because I always give that away for free anyways, it doesn’t really count. It is nice having new friends like Anna Jane, and Kylie, and it is fun to twitter that I’m drinking with Kylie and comparing notes because I am a mean girl.

Wellington continues to be – and in fact grows even more – incestuous but mostly I’m sitting on the sidelines giggling at everyone. I’ve written some mean emails to someone who maybe does or doesn’t deserve it, but they aren’t read anyway. I’ve also written naughty emails to balance out the passive-aggressiveness, because everyone likes that, right? Anji reminded me that I’d been so happy at my surprise party that I promised to not be passive-aggressive to anyone for a whole week, but that didn’t quite work out. I’m surrounded by people all the time and that’s lovely but I’m also kind of lonely sometimes but I know what it is that I want, and I can’t have it, and that’s just that.

I have one full week of work left, and then two days. I am actively applying for jobs, but there aren’t many around that I want. I want to go away to a tropical island for a while but Karen can’t get leave until August. I’m also currently fantasizing about blowing a substantial part of my redundancy payout on this bed which I suppose wouldn’t really be blowing my money away so much given that I spend so much time in bed and I’ve had this one for ten years, but I think I should maybe wait until I have a house of my own in which to put it. I’m not entirely certain I’ve taken my zopiclone tonight (or rather yesterday) since it’s 2am now and I’m not sleeping, so beds are weighing rather heavily on my mind right now. I’m going to use the time without employment to ween myself off the zopiclone very very slowly. I will miss the crazy intense dreams, but I also can’t wait to get rid of them.

Were there other things we needed to talk about? Oh yes, this:

TEN YEARS, BABY! You will come along, right? And finally, if you’re wondering what I look like right now (or rather earlier this evening), here’s a picture of me with a chip cat on my shoulder.

Thursday June 6th

Bed gets harder and harder to get out of in the mornings as it gets colder and colder. Bopa and I had breakfast in Grafton together, excellently cheap donuts and Atomic coffee before I went to work, a little bit late, but the big boy Bridget wasn’t there anyways, so it didn’t matter. Hmm, I just typed ‘boy’ but I meant boss. I’m a dick. Also, do you know who else is a dick? HORRIBLE MOOCHER GIRL. Grrr. I’m getting veeeeeeeeeery annoyed with our houseguest. Last night I missed a top secret but very important meeting because she had gone out and parked me in, and then I thought she’d come back any minute now, but of course she didn’t. I really need to say something to Bopha about it, but the thing is Clay wants her gone just as much as me, and I really don’t see why I should always have to be the fucking bad guy. Clay should get a fucking spine. Hmm, I was actually in a really good mood until just now too. But maaaaaargh – I mean, it’s fair enough to be pissed off after someone’s been in your house for four weeks without any indication of when they’re going to leave, right? I mean, this is a pretty small apartment.

But anyways, brighter happier notes. Trying to get gossip out of Justin about yourself is like trying to squeeze juice from a nonjuiceable thing, which is funny given how much he’ll tell you about everyone else not pertaining to you. I have things on my mind, semi guilty conscience and stuff, but not really – I feel bad for not being as sweet to someone as he was to me, but according to Justin, it’s all cool, so that’s cool, and yeah, end of story.

My wrists have been really really really clicky lately. I’m sure I heard Natural Ange recommend something for that – Silica maybe? or Zinc? I dunno, but that’s what I should be taking. Also, less wanking would probably help too. And plenty of other things. I should try and find the other poi that Jacinta made me, but I fear it has gone the way of my sneakers and vanished into thin air somewhere in limbo between Auckland and Wellington. Hmm, i keep going to hit tilda funny key cos I use a mac at work, but that doesn’t work here. Anyways. Okay, it’s becoming pretty obvious that i don’t have much to say, so I should talk about my birthday instead.

Hi, I’m turning 22 on the 17th of June. You can find my birthday wishlist here. You should send me stuff – if you email me I will give you my address; who knows, it could be the start of a beautiful friendship (I can give you references on that one). I’m going out for dinner to somewhere cheap and BYO for dinner on my actual birthday – and the best bit is that since Clay will be away then, I don’t have to invite Kara – muhahahah, so it’s just going to be my closest nearest and dearest, cos massive dinner parties are a little scary, and then having a (not hyped) party on the 29th, after exams, to which you’re all invited, assuming that either A) I know you, or B) you know my address and aren’t intimidated by my friends. Cool. My friends aren’t really that scary, even if they are a little protective. Maree came around this evening, and it was lovely to see her, even though she didn’t share her meat (I’ve eaten too much bread today and I’m craving proteins. This could also be related to me being midcycle, I think (and a quick check of the old pillarooni packet confirms it (I hope my previously good blood pressure hasn’t gone up drastically over hte past couple’o weeks))).

You know, if that last sentence had been a maths equation, it would have been fucking hard. Oh and one other thing – I fixed the links on all the pages to my photo directory – it should have always been /cam not /photos.