Hubris.co.nz

Yes, I have been remiss. But yesterday, Kimora Lee Simmons told me that I was beautiful and ultimately powerful, so I know you will forgive me. Yes, that’s right, Kimora Lee Simmons. Told me. Personally. On a swing tag. Attached to my new jeans. That I got for half prize from Torrid, in a 33.5 inch leg, woohaa. That according to Lani make me appear to have no ass (This is comparatively true. Not to Lani, but to other Women With Curves. And also sizedly to my sister and my mother. They got the Stadtman hips wheras I keep my Presbytarian McLeod weight on my puku. Mostly). But which do have a solid gold(esque) butt tag). And according to their sizing I am more Baby than Phat, as they are a little bit too falling down. And they’re too baggy around the knee. And these half sentences have gone on way too long, but they are my tribute to a misunderstanding about comments about jeans that I had with my friend yesterday. So I will keep using them.

That’s a lie, actually. From now on, I’ll try to use full sentences, but if I break off, it’s probably because this is where I’d like to insert a while bunch of swearing, but as someone with a CV out in the marketplace and a number one google ranking, I will control myself. A little, anyway. Haha half sentences!

Kyuss is on the TV now, so I feel like I am in the back seat of Fatty Simon or Milhouse Mark’s car, and we are speeding from Hamilton to Auckland. I spent a long time saying that I thought that Kyuss were a lot more interesting than Queens of the Stoneage, but I’m not entirely sure that’s the truth. I’m watching Watch This Space which I recorded last night, of course, and it’s 8.56pm. Yes, it’s Friday, and I am home alone. The Double Ds failed in their role as the usual Friday entertainment, but given the blackness of my mood, that’s probably for the best. It’s times like these that I wish that Extreme Makeover – Home Edition could still make me cry. I’m not too worried though – I mean I did have Hell Day, but given how I’m also Hungry Like The Wolf and also mangoing like woah, I know that I’m pre period. Which will make a nice change from my cunt stinking like, and oozing out, Canestan. Stupid goddamn yeast! And stupid one dose pills not being enough. At least I only went for the 3 day treatment and not the 6. If only bread and beer weren’t so tasty. And sugar. It’s funny because after the Ginger was such a cunt with his insistence that I had diabetes, I was all “Well I hope he’s saying that because I had a yeast infection and therefore my cunt tasted rancid”, but the boy I was with last week was very nice so I’m hoping it wasn’t all bad then. And speaking of that, it is very strange to have slept with someone who has known me at the time the second longest of anyone that I had sex with. It kind of makes me go “umm, but I am crazy, and I sit around watching TV all day in my PJs, and I overthink everything, oh also, and I am crazy, why the hell would you want to do me?”. Oh drunken me taking advantage of people, you make the world go around.

Yeah no, I totally want Josh Homme to touch me in dirty places now, I totally get the QOTSA obsession.

I pretended briefly that I was upset to be home alone tonight, but that’s pretty much a lie. Life has been waaaaaaaaaaaay too hectic (I almost wrote Hexic, so you can see why my wrists have been bunger lately – and no, it’s pretty much nothing to do with the increased screen time Sara Ramirez has had). When was the last time that I wrote? A bloody long time ago. The 22nd. So that was the day of the last night of Wellingtonista Bowling League? I spent the time inbetween work and bowling crying on Anji’s shoulder. Metaphorically of course. I sat upright in my chair on the balconey at Concrete, and only wept, not sobbed, so i didn’t even have to touch up my mascara. My frustrations with someone at work had led me to run away to the waterfront at lunchtime but there I cursed the citalapram that meant I couldn’t even really cry even thouhg that was all I felt like doing. After work it was a little easier, but tears didn’t fall. Bowling was awesome, and I’m so glad that I started the league, even though I was frustrated with a lack of players who were actually in the Wellingtonista, especially since we had to get in a substitute player from Xero who, umm, was lovely, but not quite up to the standard of a couple of people from the Wellingtonista who’d played in early games, so ClickSuite beat us by 14 points and therefore we came in last in the league. And of course, I didn’t find a job through thet league, or a rich husband, so in my eyes, it was a complete and utter failure. Heh. Oh, but did I mention that Anji and I had a very tasty dinner at Finc before – pork belly and also pear & beetroot dip with lesbian bread (heh), and the waitress was like “I’m the dessert menu!” and I was like “i’m not sure I want to eat you…” (who am I kidding?) and she was like “you’re dirty!” and I was like “tehehe”? No, well we did.

The end of bowling meant that we had an awards ceremony at the Southern Cross on the Friday night. I’d booked 20 people into ‘The Den’ which is the long thin area to the right of the bar at front at 7pm, but by 7.15 I was still sitting by myself feeling like a spaz every time I told people to go away because I’d booked the area. Apparently Silverstripe had shown up early, and, finding noone there had gone out to the garden and didn’t find us for a very long time after that. But then people showed up in a rush which was good. There was a Skank moment in the bathroom but after a quick “omg, eww” moment to the double ds, I totally forgot about that until the next day. I gave everyone their awards and made them shake my hands and let me kiss their cheeks. The darling Sue had made up Wellingtonista badges that I’d designed and we’d had a secret rendevouz in Midland Park for me to get them off her, and they went down a treat. I had lots of fun. The ever-entertaining MG, who was the only one representing Clemenger suggested that he’d set up a meeting for me with someone from a magazine that I have a review of to do for the Wellingtonista. Someone in ClickSuite that I’d never met before invited me to an Apres Ski party, cementing their status as the most sociable team. I gave everyone invitations to English County Club, and fought off questions such as “is that really your house?” and “what’s Tapiri Manor?” Although I wasn’t very drunk when I left, I asked Dave to walk me to the taxi and make sure that he remembered the company because I am trying to make sure that I’ve trained myself into safer habits for times when I’m not so in control. I was proud of myself for that. I wonder how much people think I’m being overly anxious. It’s really hard to make the transition between thinking that you are bullet-proof to trying to do what’s right, so I will continue to salute myself.

Mmmmm Josh Homme. Mmmmmmmmm. Oh yes, lick me like I was your guitar…

I wish Crazy Canadia was online right now. Or that I was in Vegas too.

Umm, that was Friday. On Saturday, Lani and I cleaned the house, then went up to Ngaio to drop off the Mysteriously Broken Chair (“Daddy, I have an exciting new craft project for you!”) and pick up my early birthday present – an 8 gig nano that Daddy somehow bartered the Australian duty-free man down to A$303 (as opposed to NZ$450), and managed to talk my father into making pancakes for us. It wasn’t very hard, it mostly involved me saying “hey, have you guys had lunch yet? I’m starving!”. Then it was back home for more preparation and some stress-related grumpiness and control-freakery for me. I picked up Lisa and also Other Lisa, who I hadn’t met before and who was a little surprised by my embrace. But she took it gladly at the end of the night. I was dressed as Antoinette (my mother’s middle name, not that she’ll admit to it) Chocolat Tophey-Smythe, the second wife of a terribly rich terribly old terribly high society British man, who happned to be away while I hosted the party. Lisa was Emoly McBlack, an exchange student from the future (she had “This ain’t a scene, it’s a goddamm ARM (s race)” written on her arm (SO AWESOME. Despite the badness of the song)) and Other Lisa was Olivia Inkton, the society reporter. My new C4 comment is that Bauhaus’s (Top 10 Alternative 80′s [sic])singer sounds just like Matt Bellamy. I love ‘Ziggy Stardust’. Other people came in their costumes, and we had very civilised food and drink and conversation and back stories. A boy told me I was the most interesting person he’d ever met and I went “tehehe” even if he was taking hte piss because I told him that I’d seen Spiceworld 28 times. A jolly good time was had by all but I can’t remember the exact things I wanted to write about ti. But Oh! The Cult! This fucking chart is totally my sisters’ album collections. And this song (‘She sells sanctuary’) was so ripped off by both the Foo Fighters and The Donnas!

Sunday meant struggling out of bed with sore feet, and Lani and I jumped on the bus down to the stadium (that walkway is so like the walkway to Tokyo Disneyland – a million miles to the station when you have sore feet). We got in to the Food Show, and I had an attack of the grumps, but her savign seats and me going off to find a bathroom (it took me forever, and oh boy, it stung just a little more to see that a company that didn’t hire me was blocking off a female toilet with their stand) and grabbing a latte and a couple of nibbles put me in a better mood. We met up with Anji and Karen to watch Hayden Wood make cocktails, and although the techno music was annoying and he seemed like a bit of a plonker, I love his books, and watching the flairing was very amusing. And he called me Sweetheart when I ran up to grab a Feijoa and rum concoction.

With that icey drink in my belly I felt much better, and we went off to drink our way around the Hawkes Bay. In previous years, Karen and I have started off on the other end, so that by the time we’ve reached that area we’ve been too drunk to try everything, but given how much time we’ve spent with Wairarapa wine lately, it just made sense. There were some very nice drops, and I bought too much, and we bumped into Karen’s old flatmates Alistair and Korina, which was rad. We drank and ate and drank and ate and drank and ate, and then Lani and I got seperated from Anji and Karen, and time started running out so we ran around getting as much in as we could. I thought I did brilliantly at the Prenzels’ Schnapps stand trying every flavour until I found out that Anji and Karen bought the ends of every bottle for $20. But we got free cereal and free tubs of guacamole, and chocolate and apples to take away, not to mention the ton we ate, so woo! Plus I got to semi-shock several older gentlemen showing them my humping unicorns hoodie that I had in my bag. It made sense at the time, but in reality, I got drunker at the Food Show than I did at our party the night before. Woo! $18 is TEH AWESOME. Especially since I’m pretty sure I tried the Wairarapa wines for free since I took a dirty glass from one of the winemakers – on his suggestion (or perhaps my coercion). Heh.

Then on Monday I just wanted to crawl into bed again all day, but instead I went home and made kickass Dhal for Lani and the double Ds, and also Lani’s friend David, which I suppose makes it the DDDs. We tried to rouse Smoo, but he was sleeping the sleep of the dead, even after I woke him up, so no flat dinner was to be had. And Dyl didn’t do our dishes like he was supposed to for not bringing wine, but we did play Cluedo and I did win.

Tuesday was umm, I can’t rmeember. Crappy? I do remember reading Q in my room after work suggssting I was in no mood to talk. On Creative Wednesday, I went for a swim at the pool – half an hour of laps and then half an hour in the spa. Halfway through the laps, I decided that the old man in the lane next to me was perving at me far more than was deserved (me in a swim suit is really not hot), and then I saw a strap trailing in the water and realised that my halter had come undone. AWESOME! *goats motion*. I really wish I could find a fat-person two-piece with a racerback top, but apparently practical swimwear is out of the question. Because people with my shape should just be lounging about,not trying to improve their current situation or something. Same thing with the hardness of finding a proper sports bra.

Yesterday was Thursday and I ummm hmmm, stuff, blah blah blah. Oh! Karen, Anji and I had a most amusing and delicious dinner at Medina, that I must review on the Wellingtonista. And today was Friday and oh man, I think we covered that already today, or at least I have in texts, and forwarded emails, and just AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH. And now my port is empty, so I must go over to my shiny silver tray ($1) and realise that my decanter ($2) is empty, so I must refill my glass (50c) from the bottle from my parents (free) that is in my sideboard (free). So I might go do that instead.

Right now I am getting my photo taken. Yes, RIGHT NOW. Actually that’s a lie.Technically speaking, right now they are roaming my house trying to decide where the best place to shoot me is. I’m sitting on my bed right now, but they’re worried that since I’m sitting down they lose all the things that makes my room unique to me. When I say “they” I mean Nicola Edmonds and her friend/assistant Adrian. So yes, it’s somewhat more than a snapshot, but there’s no makeup or racks of clothes or catering or records playing or interviewer from Q or Jane tagging along or any of the things that I will no doubt have one day. But I am having my photo taken by professionals for an article on blogging (yes, i know), which is quite nice. And also funny, because THIS IS NOT REAL! The Arch Hill poster in the background does not actually live there on my wall! And normally I have Xmas lights rolled around my bedhead, pretending like there could actually be an occasion in which I would need to light up my bed. And it’s funny because oooh, they have one of those big shiny silver things which is bouncing the light or something. I dunno. I will pretend for the next ten minutes that I am a Spice Girl. I think the martini that I had before they got here will help with that. Who knew that vermouth actually freezes? Not I. But it was like shaved ice in my gin. I made up for it with an exra olive.

I like that they are trying to get an essence of who I am in the photo (oooh, essence of Joanna, they should sell that in bottles. And then people could make cocktails with it and a lot of vodka. Although there would already be a lot of vodka in my essence, no doubt. Or apparently today gin). After overhearing debate in the dining room about whether or not the Xmas lights would be applicable if the photos come out in March (I should have pointed out that they’re somewhat of a permanent fixture, but nevermind) and perhaps a discussion about the interior of my house being somewhat younger than the magazine’s demographic – but I might have misheard – I ended up standing in my room in front of my Bic posters in most of the photos, carrying my laptop under my arm, one hand leaning on the cabinet that usually houses my record-player but today was historically unaccurately cleared of clutter and dust, and the other with my thumb hooked into the pocket of my dress. I have taken some self portraits before they arrived, so here you can see an approximation of what I looked like:

I’m hoping of course that her photos will actually have proper light in them, or it will turn out that the shiny silver disc was all for nothing! They were kind and said that I was pretty much the only person all year to actually want to have my photo taken, and when they said I was photogenic I said “well that’s why I don’t mind having my photo taken” instead of just saying “thank you” and blushing. Thanks Martini! Perhaps it will be a new New Year’s Resolutions to take compliments and run with them. Or perhaps I should pass a resolution to not come across as so hubristic to people I’ve just met who might not know that I am making fun of myself. But I’m not sure I’ve got the votes to get that through congress, let alone the senate.

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?

Run “sales, rich profit re-emerging” through any good anagram website, and you’ll come up with the much more exciting phrase “the Spice Girls are reforming”. Pulp investigates whether there’s any truth to the rumours, and why the hell you should care about a cheesy manufactured band (that changed the face of pop music forever).

5 become 1

It?s been ten years since Chris Herbert first ran an ad asking “R. U. 18-23 with the ability to sing/dance? R.U. streetwise, outgoing, ambitious, and dedicated?”. He and his father Bob planned to put together the female equivalent of Take That. This wasn?t the Herberts’ first time attempt at a pop group ? they had brought the boy band Bros together in the late 1980s but missed out on signing them.

The girls who answered Chris’s advertisement were a mix of singers, dancers and attention seekers. Five girls were chosen – Melanie Chisholm, Melanie Brown, Geri Halliwell, Victoria Adams, and Michelle Stephenson, and they were given a weekly stipend as well as signing onto the dole, and placed in a house together where they were meant to bond, learn to sing and dance together. Most of the girls got along, swapping eating disorder tips, and according to some tabloids becoming rather special friends, but Michelle was altogether too serious. She was fired and replaced by Emma Bunton.

The Herberts hadn’t learnt their lesson from Bros about contracts, so the girls took their demos and scampered off to the welcoming arms of Simon Fuller and 19 Management instead. After a battle between labels they signed to Virgin for a rumoured ?2 million. Don’t feel too bad for the Herberts though, because they took their payoff from legal action and went on to inflict 5ive and Hear’Say on the world.

Spice Up Your Life,

The girls renamed themselves the ‘The Spice Girls’ and in a move straight out of The Smurfs, the girls adopted the personalities that a teen magazine had assigned to them. Mel C as Sporty Spice only ever wore trainers and tracksuits, Victoria as Posh Spice stopped smiling, Emma as Baby Spice grew pigtails, Scary Spice Mel B got louder, and Ginger Spice Geri’s shoes got taller and her makeup thicker. The resulting caricatures allowed young fans a range of personalities to identify with (everyone’s thought about which Spice Girl they are, right?), while men could chose their favourite fantasy ? a winning combination.

Their first single ‘Wannabe’, was released in July 1996, and it shot to #1 in the UK, as did eight more of their singles. The album Spice sold 23 million copies around the world, driven by the phenomenon of kids pestering their parents to buy the records. Tying in to the new ‘tweenies’ market, as pre-teens are called, by the end of 1996 the Spice Girls were endorsing over 35 products and had eight sponsorship deals – totally over ?5.5 million, including Asda, Sony Playstation (the Spice Girls game is, very amusingly, a dancing variation on ‘Simon Says’), Walkers Crisps and Pepsi each signing them for ?1 million.

Too Much

Of course along with their saturation of airwaves and magazines came the backlash. Some critics carried on as if a prefabricated pop group achieving success was the first sign of the apocalypse, instead of something that had been happening ever since The Monkees had been on TV in the ’60s. It is probably worth pointing out here that along with the swags of Teen Choice & Smash Hits awards it won, Spice was also nominated for the very prestigious Mercury Music Prize in 1997, alongside OK Computer and Roni Size’s New Forms.

Music snobs aside, the Spice Girls could do no wrong. Their second album Spiceworld sold a cool 18 million copies, and their movie of the same name, written by Simon Fuller’s brother Kim with tongue firmly in cheek, had moderate success at the box office, despite receiving a record five Golden Raspberry awards for ‘Worst Film’.

In a case of real life imitating art, just as in the movie they’d fought to free themselves of their manager, the Spice Girls decided that they?d had enough of Simon Fuller and took over management of themselves. As one of the few British bands to truly crack America, they off on a stadium tour. But then Geri announced she?d had enough.

Goodbye

In her biography, If Only, Geri says that she always knew that the Spice Girls would have a short life. Although she?d originally intended to stay until the end of the tour, she skipped out early. The remaining Spice Girls released ‘Goodbye’ ostensibly as a tribute to her, but handily just in time to catch the coveted Christmas #1 for the third year in a row. Everyone then went off to side projects for a while.

The Geri-less Spice Girls released their much delayed third album in 2000, but by then the market had changed a great deal. When the Spice Girls had first started out, the only girl groups around were slick R&B ones like Eternal and En Vogue, the members of whom appeared to be sophisticated but homogenous. The Spice Girls seemed younger, louder and more approachable, wearing high street fashion and cheekily acting up. Their success paved the way for similar bands like B*witched, S Club 7 (put together by Simon Fuller), bands for the TV show Popstars, and even younger female singers like Billie and Britney Spears. But by 2000, pop records had become increasingly layered and overproduced. The sheer glee of Spice sounded tinny in comparison to Destiny’s Child, so the Spice Girls tried to catch up. The result, the bland Forever meant that the joy and enthusiasm that had made the Spice Girls so catchy was missing. While the first single, ‘Holler’ went to #1, the record “only” sold 4 million copies. Although there was no official announcement, it was generally accepted that the Spice Girls were dead.

Say they?ll be there?

Of course, no band who has sold 45 million albums and 30 million singles can ever really be thought of as finished. Rumours of a reunification tour have grabbed headlines ever since Geri left. Given the mixed levels of success that each Spice has had in their solo careers (see sidebar), and the reported ?10 million each Simon Fuller, who has kept himself busy (and rich) with the Pop Idol franchise, has offered for a final tour, the urge to strap on the platform boots must be pretty strong.

It was widely believed that the Spice Girls would reform for the recent Live 8 series of concerts, but according to Bob Geldof, Mel B, now living in L.A, was the only holdout. Meanwhile plenty of other media outlets have quoted her as saying that the Spice Girls will tour in July 2006, just in time for their ten year anniversary and no doubt a Greatest Hits album. Although Mel C has been heard to say that they?re too old now, their ages will offer one advantage ? they?ll be able to play in licensed venues since the main body of their fans will have finally reached the drinking age.

Who Do You Think You Are? – Life Post Spice

Emma:
Emma?s first single ‘What I am’ famously battled for the #1 position (and lost) with Geri?s second, ‘Lift Me Up’, but she got her #1 in 2001 with “What took you so long?”. After being dropped by her record company, she signed with 19 Management, dropped her last name and picked up some TV work. She still hangs out with her mum a lot.
Star rating: 2/5

Mel B:
At their wedding, Mel B?s husband Jimmy Gulzar allegedly sung “I will always love you” to the best man. Their marriage didn?t last long, but at least it gave Mel B a daughter, Phoenix Chi to go along side her one #1 hit with Missy Elliot on ‘I want you back’. She can also be proud that nu metallers Korn’s cover of Cameo?s ‘Word Up’ sounds eerily identical to hers. No wonder she’s trying to make a life for herself acting in L.A now.
Star rating:1/5

Mel C:
Everyone always said Mel C was the best singer in the Spice Girls and was most likely to have a successful solo career. Whether that proved to be the case is fairly subjective. She got #1s with duets with Bryan Adams and Lisa Lopez, and a dance remix, but her second album sold abysmally, and after she was dropped by Virgin she started up her own record label to release her third album. She maintains a fairly low profile when she doesn?t have an album to promote.
Star rating: 3.5/5

Geri:
With four solo #1s under her belt, as well as two best selling autobiographies Geri could be considered the most successful post-Spice Girl. She attracts more column inches chronicling her struggles with eating disorders than for her work as a Goodwill Ambassador for the UN, but at least she?ll never have to worry about anyone coming up with topless pictures of her because the world has seen that all before.
Star rating: 4/5

Victoria:
Victoria is the only Spice Girl who can claim to have her own football chant ? though it’s unlikely that she lists “Posh Spice takes it up the ass” on her CV. She hasn?t had her own #1 hit, but she?s the only one married to David Beckham. She gathers the most attention these days, mostly for her skeletal frame and her bad choice in nannies. Many ears were glad to hear she?s giving up music to pursue a career in fashion instead.
Star rating: 3/5

Joanna McLeod

Please note, this is the FULL text of the story that was cut down and published in the last issue of Pulp

Hi! So. It’s been what, like, two and a bit weeks? Well, I’m here now. And I’d just like to start with this:

I love this girl so much

That’s Bopa Chai, the Shaolin Monk on Crack, aka my new flatmate whom we are still very much enamoured of. And while we’re speaking of photos, while she was around tonight, KateM demanded that i take some of her that don’t feature her cleavage prominently and in which she isn’t rather boozed, and so if you’re interested (and I guess I’m looking at the J-Crew here mostly, not that you probably even realise that you’re called the J-Crew now, but maybe we’ll get there in this entry) you can find them here.

Anyways, so I guess maybe you’d like an explanation as to where I’ve been for the past three weeks. Well, I’ve been right here, pretty much, but for the most part, I have been computerless. That’s right, you may recall how I kept getting electric shocks off my box? (oh ha ha ha, that one was a little too obvious) Those shocks eventually managed to fry pretty much every single inner component of my computer, and so I went a week without it, and then Peter’s workmates rebuilt it for me, at a cost, of course. This means that i lost everything on my hard drives, which SUCKS (and therefore all cd donations of mp3s will be very very gratefully accepted, thank you) but the one silver lining in the cloud was that therefore they didn’t find the folder full’o old topless photos (and yes of course i had topless photos on my computer – show me any girl with a webcam who doesn’t have one, and I’ll show you a girl who knows how to use her delete key). Oh yeah and Pete – if you did manage to extract them, you’d better have enjoyed them and not turned away in disgust, or I’ll be like, hurt and shit. Anyways. That’s why I haven’t been updating my website, and so yeah, thank you all for your letters of concern. Oh wait, hang on – like hardly anyone sent me one! You people think you can all sit here and read and not tell me about it – I’m looking at you, Kate Oliver, and you, Jane Yee, but believe me, I know. Also, Jane – apparently you said that I was really fucked up, but I heard that from a source with no credibility so that’s okay.

Of course there are people who do read my journal and tell me about it. I have hazy memories of one night recently having a big arguement with John and JeremE who were trying to tell me that this journal online isn’t the real me, but I can’t remember if they were saying one was better than the other or not. I think I was trying to argue 1. “Hey John, you’ve only just met me tonight, buddy” and 2. of course it’s me, but I don’t know if I got my points across because I just ended up quoting Tom and KateB who probably know me better than almost anyone and they say that I’m not as open as I think I am, so I kinda dug my own hole. Later, KateH and I managed to reach an agreement whereby Hubris is Ginger Spice and I’m Geri Halliwell (I mean, the physical resemblence is obvious) so that was good.

Other stuff that’s happened over the past while? I meant to write lists, but I didn’t. I’ve hung out with Bopha lots and lots and lots, and all her friends have decided that our flat has an excellent vibe, so they hang out here too. I get to watch them doing kung fu, having intelligent discussions, drinking endless cups of Jasmine tea and smoking very nice pot ever so often, which are all good things, even if the Kung Fu makes me exhausted just hearing it.

We had cigar, martini and poker night last week, which was fucking excellent. Everyone (was supposed to) dressed up 1920s/1930s gangster style, and we played and played and I smoked many many cigars. My friends don’t actually like martinis (wusses!) so we degenerated into apple martinis and cosmos instead, and then towards the end of the night everything just thrown together, but still out of martini glasses so I guess that’s okay. I don’t know who won at poker – we pushed all the chips in the middle for the last round and I think maybe Clayton won, but I can’t be sure.

My parents are in Mexico right now. Before they went away, Anji rang me up and told me Mum had gone into her work and been really spassy saying “Umm, I don’t know if we have a will or not, but you know that we have three houses right? So if anything happens to us, you can have one each”. I got email from them today saying that Neil got his wallet stolen on the first day that they were there, and that I shouldn’t try to buy anything online with their credit card number cos they canceled it. Also, apparently every time Mum goes to say something, she speaks Japanese instead of Spanish. Silly multilingual parents!

Oh yeah, I rang Mum up a week before they left, bawling my eyes out over my dead computer and the fact that my car had been broken into YET AGAIN and was generally unwarrantable and everything. That’s three fucking back windows, all for NOTHING. Grrr.

Shirley helped me break the rest of the glass out of the window and ducttaped it up for me. She’s my Manly friend. However, she’s going tomorrow for ever and ever and ever. I have to drive her to the airport and while I promised her I wouldn’t, I know I will cry and cry and cry. We had chocolate fondue and girlie night at her place on Friday, her and Maz and Morrison. I had flashback panic attacks in the car on the way home, partly about Shirley and partly about friends in general and other stuff. Other Stuff in capital letters even. When I set my mind to something, I want to do it as quickly as possible, get it over, out of the way and what have you. No drawn out trauma and thinking extremely, so later that night there were hugs and tears in my kitchen, and hours and hours of talking, excrutiating exhausting talking. I’m so conditioned to say “that’s okay, that’s alright” when someone apologises to me and I physically had to stop myself from saying it because it would have been insincere and everyone knows that. But there’s peace at least, and maybe that’ll stop the dreams.

Yesterday I drove to Pukekohe and got lost for half an hour because I came in at the other end of the town than where KateH anticipated that I would, and therefore rights were lefts and therefore wrong, which frustrated me immensely and I was burning up with fever, but finally I managed to find her and we went via Pak’n Slave to Nikki’s bach at Clark’s Beach. I think I wasn’t really expecting a good night, but it turned up to be excellent. Eight girls, two of them married, one with two children – it was an interesting cross section. They were all from Waiuku/Pukekohe though, so I was a little on the outside, but that’s okay, we bonded as girls always do over “I have Never” and I didn’t even end up sticking out like a deviant sore thumb as I have been known to do when playing the game with d-sters. It was also really nice to be out of the city, even if we could still see the sky tower in the far distance. I didn’t get much sleep though, cos it was hot, and I was sleeping on the couch in the lounge, cos the bunks were too short, the bottom bunks were too claustraphobic and I didn’t wanna sleep on a top bunk when I’m used to a mattress on the floor. But anyways. Nikki even cooked us all breakfast this morning, kickass. And then because I’m lovely, I took KateH to Waiuku so that she could see her mother for Mother’s Day. Her family are cool, except I was scared when someone was talking about the Baha Men, and so I complained about how I’d have the song in my head for the rest of the day, and Jane offered to put a different song in my head and I said okay, then EVERYONE at exactly the same time went “do do do do do do do do” in the manner of bears driving around in cars being the ballet. But Katie pumped me full’o gas and bought me chocolate too, so I love her.

And that’s it, I guess. Not very much for the past three weeks, I just can’t think. There’s been classes, of course, which I have even been to sometimes. I’m worried about tomorrow, my first friend off on her OE. Of course, there’s also KateB who’s doing so fucking brilliantly she makes me teary with pride when she calls me with news of her latest achievements (Kate – call me! Hi, I like you). OH! completely new topic now, so I should probably put in a new paragraph because it’s going to get a little dodgy.

What does the word “trans” mean to you? Do you even give it much thought? And if so, if you were told you were going to have a “transvaginal ultrasound” would you realise that it was going to be done from the inside? Well, I certainly didn’t, and believe me, I got one of the biggest shocks’o my recent life when the radiographer pulled out this huge fucking girthy 13 incher and rolled a condom over it. She told me to insert it “like a tampon” and I was like “ummmmmmmm holy fuck” Her reassurances that it didn’t all have to go in didn’t count for much. Afterwards she just left and told me to leave the door open when I’d cleaned myself up. I felt so cheap and used! But end of the story is that after extensive consultation with my doctor, I’m now on the pill again. Not evil evil femulen though; estelle35 which is what pretty much everyone with polycystic ovarian syndrome gets put on. And if I find after a couple of months I’m going psycho and losing my sex drive again, I will just stop taking it. Dr White was very amusing when she was going over it with me, asking if I’d be using it for contraceptive purposes, and I was like “yeah I doubt it eh” and she was like “well, if you DO meet Prince Charming tonight or something…”. I like her lots and lots. Also, yeah, so apparently I don’t ovulate all the time and I might very well have difficulty concieving children BUT I’m not infertile and I’m supposed to remember that and not worry and that was why my blood pressure was up a little, apparently, cos I was worried and cos I’d been running around. Normally I have excellent blood pressure. I asked Anji if she’d carry a baby for me, and she promised me an egg, and even offered to put it on ice now, so that’s okay. There’s a backup plan.

And now I think that’s probably enough eh. My back hurts – I’m sitting on the ground again. However, the rugmunching possibilities are looking good – or at least the rug part, because I’ve seen one of the flats downstairs has actually been moved out of, and they’re pulling up the carpet in there, and once they’ve laid new stuff there, they’ll be putting new stuff in here as well, adn then I can sort out my room and reassemble my desk, six months after the actual flooding.

I’m still downloading Hubris – the only links I have left to my computer past – but maybe I can rejig the order and upload this now.

So how are we all then? I’m fantastic. I’ve had a brilliant day. My cellphone’s been beeping constantly, and I’ve just talked to all these wonderful fantastic people and it’s just been ace. Yeah. Sorry, when I get all happy sometimes I just can’t express it very well. I think I’m better at expressing sadness or longing, which is dumb. So I will try and just explain how at peace I am right now, how mellow I seem, and how secure I feel, but I can’t really. It’s kind of like waking up every day to the sun shining on a spiritual level, but that sounds too hippy.

So I got presents that made me happy (wok! toolkit! lots and lots of books! big day out ticket!), and I gave presents that made me happy because they made the receivers so happy, and that was fantastic. And then the Bentons came over, and that was ace too, because surrogate parents and all. Hayley came over for lunch, and she was sweetness and light and just lovely. I rang Olivia and told her we were having Tuna steaks for dinner, and that it made me think of her. She said “every girl should think of me when they’re eating tuna”. I talked to Kini and told her we ate eggplant which made me think of her. I talked to Leigh last night and that was choice. And there was phone calls to Kate B and Maree and texts with Shirley, and then there was an email from Justine which said she was in Wellington. Oma came over for dinner , and I got feisty with her and threatened to kick her ass if she didn’t do our dishes. But it’s never polite to beat up your grandmother, so after she went, I went and met Justine.

Hi, I’m Joanna, I’m studying Anthropology with Justine at Canterbury – I’m originally from Wellington, but my boyfriend wanted to do his masters in engineering which is why we moved down. We’ve moved around a bit, but we mostly live in Fendalton. I took her on a drive-through tour of the city, and probably bored her to tears, but hopefully i was more entertaining that family watching Notting Hill. I haven’t met anyone off the ‘net in aaaaages. The last person I met was umm well apart from that, it was the fabulous Leigh. Meeting people is easy. Now.

Karen and I just watched the end of a very odd movie staring the Pet Shop Boys. Spiceworld was much better. Meatloaf has had a very diverse range of movie roles, hasn’t he? Dances with Wolves is on now, but I’m not paying any attention – I just like the sound on to cover the ticking of the lounge clock. Tick tick tick tick tick. Does it make me paranoid that I can’t stand to hear it?

I really really wanna watch Last of the Mohicans now, cos we were playing the music from it before, but no, it’s a goddam Kevin Costner Injun movie on, innit? I didn’t get any cds for Xmas, but I really cannot complain. In fact, what I can do is be absolutely stoked with life in general and I am.

So I’ve been online for like 30 minutes and I still haven’t managed to read a single one of my emails yet. I really must change email accounts.

I bought two heads of brocoli today at 15 cents a head each. This is a good thing. I got them in Northcote, if you’re interested. Today again I was driving around the Shore investigating venues. It’s great. I like Rob in the car division – he gave me a manual drive car today when I told him about the stupid things I did with the automatic last week (I was wondering why the car braked so damn jerky when I was being super gentle until I realised that I was using my left foot on the brake, which as we all know is wrong). There’s a couple’o pajs parked down in amongst the company car pool too – I’ve promised Brad and Clay I’m going to try my hardest to get to take a paj out for the day and I’ll come and pick them up and we’ll drive through Remmers darling. Anyways. So yeah, Northcote/Birkenhead in the morning, then Devenport and Albany in the afternoon.

I had a meeting with the PR Consultant lady I’m working with who’s only in 2 days a week and gave my report and she said I was going well, and that I have full authority to go ahead and book the venues and start drawing up a timetable. Scaaary! I’d much rather someone was checking me every step of the way, but I just don’t have that at work – they leave me up to my own devices. I’m very good at looking busy. I have email at work now, finally my own key and login, but so far I’ve only given my email address to essential contacts (read: Kini and Olivia). I’m trying to be good. I don’t want to fuck this all up. I’m alredy worried about finding a job in February, because I know I have a tendancy not to be very good at seeking things out because basically everything i ever need falls in my lap. Except for my paycheque – grrr! I don’t get paid for a fortnight, and I’m in malls and shopping areas for half the morning – all my xmas shopping could be done by now if I had a cent left in the bank. Ahh well. Tomorrow I’m going to be in a working party conference anyways. Have I mentioned that I get business cards?

Wank wank wank wank wank. I actually am often left without anything to do, so I call Shirley, and since I’m in an open planned office, the people around me would hear
“Hi, it’s Joanna here from *, is that you Shirley? How are you?…….. Right, I’m calling in regards to the communication briefing I received the other day……….. No no, that’s fine……..yes I was in contact yesterday but we decided to not pursue that avenue any further for a while…. yes of course it’s re-occuring….I appreciate that…. absolutely, I’ll just make a note of that…….. yes…. yes….. well would you have some time free for a meeting?…….. how’s today for you?…..alright well we’ll scheduale something for next week then” and then my boss will come back and I’ll want to ask her something so I’ll hang up on Shirley really abruptly going “Great, well thank you very much for your time”. I’m SO a kid in heels and pearls. Nevermind the fact that the rest of the office spends their lives on the phone having really boring conversations with their car insurance and real estate agent places that I can’t help but evesdrop on. Or maybe they’re all speaking in a secret code too. Hmmmmmmm, intriguing!

Because I spent so much time driving today, I came up with a list of memorable car moments that I jotted down because I was bored. You know how I like my lists. Sheesh, anyone would think that I was incapable of stringing together anything more cohesive. And ha! I’m going to alphabetize them by the first letter in the sentence:

• A memory from Primary School; the greatest day of my life ever at that stage was when I got to sit squashed up next to my Crush – Andrew Carnegie – to and from a netball tournament
• Amy and Andee taking me over the harbour bridge by mistake, playing the Spice Girls and bumping the car to cheer me up
• Anji and Greg taking me up to Auckland for Pearl Jam when I was 14, determined to corrupt me and we picked up a dumb hitchhiker who said “Youse guys”
• Countless Welly/Auck drives with Kate B, listening to Cat Stevens, blowing bubbles and taking mad photos left right and centre
• Driving myself to Wellington thinking so hard that later I wrote a 7 page essay on the appropriate course of action to take as a consequence of that thought process
• Driving to Welly with Simon and Matt Sawkill in the backseat, me giggling away to myself like the cat that’s got the cream and is mixing its metaphors like a DJ with religion.
• Going to Waiuku for Kate H’s goodbye party, Justin putting the car in neutral going down a hill and it kept going, freefalling
• Kim speeding along Greenlane West at 3am in the fog when we were on a mad sugar rush and couldn’t see 10 feet ahead of us
• Kini in my rear view mirror, the magical drive into the Coramandel
• MM in the MR2, subwoofer under my seat, lost in Remuera at 4am trying to find food cos we’d been up arguing all night
• Pajero pulling up outside my house in Mount Roskill, Shirley and Dee Cavalry coming to be with me when I found out that Opa died
• Pixie’s friend Sam’s orange pumpkin car, tinnie house in Te Atatu right next to a primary school and I thought we’d be beaten up by protective westie parents
• Roadtripping to Waihi with Shirley, her doing crazy overtaking manouvers and making Trudie scream when I dared her to drive down a bank
• Sung Song association all the way to St. Heliers with Brad in the stereoless Grey Ghost
• the other night in Jeremy’s car, cold from swimming, falling asleep on Clayton’s shoulder

I warned you that i have full stationary cupboard rights – notepads are perfect for lists.

“I think you’re crazy, maybe, I think you’re crazy.”

A pinch and a punch for the first of the month!

Last night, I was online and feeling I dunno – bored and just a little down, when I got into an ICQ chat with Cam and Jeb. Mmmmm threesome with two gay men! It was very very amusing. Jeb wrote a derogatory haiku about me, so I responded in kind with a haiku explaining why I wasn’t what he was saying that I was. I pasted the haikus to Tom, and before you know it, we were talking to each other completely in Haiku, which were so amusing, I made a whole page about them. Jeb and Cam were very funny, but we fought about what tasted worse – girls or boys. Actually no, it wasn’t funny at all, it was all very sick and sordid and disgusting. So there! Heh. I was laughing so hard I was almost afraid that my flatmates would hear and get the wrong idea.

Today I woke up with a headache, which I’ve had for a number of days and I suspect it’s because I hadn’t had any coke for ages. Dammit, I don’t wanna be a caffiene addict! I was good and defrosted the freezer, making boys squeal when I dropped large chunks of ice out the kitchen window onto them on the patio sofa. I also did some tidying and stuff. Good me. But naturally I didn’t tidy my room. I tried and tried and tried to read through my paperwork and reports and stuff, but I just kept falling asleep. Jeremy said he’d charge me $18 an hour for him to read and brief me on all their contents, which I thought was a little moneygrubbing of him.

In the evening, Jeremy went out to some comedy thing with Renee, and lord knows where Clayton is (it’s 2.23am and he’s still not home, that rascal!) so Brad and I went to the supermarket. There’s a 4 kilo turkey defrosting in our fridge right now and also an 850gram boneless turkey roast in the freezer. I’m very excited. We also got cranberry sauce and all that good stuff. Oh man, I’ve become a fricking nutter (well, more so than usual) because we’re obsessed with one line from the Simpsons, when Homer goes “saxamaphone” so every other word that has at least 2 syllamabuls has now got a ‘ma’ or a ‘mo’ added in to it or a ‘mahol’. It’s driving me mad, and I’m the one who’s saying it the most – I can only imagine how annoying it must be for the people around me. After the supermarket, Brad and I went to Ponsonmaby to the Dog cos it was supposed to be Kate B’s last night at work, to have drinks with her. We didn’t stay all that long though, but Kate was very glad to see us.

We got home and Clay still wasn’t home, and we couldn’t find the tape with Miss Teen America that we videoed on it, so we watched Spiceworld. Again. Fuck, Richard E. Grant gets cooler and sexier every time I watch that movie (so now he’s 21 times sexier than previously). I declared myself to be the special commentary on the DVD, and launched into many tangents about foreshadowing and humour on many levels in the film. You really should watch Spiceworld with me one day. It’ll enrich your life, believe you me. Actually, all media consumption in this house is an interactive experiance. That’s because we’re so savvy.

“call Gary Barlow!”

Okay, this is SUCH a bad sign, that’s it’s 3.15am on Tuesday morning and I’m still awake, unable to sleep so I’m at my computer, shivering in my slip and writing a journal entry. Arrrgh fucking aarrrgh fucking grr. Mind is very wound up right now, eh. Just a little bit. If I hadn’t left it in the lounge where Anji is sleeping, I’d be rehersing my speech right now. I mean, hey, I wrote it at 3am a couple’o nights ago anyways!

From midday until 9.45pm, I was in the computer lab, working on our broadcasting assignment. Well, that included a break for a trip to the bank (damn you Internet banking that promises to do rent transfers and then doesn’t) dinner with Andrea at Boiger King (misspelling intentional to proclaim pronounciation) and a five minute phone interview with a reporter from the Herald. Hi, I’m Joanna McLeod, and I want a job producing content for the Internet. Bob King asked me to answer the reporter’s questions, as apparently, I’m a sort of spokesperson for the course. Yay me! I was actually really proud, especially when the PR woman in Bob’s office who was doing name-badge stuff for the expo whilst listening to me told me I’d given a good interview.

Today I wrote a story about microchips in vending machines that make their products talk that went along with a video piece Trevor and Andrea did. I also did some page laying out, and wrote blurbs about the people in our group, and that kind of stuff. I was so so so proud to teach trevor how to align pictures to the left right in the middle of the text – something people who never used Frontpage Express or any other really bad WYSIWYG programs might never have learnt. And Joe and I did a layout in Fireworks that worked real nice. Wahoo. Yeah, sweet ass. Anyways, around 9.30pm I got a call from Garland and when I answered my cellie, the voice was liek “Hello stinky poo” so I realised that my family had arrived at my flat, so they agreed to come pick me up from tech. Goddamit, it’s SO cool having your parents pick you up from stuff – I think that’s what I miss most living in a flat. They were all hungry, so I took them to D72, but the kitchen was closed, so I suggested bread and hummus from foodtown, and got aggressive defending that situation, because I was just waaaaay too tired to think about another cafe. And as Mum and Neil and Anji had just driven up from welly, they were pretty tired too and took my advice.

Back at home, we ate yummy things on bread (brie! baba ganosh! smoked beef! parents’ money!) and drank (parents wine, Anji and I the last of my vodka) and watched first Clayton’s brilliant documentary on BFM, t then his sitcom. It was the third time I’ve seen the sitcom (and the doco, actually) but I think the tiredness and alcohol proved to be a winning combination, cos i kept giggling and giggling. Then I showed them the Flat Video, that covers my audition for Life On Tape – talking about kicking out Leyton, Clay’s 20th birthday dinner and Simon dancing, Brad doing spicegirl moves for my CD ROM, and our Survivor Final Episode Party. They were very very impressed, and laughed a lot. Then Mum and Neil went to their motel which is just 100 metres down the road – I worked there for all of two days – and Anji and I had another drink. We had the absolute best gossip. It was Anji who told me all the way back in 5th form that giving blow jobs was empowering, and I’m very grateful for that advice – even if I didn’t give one to my best friend’s b/f like she was suggesting at the time. Thanks Anji and Cosmo – my god, how scary is it the first time you go down on someone and you have no fucking idea what you’re doing? Until you remember Cosmo going “there’s no wrong way to give head” and you relax a little, that is. I think drinking from Pint Glasses probably wasn’t the smartest move ever, eh. What you think is a reasonable three drinks is more like six. AND I STILL CAN’T SLEEP! GRR! I hate being so intelligent and thinking so much!

I’m reading this really good book r ight now which I can’t for the life of me remember the name of – something about Johnny Thunder, and it’s about a girl falling for the wrong guy, and her lifestyle reminds me of Anji, and the writing of it’s so real I can see every scene, and if my light was on, I would tell you the name of the book so that you can read it too, but it’s all dark and stuff, cos I’ve been trying to sleep for ages, so I can’t tell you. Woah, that was a very long sentence. Sometimes I think you need a map to navigate these journal entries of mine. My eyes hurt, so I should probably crawl back into bed now. I’m so so so nervous about tomorrow -it’s the first day of the expo, and I’m making a speech and all. One of the grad dips came up to me today and said she was really glad it was me making the speech, since I’d done so well presenting our project to the class, and I just thought that was really really lovely of her. But yeah. I think I’m going to go shopping with mummy tomorrow to find something to wear – I haven’t washed my new media pants yet, and I really should have. I didn’t expect to be at tech so late. “Maybe later – I’ve got creamy goodness in my mouth right now”

There’s something a little wrong with your taxi driver giving you tips on how to become a high price hooker, isn’t there? I mean, even if he’s just giving you advice on where the rich men hang out. The George in Parnell, apparently, and I was like “sweet mate”. I think I’d just been saying about how I didn’t want to get a job and shit, and he was like “find a rich man, that’ whbat women do, isn’t it?”. Actually, come to think about it, he was a real sexist prick – going on about how much stuff women carry in their handbags, but at the time he seemed funny. I’m gald I didn’t tip him, even if I had to run into the house to get cash. Oh man, apart from paying for the taxi, I didnyt’ spend a cent tonight – how cool is that?

I found myself spending the evening in the bedroom of some apartment overlooking the sky tower and the harbour bridge. There was blue carpet and it all smelt of CKone, because everyone was spraying that on themselves. I realised eventually that the bed was the same one as we sold, and I was like “well no wonder this feels so comfortable” and Jody and I laughed a lot, and then probabyl danced some more.

Oh man, i got the best quote outta Jody tonight – almost “I have a cock in my mouth!” but I can’t remmeber it. Oh wait, yes I can – “if I was drunk enough, I’d do anything with you” – but we were talking about me asking her to sing spice girls with her at Karaoke – honestly. Damn I’ ve been using a lot of dashes.

Tech at noon, group meeting. There’s a computer hooked up on a 56 modem in the lab now, running IE 3.0 and NS 3.0 for us to do testing on, and we discovered that our site doesn’t work at these browser levels. BUGGER! stats from the NSCC say that only .48% of people have used IE 3.0 so we don’t really care about that, but 3.78% of people use NS 3.0 so we gotta do something about that. Well actually, I d unno if we do really, cvos it’s only a couple’o pixels out. And if you’re using a browser that old – even if you’re doing it ironically – you get what you deserve.

Eventually, it’s like 4pm and I’m tired of working in Quest, and having to reboot every half hour, even emails from Kini telling me what she’s eating aren’t inspiring enough, so I go get food with Kate M and Brad, and at 5pm we show up at the TV studios to provide canned laughter for Clayton’s sitcom thingie. It was funny, as were the 3 minuters we made in 1st year that we watched some of. Fuck, first year seems like yesterday, and a life time ago. Arg. I’ve fucked 3 people and snogged 4 others in less than the past year. Nothing like making up for lost time.

After the videos, we head down to London Bar, and Andrew Melville, radio tutor, calls me Joanne and buys me a pint. If people buy me alcohol, I forgive small details, especially when he amends himself to “Joanna” later. After Brad and Kate M have gone, and I’m sitting at the other end of the tables pushed together, Becks Jody and I realise that we’re magenta yellow and cyan in my case. Kate Hamlin buys me a vodka. Stuff is good. Jody Cess and I are the only non radio students – they’re a very inbred group, you know. I laugh a lot observing their social rituals and the inside stories going on. Oh the gossip! Oh the drama!

Eventually we felt like we were under threat of being kicked out becasue we were so loud, and also everyone was hungry. The group seemed to spliter in two, a nd I went with one group down to Glengarry on College Street, which was shut, and many questioned whether or not Randy actually knew where he lived. But we got there eventually, and it was posh. Bex ordered pizza, and got my handful of change to pay for it. There was drinking and drinking – alcohol the radio gang bought w ith the money they’d made f rom the static launch party. They’re not programming it anymore, which sucks cos it’s finally streaming across the Intranet. Dancing to old scary music – Bon Jovi, much stroking of someone’s chest. I got asked if I’d put out for someone in an animal costume, but I think I’d be laughing too much.

“Lydia” by Fur Patrol plays, and it seems group consensus that this is the coolest song ever around right now. It’s such a jilted woman song, and I sing it with a group. Then Jarrod plays Hootie and the Blowfish, and I complain that it’s only ever Saint Pats boys that like this kinda crap, and he’s like “you know nothing about St Pats boys” and I laugh lots, because actually I do. Dylan taught me how boys wank, after all.

Dance dance, drink drink drink, smelly smelly shoes. Gossip gossip, my head hurts, call a taxi, taxi comes, arguing with driver, he’s implying that I’m a whore, runnning into the house for cash to pay, pay, back home, computer on, requests to see my titties, so what else is new? Fuck I’m tired. It w as fun hanging out with people that I don’t know that well. It was also fun to discover the other day that someone I was afraid of hurting has a parallel agenda to mine, so wh00p for that.

More goddam meetings tomorrow, time to feel less sick and then go to bed. It’s been fun. Heh, I amuse me much, thanks Shania. I wonder if everyone’s going to Bar of the Stars now. I wanna go to Karaoke with Olivia again. I was talking to Brad today about Skid Row, and he just had no idea.

I’ve got chills – they’re multiplying