Hubris.co.nz

Every year I answer the same 40 questions to do a stocktake of where I’m at. Check out previous years here.

1. What did you do in 2009 that you’d never done before?

• Got made redundant
• Stayed overnight in hospital
• Lost items of value in a burglary
• Had my first threesome. And my second. And my third.
• Had an intern.
• Replied to someone on an internet dating site and then slept with them.
• Received over two grand’s worth of free stuff for being a blogger (the $1200 freeview box made up a lot of that)
• Went to Roller Derby
• Won a “Best Fan” prize
• Kissed 17 people in one night (hurray for kissing booths!)
• Had someone pay for me to get into a strip club, and also tucking money into strippers’ underwear for the first time
• Willingly (ish) went through a break-up.
• Had someone throwing me a surprise party.
• Worn red lipstick frequently and confidently.

2. Did you keep your new years’ resolutions, and will you make more for next year?

Apparently my resolutions for this year were about taking better care of myself, and although I did continue to sleep with the married man for a bit, we did indeed eventually break it off, so yay me. And then I resolved to never sleep with a married person again, which is a good resolution to have and I have yet to break it again. I also resolved to have breakfast with someone after we’d slept together, and while I thought I’d achieved that when I woke up with a boy for the first time since 2004, we didn’t actually have breakfast, unless you count helping ourselves to one another’s genitals again. Oh oh but actually, I did make wedges for a lady caller that we ate in bed together so I guess that counts.

My new resolution is to articulate myself better when I don’t like something, rather than just dealing with it. As in “please take your hand off my leg” instead of moving chairs, or “Actually I don’t like Hawaiiian Pizza” instead of just avoiding those slices. Etc.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?

Fucking buttloads of people had babies this year! Specifically Martha and Brenda and my best friend Penny from high school. Still more of my friends are pregnant right now, and it’s all a little bit over the top, if you ask me. I can’t have breakfast with a boy and you all can get married and buy houses and have babies? Unfair!

4. Did anyone close to you die?

No, but people very close to people I am very close to did, and all I could do about it was text stupid jokes every day and send care packages of Noel Fielding.

5. What countries did you visit?

Sydney for FullCodePress (thanks to the lovely Tash Mahal) and Vanuatu for fun.

6. What would you like to have in 2010 that you lacked in 2009?
Breakfast with someone, obviously, since I can now cook eggs. Also, a job. And let’s say a proper public relationship where the person I am with shouts it from the rooftops.

7. What date from 2009 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
The Wellingtonista Awards again because of the work and the memories that I was a bit scared of. December 10 because it was my ten year anniversary of fucking. July 17 for my ten years of Hubris party and because it was when I relaunched this site in WordPress. June 30 for being my last day at the SSC.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
Honestly, I had a motherfucking buttload of bad shit happen to me this year, and so the fact that I’m still in good spirits, that I’m happy, sort of healthy and am able to keep going on, and that I’ve ended the year with all my friendships intact and even with new friends is pretty fucking awesome. Go me!

9. What was your biggest failure?

Honestly, I’m shocked that I don’t have another job yet. I know that I am hireable, that I have many skills and talents and the fact that I’m still unemployed is really weird. I’m also disppointed that I’m not as over someone as I’d like to be, but that’s not something you can force and you definitely can’t get over someone by being under as many people as possible. I’ve learnt my lesson on that front quite a few times this year.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
Depression as per usual, some nasty flus, withdrawl from zopiclone when I finally came off them, and also hospitalisation after an ingrown hair gave me cellulitis. But apart from that, no!

11. What was the best thing you bought?
My laptop(s) that allow me to download and watch copious amounts of television. Also every present that I’ve bought for others that has allowed me to demonstrate even the smallest fraction of how much I care about them.

12. Whose behavior merited celebration?

My family who have continued to lend me money and buy me things like a new laptop after mine got stolen and I didn’t have insurance, who paid my power bill for me so I wouldn’t get disconnected and who aren’t demanding that I pay them back for our trip to Vanuatu. Also everyone this year who’s bought me a drink or a meal in exchange for my company, especially Tom, who is insanely generous. My friends who’ve helped me out of emotional jams, listened to me bitching and moaning and kept me company through the long dark winter, Smoo whose quiet presence in the house is always welcome, and everyone who gave me orgasms this year and fucked me til my thighs ached.

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?

Management at SSC and everyone else who didn’t hire me, people who think that hitting kids is okay, the cunt who burgled us, and anyone who has treated my friends badly.

14. Where did most of your money go?
Double rents and unemployment.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?

Roller derby! Kat & Kane’s wedding! Harvestbird & Knedd’s wedding! People having babies!

16. What song will always remind you of 2009?

‘So here we are’ by Bloc Party becasue it played while I was lying in my lover’s arms for what we thought was the last time, and so that he wouldn’t see me crying I buried my face in his neck and we fucked because it fit the narrative structure that way. And also ‘Some time around Midnight’ by the Airbourne Toxic Event, even though or actually because as Good Tom says there’s far too much pathos in it for one song. It’s like the story of my life condensed down into four minutes. Oh and because it was so recent, ‘Halo’ is standing out in my mind right now too.

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:
i. happier or sadder? Happier, despite all the crap. I am getting better at dealing with everything.
ii. smaller or larger? Larger, by a lot probably.
iii. richer or poorer? Much much poorer.

18. What do you wish you’d done more of?
Physical activies and community service. Also, I wish I’d put more work into You Are So Entertaing but I still can!

19. What do you wish you’d done less of?
Wasting time on Twitter and Spider Solitaire and watching crappy television. Passive-aggressive texting and emailing. I sent some spectacularly nasty drunken emails this year and I am very not proud of them. My defense of being desperate for any kind of reaction is not good enough.

20. How will you be spending Christmas?

My parents and Karen came over to my house and were joined by Bad Tom and Shirley and I cooked amazing food and we gorged ourselves and had a thoroughly pleasant time of it.

21. Who did you spend the most time on the phone with?
WINZ. Heather and Kat <3.

22. Did you fall in love in 2009?

I didn’t fall, I stayed in.

23. How many one-night stands?

Three? In terms of one-offs, there was a girl, there was Tingle and there was the guy from Internet dating. I did see the girl again though, but only in a friend capacity. In addition, there were multiple occasions with the married man, the duck and the crazy girl. Oh, and I had intended to have a playdate with the boy who’d watched me and the crazy girl in his hotel room, whose kiss made me a little weak at the knees, but despite some textage, the stars didn’t align. Which is probably for the best.

24. What was your favorite TV program?
Mad Men, Community, 30 Rock, Dollhouse (!!!!!)

25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?

Nope.

26. What was the best book you read?

Oh god, have I actually done any reading this year? I liked Generation A but not nearly as much as Generation X. I don’t think I can remember any other books, really, which I know is pretty terrible. Don’t tell Karen okay?

27. What was your greatest musical discovery?

Umm, getting a subscription to Last.FM? And taking all the contents of Emma and Lisa’s hard drives?

28. What did you want and get?

A laptop. To wake up in someone’s arms. Lots and lots of pashes. Amazing collections of friends. An overseas tropical holiday and some weekend jaunts other places. To get on the dole and be left mostly alone (well, I’d rather I didn’t have to, but it was a struggle to get here anyway). The ability to sleep without zopiclone.

29. What did you want and not get?

An invitation to Foo Camp – I worked really hard to prove myself this year hoping to get one and I didn’t. Sad face. Also, a new job, and at the time of writing, a full house. Paying extra rent is killing me. A real relationship. An ONYA nomination.

30. What was your favorite film of this year?

I’m not sure what movies I actually went to this year. There weren’t very many of them, that’s for sure.

31. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?

On my actual birthday I got free coffee from Green Land, I went to work, then I went to the Backbencher for someone’s goodbye drinks. I was feeling nauseous so I only drank gin. Then with my family I went to Elements for dinner which was amazing. Prior to that, my amazing sisters threw me a freak show surprise party! It was amaaaaaaaaaaaazing! I turned 29, which means I’m almost 30 now. Crikey!

32. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?

Finding a new job shortly after being made redundant with a bit of time for a holiday in between.

33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2009?

I’ve got really into the Fatshionista community and started posting outfits of the day before my camera got stolen. I’m still trying to be Joan Holloway. I’ve also started wearing red lipstick, thanks to the lovely Megan.

34. What kept you sane?
My amazing counsellor, my family’s love and financial support and my fantastic friends.

35. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?

Noel Fielding? Jon Stewart still makes me moist. As does ummm oh I don’t know. People? Stuff? Things? Tom Coates and that other guy from Webstock. Matt Bidulp? I can’t remember. Oh! And Victor from Dollhouse.

36. What political issue stirred you the most?

Ridiculous bullshit redundancies, strangely enough. Oh yeah, ICT’s totally not going to be a growth area…

37. Who did you miss?

The secret relationship. All my friends who are in other cities, especially Heather and Kat’n Kane. Really angry I missed out on meeting Ghetsum again cos I was too sick. And Good Tom, who shouldn’t have left to go to America, fucker.

38. Who was the best new person you met?
Oh my gosh, I met so many awesome people this year, like Kim and Laura and Amie through Twitter, Chiara and Theresa and Julie through Pretty Pretty Pretty and also my new flatmate Thigh Voltage and through her the derby girls. Also, I’d already met Megan before but I feel like we became really good friends this year and that’s always worth celebrating.

39. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2009:
The people that care about you want to be there for you. You just need to learn to ask for help.

40. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year:
“I get by with a little help from my friends”.

It turns out that I can throw a pretty good shindig. The Fourth Annual Wellingtonista Awards were last night, and it was a fantastic time. I’m so proud of all the work that I and others have put into that site, and it’s paid off in bucketfuls. I’ll no doubt do a proper post about it over on that site, and round up pics and stuff like that, but suffice to say, oh my, so much love. It was fantastic to have lots of people who were nominated actually turn up, it was great to have Sally from Mighty Mighty to accept their billion awards that they won, and to have Shirley up on stage to accept for her identical twin Ev from Slowboat, to get to talk to James about how far we’ve come since the site started, to see Jessie again, to have Tom prove yet again what a gentleman he really is by keeping me in drinks when I thought I lost my eftpos card, to get to swap meaningful looks and sideways smiles with someone and have that be cool, to dance with Chiara and Theresa and Julie in pseudo-Russian style to the Klezmer Rebs, to see Sue actually about, to have so many friends there that I didn’t get a chance to talk to any of them properly, to have Tash be all humbled by their winning and her not being there to accept it on time, to dance to the awesome Karaoke Dick afterwards and sing sing sing, to having Kim show up really late and be all drunken “YAY KIM!!!!” at her, to have Grant Robertson (and everyone else) tell me how fabulous I looked…. oh, how I do so love me a good spotlight bask. Oh, and then there’s that other thing.

I’ve had bad experiences in the past where I’ve written about crushes and had the crushee email me going “um, I’m not interested in you romantically” and I’ve been like, yeah duh, I just wanted to write about how nice it is to have a crush that’s pure and simple and joyous, it’s not really about you or whatever, but on the other hand all too often I only write about things when they’re spent and used up and I’m all angsty about them, so in the interests of being Fair and Balanced like Fox News, I figure I will tell you a tale about last night at the TAWAs.

There was a girl there who it turned out I’d met almost ten years ago and I found myself really drawn to her immediately. It helped that she piled me with compliments, of course, and that it turns out that we’re eskimo sisters although our mileage definitely varied. At one stage I even sent Laura on a recon mission to find her, and in a move straight out of primary school Laura told her that I had a crush on her. Which is fine because we kissed as someone took up the mic singing ‘Halo’ and I have all kinds of love for that song, and it felt like I was on a show on the WB, and it was lovely, and it was public and not a shameful dirty secret. Also lovely was duetting on ‘Blister In the Sun’, dancing together and kissing right in the middle of Cuba Mall at 3am. She wouldn’t let me take her home because she said that shagging gets in the way of being friends, and I was like “but dude, I have a million friends already! I don’t need any more!” but of course she is no doubt right. I’m just very lucky that I got to have a thoroughly swell time and a kiss to make the night perfect. It was partly a little bit about chasing away the ghosts of last year and the thing that I am not supposed to remember any more, but it was so sweet that it felt fresh and clean and not at all like the other times this year when I have tried to drown my memories in someone else’s arms. Excellent. Thank you very much, you charming young lady.

I spent all of last week at home hiding out. There were occasional distractions – Amy came over on the Monday night for prettyprettypretty stuff, and I made Lisa dinner on Wednesday, but apart from that there were only a couple of conversations with Smoo and George. I kept my phone switched off during the day so work couldn’t call me, and on Friday I sent an email to my boss that said in part:

suppose I’ve been hoping a little bit that by going AWOL I would just get fired, and then I wouldn’t have to own up to all my failures. I haven’t been at work this week because the thought of coming in just absolutely petrifies me. I physically cannot get out of bed and leave the house because of my fear of all the work that I should have done by now that I haven’t, and the thought of having conversations about it, and why I haven’t done it, and how I am not meeting your expectations absolutely terrifies me. That’s why I’ve left my cellphone switched off, which is a total copout for someone who used to pride herself on her communication skills. I think I need to resign, I am not the person that you thought you hired, and I cannot do the work that I have been hired to do. I know that I’m in a down space right now that I will climb out of, but I just don’t see how I will get any better at doing what is expected of me at the *.

As the ever-perceptive Smoo said, perhaps it was a cry for help. She sent me back a really really nice, really really supportive email, which made me cry, which was kind of nice too, because I’ve felt more numb than I should be feeling, and have been questioning whether or not I should be on 40mg, or if it’s actually too strong. But anyways, I cried, I washed my face, I blowdried my hair, I fought off the metallic taste of rising panic, and I headed out to Deb and Mike‘s Emancipation Party.

First up though was dinner at Arashi with Robyn and Shirley and Tom, who bought along really really nice champagne to celebrate, even though I didn’t want to talk about resigning, or not resigning, or whatever it is that’s going to happen now, which will involve a lot of work and conversation and bravery and all that sort of stuff. So instead, here’s photos of them at dinner.

Then we headed up to Hawthorn early to secure the big corner table. I love Hawthorn so much. The bartenders are so charming, and make such good zombies. We laughed a tremendous amount at Shirley saying one was cute when he was standing right behind her. We’re grownups that way. I held court at the big table, drinking more zombies and more bottles of wine. Having not talked to anyone in so long, and after essentially sitting in my own filth all week (well, I showered, but then I put Pjs back on) it felt insanely great to be out of the house again. I could talk and bullshit all I wanted to.

And yes, I got rather drunk, and in fact told the third person ever that I loved them, ((EDIT: actually the fourth. If I was Good Tom, I’d be quite insulted at how often I got left out of the count, but then again he’s probably just relieved!) via text message that I don’t remember sending, and which also quite frankly isn’t true, or rather as I texted the next day, I love them, but I don’t love them. I’m just going to miss them a fuckload. I also invented a new insult in the Twitterverse - “Asscunt”. I hope it’s going to take off. Yes, I drank far more than is healthy, but oh holy crap did I need a huge blow-out and some rants and raves. I’m having trouble having responsibility for the most basic parts of my life (I need a wife) so it totally makes sense to go out and be totally irresponsible, right?

A story from the night that has nothing to do with me but which was incredibly hilarious unfolded in front of me and Robyn. We noticed this guy sitting at the end of the bar looking around a lot and staring at us, and we thought he was Sam Farrow so we yelled out his name but he didn’t look, so we decided that there was something else seedy going on with him. Later a guy in a white pinstriped shirt came in with a girl in red, and the girl in red started talking to Sam-Lite. Next time we looked up, Sam-Lite was gone, and Red Girl was talking to some other random. I was ordering more wine at that stage, and so I got to overheard Pinstripe at the other end of the bar sending down drinks to Red Girl and Random. Then later, Pinstripe found himself a new friend in the form of a girl in a floral dress, who was there with Leather Jacket. In fact, Floral found herself between the two of them, with hungry suburban manhands all over her.

You can’t see Pinstripe’s roaming hands in those photos, but believe me, they were there. Icck. Keep it in the Hutt, please. Small bars are not good places for discretion.

And yes, anyway. Have I mentioned how much TV I’ve been watching? Carnivale (love it so much, sad it’s all gone now), Green Wing, Strangers with Candy, This Life, and more, I’m sure. I’m pretty sure I can’t remember how to stand up anymore, but I will need to find out tomorrow when I go into work. Oh also I have to pash 20 people before next Tuesday when I turn 28. Volunteers please? And my birthday dinner is on Saturday and we’re going to Karaoke afterwards, you should come along if you like that sort of thing. And um, I think that’s it for the night. It’s too cold to have my arms out from under my duvet any longer.

Do you notice the time, like, all the time? Because it was 11.11pm when I started this post, but then I had to reply to twitters, read an article on cock that Harvest Bird sent me to cheer me up (I think), and then fast-forward the ads of today’s episode of The Simpsons, and now it’s eight minutes later. Does that sound like a lot to pack in in seven minutes? Because I think I’ve mentioned before that my brain is working overtime these days, and how sometimes I think that I’m on speed instead of citalapram.

And that might explain today’s total mood crash, and why I just fucking wish I could get fired so I could go on the dole or the sickness benefit and how I could stay in bed where everything is warm and safe and okay. It is ridiculous how scared I am to go to work, and how much I feel like I am letting the team down just for existing, but at the same time the assumption that because I took a couple of days off and because i am taking my medication regularly that all my problems have ceased to exist. I cannot get to work by 9am. I just can’t. I can’t sleep, I can’t wake up, I can’t get out of bed. How does the rest of the world do it? I can’t function like that. And holy fuck how much do I hate using the word “can’t”?

This weekend was good. We had a bit of a beer sampling here, with a sausage fest, and then tucking people up on the couch and in the spare room. On Anzac Day I hid, and then on Saturday Heather arrived, and I went to Bar Camp, and then that night we went to Shirley’s for the Unofficial Pretty Pretty Pretty launch party, which was all beauty products and amazing food, and videos, and Lisa Fur gave me a handrub that made me purr. And then the day after Heather and I had brunch at Elements, and then had BLOGFEST 2008, in which we sat down at my dining room table, and blogged for three hours straight. In that time I uploaded a fuckload of photos to flickr with tags, fixed all the colours on Pretty Pretty Pretty since the original purple that I changed the images of the template to weren’t in sexy-hexy-decimal, posted to the Wellingtonista, changed the Aucklandista template (my awesomeness was further enforced today when I managed to do what Heather failed to do yesterday – get images and links to work on the front page (in her defense, she thought I wanted exerpts instead of full posts, but I didn’t), and THEN I figured out the php to add in tags to posts and THEN I built (read: stole) some php to make it have rotating header images. SO AWESOME. I like being productive. But that did of course emphasise the suckiness of having a full time job that is not blogging, at least not blogging for the things that I love. And I know that work has been very accomodating of my recent bout of craziness, but it’s just not as easy to shake as you might think. Or probably don’t think, because you’re on the internets and therefore you’re probably already crazy too.

Miss Amy came over tonight for MakeMonday, and we wrote up our big post about our first PPP party, and while she had to go, she left me and Heather with an awesome foot-care package, so we poured ourselves a glass of bubbly and barricaded ourselves in the bathroom with zabuton (flat Japanese pillows) to perch on the sharp edge of my bath and soak our feet in mint & lavender goodness. It felt lovely, and so I decided to have a huge big bawling sob session. Awesome. Half the time Heather thought I was laughing when it was actually guttural sobs, but half the time I was laughing too, because I am pathetic and lame, and far too fucking hard on myself. It is hard to be me, and yes, that’s fucking stupid, I’m this educated smart girl with these fantastic support networks and a job, and a family, and flatmates, some of whom clean the kitchen every night, and this cat who knows that I am the centre of his universe, and a fantastic counselor who I obviously need to go and see, and yet, it is hard for me.

Some things shake me a lot from out of nowhere. Like, what happens when something happens to someone you used to love? Something awful, and when you find out about it, it throws you for the whole afternoon, but of course, it is not about you, it’s about how best to respond, to say something, to do something if it’s needed. How do you be there when you haven’t been there for many years, no matter what the reason?

I have found that lately there has been a reoccuring theme, and you know what? It’s not even lately. I just want to fix all of my friends’ lives. I want everyone to get their fucking happy ending. I don’t know how to procure those endings though, and I know that I’m not even supposed to. Just, oh, I don’t know. Can’t we all have happy endings? Please? And I don’t mean a happy ending like Jill will deliver you. Well, maybe that.

Oh, but in happy ending news? Here’s a clip from the RASSLIN’ I went to.

It was so fucking great to see Kat’n Kane. We had Rock of Love marathons, and just quiet time together, much like Heather and I are having right now. No alarms and no surprises. Lately it takes MGMT or the Deftones to wake me out of the fog on tthe bus to and from work. I don’t have solutions. I do know though that I missed my meds on Sunday, and so I will blame this on that.

And somewhere out there, unrelated to this, you’re turning 40, or you’re 40 already, and I look forward to your email next year, because that will be another three years, right? And in a thousand other stories, there was a thing that I thought was a thing. Well, not even a thing. It was a tingle. But if I’m honest, it was an amalgamation, it was so many people together. My friends could draw you a picture sight unseen. Still, it was a tingle which was nice to have.

I have been reading my journal from 1999, spurred on by stumbling across Shakespeare in Love on TV and deciding to find what I’d written about it, and realising what was going on with my life at the time, but anyways, I fucking wish I could be that honest and upfront right now. I mean, yes, in the olden days I did write my secret thoughts in the source code, but at least I wrote them. In the past couple of years, I’ve become so boring and sheltered and so fucking cafeful. I miss pre-google days when you could write about how fucking stoned you got with various people and call them by their names.

But I don’t smoke pot anymore, of course, and man, I so fucking miss that. Did you see the parts in my journal in 1999 when I used to be in my pyjamas, and someone would call, and my flatmate would be in love with them so I’d put on my grandfather’s silk dressing gown and get driven across town to go smoke with them and then go home? Good times. I wish the world was that simple right now.

Yes I know that I am full of “oh I wish that things were still that way or that way or whatever it is that I want”. And yes, I realise that might make you think that I am unhappy with the way that things are right now. I wish I could write and explain the things that are causing me drama. I have layers of privacy written into this journal, and I could make posts on different levels, or write in different spaces, put in linked footnotes, or be really obscure, but I don’t want to do that. I wish I could tell you what I dislike about my job, very specifically, but I am reduced to saying “government can be a little bit slow-moving”. I wish I could tell you what the problem is with my homelife, but I will sumarise by saying that Kat and Kane are moving out in February to go to Tauranga to be nearer to Kat’s Mum, and you can’t argue with that. But oh yes, of course it doesn’t actually matter when they’re going, as much as I love them and will miss them so much, because oh yes, that’s right, I’m BEING EVICTED. They’re terminating the lease on this house that I love so much on February 3, so I will need to be gone, and find somewhere new. I left a note for Smoo telling him about it and saying that I hoped he would come with me when I set up a new house, because I love living with him, but he’s gone to Hamilton for Xmas, so I don’t know what he’ll say and I’m a little bit scared that he’ll be all like “oh you know what? Done our dash at this flat, time for me to move on”. But I suppose if that’s the way the road goes, that’s the way the world goes.

I am trying to be very calm and very philosophical about everything in my life right now. It does not help that I have failed to go to the gym for a couple of weeks, that my alcohol intake has increased exponentially with the season, that I can’t remember the last salad that I had, that there’s a full moon and most significantly that I am down to a pill a day, if that, because apparently it is far too too hard to find five minutes to cut them up and fill my seven-day box.

So there have been more than a few tear-bouts. Like when my car got towed from the carpark near work that I’d only parked in because I’d failed to sleep and was running an hour and a half late, and that was all the coins I had. I didn’t know who to call and I didn’t want to bother anyone with my drama, but as I later suggested to my counsellor, if anyone was in my position and they failed to call me, I’d want to punch them in the head because of course I’m always there for them (so I have resolved to treat myself like I’m actually my friend, so that I will see that I am actually important and special and deserving of cherishing and nourishment – the way I view my friends but have difficulty seeign myself). So yeah, I called Shirley, and cried and cried, and through a series of navigational mishaps, we ended up driving out to Petone. I had a big panic attack – or is it an anxiety attack – in her car. My heart rate went out of control, my entire body tensed up to the point where my left side felt like it was a heart attack, my flesh tingled, and I had the most disgusting metalllic taste in my mouth. I was more successful in fighting it because I was in someone else’s company than I normally would be. And we wen to the beach, and I stood ankle deep in the cool water and tried to unclench my body, which had of course gone into total survival clenched mode.

We wandered down Jackson St forever, trying to find a place for dinner that was open which would fit us in, and finally we came across Gusto, down the opposite end from Wanda Harland. Yum! We had a cheese plate which had a brie that gooed everywhere, and antipasto with four kinds of preserved meats. The service was a little new, but very well intentioned. And after we had retrieved my car from the towing yard, $180 later, I stopped by quiz and was so upset and stressed out about my workshop the next day I hardly even noticed when the Quizmaster hugged me.

The next day I had a huge big challenge organising an interactive workshop on wikis for 50 people. I panicked and doubted myself and thought I’d fucked up room bookings when it was of course some people overstaying their time in rooms, but other than that, it went pretty good. And then after work I got drunk over dinner at Longixang with Karen and Kowhai and Lisa, and we drove out ot Martha’s shop opening and I drank more champagne and bought presents for Anji and Karen, and a bear-shaped rug that I am SO going to fuck someone on, while my fire-place video plays on the TV. Maybe I will add in photos some other time.

I didn’t write about the Wellingtonista awards yet either. Such an amazingly good night. I can’t believe that things went as well as they did. It was such a stressful period leading up to ist, but on the night, it appears that we pulled it off quite well indeed. My dress was pretty, and that;’;s what’s most important, right? and OH MY GOD Blam Blam Blam were so astonishingly good,a nd I jumped up and down and up and down and dancd and danced and then I hugged them and the whole time I was dancing I had the biggest grin on my face going “BLAM BLAM MOTHERFUCKING BLAM ARE PLAYING AT AWARDS I FUCKING HELPED ORGANISE!” (although props for the actual night must go to Mitch and Russell) and it was just so fucking lovely to know that 678 people voted, compared to 57 from last year. The Wellingtonista have filled my social calendar this year and I love them all dearly, even when they don’t read their emails properly.

And there are other things that are lovely in my life. Kat and I may have finished our Veronica dates, but the other night on our girlie date night we watched Dirty Dancing and then The Breakfast Club and I know that even when they’re gone in February, they’ll be coming back all the time for wrestling. And fuck, I so don’t want them to leave. Do you know how amazing our vege garden looks right now? I don’t want ot have to leave this house, it’s just not fucking fair. This is my home. How dare they “consider their options”? Shirley’s consoling words have been all about promising me that I’ll find a place with a better kitchen, but how will I find a house big enough to fit in all my crap? I have so much crap. My aim over the holidays is to throw out three things a day, but I dunno if I’ll get that done. Yesterday I was hungover all day from end of work drinks, with Tom buying Bollinger at Arbituaguer, and then much sake at Hede, and teapots at Alice, and more wine at Hawthorn, and today I had half a dozen people (Karen, Tom, Kowhai, Shirley, Frances, Lisa, Kat & Kane) over for drinks in the sun, which of course turned into drinks with candles outside and everyone wearing my hoodies and wow, I’m so fucking huge. My idea of spontaneous entertaining starts with texts at 10am, and then there’s bratwursts and frozen samosas and a trillion cocktails. We’re having Xmas at Mum and Neil’s, even though their deck isn’t finished (I am SO dreading the mess already) and so Karen and I went entree shopping this morning. And I have already finished the white rum, apparently. D’oh!

What more did I have to say? I am so fucking craving some physicality. I want to devour the world. So let’s end it there, yes?

As per usual, let me start off this entry with an invitation to a party:

We’re having Country Club: India on Saturday, and you’re of course invited. I must clean and make curries and try and make mini naans before then. What a busy girl I’ll be. As per usual. I suspect starting my free drinking challenge possibly wasn’t the smartest decision I’ve ever made without being willing to cut down on the expensive events too. But nevermind. Luckily now that I have a camera, I can keep better track of the things that I have been up to.

And so let’s talk about Saturday October 27, which started off with a pony at the Houghton Bay School Fair that I wasn’t allowed to ride (I didn’t actually ask) so I settled for sitting in tiny little very sturdy seats in the kindergarten with my knees around my ears instead, hiding out from the freezing cold that my jandals and 3/4 length (actually on me they’re more 5/8) tights were not equipt to deal with. But man, when did school fairs become so fancy? I ate pad thai, and samosas, and there was all kinds of other posh food like falafels and morrocan curries as well as the usual sausage sizzle. In the car, Kat said to me “Me and Sebastian are becoming great friends since I feed him all the time. If you don’t stop going out drinking he’s going to think that I’m his mummy” and I actually cried. But then me and Kat and Kane and Kenna and Tavers moved on to a long extended trip to the Warehouse for costuming for the event that night:

What were we up to that night? Why, the MOTHERFUNKIN’ RASSLIN’, of course! Holy crap, it was exciting. I have a video on my camera of Purple Haze, who is, according to Kat’s sign “New Zealand’s sexist[sic] masked man” (it was only Tom G who noticed her missing e), wrestling the Condor, and you can hear me screaming my lungs out and it goes all jerky when I jump to my feet at the end of the match. SO MUCH FUN! And then at half time we got CORN DOGS! And I was dressed as a zombie bride! And then a Bush Wacker came out! And walked all funny! And there was SO MUCH CROTCH EVERYWHERE! SO SO SO AWESOME! And the kids in front of us, who’d previously been screaming for bloody genuinely started crying when their father got cut up for serious. And there was the most hilarious except for the racism and homophobia kid yelling behind us. And my insults were also very witty too. And Tom G giggles like a girl and was great company for RASSLIN’ cos he knows everything about it. Here are some more photos to show you the awesomeness of it all:

It’s good to know I already have the outfit for when I totally marry Chris DeLorean, whose crotch is pictured here. Sans the large errection that other wrestlers were sprouting.

My sign which hadn’t dried in time (too much glitter paint) said “Lazarus Volt, fast like a colt”. But obviously a quarter of the size of Trooper

H. Flame & Max Damage vs The Overstayers (in the shiny trousers)

After the RASSLIN’ was finished, Jimmy, Tom G and I strolled down to Mighty Mighty to meet up with Tom B and listen to the band of the fantastic Mitch. I was very very very amused when a boy came up, and invited me to join their stag night, on the basis that I must be on my hen’s night. I was like “what? Why would you think that?”, deciding to pretend that I wasn’t wearing a large veil, since he had obviously missed the sunken eyes and bloody mouth. When he said that it was the way I was dressed, I was like “what? But I just got up this way!” and pointed out that I was actually sitting with three guys and it would have been a rather poor Hen’s Night if that was the case. And then I leant back to show him the blood gushing from my wrong-sided heart (it’s hard when you’re not wearing a shirt to do the maths when applying fake blood stains,really! Especially when you’ve dyed your hands red and need to scrub them with detergent, a dish brush, turpentine and sugar and still fail to lift the stains), and he said it was obviously just red wine, and I was like “no no sir, I spent half an hour holding a hairdryer on this to set the stain” and then he went to suck my shirt, and I moved it away from my body. You know, he may have had a little bit of a stupid approach, unless that was his act, but he was very cute, as was his friend who came and started stroking my face later, so Ir eally need to drop my whole insulting people when they hit on me defence. Like, seriously. We drank many bottles of nice red wine, and had dances, and finally Tom G and I left and had a sizeable debate about whether or not we felt like going to a strip club. I suggested that the way I was dressed would not result in me getting free lap dances, so we decided to save it for another time, and went and got kebabs instead. Some girl overheard us talking about why you shouldn’t sleep with lesbians so she and her boyfriend came and joined our table, and we had a very strange conversation that I can’t actually remember. We left her with the parting advice of “remember not to sleep with lesbians!” and she sounded offended, all “my mother’s a lesbian” and so I was like “umm, that’s probably a really good reason not to sleep with her then”. Heh. Then in the morning, my hair looked like this, so it’s just as well that the turquoise Clairol shampoo is as de-dredging as its ads make it out to be!

So that was the Saturday. I think I stayed in bed for a lot of the Sunday. Possibly until 6pm that night. Or maybe I got up and did things. My memory isn’t what it used to be, with me being like a trillion and six and all. Oh no wait, I made homemade chicken soup for all my sick friends! Well, all the ones who were ill anyway. Here’s how I did it, it was bloody tasty:

• Brown some chicken wings all over in a frypan
• Dice two onions, a whole head of garlic and two thumbs of garlic, and lightly saute
• Pour one litre of chicken soup over the onions and bring to the boil. Add the chicken wings, and deglaze their pan with some white wine, adding that in too.
• Add the juice and rind of one lemon, and some chili if you have it. Bring to the boil, then turn down and simmer lightly for 30 minutes or so, until the chicken starts falling off the bone
• Pull the chicken pieces out of the soup with tongs, and strip off the meat, throwing it back in the pot
• Add three peeled diced potatoes, or alpabet noodles. Add in diced carrots, celery and red pepper. Cook until the veges are soft

Of course only Shirley was home to receive her soup, so Lisa and Dylan missed out on getting well again. And I made Impromptu Flat Dinner since Smoo showed up as well, having been away for a couple of weeks, and a good time was had by all. Monday was a beautiful night of veging in front of the television. Tuesday night was Quiz and we got the right table and so we won again, hurrah. Wednesday night was ummmm hmmm, perhaps nothing? And then on Thursday was the free drinks which I have already written about.

Which brings me to the glorious weather of Friday, and this series of photos.

What you’re looking at is 1. the view from the cafe at the Archives where I ate some of the nicest corn fritters I have ever eaten, except they needed sour cream on the side. 2. A slightly suspicious-looking man on the tables at Zarbo that Tom B and I dragged out into the sun across the walkway with permission from the waiter. 3. The Mexican Wrestlers lining the coffee machine at Sweet Mother’s Kitchen where we ate mountains of food and they didn’t charge us for one pitcher of margaritas, and 4. Dylan’s ear at Mighty Mighty.

To elaborate more about my night, it started in the sun at Zarbo, and moved indoors when it got colder. The service was very very slow, but it was their first week, so perhaps it will improve. After that we went down to Sweet Mother’s Kitchen and ate hush yo’ mouth puppies, swamp dip, curly fries and I had Boom Boom chicken with bourbon potato mash, and we washed it down with a couple of jugs of margaritas, one of which they didn’t charge us for so I really must make amends. Mmmmm far too much food. Then we went up to Other Lisa’s party in her friend’s apartment, and she grabbed my boobs. Twice. Shock horror! I talked shit to Dylan for ages, and then I shocked Lisa’s friends by telling them a terrible joke and grabbing her boobs in return, but only because we were on our way out the door to Mighty Mighty where we danced to bad music and I had to leave because it was too fucking hot. I went to bed about 4am, but I hear that was much earlier than some people.

Needless to say, Saturday was spent largely in bed with Sebastian. Eventually I dragged myself up around 2 or something, and considered going into town to try and look for a sari, but then I realised that my hoodie was really dirty and I’d have to get changed, so I settled for pizza at the Med Warehouse, then supermarket shopping at Newtown New World which I’m loving for its tiny size but good selection. I cleaned myself up, had a nap, and then went into town to meet Karen and TomB and Yenping and Nick at the Oriental Thai for dinner. We were seated in the back room, which meant we had appallingly bad service – Yenping was extra to the booking, so they totally failed at bringing her a chair or a place setting, and when a glass of water got knocked over they laid another mat on top of the damp, finally, and requests for water glasses were ignored, but luckily all our wine was screwcap, and the chicken came served inside a pineapple, so that was all very well. Their Pad Thai was crap though. We had many amusing conversations though, and some very nice Reislings, and a Pinot Gris made out of the blood of an army of clones. Muahahhaa.

Then it was time to go up to the Party on the edge of the Hill, so Karen, Tom and I rocked on up there. There was much standing around in the kitchen. There was giving people sparklers to make new friends. And there was absinthe. Oh yes, there was absinthe. Behold.

.
Karen and I thought that the Absinthe was disgusting, and yet we continued to drink it because it was delicious. Meanwhile Tom drank enough to start seeing the Green Fairy

The best thing about drinking Absinthe was that instead of events getting blurrier, they seemed to get clearer and clearer. While outside getting some air (it was HOT inside), Karen and I spotted a car parked with a beer bottle on its roof, and as there were people inside the car, we went through a long round of miming “there’s a beer bottle on your roof!” at them which they didn’t get at all, so eventually I went down to move it for them, and was thanked with a “Show us your boobs!”. Awesome, almost as classy as the guy who pissed in front of us. But there were actually some very nice, very cute boys, some of whom were a little bit handsy when they shouldn’t have been because it’s just not fair! I met a very nice French boy who may have actually kissed my hand and made me giggle like a schoolgirl, and we talked about how being 27 means it’s important to act like a dead rockstar. I had a desperate lust for any kind of man-flesh but ultimately settled for every fat girl’s fall-back – finding a gay boy to tell you that you’re fabulous and feel you up when you’re dirty-dancing.Naturally. It was a looooong night. I tried to call a taxi sometime after 3, but someone stole it, so I ended up sitting on the porch until around 4am, taking photo after photo, most of which have since been deleted, because normally I wouldn’t put up bad photos of my friend. But in retaliation for some atrocious ones of me that Tom took, let me show you this as a lesson in why Absinthe isn’t always your friend:

And now it’s today and I need to do some cooking and find a sari before Saturday. Hurrah!

Tom posted on the Wellingtonista recently about the places to drink for free. Join me as I try to score free drinks every week until the end of the year.

For the second event in my series, tonight I went to:

“The 2007 Annual General Meeting of Members of Young IT Professionals Network Incorporated trading as Unlimited Potential (the “Society”) will be held at the Wellington Convention Centre, 111 Wakefield Street, Wellington on Thursday, 1 November 2007, commencing at 6.00pm. Join us from 5:30pm for networking.”

Now, if something says that there’s “networking” at 5.30, you’d read that as “drinks”, right? So in that spirit, myself and a couple of of other IT-ish people (Tom and James) RSVPed and concocted a clever plan to go for the drinks and leave before the AGM.

Of course, that’s not what happened. James, Tom, Shirley and I showed up at a little after 5.30 (apparently there’s no longer an umbrella on the corner of Wakefield and Cuba – when did that happen?), we found a group of people standing around in the town hall, and while the ceilings sure had pretty moulded plaster ceilings, THERE WAS NO BAR!!!!!!!!! James left because he’s a good family man, so we cut out of there straight away, and headed to Finc for a bottle of Squawking Magpie pinot gris. For $39 it was easily dividable by three, and peary and delicious. After Shirley decided to go study, I made Tom go back to the Town Hall with me, out of determination to live up to my drinking challenge for YOU, my dear Hubris reader.

So back up the pretty tiled stairs we went, going “hmmm, it sounds very very quiet”, but when we saw the door to the foyer room place where people had been gathered was open (wow, how badly constructed was that sentence?) we thought we might as well creep in there to see if perhaps the bar had been set up while people were still AGMing. We stepped in, and we saw that it was, so I raised my arms in a great big “Woooooo…” but then, I saw him. The Wellington Convention Centre’s very own Clarence Weidman, complete with blue blazer and grey slacks. He was standing possessively behind the drinks table, so I changed course and headed to the badge table instead. Clarence muttered something and made a move to hold open the door into the council chamber, and so somehow Tom and I found ourselves sitting at the back of the AGM, me trying not to snicker as we came in the middle of a speaker that I of course took totally out of context when he was asked “So what did you say to him in the morning?” and he spoke about how he let the mysterious him talk about himself, totally like they’d hooked up, especially after he said “oh yeah he pulled out all the keys”. Everyone looked very serious and not sniggery at all, so I tried to take photos of the council chamber’s chandelier instead, but my camera battery was flat. I said “Aye” to some things, and hoped that someone would say no, and then the meeting was over, and the “networking” started.

The event itself

Companion: Tom, who I have been doing a lot of drinking with lately. He works in ICT as well, so he was a legitimate guest of the event.

Venue: The drinks were held in the foyer outside the Council Chambers in the Town Hall, on the first floor. I love the Town Hall so much that my very first post on the Wellingtonista was about it, so it was nice to see a new area. The Council Chambers were all wood panelling and leather, just the way you’d imagine someone evil like Kerry presiding over, and the foyer was lighter-coloured, but nice and old fashioned. The toilets had sensor-lights in them, which was appreciated.

Drink: The bar table had glasses already poured of now-warm Sav, Chardonnay and red (I didn’t recognise the brand, it was probably some side-Montana label), as well as Heineken and perhaps Tui? They topped up glasses if they noticed you bring one up, but then stopped attending the bar so it was grab-what-you-can.
Tally: 5 glasses Sav, approximately $35 in a bar, $12 at home

Food: There were two platters of antipasto stuff on two tables, with a plate of mixed bread on each. The selection of meats and cheeses and bits and pieces, was really good-looking, but as I said to Tom “You can tell that Kerry provided it due to an obvious lack of thinking and follow-through in terms of not actually providing us with knives with which to cut the cheese”. Of course, Clarence Weidman came out with them then, just to ruin my joke as well as make me attend an AGM. Bastard!
Tally: A whole bunch of stuff, but not a sizeable meal of it though.

People: I recognised a lot of people from Bar Camp, and I got to talk to Mike and Matthew about the olden days of the interweb (like, totally last millennium!) which was fun. I also am now apparently joining a women in ICT group, and if my bag was at my feet I’d tell you exactly what it was, but you know, my couch is too comfy to get up from.

Scoring factor: There were some cute boys, but I didn’t talk to them. A lot of people seemed to take off straight after the AGM, so I wonder where their priorities really lie…

Celebrities: There was someone there who is going to be nominated for Wellingtonista Person of the Year. But I can’t tell you who. Yet.

Gifts: None. Apart from the gift of networking, I suppose.

Total freebie value: It cost me $13 in wine while waiting around, and then 20 minutes of listening to the AGM, but I talked, networked, ate and drank for an hour, so I’d say I was $20 up (that’s serving myself at home prices), ultimately. Plus I got to do this entry, and that’s what’s most important, right?

Tom posted on the Wellingtonista recently about the places to drink for free. Join me as I try to score free drinks every week until the end of the year.

For the first in my series, tonight I’m going to the

“AUT Alumni Cocktail function is this Thursday from 6 – 8 pm. at Hotel Inter-Continental.”

You can sneak in and join me there, and I’ll report back on how it is when I come home, including analysis of the food, the selection of drinks, the company and how much I got out of it and its approximate monetary value.

The event itself

Companion: Fellow AUT Alumni Shirley, and if we were bad sort of people, we may have snuck someone else in under the pretext that they were in our class. But we’re not bad people, honest.

Venue: The drinks were held at the Hotel Intercontinental, in one of the function rooms. It was a very bland space designed for around 30 people. Arm chairs were around the walls, and there were a couple of small tables in the middle of the room, cleverly placed for putting down empty drink glasses, and with bowls for rubbish. An effort was made to make them look more interesting by scattering flat blue glass marbles on top. The bar table was near the entrance door, which was guarded by an AUT staffer to make sneaking in people without them being added to the mailing list much harder. Some of the lights in the windowless room weren’t turned on, allowing the non-AUTer to lurk in the shadows more. Oh, and the toilets had individual hand towels. Classy.
How good was it?: I hadn’t been to the Intercontinental since we went there for KateB’s 12th birthday dinner when it was the Park Royal, so that was nice to do something different, but it was an incredibly bland space.

Drink: The bar had bottles of Montana wine displayed in classy silver bottle-coolers – Lindauer, Sav and a red I didn’t inspect. The beer range was Monteiths and Heineken, and in an unusual touch, they also had a cruet-holder with classy bottles of raspberry, lime and lemon syrups, as well as a range of mixers, suggesting that maybe there were spirits behind the bar. But given how long it took to get a glass of wine poured (there was only one girl behind the bar, who struggled with the Lindauer cork for aaaages), I didn’t bother asking for a mixed drink so I can’t confirm that they were actually offering spirits, or what brand they were.
Tally: 4 glasses bubbly ($28 value in a bar, $9 at home)

Food: Food was brought around on small platters by one waiter, who didn’t circle the room properly, so most of the food went to the people nearest the door, dammit! It consisted of mini sushi (I hate sushi), coconut-crusted prawns (they looked so good I almost tried one, but I don’t like prawns either), rare roast beef on polenta bites (really yummy) and tiny pieces of cheese on tiny bagel chips (only one lot of these circulated as far as I saw).
Tally: 3 pieces beef, 1 piece cheese – I’m estimating the catering was $2.50 per menu selection per person, with 2 or 3 items offered for each thing, so maybe a $5 catering value.

People: There weren’t many nametags left when we went in, but it turned out that there weren’t all that many people there at all. We were pounced on for conversation when we entered, and gradually we started talking to other ex-comms people, all at a very superficial level. There was, however, one woman there who might be a valuable business contact for both Shirley and I, so that’s a good start.

Scoring factor: Zilch. It was almost all entirely corporate women, or older men associated with AUT. And it was far too civilised to start to find out juicy details about the people.

Celebrities: Gemma Gracewood, who didn’t stay long.

Gifts: We got AUT Alumni Network branded pens when we left. They’re silver, with a padded grip and quite classy. However, when you work in an office, good pens lose their novelty value. Unless this one can write in SPACE! Which I don’t think this one can. I also got an AUT-branded lanyard on my name badge, which I’m sure I can be put to good use as a red accessory for my work ID instead of the usual pale blue I use.

Total freebie value: We were only there for around an hour out of its two hour window, so had Shirley not wanted to go and catch up with our mysterious friend who went out for a cigarette and didn’t come back, I could have made better use of the bar. But with such a small group of people assembled (20) and only one bar person, frequent trips to the bar would have been more noticeable and frowned on. Still, it cost me only a quick application of eyeshadow and a ten minute stroll from work, and I got to hang out with Shirley, and then her mysterious friend’s friend bought me a drink in the hotel bar afterwards, so not a waste of time at all. A fine start to free drinks each week, me thinks.

Once again, I have been unfathomably busy. I know I start every journal entry like this lately, but hey, you get what you pay for, right?

When I left you last, I’d just been to Bar Camp, which was an unconference. Accordingly, I went to a conference on Wednesday at the Stadium. The catering was very average, it was cold in the room, and I was the only person wearing Threadless. Everyone else was in suits. The contrast was very striking. So was the view, as we were up in a corporate box.

I stayed for a couple of networking drinks, and explained myspace and blogging to some people – another contrast to Bar Camp – wow, it’s almost like I should set up a work blog to discuss all these themes – and then hustled my way down the incredibly long Fran Wilde walk to buy $7 worth of cashews (whoops) and be picked up by the faithful Miss Fur who already had her on firmly her jones for Julia and Sam to duet on ‘Good Woman’ at the Cook Strait Social Club. We had drinks and cashews at her house, met up with Karen and then headed down to Mighty Mighty. Handily, Hannah, Anji & her gentleman caller Bambi had already set up camp right near the stage, so we had the best seats in the house, or at least I did, after I stole Hannah’s armchair. We got talking to a lovely American girl named Ingrid, who asked Lisa about gig ettiquite in Wellington.

It turned out it was a particularly awesome intimate gig when Julia came down from the stage to apologise for not learning ‘Good Woman’, and Sam took yelled-out requests (playing ‘Going Fishing’ when that’s Luke’s song, although of course, Sam’s now officially my favourite after that whole bear suit debarcle) and laughed at us when we said “that’s not soon enough!” for an announced October 7 release date for the new Phoenix Foundation album. Emily’s mother talked to me in the bathroom, and I even got up and danced for the last song, which was The Warratahs’ ‘Hands of my heart’. I felt like it was 1989 all over again. All in all, a most excellent excellent night.

On Thursday I made dhal and then got the cleaning bug late at night and I ended up finding about five bags of rotton potatoes, some of which had liquified in the kitchen. Yum! Good smell! But at least it was all cleaned up for the impending arrival of the new flatmates. And of course being virtuous on Thursday meant that I could go out on Friday, so out I went.

I met up with Shirley at Tupelo, and we drank what was apparently their last bottle of red wine, and then had to switch to white. The double Ds came along and were happy that Mary-Kate and Ashley were there too, and eventually we were joined by Bart, before we beat a path to Scopa for pizza.

After that, we followed Bart up to the Mac’s Brewery Bar, which was about to shut (at midnight, what the hell?), and this story happened:

Shame
So tonight Dyl Dave and I go with Bart to the Mac’s Brewery for some goodbye drinks one of Bart’s friends is having. As soon as I get there, some tall boy bounds up to me. “Hi Jo, how’s it going?” I’m all “……… Hi! I haven’t seen you in ages, how are you?” He says he’s good and asks me how I am, so I exchange pleasantries. Then I’m like “So, I haven’t seen you in ages. When is the last time we saw each other again?” and he’s like “a couple of weeks ago at that bar..” and I’m like fuck, is he playing the same game I’m playing? but I suggest the Cross and he says Tupelo, and I smile and nod until he asks me where Bart is and moves off. Later, I talk to Bart, and I’m like “Okay, so who the hell is that guy I was talking to before and why the hell does he know me?”
Bart was all “That’s that guy. You know. That guy”. And I’m like “huuuuuuuuuuuuuh?” and Bart’s like”from my party” and I’m like omg really? I made out with that guy and he came in his pants as he dry-humped me? (Or not so dry). And so I stare at him from across the room and go “damn. he’s really hot. Did I really score him? Really? Because I remembered him being pretty much a loser but maybe I was stereotyping based on the Hawaiian shirt. And I tell Dyl, cos apparently that guy had Dyl’s tshirt, but then we have a disagreement about which guy at the bar we’re talking about, and Dyl’s like “No, it wasn’t that guy, it was that guy!!!!” pointing elsewhere and I’m like fuck, dammit, there goes my thinking that I’d actually score someone hot.

On Saturday morning, I got up at 10 to help Kat & Kane move in, and there was a lot of sitting in the sun talking about wrestling. Karen and Hannah and Anji came over for beers and snacks in the sun, and then I spent the evening doing pretty much nothing at all. Sunday was another blissful day like that, much time spent in bed with Q, putting up new posters and putting away washing. Last night Lisa and her new flatmate came over for dinner. I made my crackling crackle for the first time! And promptly ate most of it before it made it to the dinner table. I blame Smoo for snarfling some whilst carving. Kat brought home organic veges which were very tasty, and naturally we only managed about 15 minutes of dinner before the conversation got filthy. That Lisa, she’s just trouble. But oooh oooh, we set a date and a theme for the next party we’re having: Country Club: Back in the USSR. October 13. Be there!

Oh boy, have I ever been busy! Where to start? Perhaps with photos. On the 14th of July, Bart had a party at his house, which was Rubik’s Cube themed. We were instructed to dress in all the colours of the cube and try to swap with others to end up in just one colour. Thinking that it wasn’t likely that I’d find anyone to swap clothes with, I hit the $2 shops in search of multi-coloured accessories, and wore them with all black clothes. It proved to be a great idea, as this photo that Lani took will prove:
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As befits the party host, Bart went all out with his costume:

Gradually people built up their costumes:

Bart, Dylan and dirty Shirley

I was trading my mardi gras beads for looks at boy titty (and also for those hot pants that Dyl’s wearing in that photo). At the start of the night we hid out in the kitchen because people were watching rugby in the lounge, so I hijacked the stereo and tried to play the cheesiest music on Bart’s ipod. At one stage I ended up wearing a flower garland, but it was covering up my cleavage so when I saw a boy wearing a Hawaiian shirt I asked him if he wanted to get leied. He was confused then, but of course, after many more drinks I found myself downstairs in the hallway making out with him. As there were many people up on the landing above us, I tried to move us into the gap between the stairs and the wall, thinking it was more out of view, but instead I found myself lying on my back, looking up at people looking down on me while he tried to take off my shirt. As texts from Lani later in the week (she went to Auckland first thing in the morning) said after I accused her of being a pervert & always watching me when I was trying to celebrate hooking up someone without her walking in on us – “LOL i wasnt the only one wtching!” (who else was watching?) “I dnt knw sme rndoms. I jst cme 2 c wat they wre lking at lol” AWESOME. Anyways, the boy and I went into one of the bedrooms down there, and made out a bit more – strictly second base only and then Bart walked in and looked really shocked and I felt terrible because honestly, so tacky to misappropriate someone else’s bedroom for your pashage. Of course, later when I apologised to Bart via email he said he knew what was going on and just thought it would be funny to walk in. Anyways, we finished kissing (<!– And when I say “we finished kissing” what I really mean is that we were frotting on the bed, or dry-humping if that’s a word you’re more comfortable using, and it was very much hands above the waist kissing, and then he started thrusting more and more, and groaning, and I had my hands in his hair and was like “ummmmm” and he thrust away a bit more and then made orgasm noises, and I was like “really? REALLY?” and then he got up and left and I laughed and laughed and laughed. –>) and I went back to the party and hit on Lani’s cousin, apparently. Much later, I really really needed to pee, but people were in the bathroom talking, and I was like “what the hell?” and since the door didn’t lock, I barged in. The guy I’d pashed was sitting in the bath talking to some other guy who was sitting on the floor, and I was like “I NEED TO PEE!” but they showed no signs of moving, so I went ahead and urinated anyway. That’s right, I’m Robin Tunney in Empire Records. I’m hardcore, yo! The party was a tremendous amount of fun. At the end of the night around 4.30am I was left with Dyl and Smoo and Bart who were playing yelly metal in the lounge. Bart disappeared to go buy cheeseburgers (I can has?) and Smoo tried to hit me when I tried to wake him up to take a taxi home, and Dyl had much the same reaction when I tried to get him up off the lounge floor so I left them and went home to giggle about how that makes three pashes in six weeks and at this rate, I’m going to kiss 26 people before I turn 28. Hurrah!

I am allowed to play silly buggers on the weekend because I had a very grown up week to follow that. I met with four recruitment agents! That’s a lot of having to get out of my pyjamas and comb my hair! Apart from that, I also went to the VIP night at Beckon where Hadyn, Amy, Tom and I all won spot prizes, and I took this fantastic photo:

Karen came to meet up with me and she and Hadyn and Amy and I went for a very pleasant meal at Longxiang afterwards:

I liked the orange beef best

The next night I went to the Ponoko beta product launch night at the Paramount, with the lovely Sue and the very intelligent Alan. Sue gave me an awesome bunny necklace, and I gave her some scrub in return. Then a group of us went for dinner at Royal India and I bossed my way through ordering for everyone like I tend to do.

On Friday I saw people from the Wellingtonista yet again, on our big night out, first at Vintage, then Hawthorn and then of course Boulot. And all I can say is that it’s just as well that Martha is my BFF, or she’d be in for a serious talking-to.

MG plied us with wine

Kim and Tom held court

Martha is queen of the dramatic

My mouth is the size of my head. Photo plundered from Stephen

And then on Saturday I called Karen many names because she wouldn’t surrender my copy of Harry so I changed my sheets for nothing. I got him on Sunday but had to go to Ngaio to do washing and to print out a presentation on how the government could use YouTube. I had two job interviews on Monday that I heard back from straight away, and started a six-week contract yesterday, and received a verbal offer from the other this afternoon. Fingers crossed that my references check out and the paperwork comes through!