Hubris.co.nz

Sometime around September last year I started desperately searching the internet for a house we could rent for New Year’s Eve, as the beloved bach in Waiterere had been sold. Astonishingly, I managed to find one – in Raumati. It had six bedrooms, three bathrooms and was across the road from the beach. And we got it! And so, #raumatirumble was born. You can read Laura’s shorter description with more crying here, or read on.

Obviously everyone who’d been at Waiterere had to return. That was me, Kim & Brendan (KRENDAN SMASH!), Jason & Kate (Kason) and Stacey and Mike, who met and became Macey on that fateful occasion. But we’d also folded in Laura Hungry and Tim (Lim) into our social group, like whipped cream into a coulis. Notice a reoccuring theme? Oh yeah, me amongst a whole bunch of couples. So it was time to find myself a summer boyfriend. I thought there was potential, and there had been a really nice first date, but a second never eventuated. Also we found out that the other Laura (Lozza) was going to be around, and we wanted her with us. Yay Summer Boyfriend!

So emails went around about what we needed to take with us, and we decided to each put in $50 for food, and cases of wine were ordered, and ginger and rhubarb syrups brewed, and limoncello soaked and bottled (well, the bits that Bad Tom didn’t accidently add to our already alcoholic lemonade on Xmas Day anyway). And then the weather reports were read and it was rainy mcrainstorms ahead. Boo, you whore. So I packed some socks as well as three pairs of togs, and hit up the Sallies shop in Newtown for four trashy novels (and a stack more saucers for the #plateproject while I was at it).

Finally December 30 rolled around, after a couple of very long days of anticipation. Rachel came over to catsit, and after about a thousand trips, I managed to get my car all loaded up with food, wine, chilly bin, paddling pool, fancy clothes and all. I collected Kim and Lozza in the rain, and we were off, cranking up our themesong (we run this town, after all) and other Rihanna choones along the way, talking about how major Nicki Maraj is, and loading up on vegetables on our way (avocados at 69 cents and strawberries $1.50 a punnet? Oh hell yes!). We got somewhat lost in Raumati but eventually with our three iphones combined, we managed to make our way to the house, and unload.

Kason and KRENDAN had already secured themselves upstairs rooms, so I headed downstairs. Summer Boyfriend and I took separate bedrooms because I snore, but figured we could do it on the ping pong table upstairs so I could show off some new tricks while I was at it (for serious: I was at Family Planning the other week getting a full range of STD checks (my Xmas present to myself: being assured I am clean. Treat yo’self!) and the nurse was like “your vagina muscles are so strong you should learn some ping pong ball tricks!” because I kept popping out the speculum. Why do I always get the interesting health professionals?). I pushed the beds in my room together none the less, because I am not very practiced at sleeping in a single bed and did not want to injure myself. Also downstairs were Macey, and the biggest room of all was saved for Lim. Seriously, that bitch was like, huuuuuuuuuuge. Which came in very handy later…

Too many details, right? When Lim got there, we held a summit and worked out an approximate meal schedule, and dispatched the menfolk off to the supermarket in the root ute (in this scenario, Lozza counted as a man, on account of being my summer boyfriend). Meanwhile, us ladies drank wine and called ourselves the Real Housewives of Raumati. I was wearing a caftan, after all.
Our 3G connection was weak, but our love was strong. I rang up the property owner to question why there was no TV when there had been one in the pictures, and scoffed at him for saying “there are Sky connections if you brought your own decoder” because what good would that be without a screen to watch it on? He rang back a little later and then I rang him from a telecom phone with better coverage, and he promised to send one over the next day. Victory!

To my extreme delight, Laura had brought along a couple of Babysitters Club books, and so we made Tim give us a dramatic reading about the truth about Stacey and her diabetus (captured on Instagram by Jason here). It was raining but the wine and rhubarb ginger gimlets were warming, and it wasn’t actually cold, so I went for a swim with some of the boys. The beach was beautiful even in the grey, and easily accessed by some steps. The hot shower afterwards was good, especially since I didn’t have to wait for anyone else to finish first.

My wrists were sore from all the wanking pre-holiday chopping and cooking and scrubbing so I assumed the position of Team Leader instead of cook, and we got two huge pans of glorious mac’n cheese in the oven. Cooking teams are great! We spent the evening most pleasantly, stuffing our faces, drinking wine and talking shit. Good times.

The next morning I woke up to a good deal of excitement upstairs. Santa had just dropped off a brand new 42 inch plasma screen, and the menfolk were scrambling around to assemble it while others played barista with Lim’s coffee machine. There were fried potatos and toast and eggs for everyone but me, and once the kitchen was cleaned, the boys (and Stacey) went to the rec room to play Settlers of Catan loudly, while the girls made mimosas, watched The Mighty Boosh (we even had our own Milky Joe), and painted our nails with OPI’s Rainbow Connection and other delights. I even have a picture of it, including glittery cakeballs made by Laura.

So important! So shiny!

Cider was drunk and the weather cleared up a little bit, so we got our ocean swim on, my summer boyfriend squealing away. It was cold, but we all had a lovely splish splash, and when we got back to the house, after hot showers and putting PJs on, I busied myself making fried cheese sandwiches for people. Mike’s friend arrived around that time and didn’t bother to introduce himself to the other room of people. In his defense, Mike didn’t introduce us either. So we drank some more cider and did some prep for our fancy dinner. I made bread rolls! The dough rised! And rised! And then it rose again after I balled it up! SUCH AN ACHIEVMENT! Then Laura brandished pipe cleaners at us, so it was time to get our cat ears on. Stacey did mine for me, and I got my fancy duds on:

Turns out my Summer Boyfriend gives great pussy too:

My tweet at the time said we should be on the cover of Cat Fancier magazine, because WE ARE FANCIER THAN CATS. We are major. More catting followed, and we also decided to give the boys cat head dresses. Not all of them were keen on having their toenails painted though.

After arguing backwards and forwards about whether we could fit the outdoor table into the dining space as well, we ended up setting up the ping pong table for dinner, which worked very well for the eleven of us. There was lamb and beef from the bbq, amazing potato gratin, my rolls (and rolls and rolls. Get it? I’m fat), and then because we suddenly realised there were two vegetarians, we also made a carrot salad and asparagus very hastily. And we sat down and ate and ate, and talked about what our resolutions for the year had been, and if we’d kept him. I had resolved not to sleep with any more close friends, workmates or married people. I didn’t sleep with any workmates in 2011, woo! (Or did I?) And I resolved to shoot a gun in 2012. After dinner we broke out the limoncello that I had made for dessert, and started singing songs from Community, which may have been a little disturbing for those who were not familiar with it. Mike’s friend revealed that he voted National, which made everyone uneasy. There was some dancing, and at midnight I put down my glass of Glen Coco Juice, and warned my Summer Boyfriend I was going to dip her and kiss her, which I did. As a good hostess, I thought it would only be fair enough to kiss Mike’s friend too, because everyone should have a good time. And then there was more crazy dancing, some wacky waving arms to ‘Wuthering Heights’ of course, which I hope someone will post the video of. Cigars were smoked on the deck with whiskey, and I felt very manly. More drinking was done, and I showed more hospitality, painting the friend’s toenails and introducing him to the delights of the Arcade Fire and gave him a place to sleep. Because I am a good host, okay?

On New Year’s Day, we got to go to Wendy’s for lunch, huzzah! And then we watched Mean Girls and started drinking again, and the sun came out, and the ocean was a lovely place to swim off a hangover and feel bad in. That evening we watched Point Break as Jason made us pizza after pizza, and once again we resolved to shoot a sequel, starting with Patrick Swayze washing up on Raumati Beach. I think Kate is going to play Gary Busey.We played Articulate with some amazing calls like me “Someone who talks to the dead” and someone else yelling “…. Necrophile!”.

The next day was glooooooooooriously sunny. After fantastic breakfast triple pikelets, there were many card games outside in the shade, much devouring of Rivals by Jilly Cooper which is so fantastically trashy and also happens to be Laura’s favourite book so she constantly receited lines at me about people’s bushes. Very major. More cider was purchased, along with some other treats, and more swimming was done. There was still almost no cellphone coverage, so we heard that people were angry with Libra Tampons for transphobia, but couldn’t watch the ad. So we drank more and bbqed a feast. Later, a commitee was sent downstairs to Lim’s room to build us a blanket fort. Holy fucking crap. I thought last year’s was spectactular, but this was astonishing. Four clothes racks provided central support, and there were mattresses and pillows galore, as well as a chilly bin and a stereo so we could party in there. Here’s a picture taken by my Summer Boyfriend. Naturally the first game inside a blanket for is Marry, Fuck Kill, and as Mean Girls was fresh in our minds, it stirred up some hefty debate. Most everyone would marry Karen, but there was a lot of argument about who was richer – Regina, or Gretchen. Obviously it’s Gretchen, because her dad like, invented toaster strudel. Plus I think Gretchen would work much harder in bed because she wants people to like her, and Regina would just lie back. But if you fucked Regina, there’s a good possibility that Amy Poehler might walk in on you, which would be great. INTENSE DISCUSSION! Someone has a video of it which they might post. Of course, we also played I Have Never too, and I discovered that the past six months of my life result in me getting raaaaaaaaaaaaaather drunk during that game. Then there was some wailing to Adele, and a great big hangover the next day.

Macey had to leave us, but we consoled ourselves with the saddest sight in the world ever – Jason playing paddle tennis by himself on the beach. I had the best swim ever, and then sent the day alternating between sun and shade and wet and dry. Monkey butlers even brought me G&Ts. And I very nearly won at cards after making Tim shift into the paddling pool with me. Yes there was an ‘f’ in that, thanks. And then some kittens came to visit, as snapped by Laura in front of the paddling pool!

I feel like I am failing to capture this magical holiday and have no way to describe all the injokes and the number of times I sang “YOU’RE WELCOME, YOU’RE WELCOME FOR EVERYTHING” like Pierce, and the number of times I told people I loved them as Laura ate golden syrup off her knife or Lozza wrote “I LOVE LAMP” on the beach. There was lots of laughter and also enough quiet time, the house was plenty big enough for us all, and the bad weather over the first couple of days didn’t matter. We ate and drank like kings, and didn’t even spend all that much money on it. On our last night we watched slide shows of the pictures and videos people had taken, looking back already. I was very very sad to leave the next morning, but super happy to come home to Sebastian.

So that was my New Year’s. How was yours?

So tomorrow, or sort of todayish, it will have been a year since I cried and I screamed and I hoped and I begged and I cried some more in joy and Obama was voted in as president. There are plenty of people who will write about the political implications of all that, and about the terrible puppy-eating thing that happened a few days later in NZ when my hair looked all amazing and I was pretending to be Joan Holloway, but I will pretend that night never happened. And I suppose that’s where it would be easy to start the fantasies, to pretend that the things never happened, but lately and for very little reason other than maybe getting my period and the associated END OF THE WORLD right before it, I am reminded of all these things and all these touches, and I react funny, and I cry in strange places and contact people that I shoudn’t because I just want some kind of attention and I know that mostly this is me, not you, and yet I have come to the conclusion that it’s not that I am still in love with you, but rather that it has gone out the other side and I hate you for what you have done to me, and for what I let myself become and that maybe it is easier if I loathe every single thing about you. But of course, that’s not actually that much easier. It just took me by surprise a couple of nights ago when I was just totally overcome with thoughts of the things that briefly were things, but not for very long and anyways, let’s end this paragraph. I am not good at dealing with anniversaries of things that are teh sux0r.

Now I have a a toss-up between good or bad. Let’s go with the bad, then the good.

I will try to keep this paragraph relatively spoiler-free, but I have been watching a certain show set in 1963 on torrents, and so yes, you can expect that Mad Men WILL deal with the assassination of JFK (oh, spoiler alert, apparently the president got assasinated in November 1963..) and I was watching that episode last night and because of course, much like you, my moment of “This is history happening right now” was 9/11, and so it was all played out in flashback sequences last night, the starting on Fluox, the Buffy episode at 3am, the flicking to the news channel, the “oh wow, what movie is this?”, the text messages to Kateh and Thomas, the wondering whether or not to wake Clayton, and then the flatmate hunt in the weeks after, but most relevantly, EM’s letters about what he told his son about the bad men when his son’s cartoons were taken off the air. It’s 2009, EM, shouldn’t you be emailing me right now?

But oh, the happy anniversaries! They can wipe out all the badness. And this is where the glee comes in, with going to Christchurch for one night for Harvestbird and Ned’s wedding. I feel very tongue-tied and inadequate and actually quite useless in recording such a lovely mellow event (although I can say that some dumbass Kwikimart clerk gave me terrible directions and it took me 30 minutes to walk to the bar instead of two), but what I can do instead is embed a drunken video for you that I took of the crazy lights in my crazy hotel room:

Apart from that, Christchurch was AWESOME! There was the girl on the plane who recognised me from a rollerderby match (“you’re Jo from Pretty Pretty aren’t you?”) who gave me a tour around the city to my hotel and an adventurous trip back to the airport the next day. There were hungover drinks with Emma Hart who managed to make ME blush which is practically as unheard of as the word “squozen” and the brunch the next day with Kebabette at C1.

I know Kebabette from PPP, so this is a good time to say how awesome the Pretty Pretty Party was. Also awesome? The Pride & Prejudice & Zombies ball. There are great pics on that link, by the way. I do so really love to dance, and the girls and boys at that dance swept me off my feet and all over the floor and I really should have hitched up my skirt better so I wouldn’t have slipped over so much. The fact that I ended up crying behind my (Theresa’s) fan at Motel later that night and sending texts to inappropriate people because I wanted some attention is clearly irrelevant. Honest!

I had a period for like, almost two weeks or something? Which was annoying but at least it kind of made my body make sense. Now I’ve got a three-week contract working from home but all I seem to want to do is take naps, so my hours are a little sporadic and off the standard chart. I have Fridays in the office to ground me however, and I feel really good and confident about the work I am doing. It is very much aligned with my skill set and close to my heart. Someone commented to me on Facebook the other day about how they can’t believe that I still don’t have a job yet and I feel pretty much the same way that they do, only more so.

El moved out but a lovely girl from Twitter who is on Brutal Pagaent (boo!) at Roller Derby (yay!) will be moving in. Brent’s going to move in with his girlfriend so I still need another flatmate. My social calendar is insanely busy. Hubris wasn’t updated for a while, but now it is. Good. Gossip Girl time now, right?

Except Lisa has me watching a Pearl Jam clip where they’re singing ‘Black’ and I expect him to start singing “We…belong…together” like he does in the Unplugged video, not altogether too different from Campbell Scott (that’s right, isn’t it Jessie? I get the two confused) in Singles but then he sings lines from ‘Good Woman’ instead about how he’s lying when he says he doesn’t love me no more, and oh, they’re too much like a text message when someone said that they were going to say that they were over me because they were weak, and oh, fuck you Obama, I am holding you entirely responsible for this, apart from the parts that are Guy Fawke’s fucking doings..

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

Or, as I said tonight:

Jo Hubris says: wow that’s a bad dress

* says: which channel?

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

* says: hahaha russell

Jo Hubris says: hahaha drink!

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

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

* says: yeah
but I only really noticed recently

(speaking of which)

Jo Hubris says: Robyn got two PA shoutouts today

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

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

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

“Jesse,” Steve(n) whispered, “are you awake?”
“What’s up little buddy?” asked Jesse
“Jesse, you know that website that we’re not allowed to read? Why do they call you a merkin? What’s a merkin?”

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

Hahhaha.

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

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

Also, hurray, no more merkin!

I haven’t been writing as often as I would have liked to have been writing. I think that’s partly because my last entry was so fucking mammoth, and partly because some of the noise in my head is NOT FOR YOU (which is sad actually, that I feel the need to censor myself because now more than ever there are more people that I know reading my journal than there ever used to be). I need to do more writing though. Last week I wrote 14 album reviews in one day. That perhaps wasn’t the best way to do it, but oh well, you get what I’m paid for. And I don’t get paid for these reviews. Just a heads up though, I’m loving Ghostplane and The Cloud Room and Art Brut and rully not loving HIM. Strangely enough. If we’re going to get all the recent things I’ve enjoyed out of the way too, I must spend a couple of sentences talking about Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell which kept me enthralled for weeks and weeks, the mountain of a book that it is, although it gave me a creepy undercurrent of unease every time I read it, in a way not dissimilar to House of Leaves. And I was a little unsatisfied by the ending I think, it all seemed to come to a stop really soon after all the build up, but it was indeed bloody excellent.

Okay, on with the show. What have I been up to the past week? Hmm. On Thursday, we had a quiz night at work. I think I impressed several people with my dazzling knowledge of mostly useless facts AND I managed to drink quite a lot too. What an achievement! While I wasn’t hungover the next day, I was full of cringe for arriving at work two hours late – when I’d woken up at 7.50am, I reset my alarm clock, as I always do, but I made it 7.30 instead of 8.30, and so it didn’t go off, and so I didn’t get up and oh the crapness that is me. That combined with things like Thursday Morning Teas, and taking off on the dot of 5pm on Friday to go up to the other building to polish off the beers left over from the quiz night has meant that my output is down. But I will also put that down to the fortnightly cycle. Yes.

Anyways, drinks on Friday were pleasant and amusing as usual. I went home around 8ish I think, cos we’d finished the beer, and I brought takeaways and put on my pajamas and settled down to watch TV. But then I was like “no! I want to go out!”, and I was still annoyed cos I was supposed to be hanging with Dave but he’d gone out with my sister the night before to an event I hadn’t been invited to and was too hungover. So I texted Katy, and found out that she was intending to go to Ghostplane, so I ran a hairdryer over my hair and dusted off my chucks. I was apprehensive about showing up and being a no-mates, but I didn’t want to stay at home any longer, so after texting Lisa Ratpony and discovering she was going to be on her way, and knowing that Kartini and Co would be there, I set off via eftpos taxi. Stupid no cashness.

I found Kartini & Mike and LisaB at the bar, and so I hung out with them. I really must remember what Lisa’s last name is more in the future, to avoid the sort of confusion that happened a couple of weeks ago with the girl whose birthday party it was not being that Lisa Lisa. Not that it was the end of the world or anything, but y’know, it just makes sense to know where you’re going or why you’re there. Meestar were playing, and they sounded pretty choice, even though I only know one song of theirs and that’s off a CD called Pimpu wa doko desuka? (Where are the pimps anyway?), so we sat outside and they smoked instead. It was a pretty damn cold night out in Wellington, and only two of the heaters were on, so I was glad to go inside when Ghostplane started playing. The stage was all set up with blue and green lights and waves and stuff, in keeping with the whole Under the Lagoon theme, and damn it looked purty. Then Katy showed up, and I felt like talking to her, so we went outside again, because as you know, people who talk near the stage at gigs are evil motherfuckers who need to be killed a lot. There was much discussion of graffiti in the toilets – including one particular piece that needed to have a last name censored out of it (by the way, has anyone found my KA messages yet?) and more beer was drunk, and blah blah blah, it was just a really good time, and I’m so glad I left the house again. Katy and I split a cab home via takeaway cheesecake from Midnight and I stayed up late watching watching taped Rockstar: INXS and getting teary at Jordis’s ‘Imagine’ and Marty’s ‘Wish You Were Here’. Awww bless.

Then I was forced to make a really hard decision in a two party system. Would I vote Newtown or Brooklyn for election coverage watching? Well, I went with the one with Hott Boy possibilities (Jimmy aside, of course, because obviously he’s SHRN, but not this particular Hott Boy). Saturday was DEMOCRACY DAY, and I was as excited as a kid at Xmas, except I was also terrified that there might be cunts in this country who would sell us out for an extra $20 a week who would result in us all getting a rather nasty lump of coal in our metaphorical stockings. But when Anji got home, I LITERALLY (not really) skipped up to the polling booth. We debated for a while about where to go (email suggestions telling me where to go are welcome) and since she wasn’t entirely sure if she was registered in Wellington Central or Rongotai we decided we’d give the school on Elizabeth St a go, since we were going to be going to Liquor King anyways. Since I’d spilled beer on my red top the night before, I was all about my green t shirt. I had debated with myself and others long and hard about whether or not to vote Labour or Green with my party vote, and the night before i’d finally decided to do what was in my heart, and on the basis of them being the only party ot talk about public transport, I went Green. I was going to be ticking the Annette King box anyways, so I was all red and green like an Xmas tree. Of course, I got to stick it in the special short box since i was out of my electorate – like many other green voters, I’m hoping. But perhaps we’ll come to that later.

Supermarket shopping was done and vodka was purchased, although I do kind of not like the fact that I got ID’d for vodka but not for voting – I mean, which one is more important? Then I made three flavours of vodka jelly (Raspberry Labour, Lime Green and Orange elections) and napped and blah blah blah, then it was a green scarf wrapped around my neck and red raspberry fizz to go with my vodka, and off to Kartini’s went I. You know what’s fucking choice? Watching TV with people who say things like “I think Steven Parker has a Giles-like past” and knowing what they mean, and then having those same people later compare Gerald Brownlee to Crab and Goyle. Ahhhh politics + pop culture = SHRN. We cheered and cheered every time Labour went up a .1, and cackled when National went down. We also drank in delight when the marvelous John Campbell threw shoutouts to the drinking game, saying “I just have to cut in now – oh and that means that all you drinking game players need to drink now”. How incredibly meta. I think I might try to develop a line of DVDs of cult movies with drinking game rules built in as subtitles. OI, BACK OFF, PREDATORS. Anyways. Maybe you should play a drinking game with my journal whereby you take a drink every time I do, and also every time I use my phrase de jour (such as SHRN). That’d rock. Rock! Okay, now you must drink.

After that, Katy tried to call her parents in Mexico so we missed out on a taxi with some people so we took another one in to a place in town which is a place of work where people were drinking, and the lovely Nial put a beer in my hands while some guy was metaphorically humping Katy’s legs, so I went to the bathroom and texted her that, and then when I came back he was literally doing it. Ahh it’s nice to be back on the Internet where I can make jokes about Humpy and know that youse guys get it. Or at least the footnoters do anyways. Go Level Two Hubrettes! I tried to be brave and stalk a hott boy across town, but when I finaaaaaaaaaaaally got to where he was, he was just on his way home. Sigh. Spring sucks! I am so in desperate need of being sprung. Of course I am on heat for many many boys but this is the only one that I could imagine actually telling. I think he’d be the kind to appreciate the straight talk.

Speaking of appreciating my pajamas (ha! see how I slipped in a masturbation joke right there? No? Well I’ve obviously not slept with you then), Sunday was a perfect day for duvets and pjs and DVDs. It was also good for getting texts with HOT GOSSIPICIOUS SCANDAL from Karen (for those in the know: it’s the same thing again), and roast dinners around the dining room table. How civilised!

But I’m still feeling a little sad, because on Sunday morning I dreamt I was at my book launch, and it was the most fantastic elaborate party ever – there were huge big trays going around with large slabs of expensive European chocolate, and kiwifruit champagne was pouring by the gushful, and lots of people I loved were there, but no one would give me a copy of my book, and I knew I wasn’t particularly happy with it, because it was something that I’d started writing in seventh form English, and I threw a tantrum at the publishers because they hadn’t arranged for me to actually get to read the book before it was published. Then after I’d stopped crying, and I’d left the party, I bumped into someone who used to be a big part of my life, and I wanted to show him my fabulous achievement, when he was all “oh, check out this book I just wrote” and I was trying to find a copy of mine and I couldn’t. Waking up and finally remembering that I haven’t actually written a book was even more devestating than the time I woke up and realised that I wasn’t actually recording an album in Bic Runga’s studio.

EDIT: Inspired by Heather’s comment, I now present A VERY EXCITING COMPETITION. Create ten rules for a Hubris drinking game. Best entries win hott prizes. Post them below.

I got a spam email this morning entitled “What has Crafty Clark got up her European sleeve?” to my work address.

I really don’t like spam. I was also somewhat disgusted at the content of the email, which included stuff like: “And during the government’s controversial condom campaign homosexual men were tongue-ing each other at a time when children were still watching television.” (Ummm, so?) There was also some stuff about Helen Clark is obviously a TOTAL EVIL COMMUNIST because some group in the Phillipines that got raided by the police had her name on a piece of paper, AND she picked coffee in Nicaragua, and you know what that means!

Anyways, my point is, this came from the email address paintbrushed@37.com, and when I wrote back (because hey, work has spam filters), saying that actually, I’m well happy with the current government and I’m stoked that homophobia is more of a minority in this country than homosexuality, and here is my name because I’m proud to put it to my opinions rather than hide anonymously, I got another reply going “attack the facts, not the messenger”.

My point is this: spam me, paintbrushed@37.com, and suddenly, you become fair game for spam yourself.

By the same token of Taking Vigilante Action Against Internet Crime, two little European girls and who had been directly linking to butterfly images hidden in the depths of Hubris now instead have pictures of genitally warted anuses (anii?) on their webpages. Gee, I wonder how that happened……

Also:

I am in love with feijoa & custard yoghurt, but nutrigrain is nasty (I reached the end of my cereal eight pack)

It’s nine sleeps or so until I hit the big A, and Ponsnobby accomodation is booked, dinner at Sawadee (you’re invited) is planned, invitations to two parties have been provided, tickets to The Mountain Goats gig are hopefully being acquired, but my darling Hayley hairdresser has apparently quit Ciao Bella. Bum!

We’ve started having morning tea every Wednesday at work. Hurray! My project manager brought in home baked scones and cake today. She has two young children and is also doing an MBA as well as working full time here. My suggestion that she is taking her children’s ritalin was not happily received.

In more examples of “my body is on crack” I now get stomach cramps like period pain when I orgasm. What?

I saw and adored Sin City last night (“eventually I was just punching liquid bone into the floor, so I stopped”) and then Anji and I rode a different bus home, enabling us to peer into all the lit up houses along Oriental Parade as we went. I am going to be rich someday, oh yes I am.

On that note, perhaps it is time i went back to work.

Before Shihad on Saturday night (they played DEB’S NIGHT OUT! Holy crap! I cried!), I was at Karen’s, and at Karen’s house I went to the bathroom, as I tend to do, and in Karen’s bathroom there was the latest <I>Salient</I>, (and I’m not going to say anything about how it tends to belong these days), and so I picked it up and read the editorial, and became absolutely disgusted. Apparently there’s going to be an SGM to attempt to roll the vice president, Jen Jones.

ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE?

Jen works harder than anyone else at VUWSA. She is passionate about helping students. Unlike most of the executive, she delivers results. Jen cares about what she’s doing. It makes me so mad that people could even suggest rolling her, so I implore you, if you are a Vic student, please go to the SGM, and please vote AGAINST rolling her (I’d tell you when it is, except that suprise suprise, the <I>Salient</I> site isn’t up to date). You might not agree with all of her ideologies, if you’re of a right wing nature (although hi, if you’re right wing, why are you reading my journal? Why aren’t you out eating puppies or something?) but surely you must see that she’s doing an excellent job.

I hate so much that there’s such a large number of ring wing people on the exec this year. That’s bad news for students. It’s also pretty shocking for the student magazine to have right wing connections too, but let’s not even go there….

<B>Update!</B>: Apparently it was
13 in favour
98 against

I’m fucking overjoyed. Thanks for making the right decision guys, you have renewed my faith that while the evil puppy eaters might talk louder, good sense and decency will prevail on the day. Yeah!

The Civil Unions Bill gets its second reading on Thursday. If you support it, please take a minute out of your day to email your MP and tell them that. If you have a spare five minutes, why not target some of the MPs who are wavering. No Right Turn has a good list (look for the “Uncrossing Our Fingers” title. This is the letter I sent out (with obvious name/party changes as applicable) which I found on www.civilunions.org.nz and adapted a little:
Subject: Please Support the Civil Unions Bill
Dear John,

I would like to express my support for the Civil Union Bill.

A considerable number of people, including people who voted for Labour, and the people of your electorate, are denied access to the institution of marriage because of their sexuality.

The Civil Union Bill offers more options to the New Zealand public, including gay couples, who want to have their relationships legally recognised and enjoy equal rights as promised under the Human Rights Act 1993.

When MPs supported that Act, including no discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation, family status or marital status, they began a process which was certain to end with debate on these matters.

The Bill is a modern way of dealing with tangible issues around recognition of relationships, giving legal status and self-respect to those couples, both gay and heterosexual, who choose it.

I know that I ? and everyone that I know – will only be voting next year for a party that supports human rights.

Yours sincerely,

Joanna McLeod

If you are feeling especially lazy, you can use the mass voting machine but be sure to make your letter fairly generic and make sure to fill out your address and everything so that they’ll pay attention.

Saturday July 27, 2002

HAPPY BIRTHDAY KATIE!

The candidate I voted for, Judith Tizard of the Labour Party won her seat. The Green Party, whom I gave my party vote to got 6.4%, so they get eight members of parliment. I’m mostly happy – although I would have been happier if Laila Harre would have won Waitakere and got the Alliance back in, so yeah, it was a good election day for me.

While we’re talking election days, last election three years ago, I was engaged in ICQ conversations w T about whether or not he should move in, purely as my “flatmate”. While the count might not yet be back from the ballot box as to whether or not it was a good idea, I’d like to put out a preemptive statement and claim that I don’t regret it at all – because how can you regret anything that shaped and changed you that much?

Other anniversaries that are coming up around this date would be my decision around this time two years ago to start Fucking, as opposed to actually wanting meaningful ties with person (and sure, this coincided with the day that I sold the bed that I often shared with someone I loved, but that’s beside the point). If you’ve been reading me since then, you probably would have noticed a major switch in attitude and the calibre of people since then – with some noteable exceptions who genuinely were good people (you know – the ones who are few and far between. Actually no, I’ve had two this year, depending on what kinda mood I’m in).

AND! It’s almost a year since I on-the-spot quit my job at Foodstuffs as a result of them being so horrible to me about my OOS. I’m still amazed that I had the gall to do that then, although admittedly they had me pushed right to the very edge. It’s probably one of the bravest things I’ve ever done though, chosing my soul and physical wellbeing over $40,000 a year.

Plus, it’s the seventeenth year that KateB and I have got to wish each other Happy Birthday, and that’s just fucking tremendous. She’s my darling girl and I love her.

Because of blah blah blah, all you need to know about my past couple’o days is that last night Bopha made the best fucking lasange ever, and so tonight I made the best risotto ever and when I served it to her and KateH I warned them that generally I only ever make risotto for people when I’m trying to get into their pants (oh come on! you knew that at the time!). Also, then I made vegan waffles with caramelised fruit. Come to think of ti, the risotto was vegan too. Anyways though.

Oh, and I got my hair done again. I love my hairdresser.

So, they’re recounting the votes in the US. Cool. I could make an effort to find out who’s won, but I can’t be assed, because I was at tech until 9pm today, and that’s quite a long time when you’re as sick as a sick dog. Coffee and a vege sandwich and gossiping with Jody and Jeremy perked me up a little though. Jeremy’s definately moving in, so yay. Kate B and I had a spat last night when she told me that oh maybe she’s not going to sublet, she might just move out, and that so wasn’t what I needed to hear after I’d arranged someone to sublet, and we were both very very tired and grumpy, so I stomped off to my room, but we made up before she went out to Johnno’s so that was okay.

So yes, very very tired. I was relieved to find out today from Mansfield that actually, all our paperwork and website isn’t due in today after all. Plus, apparently he’ll very happily give anyone an extension on their I.D project, and accept stuff with “Under Construction” segments. But that’s cheating. I figure if I can get an A on the planning of it all, I can damn well get an A on the actual thing. But I’m not sure if I will or not. I can dream. It’s all that makes doing an instructional program on how to use the AUT Phone System bearable. We had some career people come talk to us, and they said “You can expect a starting salary of around $30,000 in your field when you graduate” but Mansfield said after that if you go into Coporate Instruction work, you’ll start on at least $45,000. But where oh where is the soul?

I like Director. Well, I like it better than Quest anyways. I think I like it better than Flash too. My timeline is all colour coded and pretty. Arrrrgh, what’s happening to me? Helen asked me and Jody today if we’d had any Fireworks this year – my automatic response was “yeah I have it installed on my machine at home”. Of course, she was refering to Guy Fawkes. Why do program makers try and give their products such fucking bizzare names? I mean “FLASH!” – and how many people start singing “oooooh Dreamweaver, I believe…” AAARGH! Okay, sorry – you can kind of tell that lately I’ve been spending 90% of my awake time in the labs at tech, can’t you?

I meant to change my sheets and stuff tonight, and maybe even do a load of washing, but when you get home at 10pm, the inspiration’s really just not there, is it? Ooh I just made my back crack something lovely. I’m sure it wasn’t healthy, but it felt good. I’m not very healthy, and I intend to change that. My body’s so completley unable to cope with stress that it gets really really sick whenever I need it the most.

The link to my journal page is maybe likely to disappear off my front page sometime soon. This is in keeping with the fact that we’re soon going to have to make our answering machine message less offensive too as I go jobhunting. Damn conformity!

I’ve drank about three litres of water today. I’m pissing on the half hour. If someone was to give me a neck and shoulder massage, I would sell them my soul.

Think my “Night” capsuale is kicking in yet? I took two last night and still didn’t sleep. Too much running through my mind, plus I can’t breathe with a blocked nose, and I can’t sleep when I can’t breathe. My parents are coming up to Auckland next week to go to the Expo. Anji may or may not come. It’ll be nice to see them. I think I must also borrow money off them, unfortunately. I’m looking forward also to getting gloriously drunk on Wednesday night after the expo is over. And going to Hamilton on Friday to see Andee and Shihad and Fur Patrol.

Brain mush brain mush brain mush.

Oh, and just cos I was showing them to Annette, here are the last ten search engine thingies that people used to find my journal page:

• delivered baked goods
• flame test ion
• coloured gifs and jpegs and wizard
• piss jpegs,
• gifs of eart,s rot jpegs,
• gifs of eart,s rot jpegs
• hot jpegs
• fuck her very badly
• Nipple Licking

“You got nipple licking? I’m so jealous!”

Thursday the 17th of December

So today, everyone’s favourite American President is killing civillians because he doesn’t want to be impeached. Don’t even TRY and tell me it’s a coincidence. I voted for him in the mock elections we held at school back in Seventh grade – yeah, like I’d choose Ross Perot or Bush. I didn’t think that having an affair would in any way make him not be a good president – unless he’s going to declare war like this to get the heat off himself. The thing is, I’m not an Iraqi, and I’m not American, so whatever’s going on ovre there really shouldn’t concern me too much, but it does.

UI moved to Japan right after the Gulf War, into an American based society. I didn’t really think the war was such a big deal, because I was only 10, and all I knew about it was the odd headline or 20 from the Evening Post, and those fireworks images from CNN, that TV One piped in especially. In Japan however, apparently there were major threats of terrorism, so much so that the school buses had the “American School In Japan” logo taken off them, and students were told to tell everyone they were Canadian. It’s a fucked up world we live in. Then at 2.30am today, just before I went to bed (yeah okay, I’m writing this entry the day after) I thought I heard the distant roar of air-raid sirens, but figured there was nothing I could do anyways.

Why the hell am I talking about all this crap? There’s so much today that’s my own life that I could talk about. It’s December 17th. Those of you that know me will know why I’m moping. Those that don’t can hang on for it while I get through my basic day.

I worked two hours at my aunt Leonie’s house this morning. I did some typing for her (her keyboard was too clacky, so I made so many hidi errors, not like on this speedy wee baby) made some changes to her address database, and started cateloguing her collection of Japanese books that she bought off my grandfather’s collection (other side of the family)for her Nakano group. All terrific fun of course. Luckily I’m getting paid $10 an hour cash.

That was probably about as ragey as I got all day. I spent a lot of time revamping my website, trying to use Dreamweaver. For those of you who didn’t spot it, there’s now an extra table of contents. And there’s a couple of new sections too, maybe. I spent ages trying to get rollovers to work. They worked first time when i was just playing,but now I want them they don’t. Ain’t that just typical? That’s okay, cos apart from hurting my wrist, it also managed to keep my thoughts off other things. I guess I should probably explain, huh? This day last year is when I lost my heart. And my head too.

I guess it sort of serves me right, cos I’d mainly started talking to him cos he was always so flirty in the room, and that made another guy I knew jealous, which is always fun. It got to the stage that I was talking almost exclusivly to him on IRC – I stopped going in rooms, and only messaged my girlfriends to tell them things he’d said to me. I was so fully smitten, I guess because people told me that he had a crush on me, and we were labeled as a couple even though we weren’t. The week before, on the 10th I’d gotten heinously drunk at my friend Amy’s house, and had come on IRC going “I looooooooooooooooooooooooooooveeeeeeeeeee you” (I only know this from reading logs of it) which was just disgusting. I managed to get away with that though, by blaming it on Amy and Fiona. But yeah, back the 17th. I was up late chatting to him, and talking to Andee too, when he made some sort of comment about how I didn’t want him to say that he loved me until we’d met. I started crying, being the sap that I am, thinking there was no way he could mean that in the way I wanted him to, but when I finally got up the courage to ask him about it like an hour later, it turned out that yes, he did have a crush on me. There was no way in hell that either of us wanted to have an internet relationship, so we were going to wait till we met at the Gathering (aaaaaaaaaaaaaaah you say, more pieces falling into place) to see what the story was. I stayed up all night talking to him then, only leaving because my dad was getting up in ten minutes. It was the most amazing glowing feeling, despite the fact that it was obviously a doomed situation. I’ve never had someone like me mutually before. The whole next day was bathed in gold. I couldn’t stop smiling. He made me the most gorgeous site for Xmas, with this picture on it that he made – featuring the glowing orb of the sunrise we saw together in different cities. Sigh. So sappy.

Of course, in the two weeks leading up to the Gathering, we had a big really stupid fight, and he also revealed that he was still in love with his ex, but aaaah well. There was still enough there for me to be scared shitless of meeting him. So yeah, and then he thought there was no spark, but he still came to stay with me, and I fell head over heels in love with him, and he just didn’t care. Maybe I should post the letter I wrote him. At the time, it was so important and special to me, but that WAS a year ago. I just like telling stories which is why you’re all hearing about this now. That and well – he is still sort of in my head, just because I still feel like it’s last year sort of, because I’m on holiday again. That’s okay though. It can be fun reminiscing. To quote myself:

Replaying the past is like having all these good (and bad) movies to watch, that you don’t have to go to the shop to rent so they’re heaps cheaper and slightly more interactive