Hubris.co.nz

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!

The Saturday before last was one of the worst of my life. Luckily it never happened.

Friday 29 June was my last day at NZAID. I’d suggested that I didn’t want to have a morning tea, and suggested instead that we could have drinks. My manager asked if she should invite ISU, the internet services unit. I squawked out “NO!” very loudly at her suggestion, because that is where the Web Developer works, and if someone is the sole reason for you leaving your job, you don’t really want to see him at your goodbye drinks. Instead, I told Lani to come down for it, and invited Bart to come up, and since Shirley’s starting there soon, she came in for a meet’n greet and to stay for drinks. My manager made a tiny little speech, but they didn’t even give me a card. You know how normally cards are really lame, full of impersonal messages from people who don’t even know you? Well I miss not getting one anyway. The boy who sent me sexually harrassing hilarious emails every day only stayed for one drink. Eventually everyone left, except for Bart and Shirley, and then the company director showed up which was very nice, and this crazy sixty year old woman. Bart and I laughed comparin gthe scene to my long, drunken goodbye at CWA New Media. Then the fucking cunt showed up. I went to the bathroom, went to my desk and logged out and forgot to clear my caches, and then went to get back and Shirls saying “we’ve got to go meet Dylan now”. So we ran away, leaving my tags behind me, and went up to Tupelo.

At Tupelo we drank more wine, and more wine, and more wine. Dylan showed up with his friend who I’d given a lecture on homophobia that one time, so I bought him a beer to make up for the one I’d spilt on his pants the last time we’d met. Eventually we all started playing ‘I have never’. I’m sure that wasn’t a smart idea. Shirley felt me up and I exposed my beautiful red bra to her and Dylan. It was one of those nights.

At some stage we stumbled our way up to the Southern Cross because Bart’d gone up there to meet up with his friends. More unnecessary drinks followed (but handily provided me with a receipt saying $15 at 00.39am, which makes me think it was two glasses of wine for Shirley and I) and then I remember thinking “why is that guy’s arm around my waist?” and then I believe that the guy kissed me, and I was like “umm, don’t you have a girlfriend?” and he said “yes, I have a girlfriend” and so I think we decided it’d probably be a good idea if he left, and so I went out in the rain to the back garden to find Bart. Smoo was there too, so I was like hurrah! And then the boy showed up again and I was like “didn’t you leave?” and he was like “yeah” and offered some lame excuse as to why he was back, but I just concentrated on talking to Smoo instead. Before the night was over I propositioned the last boy that I had sex with again and he was like “not a good idea” and then I woke up on the couch at 8.30am and was like “FUUUUUUUUUUUUCK” before crawling back into bed.

I crawled out of bed at 11.30am, somehow thinking that I could get up then, pack and still make it to check-in around 12pm. Interesting line of thought there. Of course, that thinking was somewhat handicapped when I got out of the shower and realised that my passport was not where it was supposed to be. I wanted to sit down and cry but I ransacked my room instead, wailing to Smoo who’d got up to drive me to the airport. By the time I’d found it in an old handbag, I knew there was no way I could make my flight, so I sat down and bawled, going “why am I such a fucking fuck-up?”. Then I shook myself off, threw a pile of clothes into my large suitcase and asked Smoo to drive me. My suitcase didn’t fit into the boot of his MR2, so we took my car. I’d kept KateH in the text loop and she was lovely, asking me if I needed her to book me a new flight, or send Shirley over to help me.

Qantas had no more flights to Auckland before 7pm that day, apparently, so I ended up forking out $400 for a ticket on Air NZ. It didn’t go until 2.30, so I very slowly bought a paper and a latte and a pastry and sat shaking at a table in the terminal, trying to do the sudoku. Then I went and threw up the pastry and the coffee and sat trembling a little more. When I finally got into KateH’s car in Auckland, I warned her I was about to cry again, and she said that aws fine. She drove me to Wendy’s in Manukau where I proclaimed that she’d saved my life – until all the saturated fat hit my heart anyway. We gossiped, and she soothed my soul over my fuckedupstupidity, and it was just so lovely to see her.

That feeling of loveliness disappeared when I got back to the airport and found no one waiting to check me in at the Pacific Blue counters. I asked at the service desk, and they were like “that flight’s already closed!” and I was like “OH MY GOD WHAT?????????????????” before the other woman said that no, it was just at a counter at the other end of the terminal. So I told my heart that was all thumpthumpthunp to calm the fuck down, and schlepped over to the check-in counter. They asked to see my tickets. I was like “umm, wasn’t this an e-ticket?” but apparently since I was coming back on Air NZ and not Pacific Blue, that was a problem for them. I had to go to an Air NZ service desk and get them to print out my flight details, trying really hard not to cry while doing so. Then they said that there were no more seats. I just about exploded. They had to unlock some seats or something, and told me that the plane was completely full. Great. I got stuck with a window seat. The rest of the waiting time was horrible. Every duty-free shop made me dry retch. Luckily I managed to sleep on the plane, although I’m sure I snored.

But then tobacco was $20 a box at Duty Free in Rarotonga, and I got a bottle of bacaardi, and my daddy was there to pick me up and drive me to our house in a late-model BMW. I opened up the lounge doors where I was sleeping and stepped out onto our lawn and looked at Muri Beach by the light of a full moon. I’d flown over the dateline and so I had a chance to redo my Saturday so it wouldn’t be the worst day of the year again…

I forgot how anal I get when I do quizes. Ohmigosh my team isn’t devoting their full energy to answering the questions? They’re disagreeing with me? THE WORLD IS ENDING! Still, it’s nice to dress up like a pirate every now and then, and then take photos from the 21st floor of your building:

I lost the momentum when we stopped at Jarrod’s apartment for him to get changed, so I ran away to take the bus home instead of going out to Karaoke, but I was also aware that I had a very big night planned for the following night and an early morning to deal with first.

So yes, Saturday, I got up before 11am so that Lani and I could move the fridge out from under the house and back to the kitchen so the repair man could put it back together. We were clever and decided not to lug it up the difficult steep kitchen stairs and around tiny corners, so instead we carried it al the way around the house and inside. And then the repairman was late, and later and latest, but Lani was kind enough to say that I should just leave her a cheque and go to the beach and she’d take care of it, so I went and swam between the flags for like the first time ever at Lyall Bay. There were only two other girls swimming because the water was powerfully cold, but damn it was nice, becasue it’d been ages (umm okay, since Tuesday) since I’d last been swimming. And then it was Jo Time brunch by myself, and I went for a hair cut and nearly purred/came/passed out when the lady gave me a very long, very thorough headrub. I wanted to ask for a happy ending, but I suppose settling for a nice haircut was happy ending enough for me.

6.20 had me pacing at the bus stop all dolled up for my big night out with the Wellingtonista, cursing Go Wellington for sending buses past me that didn’t stop, but 15 minutes later I made it in to Tupelo, to discover all the lights on, no one behind the bar, and all the sliding toilet doors off the rails. Spoooooooooooooooky! So I went and sat outside, and luckily was soon joined by Tom who was enough of a good reader to tell me that I looked smokin’ hott. Heh. While the bartender was still setting up the bar, we were joined by Hadyn and Amy and his mother, and shortly after that the lovely Miss Sue who was escourting Mr Brown and Ryan. Once James had joined us, we were interviewed about the Wellingtonista for Russell’s new radio show, me smirking behind my martini and trying to define again what it is that I hate about the word ‘blog’. And calling myself a wanker, and – according to James – using the word ‘anal’ four times in one minute to describe myself. After the gorgeous Martha bought me a surprisingly not-sweet gin sling, half of us set off for Scopa as the advanced party for our 13 person booking.

We decided that it’d be easiest if we just ordered pizza and wine for all of us, and so I interviewed about being dominant. I’m not sure why I thought it was a good idea to let people record me talking whilst drunk. It’s not like I make much sense whilst sober, and when I’m drinking I’m even more slurry. Still, I thought at the time that I was articulate and verbacious, so until I hear otherwise (possibly at 2pm on Saturday on Radio Live, or podcast later, or broadcast on another date), I will continue to believe that I give great soundbite. It was nice catching up with Ryan too, who I went to uni with, although he was part of the radio posse and I was with the multimedia geeks who weren’t nearly as bondy. Dinner was very very tasty, although I accidently got a piece of pizza with an anchovy on it, but I was able to wipe away that taste with our next destination:

Yes that’s right, PINEAPPLES AT IMBIBE!

Anyone would think that we’d pre-arranged them or something. But our visitors sure seemed to enjoy them, as did Martha and James:

More photos of the night can be see here on flickr.

It was around that time that I think I started to try to convince Russell that he needed to change Public Address to attract a better class of reader than some of the people who’ve stalked me through it or people that I may have hooked up with at the Great Blend. I suspect I didn’t have a very convincing argument. So instead when some girls asked me and Hadyn where we were off to next, I made fun of them and their taste. We said we were off to Mighty Mighty, and they said they were going to Jet, because the music at Mighty Mighty was shit. I was all “yeah I know, like the way they mix indie rock with rare hip hop tracks? What are they thinking, turning out fresh new mixes?” and said that my other favourite bar apart from Jet was Dockside. Well, it amused me anyway.

Then we left to go to Mighty Mighty and some boys outside smoking asked me if I was wearing my flower behind my ear on the single side. I told them it was an umbrella, not a flower, and asked them to figure out the symbolism in that, before skipping off. We were at Mighty Mighty for a while but everyone seemed to be peeling off, so I decided that I would go for a swim, just to live up to my reputation. I was a tiny bit more wussy though, and jumped off the lower dock rather than the high plank cos I didn’t want to hurt my nose, ears and throat again. James came in too, and Ryan got his shoes wet interviewing us about it. That’s dedicated journalism! I don’t think anyone would contradict me if I said that a good time was had by all, although apparently many people felt a little under the weather the next day. But not me! That’s the great thing about swimming.

The next morning I went and picked up Brad who was in town and we had big delicious fresh fish burgers at Maranui and hung out for a while. Good times. Monday Bart came over for flat dinner (green curry with fresh coriander from our herb garden) and to play Cluedo DVD. Monday night flat dinner and games is totally on every week that Smoo’s not working. You can come if you bring wine and/or wash the dishes after. Tuesday was meh. Today I went to the doctor and asked her to up my prescription, and to give me the medical certificate that work asked me to give them to show that I need to only work four days a week. I don’t have much to say about that today. I did before, but then I felt like throwing up all afternoon,and was gagging on the bus (and threw up at home. Mmmm biley). I am somewhat disappointed in myself for needing more meds despite all the hard work that I’ve been doing, but I’m looking forward to the increased dosage euphoria. And looking forward to doing more projects. Yes. And also looking forward to coming to Auckland for the Bloc Party gig on August 8. Woo woo. I am so so in love with A Weekend in the City, and also Neon Bible. ‘Sunday’ is now officially my new walking down the aisle song (“I love you in the morning / when you’re still hung over”). Now I just need someone to marry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Since I managed to achieve my New Year’s Resolution (or rather, sat fairly passively in a chair while someone else achieved it for me, I suppose), I decided it was time to make a resolution for Matariki too. To this end, I’m going to stop reading the blogs of people I despise. Yes, that’s right, I said the b word. That’s a sign of my disgust at my reading list. I do not need to read about some kitten-eating wanker who posts fairly moderate thoughts but knows full well that his rabid lunatic fringe commentors will take the argument to a much nastier place. I do not need to read about some kitten-eating woman in Hong Kong who thinks that money can buy all and that girl power lies in fucking other women’s husbands (oh shut up), when she’s actually totally transparent. I do not need to read about some stupid little girl in Auckland who thinks Carrie Bradshaw is an inspiration, that Louis Vuitton is like, totally awesome and important, and that proper payment for blow jobs is something expensive, not reciprocal head. Really I don’t.

In the good world of the Internet however, I had lunch with the Wellingtonista crew on Wednesday, and that was very rad. It’s nice to go out with different people so that you don’t keep having the same conversations about tentacle porn over and over again. Not that there’s anything wrong with tentacle porn, of course, but it’s good to challenge myself to try and remember social graces, and how to not punctuate every single thing I say with an in-joke, and how to try and talk about things that everyone can relate to. That said, Martha provided the smut to the conversation, and I was like “hey! that’s what I bring!” in my head. But not in the angry HULK BASH CRASH SMASH kind of anger that other conversations in my head had me having last week.

It’s funny because I can compare myself to the Hulk now, and decide to laugh at myself, but at the time I was biting my arm in the bathroom at Tupelo and then making myself throw up in order to try and get back some sense of control over my life. I spent the rest of the weekend and Monday crying on and off, knowing that it’d take a couple of days to work through the down patch, and that it was truly out of control. I’ve written a lot more about this in my head, but I’m ditching it because it’s too exhausting. Suffice to say I need to find a counsellor again if I’m going to continue to function without pills. My manager at work gave me a list of names (best way to start the week: cry in your weekly catchup at 10am), but meeeeeeeeeeeeeeh, it’s arduous. And besides, now I am up again, and don’t want to think about being down.

Today I am aching from doing yoga stretching instead of cardio yesterday because I just wasn’t feeling it, and also all the project managers and I ordered in pizza from Pomodoro for lunch cos no one wanted to go out in the rain, but I’m still full of love for the high of exercise. Do you know what I did on Wednesday night? I RAN. Sprinted even! Sure, it was only for half a block, but Anji said because she was with her workmate-who-is-stalking-me that I wrote a blog so I went to hit her, and she said “I can run much faster and for longer than you” and took off, so I took off after her, even in the cold-makes-breathing-harder air, and she stopped before I did, and I punched her in the shoulder and felt like I could have run further. And that’s quite exciting. And we saw Take the Lead which wasn’t nearly as bad as I had expected it to be, although Karen and I sniggered the whole way through at the dialogue and there were points where I was like “holy crap I need some more sake” cos we’d just had dinner at Kazu, but Antonio Bad-ass was very charming, and the dancing itself was awesome. Now I want some high heels and someone to dance with. Will I sound too Oedipully if I say that I’m rather looking forward to dancing with my father at his birthday party next weekend? It’s just that boys so seldom take the lead. Unless they’re Brad’s tutor from the prom, of course, who I was totally in love with for the duration of our dance.

And on the birthday note, it’s mine tomorrow. Please everyone, keep your legs crossed for me that I will not be spending the day on an IV drip with people poking at my vagina. Some vagina pokage would be acceptable, providing that it’s only carried out by a limited number of people, and if none of them have South African accents. You may also shower me with presents, if you choose to.

But the BEST PRESENT OF ALL is that my current favourite band whose name I won’t utter until I have the tickets in my hot little hands are going to be playing in Auckland on July 12, and I’m going! I’d originally planned to fly up on the 14th for the weekend, but now I will be in town from Wednesday through til Sunday. I would like to hang out with you while I am there, okay? So let’s hang.

I actually can’t think of much else that I wanted to say. I posted a recipe for Lemon Pie, and also the linear notes from my NZM Mixtape Compilation. I need someone to watch soccer with. Shirley left a squeeing message on my answerphone when she received the CD I sent her that contains The Garland Gang CD ROM, The Sound of Garland mixtape in mp3 form (I had to listen to Creed in order to make it, but rest assured that I had my fist and knee up the whole time), a bunch of photos and a copy of the newly digitised Garland tape. I also sent her a copy of 101 Stories. The weather is poos. My boots are awesome. My tummy is full. I haven’t had a period since early April. Maybe my tummy is full of Messiah Baby. Foetal Alcohol Syndromed Messiah Baby.

Saturday the 2nd of January, 1999

As happens a lot to me, I dreamt I was woken up, but went back to sleep. So I laid in bed for ages, sure that Mum and Neil had left me, and gone to my grandmother’s without me – (YAY) until Mum came to wake me. Damn. I mean, I know if I had a better soul, I wouldn’t hate visiting my grandmother, but it’s just soooooooooo boring and so hot there, and it’s like an hour’s drive out of Wellington. As soon as we got there, I like, sprawled myself down on the lumpy sofa to read Woman’s Weekly and the like. I don’t want to go through Opa’s books once again. Sure, there probably are interesting books there, but realistically, I’ll never read them. I’m not going to grow up to be the famous writer that he wanted me to be. I’m learning about the real world now, not History, so all his old books are no use to me. I hate his big room now, because time stands still in there, and he’s dead but so much of his stuff remains. I’ve claimed as much furniture from there as I think our flat will hold, and I have pens and paper and everything from there already. There’s nothing left for me in there except memories, and I don’t have to go to my grandmother’s house to remember him.

That said, I did come home with more loot – some old frying pans and an electric wok, although that looks a bit dodg, so maybe I won’t take it to Auckers. Si and I were doing inventory, and I think we’ve got most of the stuff we’ll need for a flat – bar a toaster and a microwave and ummm cutlery. I have various bits and pieces from when stealing cutlery from resturants was my obsession, but that’s mostly knives that would be good to spot off. Anyways, it’s going to be cool, so long as we can find a good house and nice flatmates.

In the evening, I glammed up in my new pearl and amythest necklace and new (lancome and chanel baby) lipsticks from Oma (both were things she didn’t want anymore – well, each of us cousins gets a necklace like that – Karen’s emerald one was kinda ugly so she didn’t take it). Mum dropped me off at Smacksalotl, and I did some drinking with Anji, Siobahnagain and Aaron. Then we decided to go to Tueplo’s so we walked down there. Anji and Aaron were pretending to be going out the whole way down there, so I hung back with Siobahn. She was fully on the piss, and asked me a thousand times where we were going. She gave money to a busker in return for a lollipop. He told her to take lots so I had one too. Friendly. Town was so much nicer than it was on New Years Eve. I don’t ever feel scared anymore walking around at night (thanks for that legacy) but I did on New Years. So much broken glass, gang members and violent looking people. I had a moment of sheer terror when I was talking to Steph on the street while she waited for a taxi and all of a sudden Anji was like “watch out” and she pulled me close to her while behind me I heard glass smashing. That spooked me temporarily. I still waited by myself to flag down a taxi for Steph while she was inside though.

Sorry, that was like a different story, NYE instead of Jan 2. Anyways. Tupelo was shut, and so was Studio Nine, so we went into the Lava Lounge instead and I bought everyone drinks. The place was so empty, it was funny. We sat in SUCH comfy comfy arm chairs, which was lovely. They were playing all this early eighties hiphop stuff, which was entertaining, but I SO wanted to hear the Spice Girls. I wanted to do the Stop dance, since I’ve finally mastered. I was so impressed when they played Wannabe, and Anji laughed at me heaps because I knew all the words and I hammed it up.

Anyways, then we decided to just go back to Anji’s, after Aaron had left us. We got to her door, when Siobahn decided she wanted chips, so I walked to City Stop with her to get them. On the way down, we passed a lad called Matt who’s madly in love with Anji, but is definatly unrequited. (Note to ANYONE ever planning to have kids – DON’T call your children Matt – it’s dooming them for life). Siobahn, being the little flake that she is, stupidly suggested that he should go and say Hi to Anji on his way home. Fooooooooooool Girl! I told her that if Matt did actually show up, Anji would kill her.

City Stop was all bright and glowy and full of Junk Food – choooiiiiiice. Siobahn being the little pig that she is bought THREE bags of chips, and it took us only the time it takes to walk through Cuba Malls to devour the twisties. It’s only after drinking that food like that becomes okay to eat. Once we got up to Anji’s, we saw Matt WAS there, so we had a guilty little giggle. I climbed out onto the fire escape again, although this time Anji forbade me to call out to passers by. Both her and Siobahn had told Kirsten at ‘Slotl that I’d harrassed her ex b/f on New Year’s Morning, telling him he was looking “Fly” (he was wearing a pale blue suit for fucks sake, Fly personified!) and asking him to cook us breakfast (which he would have, only we had no ingrediants).So yeah. We smoked up, and ate chips. At one stage two girls walking up Cuba Street met two boys walking down Cuba Street, and after some discussion ended up all going up the street together. I couldn’t help but yell out “SCORE!!!!”. When they turned around to see, I looked the other way. When Siobahn started talking about sleeping, Matt left. Hhahahah. He’s really nice, just Anji is so not interested, it’s kind of amusing.

So yeah. We sat around and giggled a bit more. It’s always amusing when people tell you that they had sex on top of a freezer in an open resturant in town. (Not Smacksalotl, although Anji has snogged someone in the cooler there). The salt and vinger chips hurt our mouths too much, so we devised a plan to neutralise them by spreading Baking Soda toothpaste on them. It’d be perfect. Parents would love them for their kids’ sake, AND the chips would be so soggy that they wouldn’t leave crumbs everywhere. They ARE the chip of the future. That idea is now patented by the way, so don’t steal it (justine). Eventually Siobahn went off to Aaron’s, and Anji went to bed. I could have slept in Melinda’s room, but there’s the spooky staircase there that leads up to the Gimp Attic. And I didn’t wanna sleep in Daegal’s room cos I didn’t know when he’d be getting back from the Gathering (bastard). So I slept on the old bed in the curtainless lounge, moonbeams and streetlights washing over me. I felt so Cosmopolitan.