Hubris.co.nz

Today I started my new job. I get the most awesome chair ever. It’s all posh and adjustable and sexy. Yeah that’s right, the chair was the most exciting part of my job, except for all the very interesting conversations that I had with people about interesting things and stuff that’s going to happen.

Of course in order to start my new job today, I had to finish my old job last week. I was sad to leave. They gave me a lovely card and a present and said so so so so many nice things about me. We had wine and gossiped and went to Siem Reap with the account manager of the design agency we use who I used to know when I worked at VUWSA for dinner and had more wine and more gossip, and then we went to Mighty Mighty for more wine, and I saw really random graffiti on the wall in the toilet that said “I don’t have any Heroes / they are all useless” on the wall and thought “hey, that handwriting looks familiar” but I wasn’t sure because of the lack of punctuation, and also just the plain randomness of it, so I wrote the phrase on a piece of paper and got others to confirm for me that yes, unfortunately that was my handwriting. D’oh! Don’t remember that at all. Maybe it was post Great Blend.

Anyways, it was a super fun night and a lovely way to end six of the best working weeks of my life. It was – as I said to them – just like a beautiful summer romance. But getting up early on Saturday morning to go to Zinefest wasn’t so fun. My new dress arrived that morning, and I decided to wear it, which wasn’t the best decision I’ve ever made – after I set up my zine table, I went and had breakfast in Doria, then was using the church bathroom when I looked down and was like “JESUS CHRIST!” at the amount of cleavage I was showing, and I was like “oops, sorry!” looking up. And so I put my hoodie back on for most of the rest of the day. Zinefest was kind of fun, talking to new people, but I was so tired that I wasn’t very talkative. And it was strange watching people reading my zines right in front of me. Because I primarily do my dirty-talking to strangers via the interwebs, I’m not used to seeing their faces when they read it. This was much more immediate. But it was nice to see people giving me their hard-earned money, and people asking me where I stock. And now you can read my zines in the Wellington Public Library collection, if you’re that way inclined!

Then I went home for naps, and to tidy up the house, before going to pick up Lisa and Jay and Jasmine who’d already been drinking. We made the house all purty with lights, and the party began. Highlights included the tasty Martina from Auckland showing up, meeting Other Lisa’s very tall boyfriend, having a cute Dutch boy compliment my boobs a lot and then grab them a lot – and then a little while later he fell asleep on Lisa’s shoulder when we took him outside for fresh air. A Scottish brother and sister sang the national anthem together – loudly and a couple of times. Dylan told me he loved me when I “licked my own nipple”. I use quotation marks, because to tell you the truth, and all secretly now, I didn’t actually. You know that Ashley’s tip is waaaaaaaaaaay low down, and I would have had to haul myself out of the halter in order to properly do it (I can’t get close on Mary-Kate) so I settled for dipping my tongue inside my bra, and that satisfied the crowd.Lisa’s crowd sang loudly. The Scots brother broke a glass, the Scots sister broke a chair – admittedly I think it was the already broken chair. But they were hilarious and cute, so it’s okay. Everyone molested Sebastian, who responded by bringing in a live mouse that I had to take outside. I got to meet Anji’s new gentleman caller, Bambi, and Lisa squealed and jumped up and down in glee when I gave her the cake I made:

I also gave her Liam Finn’s I am Lightning but since she already had it, I offered her up my brand new Appetite for Destruction – which she gave me back in the morning saying she couldn’t take it from me. So after we’d cleaned up the house and got pizza from the Med Warehouse, we went to Real Greedy and found her CSS, and I bought The Gossip for myself, woo. And I have my ticket to their gig, so hurrah!

Okay, earlyish night for me tonight, new jobs are exhausting. So much paperwork!

Now I am 27, and thusly, I have been living life to excess. It’s the rules of being the age of a dead rockstar, after all.

First, I should tell you about my party. It was many many boxes of supplies that I lugged over to Karen’s house which involved many trips and much lugging. Things like couches, blenders, and stacks and stacks of canned goods from a long excursion to Pak’n Slave (man I hate that supermarket!) found their way up into her spacious apartment. More crap got dropped off. I spent Friday night on the couch at home with Lisa and Jay watching Twin Peaks. Mmmm Agent Cooper. I haven’t been out on a Friday night for around a million years, but I knew I would need my energy for the next day. Saturday involved Karen and I trekking around Moore Wilson’s for a long time because obviously four boxes of food and booze wasn’t enough, and then I cleaned her bathroom and we set up the house for the party. I went home to chill out, get ready, pick up al the stuff i’d forgotten (so many lists!) and grab Lani, and we went back early to make sure everything looked perfect. This is what the bar looked like at the start of the night:

Oh HELL yes! Glassware, mixers, syrups, tools, booze, garnishes, fruit, canned mixers, pear brandy champagne fixings in the blender

Karen and Lani both looked like total rockstars, as you can see in this photo:

So obviously it was time to start drinking. Intially, it was me who made most of the cocktails.

This Appletini made with Rhubarb Syrup was possibly my favourite drink of the night.

People started showing up, including Karen’s flatmate in a stunning Beyonce outfit, and Anji and her friends, and some more of my friends, bringing booze with them to add to the collecion. And then, holy crap, Dimebag and a friend showed up! I thought he was dead!

Bart and Blair are awesome like WOAH

The lovely people from the Wellingtonista showed up too, and foolishly placed themselves far away from the bar which meant that by the time I got to them with a blender full of whatever deliciousness was on offer, it was mostly empty. But they still managed to humour me through flat camera batteries long enough for me to take this picture:

I so wish that you could see Martha’s “Human” and “Being” tattoos in this photo to add to her fierceness

And here’s some more photos out of order probably.

I started sharing cocktail-making duties with this very attractive young lady who was called tAtu 1. Well, that wasn’t really her name but I kept forgetting what it really was. Later she and the boy she was with-ish showed off their genital piercings, so Bart pulled out his as well. When I heard that he was showing everyone but me I demanded a look and so I saw his weiner in the kitchen. It was indeed pierced.

There is a sixteen year old in this photo. Guess who it is? In other discussions, see how many people there are packed into the kitchen? It was pretty much like that all night, which made it rather hard to mop up after one particularly drunk gentleman, who’d been Captain McGrabby Hands all night causing some people some distress got a drink thrown in his face, and then also spilt water all over the floor. And puked in the bath, but his fiancee cleaned that up, luckily.

See all the red plastic cups? Yeah that’s right it was a special-enough occasion to break those bad boys out. And yet we still resorted to all drinking from each other’s cups without washing them. Now everyone is sick. Also, how disturbing are Bart’s cutoffs? SO disturbing, and yet so erotic!

On the stroke of midnight, I was in the kitchen making cocktails, when a very drunk Lisa who’d shown up late announced it was my birthday as it was now the 17th. I was giving someone a hug when all of a sudden everyone rushed me all at once. I was thinking it was a group hug, but it turned out it was a group hump. Apart from squealling a lot, I ended up being speechless for about five minutes afterwards. It was a GOOD kind of shock though, honest!

What else were highlights? Seeing Kartini and Mike again. Drinkign many delicious cocktails. Having Shirley there, who’s told me a couple of times since then how nice all my friends are and how they all said lovely things about me. Aww shucks. So here’s some more photos:

Check it out, it’s my old boss (from VUWSA) front’n centre. See how demonstratably employable and sociable I am? Yeah!

This was near the end of the night long after most people had left, and we sat around the table making up shakers to share.

So yes, that was my party. At the end of the night I managed to convince a young lady to come home with me, and so we played records “and stuff”. We were happy in the morning and it didn’t seem awkward but then Lani walked in on us, which means that i’ve decided that my new Matariki resolution, since I’ve achieved the waking up with someone one is to score someone in my house and not have Lani walk in on it. Sheesh, you’d think she’d knock before she walks into the lounge or my bedroom next time. Heh. So anyways, the girl texted Anji to come pick her up, so I texted Anji to bring us coffee. She jumped in bed with us and it was very amusing. Then we went for brunch at Roxy, and to clean Karen’s apartment which reeeeeeeeeeeeeeked of booze.

I was super super tired but I didn’t nap after that, I don’t think. Instead I bonded iwth my couch and the Gilmore Girls before my parents came to pick me up with Anji and Karen in tow, and we went for my birthday dinner at the Tinakori Bistro. It was BYO so I tried to drink the hangover away, and we had lots and lots of food. I got handy presents from people – a seven day pill box from Karen so now I know when I’ve taken my meds and when I haven’t, and an iPod cover to go with my early birthday present of a Nano from my parents, and Anji gave me an awesome carved hairstick, and a purple melamine tray. Karen also gave me a Wham! vinyl, and oh boy, I can’t believe people didn’t realise that George Michael was gay a lot earlier. Dinner was lovely, and I got to tease someone there a lot about someone else that they’d hooked up with the night before (key line used in anything even loosely vaguely able to be interpreted in a dirty way like “I just stuffed it in the envelope” is treated to a round of “That’s what * said!”. heheeh. Between that and the OHMYGODSOMETIMESMYYOUNGESTDAUGHTERISLIKE,ALESBIAN, my poor parents were rolling their eyes a lot. It was a lovely time.

Then what did I get up to this week? I wanted to go to Webstock Mini on Tuesday but I realised I so did not have a spare $75. We had a delightful flat dinner on Monday with much much humourous banter and Lani laughing at me and thinking that people actually know more than they’re letting on. I had a job interview on Wednesday and had to work in the afternoon because I was off sick for Monday and Tuesday with my brain trickling out of my nose. On Thursday I umm I dunno, nothing? No wait! I went to MG’s work with Alan and Sue and Martha and was seriously impressed with the cleverness of them all. We had some wine and some cheese and then went to Medina for dinner. Thanks again MG! I love the way that by describing the night in one sentence I made it sound so cilivised. Heh. When I got home I found that not only had Smoo removed the dead mouse that Seb had caught last night (I presume he ate the other one that was still alive when I ran away tearfully because the mouse kept going up to its dead friend before Seb would pull it back in again. And when I say that he ate it, I mean Seb, not Smoo. Although if Smoo wants to eat dead mice I won’t judge him) but he also cleaned the house so I was very very stoked. And of couse I’ve since messed it up again. And then on Friday Lisa and I hung out with Agent Cooper some more.

Yesterday Shirley and I went for brunch at the Maranui Surf Cafe, and a lack of tables led us to sit outside and freeze to death happily over our deluxe fish burgers. Then we decided to throw a mini cocktail night to try and finish off the booze leftover so I didn’t have to find a home for it all in the overful cabinet. We invited Lisa and Bart over, and Smoo was off work which was exciting, and of course Blair showed up as he tends to do all the time. We had tasty Grasshoppers, and Lisa updated my journal for me, and umm, good times. Lisa and Shirley are making fun of me for something, but that is okay. And today I’m at my parents’ house doing laundry and eating their food. I was supposed to be working on my zine, but hte file corrupted over email, apparently. So instead I’m watching terrible reality TV. But I think my second load is dry, so I might take off now. Woo ha!

Jimmy Supergood asked me the other day why I wasn’t updating Hubris anymore, and I had to tell him that it wasn’t really intentional, but I’ve been waiting to finish writing about my American exploits, and those are such long stories that I haven’t felt up to writing them, and I haven’t wanted to update until I got myself up to date, and oh the vicious circleness of it. So here I am, updating. And I will tell American stories later.

Firstly, sorry to Shayne Carter for making him feel violated (or, apparently torn between violated and flattered). Secondly, The Wellingtonista of which I am of course part, have launched their First Annual Wellingtonista Awards for Outstanding Achievement in the Field of Excellence so it would be awesome if you would go and vote for them, and also if you should feel like it, join us for our awards ceremony on December 1, in a secret venue which we will inform you of when you vote. And it’s totally not secret just because we haven’t picked a place, oh no. That would suggest a level of casualness and uninformity of which we are not at.

Sentence construction is a little hard for me now as I have been sitting on the front steps all afternoon basking in the gorgeous sunshine, aided by one admittedly large vodka lime and soda and so I am more than a little dizzy – and also in need of a good neck massage but I suspect that’s on a different note. This weekend has been fairly low-key. On Friday, all our managers were away on a retreat, so we got an email about “when the cats are away…” which meant BYO food and drinks to our communal eating area. It was bucketing down with rain which meant I walked through Kirks on my way to Rumbles to buy booze, and was drawn into the chocolate and wine shop hoping for free samples of chocolate. Instead I was waylaid into doing a tasting, and when the man said “I make the wine..” I was like, oh, it’s the actual winemaker, I suppose I should buy a bottle then. And of course Kirks are too wanky to put visible prices on things (as I told someone later that night, the last time I actually went into Kirks proper instead of their related food shops was in sixth form to buy stay-up tights for the ball, and they looked down their noses at me so much that I resolved not to go back ever) so I ended up buying a $29 bottle of Tohu Pinot Noir when really I was after something for around $12 that I could leave behind. Stink. Of course, that meant I had to stay and drink it all, which was good in a way because it meant I talked to many people I’d never talked to before, and apart from people talkijng about my father (because where I work is a place that people work for for life, and so therefore even though Daddy hasn’t been there for ten years or something (someone asked me why he left and I know the answer is for Mum)) I learnt lots about other people. Still no rich husband prospects though. I guess I should expect that, working for the government and all.

Consequently, having drunk all but a glass of that tasty tasty pinot noir within an hour and a half (I shared the love), I was a trifle tipsy by the time I arrived at Tupelo to meet Karen and Dylan, but I think I managed not to come across as such too much. Karl and Amber joined us later and had the brilliant suggestion of going to umm Siam Reap (?) for dinner. They were full at the time, but took my number and said they’d call in a half hour or so, so I suggested we go grab a drink at Mighty Mighty, which I’d (of course) just found out about on Wellurban. Guess who I’m voting for as best Welly Web Writer? Mighty Mighty was very cool, and I got to wave to my old flatmate Justine from Newtown there. I like that they offer about four kinds of house wine named only by kind, and that you can also get cask wine for $5. And it’s so green and pretty! And the bathroom is painted the same cotton candy pink that the bathrooms at Occam are. Yes. And then we got the call from Siam Reap so Karen and I went to buy wine while the others finished their drinks, but motherfucking Starmart in Manners Mall had its locked-up screens down becasue the guy behind the counter looked younger than 18. That’s so fucking lame, and made me rully rully angry. Luckily the restaurant was licensed, and with an $8 per bottle corkage, it probably wasn’t much more expensive anyway. I’d never been before, but holy fuck it was tasty. My medium beef salad seemed much hotter, but my curry main was much easier eating. And so damn tasty, oh yes.

Afterwards Karl and Amber went home and Karen, Dylan and I went back to Mighty Mighty where we found a wide windowsill to sit on and proceeded to make fun of people for what felt like a couple of hours. He was all “it’s so funny how nasty girls get as soon as they see another girl in a miniskirt” so we took the time to explain to him that it wasn’t just that this girl’s skirt was so short we could see out her nostrils, but also that it looked like a pillowcase and that it had obviously been a really nice knee-length frock that she’d tacked up inside it. So it wasn’t just the tartiness of it, it was also the ugliness. We were less chastised for making fun of an older lady who was pulling people onto the floor with her scarf and making them dance with her. I was rather inclined to tap one hipster on the shoulder and say “dude, you’re going home to a sweeeeet threesome!” when his girlfriend was kidnapped away from him, but I was afraid he would think I was including myself in the equation. I also saw James who edited Salient this year, who with a couple of bear hugs made me feel much better about whoever the anonymous person posting nasty comments about my skills as an ad manager being responsible for VUWSA’s financial difficulities on another website (because yes, I never said I was a good salesperson, but seriously, if you’re going to write something like that then get enough fucking balls to put your name to it, lamer), and tried very hard to avoid the attention of The Mime, although it was amusing to see him as it inspired a whole round of “help me, I’m trapped in a box!” type posing. Then we spotted a guy with a German flag badge on each shoulder and for some reason that just really got my goat, so I encouraged Karen to teach Dylan the phrase “Do you have an old washing machine?” in German to ask the boy, in some kind of “Ha! You’re like, not even German!” cheekiness. I didn’t hink Dyl was actually going to get around to asking him, but he did, making the boy even more confused by miming a cigarette while asking. The boy was like “Huh?” and brushed him aside. Ten minutes later on our way out I decided to repeat the experiment, without the cigarette, and was rewarded with a “oh, Deustch, nien!!!” combined with much miming and pointing to his flags and shaking of his head. He he he! Oh II adore the fact that I can now often keep a straight face even whilst doing very silly prank type things.

On Saturday I had brunch with Anji and Delwin at Mojo, and then for dinner Lisa and I went to the Mediterranean warehouse where she became obsessed with the Pinnochio figures. We watched Thirteen and I didn’t blub nearly as much as I did the first time, although there are still many many things about that movie that hit home with me. Today I have sat in the sun and read Q, and did two lots of washing. Yes, it’s big time excitement around here indeedy. But I must wholeheartedly recommend Neil Jordan’s Shade to you – as a reviewer says “Why does he bother writing movies when he can write books this well?”, and just as another example of how late to the party I am (have you heard about this awesome new band called the Arcade Fire?), I also loved The Great Gatsby as well. And that’s all.

My weekend was a shocking pile of debauchee. I participated in: lying to my manager; drunkenness; sexual harassment; sexual arousal; groping; other people’s hands on Mary-Kate and foul language. And that was just Friday night. Okay, so the lie was totally bald-faced, and was merely an excuse to accompany my cow-orkers to their netball dinner. The drunkenness was nothing special, just a lot of white wine. The sexual harassment was constant, and returned (the boys were trying to look up my skirt, despite the fact that I was wearing trousers), the groping was hilarious and mutual, and the foul language was to be expected (*).

On Saturday I felt great on account of having stayed up til 5am so I was stone cold sober again. I cleaned the house, had a shower, treated Seb for fleas, kicked the boys out of the house and set off flea bombs in my room and in the lounge. Of course, it was after I had locked the front door and exited that I heard the BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP of smoke detectors going off, so I had to rush back into the lounge, find a chair to clamber on and pull out the battery, all the while coughing in the flea gas. Still, at least it should have killed the larvae in my lungs, right?

I repaired at the Medditerean Warehouse with a margharita pizza (and one of these days I will learn to spell) and the paper, before continuing the Italian theme with shopping to prepare for ‘Rome at the Country Club’. Later, after attempts at napping and some of The OC, which quite frankly I find myself really not giving a shit about, the darling Lisa Fur came and picked me up, and we went to her house via being served at the mill by Conor Oberst, who has apparently fled to New Zealand where he can shed his cold cold tears on his cold cold bathroom tile before getting up to sell cheap cheap liquor to ladies and say “laterz!” to them. We went to Lisa’s house and she played me absolutely devestating videos by the Dears, which you shouldn’t watch unless you’re prepared to cry. Then Brad and KateB came over (do you like the way I invite my friends to other people’s houses? I’m really good at that) and we had some more drinks and played some more music and then took off for the Aro Valley for Joel’s house.

At Joel’s, we sat in the garden and feared for our lives when he threw more furniture on the fire. I saw people I knew from when I worked for VUWSA and was happy that they were the people I liked. I think we were either very early or very late, but it was nice to see Joel again, even though I goddamnmotherfuckingshitfuckcunt forgot to get my Straitjacket Fits CD back off him. He’s had it for like a year now. Grr. Then we left to wander the streets slowly, and I started a long text conversation with my friend because we happened to be passing his house. Upon reflection, I realise that I do tend to text random things at random times (*). Brad peeled off somewhere, and Kate fell asleep on Lisa’s couch, so I made Lisa play me vinyl and make me popcorn. She’s a good bitch like that.

On Sunday, I was in pukesville. Apparently drinking a lot of bubbly straight from the bottle is bad for you. Who knew? Nevertheless, I soldiered on with Rome preperations, chargrilling red peppers to go in homemade hummus, making trifle with banana cake and pineapple in lieu of tiramisu, and putting pizza dough on in the breadmaker. Eventually I had to call a timeout so I retired to the local cafe for coffee and grease and the paper before coming back to the mountain of dishes and assorted other hospitality tasks that awaited me. And then I awaited my guests. You know, Kate mentioned that she thinks there’s been a drop in recent years in the number of people who actually call (or even text) to say that they can’t make it to an event, and I think she’s right. That said, there was still a stream of “oh, I’m too hungover” or “oh, the formula one is on” texts that made me go grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. But the people who did come were very cherished, and appreciative of the effort I’d gone to. Also, my flatmates now think I am the greatest flatmate in the world, because it turns out that while I’d heard that Caligula was quite porny, I figured it’d just be softcore boobs and fake sex. Oh no, my friends. It was hardcore jizz baths, penetration and cunnilinguis. With costumes. And sex with horses. Hurrah! I fear I have set a high standard for further Country Clubs, but oh well. I can rename it the Cuntry club and feature porn from all around the world.

Last night Karen and I went to Kazu for some food on sticks. I should point out that we went to the good new one, without the terrible service and the quivering pizza that are found at the Tory St branch. The one on Courtenay Place is right next to the once beloved Arashi, which has since removed both ginko nuts AND their banana & peanut butter spring rolls from their menu, so what’s the point? Then we wanted to see Sione’s Wedding but it was all sold out so we went to A History of Violence instead, which was good. And violent, strangely enough.

Today at work I sat in on a videoconference featuring Tze Ming Mok, who was almost frighteningly articulate and Tusiata Avia talking about writing from a non-European perspective to an audience of Wellington High and Wellington Girls’ girls via video links, and it was really interesting. It made me think lots of things which I have completely forgotten about now, because it’s the end of the day. The ‘compare and contrast’ between the two of them in pretty much every aspect of their work was really interesting, as was also thinking about identity in general. Oh, I know what I wanted to say, and I’ll have to paraphrase really badly here, but Tze Ming spoke about how there’s a sort of expectation in the circles that she moves in that she will write about certain things, and I suppose that’s something that I feel too – not, of course, as an essayist and a blogger, but as a person with an online journal. It’s something I spent a lot of time talking about in the olden days when I was at counselling, my need to keep people entertained. And then I’d say something deep and then I’d say something else to make Kalpana laugh. Awesome, nice consistency there. Hmmm, this all sounded better in my head over lunch. Nevermind, I’ll call it off here.

All of todayk, I have been about to collapse over and fall asleep. I didn’t sleep at all last night. Stupid pre-period bright light, lower back pain, stupid brain going tick tick tick. Stupid girl drinking coke at 7pm. Stupid oversensitive-to-caffiene existingness. YEAH! SO this afternoon, I was very very mcuh like “hi, I know we have our weekly production meeting right now, but do you mind if I fall asleep right here and now?”

As it happened, we were actually bidding farewell to a colleague, and they talked in her speech about the air of calm she gave, and since she was one of my project managers, I can totally agree that yes, she was calm-making. And now she’s gone. But at least we had butt-loads of Pandoro goodies to ease the tradition. And we all know that pandoro muffins are so hot right now. Oh I’m sorry, that’s err “da bomb”. I forgot it was 1996. Also, haha Joel, seriously, you’re all crazy and shit – you are planning on the face punch right? Remind me to put those links in when my ISP actually catches up to reality. Did I say my ISP? Oh you all know I’m using my mother’s account. (Edit: see how I blamed my inability to link properly on my ISP, rather than the many glasses of Church Road Sav Blanc? Nice. That’s what my Grad Dip PR Com was for. But I think I’ve put in the right links now…)

It’s funny, cos for five minutes or so, I was like “huh, those ex-workmates of mine that I’m making fun of – what if they make fun of me?” but then I was like “well, what would they say that I wouldn’t agree with?” and then I laughed some more. But on a more serious note, the directors put on some drinks tonight (*) and we were at the Courtenay Arms, which is where VUWSA had its Xmas party last year when I was like “I’m going to be leaving after Orientation, cos I am 10k short of what I should be making”, and now I am 12k up, and working happily, and not having to deal with RANK ARROGANT AMATUERS all the time (and if I spelled that wrong, it was Anji’s fault, cos she spelt it for me,a nd she has like, a degree in literature) and also just, I like almost all my workmates. Where the fuck was I? I can’t remember.

Oh wait, foozeball. I have searched the archives right now, and am curfrenly laughing my guts out about feta jokes that Bo and I made together. Also, WHERE THE FUCK has peppercorn feta gone? I don’t think it exists anymore. And now I spent like half an hour looking for an obscure reference to our first year Peach Pit environment (yes, htat’s Pizza Pizza I’m talking about) or how there happebned to be some boys who had happened to come across half a Nikki Watson poster from Sandringham Road that haapppened to be in our backyard and I was lying on her boobs in the photograph, and wait, what was my point? I totally forget. But I will say hey, remember that time that I had two girl friends,and then there were these three guys that we all hung out with? And remember how the three of us had it all worked out? Yes.

ALSO! FUCK OFF SHORTLAND STREET! Stop having our motherfucking glasses onscreen! It’s bad enough that our three new water glasses are the stripey ones are the same as the ones in the cafe. Tonight Anji pointed out that our gingerbeer cocktail glasses have showed up in Coltrain. FUCKING SUCK IT, YOU QUEERS! (That’s the OC, k? xojo) Because I am a potter’s daughter. I care very much about the vessel things are served to me in, and I feel like you just fucked my daughter’s navel cavity. Hott! But also, unless it’s you making the mule, back the fuck off!

Before Shihad on Saturday night (they played DEB’S NIGHT OUT! Holy crap! I cried!), I was at Karen’s, and at Karen’s house I went to the bathroom, as I tend to do, and in Karen’s bathroom there was the latest <I>Salient</I>, (and I’m not going to say anything about how it tends to belong these days), and so I picked it up and read the editorial, and became absolutely disgusted. Apparently there’s going to be an SGM to attempt to roll the vice president, Jen Jones.

ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE?

Jen works harder than anyone else at VUWSA. She is passionate about helping students. Unlike most of the executive, she delivers results. Jen cares about what she’s doing. It makes me so mad that people could even suggest rolling her, so I implore you, if you are a Vic student, please go to the SGM, and please vote AGAINST rolling her (I’d tell you when it is, except that suprise suprise, the <I>Salient</I> site isn’t up to date). You might not agree with all of her ideologies, if you’re of a right wing nature (although hi, if you’re right wing, why are you reading my journal? Why aren’t you out eating puppies or something?) but surely you must see that she’s doing an excellent job.

I hate so much that there’s such a large number of ring wing people on the exec this year. That’s bad news for students. It’s also pretty shocking for the student magazine to have right wing connections too, but let’s not even go there….

<B>Update!</B>: Apparently it was
13 in favour
98 against

I’m fucking overjoyed. Thanks for making the right decision guys, you have renewed my faith that while the evil puppy eaters might talk louder, good sense and decency will prevail on the day. Yeah!

Yesterday being Good Friday and all, Karen came over for breakfast, and we had chocolate hot cross buns as well as the traditional ones, but they were hot and burnt my fingers when I took them out of the oven so I dumped them face down on the serving plate which means that the crosses were upside down, which means that we are all Satanists. Who knew? Y’know, ignoring for now the “Joanna tied someone to a wall and tried to stab them with a pair of scissors in a Satanic ritual” rumour of 8th grade and all (Quick: comment inspiration! What’s the best rumour you ever heard about yourself?). Then we went into town to see Whispers of the Heart, which was excellent, despite the very cheesy name. It wasn’t as fantastical as Totoro or Spirtied Away, but its depiction of Tokyo was so real I could smell it. I’ve felt the repressive heat, heard the crickets chirping, marvelled at how many little neighbourhoods there are and the strange mix of very urban city and large vegetable fields. I wonder if it seemed strange to anyone who hasn’t been there,but if you have been to Tokyo, you’d feel it too.

Later that night I went to Karen’s house to drink vodka mixed with a dash of vanilla sugar syrup, lime and soda. We filled a waterbottle with the mixture and took it to Breaking News, so I felt very fifteen. I saw old workmates there, and asked them what the truth was behind my ex boss’s (removed) post in his blog about deposing the girl who thought she was my boss, but unfortunately apparently it was just a joke. Boo. Still, the movie was good, although I’d been reluctant to go because I always forget that I do actually like Hong Kong action flicks just as much as Karen. Plus afterwards we saw Nial and Blair (you remember, Katy’s friends*) and they were on their way to 24 Hour Party People at Indigo as well so we walked with them. Now, if you’ve been paying attention you might have fathomed that I was wearing contact lenses because I didn’t have a bag with me, and I’ve never worn them before at a dancing type gig. I felt really strange, totally hyper-aware, like I was a spy waiting for someone to assassinate me or something (Or, if you wanted to be REALLY geeky, that I’d been a Potential and I’d just been activated). I could see the expressions on other people’s faces right now, and I imagined that everything they were doing was all about me. It also meant that I was going crazy spotting hot boys, including the singer in my favouritest NZ band ever, except that, dude, get the fuck rid of your facial hair. If I was slightly insane and living in the Hutt and Prone to Using random Capital letters, I might Go so Far as to Declare a Jihad on Facial hair. And as a brief side note on a facial hair tangent, why the fuck have none of you told me that my eyebrows are just about to touch my eyelashes? I’ve always said I’d never pluck them, but really, I’m going to have to start. Someone volunteer to do it for me? Back to the gig. We only stayed a couple of hours, because while some fo the music was great some of it was kinda meh, but We both had a good time, and that’s what’s important.

Today after I’d been woken up for long cuddles with my sweetiepeetiepoodlepie and had been fed breakfast and had showered all my stinkyness away I set off to corporatertise my wardrobe. This of course meant a trip up to Petone to go to The Carpenter’s Daughter, which I STILL drove right past and had to double back in order to find. I tried on a huge pile of clothes but eventually ended up with three garments – a silver basically sleeveless top that I’d wanted the last time I was there but couldn’t justify spending $115 on, but $50 was okay, a wrap-around cardigan type thing in a glittery peachy/goldy/pinky kinda paisley print (that sounds not nice, but it is) and A BLAZER. Yay fucking hooray! I’ve been after a blazer forever. This is a cordoroy/velvet black one (yes, more black clothes, sorry, New Year’s Resolutions) that’s embossed stripes, and it has a double zip up the front instead of buttons and flared sleeves. Plus it fits me like a dream and oh I am so happy with it. The lady only rang up $165 on the cash register cos we’d been discussing their bonus club thingie of which only the blazer counted towards since the other two items were on sale, but I was good and pointed out that she’d undercharged me by $100. Go me.

Then I headed back into the city to go and hunt down Lindsay Lohan movies (Brad’s coming over tomorrow night), and to meet up with Annabel’s friend Dave-from-England. He was very nice and bought me a pint and I will be making sure to take him to some gigs of the indie rock persuasion in the coming months. When I got home Anji was over for dinner, and I ate too much of my easter egg and got a tummy ache, but now I am drinking PIRATE BEER EXTRA STRONG which I bought during a supermarket run to replenish my parents’ wine racks, and at 8.5% and a 500ml can, it’s a hefty three standard drinks. I think it must be time to return to Angel 5. OMG it’s SO GOOD. Puppets! And lore! And Spike isn’t TOO annoying. Hurray!

Also, if you’ll allow me the use of one more “omg”, omg, I am like, such a geek. Nevermind.

Today was a shopping day. I bought a pale pink cardigan today. While I bought the less fluzzy of two options, this one has pearl buttons, and beading designs on it. The label says “vintage” but it’s from Farmers. It’s like, and it kind of pains me to use this word, almost prissy. But I kept thinking “what would Willow wear?” when I was trying it on, and I think I got confuzzled. We’ll see how it ends up.

Later in Waikanae at the Minx Factory Shop, I was totally like “omg, look at all these totally cute shoes!” and again, wondering how they would fit in with my lifestyle with their multi-coloured wonderness. Minx make shoes in big sizes, but apparently I have huge big slabs of fat on top of my basic foot structure (well, this is probably true) because the 11s were tight and bulgy on my flesh (as opposed to my toes). I ended up trying on size 12s instead (twelves! You know that horrible band Lit and that horrible song “You make me come. You make me complete. You make me completely miserable”, and in the video they have Pamela Anderson lolling around, and minature members of the band dance on top of her upturned feet? Well I could host the motherfucking (and grumpy) Polyphonic Spree on my meatplates. Apparently. Anyways, I got these ones, in a black 12:

They’re like, totally cute. And they have polka-dot lining, which, when I was at Oma’s afterwards and she was talking about picking out her coffin I suggested she pursue for her lining. Then she pondered whether if she’d be cremated in the coffin, or if they took bodies out, and if that aws the case, did they still have Opa’s coffin, and could she just use that instead? Of course, Oma is half the size that Opa was, so that wouldn’t work out. She said that she’d worried when we grandchildren carried Opa’s coffin briefly that it was too heavy for Jacinta, and she was happy that she’d be a lot lighter. I suggested she could be carried with one hand, like a pizza, or a tray of drinks. Is this a conversation any of you have had with your grandmother? It was kind of strange. It started when she was talking about how she didn’t want to be kept alive (I wouldn’t either), partly because it’d be no fun for the family, so I suggested that we’d play poker around her bed, and then Mum suggested Strip Poker, and it’s just all wrong wrong wrong.

Fun fact: at my last job I used to work in teh same building and vaguely for the same people as Karen. In my new job, which starts on Tuesday if you were keeping track, I will be working on websites for the organisation that Anji works for, and if you want to keep the family connection going also my aunt Diz.

Good times. You know what? Maybe I’m developing a Pleasantville costume for myself. Freaky. But perhaps if I worry about being like, too totally cute I’ll just remind myself of the little pockets of air that I got yesterday. I could put someone’s eye out with those things, but it would be a happy death for all concerned.

So, my drinks last Friday after work started before 5pm. They gave me a bottle of red wine and a pair of toe socks with monkeys on them with speech bubbles saying “ask me if I care” and a Whitcholls voucher which I have now lost. The giant card said “we took a poll and 90% of us are going to miss you” which made me figuratively piss my panties. Dusty said he was unaware of any controversy before he bought it, which makes it even funnier. No one from upstairs that I didn’t like was present, so it was great. We ran out of booze and by that stage the prez was drunk so he was happy to authorise the accountant to put someone in a taxi to go and get more. Hurray! I had great chats to many people and I’m going to miss some of them quite a lot. How cool were those presents – and more importantly, how appropriate to me were they? SO GOOD. Around midnight though I realised that we’d left work and were now at someone’s house nearby and I thought it might be a wise idea if I went home. I don’t know why I had leaves in my handbag the next day though. Plus I didn’t get to have sex in my office before I left – but I still have the key….

Saturday I slept through – when I wasn’t puking in my wastepaper basket, that is.

Sunday I had brunch with Karen at the Brooklyn Bakery, and started writing my Butch Vig story, as well as watching a large chunk of Buffy 7.

Monday was my first proper day of unemployment, but I spent it finishing my Butch Vig piece (stupid working harder than I worked at work when I’m not working), and drooling over the box of Angel 5 that arrived, and crying at the last bits of Buffy 7. I also told a woman who rang me to ask if it was okay to check my references, and I told her that actually, I didn’t think I’d be a good fit for her organisation.

Today a package arrived from Ezibuy that for the first time is going to put Mary-Kate on equal footing with Ashley. She’s fucking stoked, let me tell you. And then I got a phone call from the woman I had my second interview with last Wednesday, and she offered me the position, and I accepted, and well, I’m quite excited really. Plus, 10k salary jump. Woo!

1. I handed in my resignation this morning. What am I going to do now? Not work here anymore, once my four week notice period is up anyway. It was bad timing for my boss, which sucks cos he’s lovely, and there was another resignation this morning, and there was an accident/suicide yesterday.(*)

2. OMG OMG OMG – apparently during a radio interview Slash (that’s MOTHERFUCKING SLASH FROM GUNS’N ROSES MOTHERFUCKER) quoted the article that I (that’s MOTHERFUCKING ME) wrote for Pulp about Velvet Revolver. I am now officially a rockstar journalist of the Anthony Bozza type. No wonder I had to quit my day job!

3. (and again with the double-ups): Also, if perchance the person from Chch who is “pining for me” who sent me the Valentine isn’t also reading NZM – thank you very much! I showed your card to our receptionist to cheer her up after I’d been crying on her shoulder because I felt stink abotu handing in my resignation and it made her happy. Of course it made me happy too.