Hubris.co.nz

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My house is filled with the scent of oatmeal* chocolate chip cookies fresh from the oven and the fridge is full of chocolate crackles. I forgot that ages ago I promised Kimpy some home-baking to sell at Craft 2.0, but she emailed me to remind me, luckily. I must remember to tell her tomorrow that she must give freebies to Martha and Sue because of all the hard work that they’ve done. Although of course, the beauty of the interweb is that I won’t have to actually tell anyone, since they’ll all read it here first. After I meet Kimpy tomorrow, I think that’s everyone in Wellington that I would have met (yes, EVERYONE. Not just the people on the interweb who hang out in the same communities as me), except for Homeperm, so more stalkage might be in order.

I wish my face mask would hurry up and dry so that I could put on my glasses and watch Watch This Space a little clearer. But my skin has gone all haywire, because apparetly I need yet another reminder that I’m due a bleed, because apparently the glassy tits, phantom stomach pains and intense grumpiness is not enough (this sentence is mostly for Peti, who thinks all I write about is my period. And yet her pussy is mad about me). I appreciate that this is not particularly interesting entry, but it can’t all be drunken harbour swims can it? Particularly not after that cold snap. So instead I will tell you about how astonishingly clean and tidy our hall is, after I spent a very long time taping modem cords up one wall and down the other, and coiling their remains inside crates, and ripping up old boxes for recycling, and crating up a big box of my Opa’s classical records that had spilt out. Incidently, does anyone want to buy some classical vinyl? Anji still hasn’t put them on trademe. Let me know if you’re vaguely interested and I’ll have a dig through and see what’s actually there.

I met someone else at work today who remembered me from the Embassy in Tokyo which is weird cos it would have been a good 12 years ago, and I’d like to think I looked a little different. But I suppose there’s my dad connection too. And this particular person probably works with my Arch Nemisis – the girl with the same name as me. My manager is away at a conference in Germany now. A colleague emailed me to ask me about myspace. Good times. Meanwhile I picked up Lani at 10pm last night, and apparently her workmates were there til 3am. I think I’m glad to be in the part of the Ministry that I’m in as opposed to where she’s at. Yes.

I’m apprehensive about spending the whole weekend with my family in Martinborough for the food and wine festival. I don’t think that I will get enough personal space, and that’s going to be quite dangerous. I must remember to take my pills. And also to take them with me. I get negligent on weekends and then pay the price on Mondays and Tuesdays. But maybe I will get lucky and win the bedroom by myself. Perhaps. Anyways, now my face has peeled off, and my cookies are bagged, and Lani has gone to bed so I can resume watching Grey’s without getting grumpy about her talking through it. So now I will bid you adieu. And apologise again for the boringness of this entry. Perhaps I will up the drama tomorrow.

* Well, turns out that what I thought was a bag of rolled oats was whole-wheat flour, so there’s about a half a cup of rolled oats, a packet of instant oatmeal and a mini box of Kellog’s Sustain in the cookies instead.