Hubris.co.nz

I went to Rarotonga and all I got were these lousy photos…

No, but seriously, after the Saturday that never happened, my actual Saturday started with the sound of the ocean, and Anji sitting on my bed and whispering to me that they were going to go to the markets and did I want to come? Of course I did, so I got up and got dressed and drank Aitu coffee and someone made me toast, and we set off in our loaner-beamer for the markets. There we ate waffles, talked to some little girls about waffles, ate meat on sticks and Anji and Karen had roast pork sandwiches dripping with gravy and crackling. Oh and we looked at handicrafts and bought coconut cream, of course. Then I spent a lot of time sitting on our lawn in the sun, which looked like this:

That’s Muri Beach you can see right there, as we were staying in a delightful two-bedroom house called Villa Harvey. Anji and Daddy went off for a scuba dive, so Karen, Mum and I wandered up the beach to the Pacific Resort, which you might remember as the place that Penny got married. After lunch we snuck into their pool, but it was pretty damn cold so we headed home instead, stopping in the lagoon for a much warmer splash.

That night we went over to The Rarotongan to watch the Island Night show and eat their umukai feast. All the tables with kids got to serve themselves first, and we were huuuuuuuuuungry, our enormous bowl of a cocktail not sustaining as sustaining as we’d hoped it would be. There was so much oiled-up young man-flesh on display in the dancing, it made me feel very old and seedy. And while of course I hid my face when they sought out people to dance with, I was very very disappointed by the piss-poor efforts of the tourists. I can dance much better than that, I was born with Cook Island drums flowing in my veins after all. But my Cook Island blood functions best when it hasn’t tried all the different desserts on the buffet.

So that was my Saturday do-over. On Sunday, we took it easy, which is of course very hard to do when you have this view on your doorstep:

We strolled down to the Muri Beach Sailing Club for brunch (Island Fries made with banana, taro, breadfruit and kumara are the greatest thing in the world), and splashed around in the sea. I finished I’m with the band and started in on a shelf of trashy books in the lounge. We also quizzed each other from my Q Ultimate Quiz Book that’d handily come with the magazine I bought at the airport, and made up cocktails in the blender that the house handily provided. For dinner we went up to a restaurant at the Black Rock Villas that was only open on Saturdays and Sundays. I was initially very skeptical, so I ordered a steak. Turns out that the Austrian couple who ran the place were rather on-to-it. All the tables were outside, so we had a great view of the sunset:

On Monday we did some splashing around in the lagoon in the morning:
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Then we went for a drive around Rarotonga’s inland roads which were not too great for driving on in a low-to-the ground car crammed with five people:

Then we went into Avarua to do a little shopping, starting out with lunch at Cafe Salsa that took AN HOUR AND A HALF to arrive. I could tell that the waitress was from New Zealand by how disgusted she was with the time that the kitchen was taking. Here’s us killing time:

Damn tasty food though. We loaded up on coconut oil from the main department store, and headed to Araoa in front of The Rarotongan, as it’s a marine reserve. I was a little hesitant about snorkelling again after I’d had such a bad panic attack over coral in Fiji, but this was all big lumps of rock with plenty of clear space in between to stand up in if your mask leaks as much as mine did. And oh my god, SO MANY FISH! It was very very grand. I saw many parrot-fish which I pointed at and rubbed my belly to Karen and Anji. And what I thought were angel fish, and Picasso fish, and playful rainbow wrasses, and coronet fish, and and and and so many, just all happy for you to hang out with them. Go the marine reserve!

After that it was getting cold so we went to Club Raro for happy hour in their swim-up bar. I thought the pool was a lot deeper than it actually was, and smacked up my leg pretty bad jumping in. Plus, it was freeeeeeezing and the drinks took forever to make, but at least we have documented proof (on Mum’s camera) of our swim-up bar-ness. So it was home for hot showers and getting ready for dinner at the lovely Tamarind, which is in an old colonial house. Anji and I went off for a wander when Mum and Karen and Daddy got into a fight about taxes, and I took this photo on their beautiful deck that I can totally picture myself getting married on:
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And the food, oh the food is so good:

Sesame-crusted tuna with paw-paw salsa and coconut rice.

Anji went home that night, and I got sick, throat all swollen up, coughing all coughy, and sleeping terribly. Needless to say the next day I was not in the mood to do anything at all, and I felt good when I managed to pack my family off to snorkel and I could sit and read by myself. Oh wait, there was checking of internets from a cafe up the road that was trying to mimic a NZ cafe right down to the d’n'b on the stereo but the coffee and muffins were pretty bad. Coconut milkshakes, however, were awesome. That night we went to Trader Jack’s for dinner, on a dock overlooking Avarua Harbour:
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Yes, that’s right, all I did on my holiday was sleep and read and eat and drink. And that’s exactly what I wanted to do.

The next night we went to the Yellow Hibiscus for dinner. Don’t ever go there. It took over an hour to get our dinners because the deep fryer was broken and they didn’t think to see if Mum would prefer rice to fries with her fish. They did give me a free cocktail though, but the food was decidedly average, except for my big plate of creamy pasta with mushrooms and artichokes.

On our last day, we went snorkelling again and I saw two octopuses holding hands on a rock. Awwww. And we went on a cocktail tour to the Edgewater but didn’t drink Tangaroas this time, and then we went to the Mainuia Beach Resort for dinner but decided that we didn’t like the menu, so we ended up at Windjammer and I’m so glad we did. It was truly exceptional. The room looked like a lockwood house, admittedly, but the service was perfectly polished and the right kind of friendly (they laughed when I said “YOU’VE RUINED CHRISTMAS!” when the waiter tipped my dessert so that the ice cream slipped off my hot chocolate pudding), the menu was lovely, and look at the tuna I had for dinner:

OH HELL YES.

Then it was home for more cocktails and games:

and then at 4.30am we got up to spend twelve hours in transit to get back to freezing cold Wellington and Sebastian with an abcess. JOY! I think i will move to Rarotonga and start a guesthouse. Wanna come stay?

Do you ever get the impression that I spend most of my life looking for either my camera or my camera cables? Yeah? Me too. Right now it’s my cables, so I can show you photos of my pre-Saturday night. But instead I will have to talk to you about it. Oh the pain.

Luckily I have a darling friend who carries her camera almost everywhere with her, so I can steal her photos and say “this is what I was doing around midnight on Friday night”:
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Yes, that’s right, I was encouraging boys to jump off the plank with me. Lisa also took a photo of me, but come on, you think I’m going to put a photo of me in my togs online when it’s quite possibly the least flattering but most awesome shot ever? I even jumped off the plank a second time in order to facilitate that photo, because it turned out the tide was high enough that the bottom rung of the ladder was under water so I could actually climb out and back up again. Lisa made a new friend while Dyl and I swam, in the form of some random emo guy who wandered down to the lower dock where she was and stood there smoking cigarettes, it was a little strange.

Earlier we’d been at Tupelo, and there was a boy who rubbed me up the wrong way with some of his comments about how when he found out a guy at his work was gay he was very not keen to go to the bathroom at the same time. I was like “Do you think I’m hitting on you right now?” and he was like “Huh?” and I was like, “well, I like boys, so obviously I want to fuck you right now, right?” and my friend started cracking up because he could see that his friend was going to dig himself deeper and deeper. I was kind of bored, so I really dived right in with the logic. He tried to excuse himself with a “but in the bathroom there are penises” and I was all “well I like girls but when I’m at the gym, I’m not all “oooh I can see your vagina, I am so aroused right now”" and he tried the “well after I found out I still talked to him, I still invited him to parties” and I was like “OH MY GOD! i take it all back. You found out he was gay and yet you still treated him like a human being. You deserve a fucking medal, buddy”. Then Dave started playing porn on his laptop and when I got up, I leant on the far end of the table, and the other end came flying up and beer went all over his lap, and so he ran away. I would feel worse about it, because I really really hadn’t meant to spill the beer – but the total and utter glee and smiles on Lisa’s face when she came into the bathroom to high-five me made me so happy that I don’t feel as bad about it as I should. My other lesson from the night is that you shouldn’t let the new waitress at Harem try to make you cocktails because they will taste like Raro.

I was going to make Saturday Jo Day, but then I had leftover pizza to eat from Wednesday and Scar tissue to read (I’m no RHCP fan, but you know how I do so love the rockstar bio), so I didn’t go out for brunch. Instead, because Lani’s golf game got cancelled, I went out to PIRATE MINI GOLF with her since it was such a gorgeous day. We thought about waking up Smoo to make him come with us, but I don’t think he would have appreciated that. I ended up beating Lani by two points, because I got a hole-in-one on the second-to-last hole which she took six to get. Hurrah! I took lots of photos, but on my disposable camera, which is weeeeeeeeeeeeird because you can’t see what you’re doing! It’s like, all random luck! Strange! It was like using a rotary telephone. Then we went to Kaizen at Pataka Museum for coffee, and planned out our herb garden. But it was so fucking hot that we went to Lyall Bay instead of the garden centre, and I floated on the very very calm ocean until I touched a jellyfish and felt icky.

Back at home we decided to have a blind tasting session of the four kinds of Coruba Gold RTDs that I’d received a coupon for in the mail (see, there are some rewards for suggesting the most awesome Pirate Party that $50,000 would buy even if you didn’t get anyone to vote for it). The ginger ale was the most drinkable, and the energy drink was disguuuuuuuuuusting. But we wrote very wanky wine-style notes on each, which I’d replicate here if it didn’t involve getting up to find the piece of paper. As Lani got drunker, she became more and more convinced that Coruba should hire us to work for them. She also became more and more Adam Ant that we needed to play Cluedo. Since there were only two of us, because we’d ascertained that Smoo wasn’t actually still sleeping, we couldkn’t play her new video version, but at her insistence I slipped the magnetic travel version into my handbag when we set off for a party on Webb st her workmate was having.

I didn’t find the party very interesting, but there was very tasty caramel slice. Lani tried to pressgang everyone into playing Cluedo, and eventually we found a couple of willing Americans. Turns out it was Mrs. Peacock in the lounge with the dagger. Who knew? Lani did. We left the party, and debated going to Havana, but decided that what we really wanted to do was go home and have an encore of dinner (spaghetti with garlic, chilli and parsley) and watch Buffy. I should stress that it was her idea, not mine!

Today I woke up at 10.30am and spent two hours finishing off Scar Tissue before heading in to town for a slightly disappointing brunch at Ernesto consisting of fennel & carrot gluten-free toast, hash browns, bacon, mushrooms and black beans. I had to ask for butter for the toast, the hash browns were a little gluggy and the beans weren’t all that warm, but the coffee was great. I know they can do better, so hopefully it was just a once-off kitchen lapse. Then I went to Plastic Box (heh) for crates to tidy up our hallway with, and ended up spending $100 on a CD rack. But it is the KING of CD racks, let me assure you. It’s more like a full-on bookshelf. All my CDs will fit on it, and they’ll look all pretty and neat rahter than being scattered around in various vessels as they are now, and there’s room to grow, and oh, I just know that if my CDs are all neat and ordered and arranged to perfection then people will like me better and I will regain the control over my life that I felt has slipped a bit this week. And so of course then I went to Real Groovy to spend some vouchers. I was very very tempted to buy The Gossip, partly because of the awesomeness of the cover artwork, and partly because I like to think that I look like Beth Ditto does in the ‘Standing in the way of control’ video when I’m dancing, although I’m sure I don’t. But in the end, I got what I’d gone in for – the new Bloc Party, and the Cold War Kids, and also I found a really cheap American Music Club, all on CD and not vinyl, for a change. And I asked at the counter after the new Arcade Fire, and they told me how awesome it was and then ran all over the shop trying to find it, and eventually they did, and I was like, hurrah!

I was supposed to go to the garden centre with Lani then, but I felt very very Uggggggggh all of a sudden, so I ran (drove) to the ocean instead to try and shake it out. Lyall Bay was very shallow today, but the waves were big (and filled with black-legged jellyfish, dammit) so I got some good dunks. Then I floated for a while and eventually realised I was out of my depth and paniced briefly, and swam against the current back to where I could stand. That actually made me happy, that the survival instinct still kicked in even though the noise in my head was rising up and up and up and I don’t know why. I mean yes, I’m mango like crazy so surely I will bleed soon, and there’d been an unsettling email thing that’s been all sorted out now, and I realised that I hadn’t taken my pill, but bleh, not fun. So it was nice to come home and sit on the front steps with Lani and trim back old herbs and hope that they’ll grow and grow and grow. We’ve talked about starting a worm farm too. I kind of wonder why she’s so happy to make so many plans with me, like what do I have to offer her as a friend, and I’m thinking that about other people too, why do they put up with me, what can i do for them, and so on and so forth. This is also about how I haven’t been to counselling in almost three weeks, and so I haven’t sat down and provided clear examples (it’s the essay writer in me) of ways that I make other people feel good. But I can think of some of them, honest. Drinking two nights in a row – even if I didn’t get drunk (there’s that Citalapram drink tolerance kicking in) is not a good idea, I suspect.

Anyways, onwards and upwards. Tomorrow I’m cooking a roast and we’re having people over for DVD Cluedo. On the weekend I’m going away for a romantic weekend with my parents (insert hand/fist slapping motion here, suggesting that the family who lays together stays together), and then the weekend after that is a Wellingtonista get-together with secret plans and clever tricks. And somewhere in between I might get to clean the house. Maybe. OooH! I think Lani has tennis on Tuesday night and Smoo’ll probably be working so that’ll be clean time for me. What a thing to get excited about…

Edit: I must also add that right after I saw Rockstar: Supernova’s new ‘Head Spin’ video on TV (and Gilby’s guitar-playing sucks more than the original), I got a text from Annabel telling me that she just saw Lukas having his hair cut in Newmarket. Hahaha! Awesome.

I’m kind of very very swamped by girl angst right now. It doesn’t help that I’m due for my period sometime hopefully very soon so that the stomach cramps will go away, or that everyone at work is leaving. But let’s not talk about that. Let’s talk about my lovelife instead.

Okay, so let’s slip back to New Year’s Eve, and I’m all “ooh I hope I get to see the Hot Candadian”, and I do, and he’s drunk and hilarious, and then much time passes that night, and it’s some time after 3am and he’s disappeared and so I leave Bodega with this girl who I’ve known for a while and maybe some other people, but it appears that I’m pretty much only noticing her. We go up to Indigo to see a friend who works there, and decide we should do tequila shots. Shortly after that, it seems like something happens, and she says “I didn’t think you even liked me” to me, and I have to pee, and in the bathroom I find myself blushing and going HOLY SHIT, I’M GOING TO GET SOME and feeling quite strange about it. As it happens, I don’t get some, but I do find myself sitting there going “i just think you’re really choice” or words to that effect (probably those exact words) and we sit out on the balcony for hours and hours and hours and I’m totally starstruck and it came out of nowhere, and we make plans to get married because she liked the trifle I made, and she tells me to go to staff movie night and stuff.

Of course, that’s New Year’s Eve, people drink a lot, but I’d never ever thought of her in that way until then. Normally I can tell when it’s just me crushing (ie: all of the time) but it really felt like there was something there. The thing is of course that she’s a girl. And that makes things so much more complicated. It’s not MY sexuality that I have a problem with, it’s everyone else’s. I don’t have gaydar. And girls that I’ve fancied have generally ended up causing me no end of strife. So how do I tell if she a) ever likes girls and b) likes me?

Well, analyzing it to death sure doesn’t help. I’ve been doing that with the boy from work that I fancied – oh he said this, he said that, he tried to walk me home and I said no, what does that all mean? What it means is that I’m crazy. Boys aren’t that complex. But girls are. Or maybe they’re not. Aaaaaaaargh.

Imagine how I felt when a week later I was sitting at a bar with her and the Hot Canadian. Did her eyes light up a little extra when she saw me? Did mine? We were agreeing on everything so much to the point that the Hot Canadian Boy actually said “You guys are obviously in love, why don’t you get married?” to which I blushed and giggled, and she reminded me that we were already scheduled to get married. And then I left with them and shared a taxi with them – oh my stars, what a porno it would have made if in fact it wasn’t all so chaste (although I do think that the number of times that Hot Canadian kisses me on my forehead is only adding to “I AM ABOUT TO EXPLODE” factorness of me).

Since we’d talked about trifle, and The Dirt, and I actually happened to have some trifle sitting in the fridge, I decided to take some and the book in to her work. The note that I wrote her “ever so casually” on the back of a business card in case she wasn’t there took two drafts, and all it said was her name (I think). I only wrote one draft when I left a note at my workmate’s house over the holidays, as a way of comparing. Or as a way of demonstrating how much my craziness has escalated. She appeared to be really stoked and gave me a big hug. I tried not to blush or put my hands anywhere ungentlemanly. I also mentioned the prom to her and she said that sounded very cool.

The next day my sister wanted to go and see a movie, and I agreed since it was on at a particular theatre. She was working again and she told me that the trifle was really good, gave me my ticket for free, and then brought us out an ashtray when we were sitting outside even though she said she didn’t think I smoked. Who me, obsess about details? Yes me.

And then I didn’t see her for a while. When I got to my friend’s drinks on Monday night, I heard the friend mention that the girl wouldn’t be there til late cos she was working so I was like “right, I won’t be going home early then”. When she did show up I was stuck talking to this incredibly stupid guy. Well, he wasn’t stupid, but he was incredibly full of himself, as if he’d just completed a Tony Robbins course, and oh man, I just wanted to be like “shut the fuck up! I want to talk to the hot girl! How else can I win her over with my winning witty banter?” Eventually when Tony Robbins shut his mouth for a while, I got to ask her how she liked The Dirt and she sat up in glee and said it was great and that all her friends wanted to borrow it. I passed out invitations to the prom and she said it sounded great and hoped she wasn’t working. I got invited to the Hot Canadian’s goodbye party. People talked about going swimming. It was after midnight and I knew that they’d be at the bar for about another hour, and then they’d walk to their house, and then to the beach and oh, it would just take forever, so I decided that I really had to leave because I had work the next day, and also because I am a self-sabotaging git. She was like “oh, are you leaving?” and I interpreted her look as being really sad. Then she said “when are we getting married?” and I confessed to her that I’ve been planning weddings cos my workmate keeps talking about hers. Then our friend offered to civil unionise us, but we agreed we wanted an actual marriage. Then I went home and couldn’t get to sleep because it was too hot.

The hot Canadian’s goodbye party is on the 11th, the day after the prom. I probably won’t get to see him before then, which means I’ll never get to tell him how how I find him, cos I can’t tell him at his goodbye party cos duh, how damn tacky and cliched is that? And I can never tell the girl how hot I think she is, cos I just have no idea. Oh I am confuzzled. And also determined to stop fancying the boy at work. I’ve been upping my cold shoulderingness and my “I am like, totally a lesbian” to him, since he didn’t come over for a beer like the note suggested, and then had the cheek to say that was because he didn’t want to hang out with workmates during the holidays but look, he put my number in his phone because HE IS LYING cos he went out with other workmates for New Year’s Eve.

Ahaha oh what a loser I am.

Shall we call this a level 2 entry? should I try to censor myself? oh man, I am so conflicted. Mostly I am SO ANNOYED that I left my phone at my old building, but since this is in theory Level 2, I can say that if you want to get ahold of me before Monday (umm…… Lisa?) you can call me on ummmmmmmmmmm 386 4631? But I don’t answer the phone and also I’m going to my parents’ tomorrow night for dinner. While I mention them, can I also add how disturbed I am that they changed their phone number? Yeah, they switched over to Telstra for broadband, so now hte first digits of their number are 970. It’s wrong. It’s wronger than when all of Welly had a 4 put in front of it. You know that the reason (well, one of) that I ahven’t switched to a telecom mobile is cos I’ve had my 021 since it said “bell south” on the phone. I am a traditionalist.

It appears that Sebastian is a tradiionalist too, and has once more run away over Guy Fawkes. This makes it three years in a row, and I know that if he disappears for eight days like he did the first time, I won’t survive. But for now, I will sustain myself on giggles that Miss Rat Pony and I can share over a subject called “A.” and it’s really got out of hand, and honestly, I am sick and diseased and I think I decided tonight that there was no point and that I needed to stop.

Anyways. Tonight I went up to my old office (same company still, but we have two buildings – have I explained that enough?) to watch fireworks above the harbour go bang. I was actually incredibly impressed. After that one time in Japan, when my parents made me (against my wishes) ride a stupidly crowded subway for an hour and a half and then walk for half an hour and then sit on a crowded tapualin for half an hour watching some big display, I have not been the biggest advocate of fireworks, except for sparklers, the occasional bang at Halloween and and that one time that Si, Morphone Matt and I were letting off fireworks that night we stayed up all night drinking barcardi and theyclimbed the tree that’s been cut down now.

I am watching Starsailor on TV right now. I deliberately smoked half a cigarette last night. I wonder if thses things are leated, like that I am trying to sabotage my life, like maybe I am “oh, those things that y7ou want, they’re not going to happen, so why don’t you just crash your ferrari, and kill Razzle, and go to jail?” I have also been rereading The Dirt again, in case you didn’t get that reference. I’d give it all up to have Sebby back here cuddled up to my thighs. And Starsailor says “my wandering soul found solace at last” and wow, I don’t even know what solace is anymore, if I did ever. And I am going to enter Cosmo’s erotica writing competition, and you know I will be good at that, and while we are talking erotica, let me go again “OMG SO SMITTEN” but I decided tonight that I am wrong. Also, while we are talking aobut tonight, can we please get a FUCK YEAH for Mt. Vic being on fire?

Also, since we stayed late, and played silly games at work,I’d like you to say which of these three statements is wrong, since no one else got it: A) I refer to my breasts as Mary-kate and Ashley because of their size discrepency B) I lost my virginity when I was 13 C) I have a fondness for age discrepencies with thte people I sleep with?

Also for right now, I’m praying that someone will heed the invisible signals that were probvably totally inaudible as well and come over and we’ll sort this out> I bet that won’t happen though. Still, a girl has two fingers.

Okay, I have a lot more work to do that I really should get around to doing (damn you, Julie/Julia blog!), so I’ll do a bullet points update. That’s okay with everyone, right?

Please come to this:

Truth be told, I kind of wish that it was Sunday and that it was over already, or perhaps the Saturday afterwards so I wouldn’t have any more “Oh, how was your party? Sorry I couldn’t make it” type smalltalk to make. I haven’t had a big successful party in Wellington EVER. Trying to have one is making me a little crazy. I am terrified of no one showing up except for a few suckers who have to try to put on a brave face and me wanting the floor to open up and swallow me before getting too drunk and abusive at the people who actually made an effort. That said, there’ll be great music and snacks and atmosphere, and costumes, and so please, do come along. If you don’t have my address and you’re not a Level 2 Hubrette and therefore able to read the secret footnotes that have my address in them, just drop me an email – anything @ hubris co nz – and I’ll tell you where it is and that will be choice okay rock.

Thanks to the ridiculously hott boys in The Edukators I have decided that I will buy No Sweat shoes instead once my chucks finally give up the last gasp of ghost that they have left in them, which won’t be long given that they are only held together by their stench right about now. Yum. The other thing that was they played song association in it, and by virtue of a) being raised on tracks “Greatest hits of 1985″ records that my parents brought in Germany when we were living there (which featured Nena, amongst other songs sung in German) and b) having Anji tell me about the joke beforehand, I was able to laugh when they talked about “Tausend-und-eine nacht”. Okay, no one else will get this paragraph. Nevermind.

Anji and I – but mostly me – went homeware crazy on the weekend, during a very pleasant drive out to Lyall Bay (which coupled well with what I’d said to my workmates on Friday night when we were having some jugs – “I had my first ever pash at the house of the bar manager here” – since that was the last time that I went to Lyall Bay, to the best of my knowledge). I bought tealight holders galore along with little candle lanterns at the warehouse, and we spent aaaaaaaaaaaaaages trying to choose wine glasses (we’d gone to the ware whare with the intention of purchasing a box of 18, but since they didn’t have those, we got six very large ones and two very large ones in a different shape) along with assorted tumblers destined for gingerbeer & vodka and handtowels at Briscoes. I agonized over bed linen and ended up getting some at Spotlight the next day. We also had lunch at The Empire – the new/old movie theatre in Island Bay, except that my friend who works there had the day off. Nevertheless, their gelati is fucking OMG mouth explosion.

Speaking of fucking OMG, Miss Lisa Fur had sought shelter at my house on Saturday night, and after Moulin Rouge she was like “It’d be so cool if you had Spiceworld” so I was like !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and nearly fell to my knees to perform cunnilinguis on her, but since I was not sure about the spelling, I instead got out the video and we watched it together and it was great. 27 times and counting and it still feels fresh. And now I hear that Ginger Spice is preggers? Woah!

And speaking of fucking brilliant rock star biographies, I got sunburnt on Saturday sitting outside reading The Dirt again. I still want to fuck Motley Crue. I’d even take the time out to learn how to umlaut their name if they’d just umlaut me.

Oh that’s right, the umlaut made me remember that after Anji and I had brunch at The Realm on Saturday, as we tend to do every fortnight or so, or at least often enough that the staff recognise us and seem to laugh at us a lot, we discovered that the bottle store across the road was doing a wine tasting. Who doesn’t like free wine? Well, certainly not us anyways. There were three ladies there with varying degrees of product knowledge and professionality (the last one raved on about Jacob’s Creek being $7 when she was ‘promoting’ a very different brand), and they were a little bored, so I tried thirteen wines or so in a short space of time, and got rather lightheaded. Most of the wines were things like Sacred Hill and Gunn Estate that I’d tried before (indeed, Gunn Estate seems to be the default wine at all the bars around here, so I’ve had quite a lot of it), but one that I hadn’t was a sparkling sav from Mount Riley called Savee, so this is where the umlaut comes in, because it’s actually Sav’ee, and given that my mother’s name is Aim’ee you’d think I would have learnt how to put in accents – but I can’t. Nevermind.

Corpse Bride, which I was able to furnish 19 people with free tickets to, thanks to the lovely KateH, is absolutely fantastic and you should go and see it and also buy me posters for it. Hurrah.

Last week I was totally stressed out and in desperate need of a holiday – as evidenced by me crying in the toilets at work on Thursday morning, and not even playing Appetite for Destruction over and over in my headphones so loud that I couldn’t hear the phone on my desk ring helped. Nice one. Now I am back at work and am in desperate need of a holiday to recover from my holiday, but I don’t want to stop thinking about it or talking about it cos I had like the bestest time ever. This is how it went down.

Please note: I will gradually update this over the course of the day, so if I’m still not back in Wellington in the account, keep coming back.

My flight to Auckland was pretty bog standard, the only thing that made it slightly more interesting was that the main road out to Wellington Airport was closed, so the shuttle driver had to go a different way and it made me realise that if it had been me driving I would have been stuffed. On the plane I started reading Star Man, which is a biography of Michael Francis. You’re like, “who?” and I’m like “omg, you mean you don’t know?” and then I explain that he served as a security bodyguard type person for Led Zepplin, and Bon Jovi, and Cher and an assortment of others, and then you say “ahhh Jo, when will you stop reading those rockstar biographies and return to real literature?” and I punch you in the head.

The airport bus driver in Auckland was also head-punching worthy with the way that he threw away my perfectly valid ticket that i’d purchased from a machine when I got back from Fiji for a bus that had never shown up, and made me buy a new one. Grr. I should write a letter, but you know, that would be too constructive when instead I could just sit here and bitch about it. But at least the bus dropped me off right outside the Pulp offices, where I could go up to meet the new editor, and struggle to call her by her real name instead of Carla. I don’t think I’ve ever really chatted with someone who’s been on Shortland St for a significant period of time for a significant period of time before (ha ha, do you like what I did there with that sentence?), hence why it was so damn difficult. But she was very complimentary, and said that she hoped I would continue to write for them, and blah blah, and I said I want to, it’s just that i’ve had no ideas and I’ve been really busy. But I will continue to do the music reviews cos they’re easy enough to pop out.

After that, I couldn’t get ahold of anyone who wanted to play with me, so I went down to Queen St and parked my ass in front of Crash and proceeded to cry lots, of course. Some of it was a little predictable, and some seemed a little cliched, but the way that every character was given depth, and that everyone was a villan at one time or another was really interesting. I can think of lots of people who should go and see it (you know who I’m thinking of if you read NZm). I also find it vaguely amusing that on IMDB there’s a big thread abotu how black people talk too much at the movies. Ha ha, it seems like someone wasn’t paying attention…

Then it was back on the bus to Ponsonby and to my hotel via the liquor store on Williamson Ave. I stayed at the Quest on Ponsonby, and it immediately endeared itself to me when I didn’t have to give them a cash bond in lieu of a credit card imprint. I was less impressed by how warm it was in the room, but after a conversation with reception, I figured out (read: was told) that if I turned off the air conditioning and opened the windows (which I didn’t realise were openable) and that was choice. Of course, the water feature in the courtyard was pee-making, but the bathroom was black and shiny and great, and reminded me of the bathroom in Olivia’s old Living Cube ™. Plus, halogen lights! How rad does my hair and skin look under halogen? Much radder than in real life anyways, that’s for sure.

Eventually Penny showed up to show me her wedding photos and we had a glass of wine together:

It was lovely to see her and to hang out, even for an hour. I got to look at all her wedding photos, so I was like “awwwww”. I wanna get married too! Penny was like “did you get implants?” because I was already dressed up to go out. No no friend, I just discovered the metaphorical joys of architecture and airbags, and the literal joy of one air pocket for Mary-Kate. After all, if people are going to be talking to your boobs, they might as well have something for people to talk about. Umm, not that everyone was, of course. Ha.

Anyways, so then it was time for dinner at Sawadee which the lovely KateH had arranged for me:

I had Heather and Jessie to my left, although Jessie is mysteriously absent in this badly edited picture:

Then there were the Triple As, who arrived after our entrees but that’s okay. Actually to be perfectly honest, Amy wasn’t even eating with us, but flitted over with her pina colada every so often, because she had a work do too.

Luckily she made it into this picture too, so that I can pretend I have lots more friends. Although of course, since I’m cunningly cropped out of the KateH picture, you have no evidence that I was ever there at all, but here’s the view from around the rest of the table:

I was so fucking stoked that Bopha showed up. Just being near her makes me feel Zen. Of course I was glad to see everyone else too. And to eat tofu. Mmmm tofu. I did a lot of the Bridget Jones introducing people with a common interest thing, but some of my lines totally crashed and burned. Boo-urns.

Both KateH and Jessie had managed to secure a plethora of spare tickets to The Mountain Goats, so we tried to convince the Triple As to come too, but they declined, so the rest of us went back up to my hotel room for some more drinks before the gig. It was so choice just to have some of my favouritist people in the whole wide world piled on my bed.

KateH told a story about how her friend’s grandfather died being looked after by everyone he cared about in the house he was born in and made me cry. Oh the pain of having to retouch my makeup! There was much textage to assorted other people in assorted other places(*), and talk of sex but I can’t remember of what context it was in except that it was very very amusing. Oh yeah, perhaps we were talking about hairy people. Also I told the story of SUPER FUN VAGINA SURGERY for those who hadn’t read it. I suspect that might have been it. Eventually minus Bopha we piled into KateH’s car – which is no longer yellow, and that’s strange (well it’s not so strange, given that it’s a new car, it’s not like her old one metamorphesized, but I haven’t ridden in it before. So there) and headed on up to Shadows.

Apart from a couple of post AUT bar beers in 2003, I don’t think I’ve been to Shadows since the olden days of 1999, so it was strange to be going back there, but amusing to be actually asked for ID and being able to show valid ones, instead of doctored birth certificates and fake ISSIC cards. Also, dya know what’s great about Shadows? JUGS! I’d already dancing a jiggling jug jig for my friends back at the hotel, so I am of course referring to large amounts of beer for a mere $6.20 a pop. Hurray liquor!

Also, let’s have some hurrays for Interweb people coming to introduce themselves, like Chris who was absolutely lovely, and looked like Kayleigh from Firefly and then later Calum who is like, the definition of SHRN. I was very excited to meet them. Also Sam was at the gig and was texting to find us, but he couldn’t, and we could see him calling us, and it was very amusing for a while until I told him where we were. And Amanda was there too (and while I’m all happy with the pics, I wanted to cuddle up to her bosoms like this again, but didn’t, cos I’m sure that would have been inappropriate)

,
and Nigel, and and and oh just so many people I know. Is it any wonder that I was later described as “holding court with the scensters”? No sir. So I didn’t actually see the Mountain Goats at all. I vaguely heard them, but you know how much I hate those motherfuckers who talk at the front of gigs? Of course I sat at the back. And then many hours later, they kicked us out cos we were the last to leave.

For reasons unknown or unremembered (*), Heather and I decided to go to Rakino’s, and so the lovely KateH dropped us off there. Rakino’s was packed full to the brim of hipsters, but we managed to find a spot on the balconey to sit and drink even more beer and try to find our friend via text who turned out to be at a strip club. But there were so many hipsters though. Perhaps it was the official after party? I don’t know, I wasn’t that aware of much at the time.

In fact, it took Heather reminding me the next day for me to remember that after Rakino’s we went and had a couple of cocktails in Deschlers. Ahhh Deschlers. The cocktails were still really excellent, and because it was who knows when in the morning, we got a booth and lovely service, and no one was watching the rugby, unlike the last time I was there which was just so wrong wrong wrong. I hate to think of how many cocktails I have had there – or more specifically, what else I could have done with the money. Oh the memories. I didn’t put my hand on her leg under the table though, because I am not that type of girl any more. And then we shared a taxi to drop me off in Ponsonby and her back at her house. It was an awesome awesome night(*).

I woke up on Saturday to a cacophany of noise, and I wondered who the hell was in my room, and then I wondered where the hell I was, and what the hell I was wearing. Sometimes it’s terribly difficult being me. Once I figured out the answers (1. The window was open and overlooking the cafe in the courtyard 2. I was in a hotel room in Auckland and 3. Pajamas. I must have fallen asleep before I had a chance to take them off) I felt a lot better. So much so that I got up and took a shower and texted Heather to see if she wanted to get brunch. She was still in bed so I went back to sleep and woke up feeling much much crappier. I wandered up and down Ponsonby Road for ages, clutching the Thai doggybag in my hand looking for a cab because thinking was hard, and the sun was shining, and oh my, my stomach had felt happier on other days. But eventually I managed to snag one, and smile and nod my way over to Heather’s, and collapse on her floor. She was in much of a similar condition.

I begged and I begged her to come out to a cafe with me, but they were so very far away (read: 100 metres or so) that we just couldn’t do it. She kept offering me eggs, because apparently she doesn’t realise that I am like DEATH TO ALL EGGS, but eventually she decided to go and buy some bacon and some coke and some potato chips. I puked and checked my email while waiting forher to come back. The lovely girl went and got coffee too! And orange juice. And ready salted chips AND salt and vinegar delisimo chips. Have you tried delisimo chips yet? They are very much the shit even if most of their flavours (like tzaiki) just end up tasting like sour cream & chives. It was the best breakfast ever. So we sat around listening to music, watching tv, chatting to people on the interweb and just generally chilling (*).

Eventually it got to be around 6ish, so I texted Shirley and she very kindly came and picked me up and I took her to dinner. We were going to go to Roasted, but couldn’t find a park so we ended up at Occam. The waiter was snooty, and they had Celine Dion turned up at levels that must surely have been intended to piss off the kitchen staff, so I yelled out my order. The hint wasn’t taken though. I thought about asking them to turn it down but decided just to bitch instead. My eye fillet was goooooooood though. Then it was to the supermarket for chocolate, and wine and a birthday present for Justin – I found him a magic eight ball. Excellent. I napped for half an hour back at my hotel room, and then walked to Shirley’s, via a little knee wobbling as I walked past a place where many years ago, I had received a most unexpected but very very wanted pash. Oh *IV! Oh the get the fuck over it!

Anyways, Shirley lives in a very cool big old villa near Ponsonby Road, and her flatmates have filled it with ex pantomime sets, including a light-up Sky Tower. Her bathroom is bigger than many people’s bedrooms. It’s pretty rad. So we had a drink – or at least I did, she had a half glass, and headed out to find Justin’s party. It was very much like First Year Uni, with Shirley driving, and me drunk in the front seat hanging on for dear life. Except that I wasn’t at all drunk cos of the hangover, but you know, close enough.

For Justin’s 30th, he and his friend decided to throw themselves a Howick themed party, since that was where they grew up (ha ha!). Luckily, they had it in Mt Albert instead of Howick. However, they did still come in costume:

Hot Toddy had found the outfits in lost & found for them since he teaches there now. Justin had put signs up around his house denoting various notorious Howick places, like Musik Point which I’d already seen when Brad took me and KateB and Clayton on a pash tour (and I’d just like to throw out a great big FUCK YEAH! to Google Desktop which found that phrase ‘pash tour’ as quickly as I could type it in. I will be doing this a lot more, I think. The linking to old entries, not the Pash Touring. Although I’d like to do that too please). Shirley and I sat down in a corner because we knew very few people (As I said to her, “Oh, none of the multitude of Justin’s friends that I have brought to orgasm are here”) and Hot Toddy told us facts about wherever it was, which was that George Bernard Shaw had stayed there. When I told Justin that, he was very impressed. But yes, there were lots of people there, and I recognised some of them like Hott Jason (hi, are you still reading my journal four and a bit years later?) and a girl who’d been on the PR Grad Dip with me (who had told me many things about another one of Justin’s friends from the second to last set of parenthesisisiisis), but I was soberish and just feeling really meh. It was strange thinking about how five years ago Justin had his 25th at Garland, and just how different then was to now. Plus, I wanted to go see Ryan McPhun and the Ruby Suns, so around 11pmish we left to go pick up Heather.

At the King’s Arms I was greeted with a “Hey Wellington!” by Matthew Crawley, who seems to always be everywhere (it was he who did a raid on Garland resulting in smoke bombs and Tom Jones posters in the toilet, although I was too busy sex0ring the skankiest guy in teh world at the time to realise. Actually, looking back, that’s a lie. It actually happened at Justin’s 25th, so I was busy doing something that is not ever refered to). Gareth was also there, strangely enough, given that he was playing. We went outside for Heather to have a cigarette, and then when we went back inside, Calum came up and talked to us.

This is where I go a bit squee and wax lyrical about the adoreableness of Calum. I’m not alone in doing it, Heather and Shirley too are members of his fan club. And now you’re about to be:

And one taken on an angle because apparently that’s what hipsters do:

That’s what I love about these (metaphorical) high school boys – I get older, they stay the same age….Ha ha ha, we are dirty old women.

The Ruby Suns were also very very awesome, and I enjoyed them immensely. If you’re not familiar with them, I will say that they’re from Lil Chief Records, which is also home to The Brunettes, so they’re vaguely similar, in the cute Americanisms xylophone instrument swapping kinda way. Yeah. How long has the I need to hurry up and get one of my own before every damn hipster in town has one installed. Also, since I had my handbag with me, and therefore a pen, I grafittied two stalls in the women’s toilets. First person to email me and tell me what I wrote gets a prize. But all good things come to an end, and when everyone else left to go to Die! Die! Die!, Shirley took me and Heather home via junk food. Hurrah.

The next day I checked out at 12pm, and had breakfast, and went to Kyla’s and held Felicity and cried. Then I walked to Shirley’s and hung out and then took a shuttle to the airport and then they stuck me in a business class seat and I listened to Bon Jovi on my iPod because of Star Man and I pretended I was a rock star and that was my holiday and yay I am done now.

As a follow up to the last entry, about which I received an email that said “I <3 the title of your most recent Hubris post - "Pavlova's Bear." It made me laugh heaps and I am still thinking about how clever you are. ", there were mini passionfruit pavlovas at my work drinks last night, and many canapes, to which I availed myself. That's rull bad England isn't it?

Right now I smell like old lipstick from sorting out my makeup, and I'm shifting uncomfortably because Sebastian or something else has happened to the long phone cord, and so I'm forced to sit on the other couch, and even though it's only half a seat shorter than what is generally viewed as my couch, it still feels wrong.

What’s fun is that I drove Ethel – Anji’s little blue car tonight. I haven’t driven in months, and Ethel’s a manual. She’s out somewhere, I’m procrastinating about tidying my room (my excuse is that I wanted to look up something on the Ezibuy website before I send back some of the things I ordered) and procrastinating about fetching another Gisbourne Gold beer. But at some stage I’m going to have to pee, and you can rest assured that I will be getting up to do that.

So, what have I been up to lately? Pretty much all same old same old. I finished a piece of writing at work that I’d been sitting on for months and months and months. I’d written it originally late, and then when I sent it to my umm mentor I guess you could say, he said lots of it was unnecessary and why did I write it and blah blah blah – all in a very nice and right way, and told me this other thing to write about, but I just was so not motivated to get it done, and weeks and weeks later I finally wrote something, and I thought it was too short but then I decided I didn’t care, so I sent it back to him and he said it was perfect. Haha. Funny. In non-day-job writing, I was asked if I wanted to interview Franz Ferdinand but I had to turn it down cos it would have just been too much of a hassle. But I just banked a $500 cheque, which is always nice.

I’ve had a bunch of horrible dreams lately that won’t be repeated here cos I hope I can forget them sometime soon. On Tuesday night Anji and I were cooking dinner together, and the front of one of the drawers broke off and she dropped it on my toe and I howled and howled and then I shook and bawled and bawled, and she was freaking out at me freaking out. It wasn’t the pain, it was the surprise – I guess it unleashed a flood of tension. My whole body ached right after that (and admittedly, it did split my toe nail). On Thursday after a couple of vodkas I was watching ‘Extreme Home Makeover’ – and yes, I did expect it to make me cry, like it does every single week, but I wasn’t quite prepared for quite how much. The girl whose house they were doing had some kind of mega allergies and cancer or something, so she was all bald and bloated, and reminded me a lot of how Emily looked after she had a brain tumour removed and came back to ASIJ. She died three days after her mother did.

Can we talk about something else right now, like maybe mad consumerism? I’m seriously considering buying a playstation, once Anji has paid off her credit card so I can use it to order from the Game Planet store. I’m going to get Singstar and an Eye Toy if I get one. Anyone have any thoughts and or tips or caveats to share with me?

Today we took back a lameass heater that didn’t heat to the warehouse, and I got my money back and proceeded to buy another non heating heater. Dumb. I also managed to spend another $100 on bathroom accessories (if you have seen the bad design of our bathroom, you will understand why they were necessary) and another zip up hoodie (fuck paying$200 for a Huffer), and Labyrinth, which y’all should come over and watch with me. I must have bought other things as well. Hmmm. Oh yes, casserole dishes and under-bed-storage boxes. And then we spent $162 at the supermarket. Money doesn’t grow on trees, you know. Sure would be great if it did.

I apologise for the blah blah blah of this entry. Maybe I should talk about politics instead. But no. Or the finale of ‘The O.C’? Made me weepy. But I’m almost at the stage where the Grainwaves ads have the potential to make me cry too. Ick. The noise in my head has stepped up to a roar most nights that I try to drown out with Hammer of the Gods. I wish I was a rockstar.

Okay, so it’ll be eight people for dinner tomorrow night (and I hope that you, Mr Noizy, will be losing sleep over your lack of RSVP! I know you’ve been reading, I know you’re not in New York.). Now I’m sure that you’re already bringing wine, because you’re polite young people, but Jessie said that my last post on the subject was a little confusing, so let me spell it out – in addition to the wine which I have no doubt that you are bringing, it would be great if you could bring a piece of cheese. I think Jessie mentioned that she likes blue cheese, (unless she was trying to wind me up), so perhaps a brie and a something else could be dividied up between the two remaining of you? Tonight there will be much cleaning and cooking and planning of social introductions. As I just said in an email, sometimes I think I am a Stepford Wife.

In other things that aren’t my dinner party, on Wednesday I went to see In Good Company and consequently I am in love with Topher Grace all over again like the second season of that show. It was a really funny really nice movie, although Scarlett Johansson didn’t wear enough low cut tops. Um, not that I’m shallow or anything. But you should check it out.

Last night Anji and I went to look at a flat in Mt Vic. It was art deco with wooden floors. Luckily the landlady had a phobia of cats, because it was $375. In half an hour I’m going to go and look at a workman’s cottage in Mt Cook. It is sunny today so I can assess how damp and dark it will be.

The cats are stressing me out with their differing needs. I have finished reading Feel although I never wanted it to end. I must make a dinner party playlist of music. Today’s big drama at work was all about the total lack of toilet paper in our building and how it took the other building two hours to get us some. Shocking. There’s toilet paper now, however, so I might end this here.

Oh actually, just before I go – Karen and I had dinner at Coco last night, and when I ordered a glass of shiraz THE GIRL ASKED ME FOR I.D. Oh my fucking god. I will accept that in supermarkets and liquor stores, but in a cafe????

Monday April 9th, 2001

My ISP is being a gimp. Gimp isp, gimp! I reckon Lou’s bosses should ensure that she has dsl at home, but apparently they have other priorities. Sheesh!

Today was all about working very hard scripting. That’s not computer scripting, oh no. Well, it kinda was, cos I had to format my CBT script so that it’ll work properly in Scala. Scala is dumb.

I listened to “My Body the Handgrenade” at work today, which is like a collection of b-sides and rarities by Hole, and it made so much more sense now after that biography of Courtney Love that I read. Listening to it, I felt like the BDO 99 was just yesterday, that somehow I managed to skip the past two years, which wouldn’t necessarily be such a bad thing, although I wouldn’t be who I am today. I feel very old – “Smells Like Teen Spirit” which is unquestionable the most important song to people in my generation came out TEN YEARS ago. TEN! Wow.

I’ve made an appointment to go and see Dr. White tomorrow and get my smear, and get a full STD screen (I don’t think I have anything, I just want to be 100% certain) and talk to her about my nutrition and stuff. Fun fun. Also today I’ve been coughing a dry shallow pathetic cough, so maybe she can see to that too.

Last night I traumatised Leigh by pasting bits out of a story I wrote when I was 15 to him – “Angela felt his hands slide up and down her back. She had to clutch at his shoulders, thinking of a line from Gone With the Wind – “Now I know why men put their arms around a woman when they kiss them; it’s so they don’t faint”. She was walking on air.” True story too. I just wrote it in the third person to get a new perspective, according to my diary at the time. Though what wisdom I’d learn from “Angela was leaning on him more and more. Then he spoke. “We’re lying on a flower pot,” he said regretfully” is beyond me. Still, five years from now, I’ll probably look back on what I’m writing these days and scoff.

Oh for fucks sake, how hard is it to get a line into the Net???

I feel good today because I just had a really nice long bath. I put my legs up in the air and fully submerged my head. I love the sound of being underwater. I also feel good cos I told Clay and Louise that I wanted to do separate food from them (and phrased it a little more diplomatically than “I’m tired of subsidising your animal products and your girlfriend”)

OH! I also got a pay cheque today, and that was very very nice.

AND! I was in Mt Eden for lunch, and I walked past one place after inspecting the menu, and this guy came out, and he was like “don’t you strut away from me” and I was thinking “sheesh, overboard waiter!” but it was my friend Derek, who I haven’t seen in like a year, so that was very cool. He was like “wow girl, look at you – whatever happened to the flower skirts?” which made me blush and smile. He’s doing advertising with Kate B this year, which means I can get her to slip him notes. Wahoo. And then when I was eating my lunch which was Malaysian noodles, Kate M rang me on my cellularmaphone and said she was in Mt Eden also, so we met up. She was a little scared and felt like she didn’t know what she was doing – I tried pointing out many times that it was only her first day.

The company I work for shouted morning tea for all 400 of us on campus today for going 100 days without an accident.

you see, the ting is…

I just had the coolest sneeze. I think that was about as close to an orgasm as I’ll be getting. Brilliant!

Yes, it’s me. writing another journal entry. Oh wait, and yes, I’m drunk. It’s 4.20pm. It is my birthday though, so it’s okay. And the emails I have from livia going “yay, you’re lesbian rooting age now” are just testament to that.

My feet are SO cold, I really must find some socks. And maybe my hoody. I should also really pack. Ouch, my teeth. Fudge and bubbly do not mix.

Oh my god, nigel gave me magic sand, and it truely does not get wet! It is sooo soo cool. We all spent a lot of time marvelling at it over the remains of breakfast. It’s made by moose, hwo are probably most famous for Sea Monkeys. You can’t trade a cow for magic sand, you know! Clayton also woke me up this morning real early to give me my pressie from him and brad – geri halliwell’s book! I am so so stoked. AND they gave me a big bunch of flowers too, so yaaaay. Popular Kate, Justin and Maree gave me this soooo gorgeous sari

It was Maree’s idea, strangely enough. She knows me very very well. The card she gave me was a square one, with a picture of a girl and the word “cute” on it. EVERYONE gave me square cards, ti’s so weird. Oh wait, no, shirley didn’t. But everyone else did. Shirley gave me a nekkid man torso statue, as Inspiration, apparently. I think I would rather root someone with a head and arms and legs though, if I get a choice in the matter.

Lunch was goood, I can’t believe all the food got eaten, but that’s okay. Justin tried to make us drink five year old Bernadino, but it looked like morning piss.

I have to qwrite my speech for Shirley’s 21st still, and maybe start packing. But I dunno if I can be assed. YAY I am going tomorrow. Apart from my teeth hurting, i really do feel so much better today than I have in ages. I deserve this, this is a good thing. heh, I dumped thomas on my last birthday, which really does beg the question as to why we got involved again, but hey, oh well. Damn teeth, fuck up. If I want to drink more cheap bubbly, I bloody well will, and you can like it or lump it.

My hands smell nice like roses cos of the moisturized Penny gave me. I wonder if I should wear my sari tonight. What should I wear?: I really dunno. I really should go pack. And get off the phone line so more people can call me. Okay dokey!

xox

Ooohj i wanna read my geri book!