Hubris.co.nz

Last Friday was, if you recall, the Prom. Of course, you should all have known that from coming along, but if you did, then you’re people that I don’t know who didn’t introduce yourselves. Wankers.

But nevermind that. Let’s talk about going to Spotlight at lunchtime with Kateb for netting to promify our dresses, and how I was going to get black but the call of the pink was just too strong:

Then let’s talk about how the skies opened around 4pm and I had holes in my shoes, and my car was parked a long way away and luckily I’d given Kate the spare key to it cos I got to it late, and then we had to schlep over to Newtown to decorate the hall and I was soaking wet and freezing cold and reaaaaaally not in a good mood. Plus decorating was tiring and hard, and we were running late and Brad’s friend who was helping us kept on talking and talking and oh oh oh, just the drama of it all. But when we were done, the place looked fucking rad:

Kate came over to my place to get ready, and since I knew I needed to snap out of my grump, I went to “spend a couple of minutes by myself” (read: rub one out), before showering and sorting out my hair. Of course, we ended up looking fabulous, as the above photo will prove. We spent a while having some drinks and trying to convince Bart and Del to come with us, before abandonning that idea and jumping in a taxi. The hall was pretty empty at first, so I was very worried for Brad’s sake, and I was trying to count and do maths and things, but eventually it filled up, helped along by the arrival of these two, Katy and her flatmate:

We sat and drank coruba & coke for a while, cos it was donated, and then Brad started playing ‘Get into the groove’ which is one of my favouritist songs to dance to evah, and since my friends weren’t feeling it, I went and jumped into a group of strangers including this girl Holly:

They were very very rad people and were very complimentary of my outfit, so I decided that I was ON FIRE that night, and that everybody would be my friend. When Katy and I were slowdancing the first slowdance, I spied two boys standing at the side so we grabbed them instead and they didn’t appear to mind at all. Later I fell in love with one of Brad’s tutors (although I suspect I didn’t realise who he was at the time) when he whirled me around the dancefloor and told me to stop leading. How powerful and manly! Oh how I was swooning.

At one stage, I went outside to find Kate, and found her talking to a 15 year old kid who’d wandered up to boast about how he was on his 20th beer. When he turned around and said to the Asian girl behind him “I don’t like Asians!” I decided that was enough, and it was time for him to move on, so I went and found Brad, who grabbed a very tall friend of his and politely asked the young lad if he had a ticket. He moved on then. Apparently he was also kicked in the balls by a friend of the Asian girl. Excellent.

It was just such a fucking fantastic time. I danced and danced and danced, and although I didn’t win Prom Queen, I certainly felt like it, and so I successfully vanquished all my demons from dances at ASIJ 12 years ago. Oh yes, that’s right, all my demons. I’m totally a demon-free zone now. Honest. Here’s some more photos from the prom – if you want to see them larger, go to my flickr account page, obviously. And the best part of all is that Brad made a whole grand.

When Kate and I got home, we found Mark and Bart sitting out on the front steps drinking, so we stayed and talked to them for a long time, and I did the most awesome fall-flat-on-my-face fall ever. Radical.

The next morning, strangely enough, I felt like I’d been hit by a bus, but I dutifully rolled out of bed, showered and headed off to pick up Anji and Karen, via a ten minute wait at Macdonald’s for them to serve me up a burger instead of the ick that is the Macdonald’s breakfast. Not that their burgers are much better, of course, but this was an emergency. I got Anji to drive to Waikanae, because I still felt drunk. We went to Swell Cafe for Mum’s birthday brunch, which you might remember from the news stories about its quarter mill bronze statue being stolen. Or you might not. I don’t care either way. Ha! It was really nice there, but oh boy I was feeling ill. Then we went to Oma’s house to sort out more stuff and pick up more furniture and I puked some more and sat on an outdoor step and cried. I was very very happy to get home and unload the buffet and bookshelves.

After a nap, I went to the supermarket and made awesome sandwiches of streaky bacon, camenbert, hummus and rocket. Hurray! And I tried gingerly to drink some beer, but then switched to red wine. Around 11pm, I headed off to Nial’s house for Blair’s goodbye party. Luckily it was a very mellow night, just lots of sitting around in the very cute garden. I didn’t know people at first, but I was overly tired so I was in very giggly very saying lots of stupid things mode, so it was alright. The boy who I’d originally thought was gay talked loudly at me about how gay he was, and about how he used to make his ex girlfriend wear a Hayden Christensen mask when he flipped her over, and I felt ever so slightly embarrassed but mostly I just laughed at the things I was thinking in my head (*).I did tell the hot Canadian right as he was leaving that I fancied him rotton, and he laughed at me. Well, it wasn’t quite a “ha HA, like you could ever have a chance” kind of laugh, or even a laugh of pity, it was just a laugh and a “I’m sure you’ll get your pash this year”. And yes, I told him right when he was leaving, because I am laaaaaaaaaame like that, but at least I told him. So that’s all very well and good, and I don’t feel bad about it. And it’s good that he’s gone, because while he was a very easy crush to have, I just have far too much going on in my head right now(*). Oh, and of course he’s also a stupid maple syrup-eating surrender monkey.

Having been up until 5.30 texting, Sunday was a day for lying on the couch groaning and watching season two of the OC. I think much of the week was like that, actually. Hmm. On Wednesday I saw Capote, which wasn’t the feel-good hit of the summer. Then I decided I needed to stop feeling angsty about the number of people in my house (it’s strange getting used to having two boys and one girlfriend who is still trying to find a flat around, after living with only Anji for six months, but there’s no need for me to have a bug up my ass just because oh the pain, they’re sitting on my couches watching tv when I want to lie down and watch the Gilmore Girls in quiet), so I cooked a flat dinner for them and Brad. I was going to make a pear cake too, cos our tree is loaded down with pears right now, but when I got home, Del was already making one. Great minds and all that.

On Friday after work my workmate Sarah and I escaped down to Monsoon Poon for some very good conversation and some wine. She’s getting married in less than a month, and so she keeps asking me questions about things like invitations or social graces, or accomodation and stuff, which is fine, cos I’m happy to help, but it’s making me plan my own wedding something crazy, and hello, I’m not gettign married for another five years (that’s assuming Brad’s still single then). We were joined by the boys a while later, and then by Rene who is an ex collegue. Eventually KateB showed up to and by that stage I’d consumed quite a lot of wine. Sarah left and we had a platter of food which probably wasn’t nearly enough in proportion to the amount of wine we were drinking, and we went to Ponderosa where I watched Kate pee and she did the same to me. Not like, cos we were doing it in public or anything, just that we assumed that there would be stalls but it was one big room and so we decided to have a significant bonding experience instead. I was thinking that the bathroom looked mighty familiar and then I realised yesterday that it’s tiled like the one in Veronica Mars in which she does all her business. Ha HA ‘business’, do you like what I did there? (Yes, wow, that is a poo you should be proud of).

Somehow we managed to convince Dylan to come to a uni party with us (I did mention that the last time I went to a party at Jess’s there were both nipples shown AND a person in a panda costume), and we headed up to Kelburn via the supermarket for more wine. We probably didn’t need the wine. I had a good time at the party talking to Arthur and Brad who are at drama school together, and the fabulous Jess, and also Robbie, who as it turns out isn’t Lemon Cohen at all, and most awesome of all was that there was no one else from Salient there. Then Kate was a little worse for wear, so we decided it would probably be a good idea to get her home(*). When I saw Jess yesterday in Aro, she laughed at me for being like “omg, leave my friend alone! She’s been my best friend since we were 5, don’t hurt her!” cos people had placed flowers on her head. They laugh because after delivering that speech, I delivered Kate an all-mighty slap. Sorry babe.

Yesterday morning was consequently not much fun either, but I rallied by around 4pm when Anji and I went up to Mum and Neil’s for a BBQ. Boy it was hot, so very hot. I like BBQs. Then I went and picked up Karen and we headed over to Aro Park for the Bitchcraft carnival. I bought pretty earrings and we went and got fish’n chips and settled down on the grass to watch the Dukes of Leisure play. They looked like this:

I’m aware that you probably can’t see that much, but I’m hoping that it’s just that I have a crap monitor. If you can’t make it out, that’s a tree with a string of dead dolls hanging behind them. Anyways, the Dukes were very cool. They’re kind of sonic soundscapey like HDU or Jakob, and since I was lying on my back looking up at the stars, it was perfect. The Bitchcraft fair looked awesome when all the stalls turned on their little lamps. I felt like I was in an alternative Stars Hollow, and that is a rad thing to feel.Then I went home to dance the panda dance for Brad. I contemplated going to the Bitchcraft afterparty, but it was on the other side of town and my hands were still tingly with hangover. One of these days, I’m going to cut down on the amount I drink. For serious.

And once again, I think it’s been a while. And once again I’m wondering what I have to tell you that’s new and interesting. I got sucked in to reading old journals again today – that happens way too often, and man, my life was just so much more full of drama. I don’t know if that made me more interesting or not. Looking back, it was intriguing to watch me slide down into darker and darker internal circles – having been through that makes me want to clap my hands together and go “aahhahah it’s not funny because it’s TRUE” when those new depression ads come on, with people talking about how they stopped talking to their friends because they thought that they weren’t interesting enough, and how so therefore their friends stopped calling them and it was all self fulfilling prophecy, etc etc. I really like those ads, I think they get the point across really well, and they have the bonus of being all collector-cardy, like ooh, I can collect the whole set. But I think the point was that I don’t feel like that anymore. There are things I miss about the old me, like the fearlessness that allowed me to speak my mind and take the plunge like giving people the pop quizwhen I wanted to. I wonder if anyone besides me and random search engine guests ever read my archives. I know that if I ever find a site that I really like, I do go back and read it all, like Dooce, or the Julie-Julia Project or whatever. Ha, you can tell that I’ve been doing a lot of style guides for print, can’t you, with the way that I italicised the site names instead of providing links. Well, that or I’m lazy.

What do you want for Xmas? More specifically, what should I buy my family for Xmas? I have some thoughts (SPOILERS! Ha.) – Anji and I have decided what we want to get Cousin Iain & Anny for their wedding present, and she and I also plan on getting Mum some fancy schmancy cushions, and I have two CDs for Karen (Sing-sing (ex-Lush singer) and the new Kate Bush CD), and I want to get Anji a paedo-meter, since she hates children so much (hahah oh the jokes just don’t stop coming), and maybe the Pop Trivia Trivial Pursuit DVD, and I want to get the Who wants to be a millionaire? DVD for Daddy, but beyond that, I dunno. I can tell YOU that I want the Freaks & Geeks box set, and also the Veronica Mars box set as soon as it comes out, cos I’ve stopped TWOPing it cos I’m never actually going to see it, cos I accept that I’ll never actually be home early on a Friday night, especially not with the Xmas season upon us, and the assorted dramas that have happened at work lately. As well as our Xmas party, due to our location we’re going to be having a King Kong party when the movie has its big premiere. Wahoo. Over the holidays our offices are going to be renovated. The girls are moving to the third floor – or um, I suppose that’s actually the second floor, stupid NZ system – and the boys are moving down to where we were. Yes, that’s right, we’re segregated so that there are no interminglings – it’s not that most of the techie staff are male and the project managers are female, oh no. It’s all about stopping the intermingling. One of the guys at work was teasing me and another cow-orker about how we’d gone home in a taxi together on Friday night (oh the scandal of living a block apart!) and said he’d taken a photo of us getting into the cab together. I was like “yeah, the sex I had on Friday night was great – I must have come at least three times” and the other guy was like “huh? I didn’t notice” so I waggled my hand at them, which fits in well with me still thinking “why the hell was I giving a virtual demonstration of my favourite masturbation technique on Friday at Kitty’s?”. Oh the hilarity. I suppose given how much we’d hassled the hassling guy the week before, it was only fair. And in answer to my question about Kitty’s, I suppose it was because I was bought a shot of Green Chatreuse, and my skin started crawling, and I felt really out of it, and was worried that I would end up behaving inappropriately so I nearly went home. But I stayed and talked some more shit and oggled the owner of Boulot some more. Mmmmm proscuitto and rocket pizza. Now that’s what I like to have in my mouth at the end of a long night.

Since I’ve got back into the traditional “this is what I did on Friday, now this is what I did on Saturday” story-telling mode, I will say that on Saturday night the lovely Miss Lisa Fur came and picked me up and took me to her house in Brooklyn where we watched Fast Times at Ridgemont High (“you’re a DICK!”), and the The Office Xmas special. I shed a tear or two. Then on Sunday, Karen came over for a roast and so that she and Anji could finally see the rest of Firefly. I shed a tear or two again.

This bad neighbours TV show just compared willow trees to herpes. Nice. Man, NZ shows are so often so shit – which is why it’s so great that The Insiders[sic] Guide to Love is sooooo good. And on a drama note, Brad was down from Whaka-Carnie this weekend, and so he came over and told me that he got a grant for his trip to Philly – wooo – but he’s also going to organise a School Dance as a fundraiser in February. That’ll be k-rad. I’m suggesting he call it a Prom. Except then I’d need to find a prom dress, and I’m already having enough trouble with how much I’m procrastinating about sorting out my Loveboat costume. A slacker is I. I must say though, that having given up four lunchtimes a week does make it harder to get things done. Except for exercising, of course, which is gradually getting easier. I know I’ve been ranting about this lately, but I’ll put it in again for historic value, so that one day I can look back and laugh like how I laugh when I talk about listening to house music or thinking Pacey was hot (Dawson’s Creek reruns on Sundays! Season one! Excellent!). I am in love with the xtrainer. If I listen to swirly guitar music like the Smashing Pumpkins or The Cure, I can shut my eyes, pretend I’m dancing at a concert and stay on it for twice as long. Hurrah! Ha, I wonder what impression people who are new to Hubris would get from reading that sentence. Yes, once again I am all about how other people see me. That’s cos I’ve been reading about many sessions with Kalpana. Ahh history.

For Kate (Kate, do you have another name? There’s already too many damn Kates!) and Noizy and Llew, and for me, since this is all rattling around in my head right about now.

Lust, Gluttony, Greed, Sloth, Wrath, Envy and Pride. Which (if any) have you broken? Give examples.

Lust:
The example that first springs to mind when I hear this word could probably very well also fall under ‘wrath’, given the history involved, and how in that stall in the men’s room in a skanky goth bar I used to go out with the guy who was there with me, and also how I’d also fucked his wife who was banging on the door, so maybe I should wind the tape back to about four years before that, when I’d only pashed two boys, and I went to the movies for the first time with the gentleman in question. Just sitting next to him, our arms touching was so unbelieveably arousing that when I went to the bathroom and wiped, I was so wet that my hand slipped and I nearly punched the back of the toilet bowl. That was very unexpected for the girl that I was then.

I think it can sometimes also be hard to seperate lust from all the other things going on in my life, like needing other people’s approval to feel good about myself, or drinking too much, or needing to feel alive to combat antidepressants, or confusing love with sex, or having an overly developed sense of irony, or whatever. I suppose another example that would be appropriate here would be the first time that I hooked up with my stupid flatmate Ben III, and the following weeks. He wasn’t my type of guy – I mean, when I say he was stupid, he was stupid, but one night, he just smelt really really manly (read: sweaty) and the pheremonal connection was like “badoinga!”

On a slightly less disturbing note (I think), the character of Evan on The Secret Life of Us is so exactly my type that it hurts to watch the show cos I want to jump his bones so much.

Right now my head is full of pretty much nothing but lust. I haven’t had sex in a very very long time. Y’all didn’t think that I got OOS from working at a soul-destroying job with a really really bad computer set-up did you? Oh wait…

Gluttony:
This one is probably most apparent to everyone as something I have a problem with. The question then becomes “why is it a problem?” Quite frankly, I can’t imagine anything worse than being the type of person who would become obsessed with denying themselves the pleasures of food. To not know the joy of wine and cheese (CHEEEEEEEEEEEEEESE!), or fillet steak, or fresh baked bread with butter, or even dhal with fresh coriander on top or avocado on soy & linseed bread is just freaky. I use the last two as examples of how food can be goooood and good for you at the same time, but I suppose gluttony comes mostly in the form of ‘bad’ food. The thing is though, if you’re going to eat the ‘bad’ food anyway, then why hate yourself for it? Why not enjoy it? I would like to stop mentally beating myself up for it. I have accepted the fact that I am never going to be thin – I was born huge, for starters – so I would like to enjoy my life. At the same time, partly because I so often don’t enjoy my life, I’m more than a little nihilistic – like, if I’m going to get hit by another bout of crippling depression and decide that this time I can’t get through it, then why should I have skipped the cake? And please don’t start in on the whole “but exercise and healthy food can make you happier” crap, because I know that. That’s why I went vegan, and that was great for a while, although half of my enjoyment of that was a big “Fuck you, dairy and meat! I don’t need you anyways!” defiance that wore off. There’s so much cognitive dissonance going on in my head at all times that I could easily present a seminar on it in relation to the LTSA ads. Oh wait, I did that already…

And of course, gluttony doesn’t just apply to food, cos there’s drinking too. I like to drink. I will probably drink more than you will if we go out together. I like the taste of the things that I drink. I like the social aspect of it. I also like the feeling of confidence it gives me, which is not even about the wine anymore, it’s about me. If one bottle is good, two bottles is better. And while I have a few friends who don’t drink, and some friends who aren’t very in to food, I can’t help but feel a little uncomfortable around them if I was eating or drinking, because while I get it in my head, at heart I don’t understand why they’re not indulging in the pleasures.

Sloth:
Have you seen my couches? It took me a long time to find ones as big and comfortable as they are. I am happiest when I am lying down fully stretched out. I hope that when I am lying down on my couch I am in my pyjamas, and that it’s cold so I can have a duvet to snuggle under. I have no idea how people find enjoyment in tramping, or running. A leisurely walk in nice weather with an iPod and comfortable clothing might be okay, but I have bung-ass knees due to the gluttony section, and flat feet so long periods of walking are no fun. I like dancing, if the music and environment is right, but mostly if I go out I want comfy couches to sit on. Part of my perfect week off plan would involve a day spent watching many episodes of a favourite show on DVD. I <3 the Sloth. I feel no cognitive dissonance about it at all.

Wrath:
I’m a pretty angry person. I’d like not to be, but I’m really really not good at letting things go. Now, I’ve just been to look up the word, to try and figure out if being full of wrath makes you actually do things, because my only reference point here is 7ven, and I haven’t killed Kevin Spacey any time recently. Mostly my wrath consists of me not getting over things, and steaming about them for years and years. I have strict moral codes of things like the Two Year Rule, and if people break them, I get really really angry. I think more people should just suck it up and be miserable instead of hurting people. I am very very angry about people who hurt me and get to have their happy endings, because where the fuck is the justice in that?

Envy:
I am extremely guilty of envy. I envy people with pretty shiny possessions like houses, and DVD hard drives, and then I envy people without few possessions, who can pack up their lives in a matter of minutes. Mostly when I envy people I try to belittle them in some way – the phrase “skinny bitch” comes out of my mouth an awful lot, or when I see couples making out in public I’ll be like “get a room” when I am really thinking “I wish that was me”. I am envious of anyone who gets to hear someone tell them that they love them. I am envious of my friends who are having successful careers in areas that I want to work in. I am envious of people whose webpages get more hits than mine when they’re not even fucking real, Natalie. I am envious of people that I look down on for appearing to be happy with who they are. I am envious of people who seem to have taken the blue pill if we were going to go all Matrix comparison-y – is the blue pill the ignorance one? Well that’s the one I want. In a way, and this is disgusting to admit, I am envious of people with real identifiable trauma in their lives, and that’s something I spent a long time on when I was in counselling. I would like to be able to say “the reason that I am like this is because ___ happened”, and have it be all nice and easy like that. And if you think that I actually think that other people have lives that are all nice and easy, then you’re a dumbass. I’m well aware that the grass is always greener on the other side. It’s just that it’s often very hard to see what people would be envy about me.

Pride:
Hello, have you looked up the definition of ‘Hubris’ lately? This links in to the wondering what people would envy me for. Being well-educated, raised upper-middle class and given the opportunity to travel the world before I was ten and having parents I can rely on to back me up? Sure, that’s lucky, but I don’t know if it’s something that I can take pride in, because it’s not something that I’ve achieved – unless we go “yay little sperm, nice work on hitting that egg”. I would like to take pride in overcoming depression, having friends, being a good writer, but it just seems like those are all things that come naturally, or are things that I have no alternative but to achieve, so that seems dumb. But yes, I am condescending. I am snobby. I can cook well, and sometimes am capable of carrying out a good stimulating conversation. I used to take pride in giving really great head, but since the throwing up on someone’s cock whoopsie, my confidence in that area has been shattered. I would like to think that Hubris the site is really interesting, and I’m proud of that, but it’s not like I’ve got a book deal or anything. So meh. Perhaps pride is my least sinny of the sins. Rock on.

I’m not going to tag anyone – when you presume that people want to do things, you make a press out of you and me! – but please feel free to riff off your own if you like.

EDIT: whoops, I forgot
Greed:
I think this is pretty much covered by all the other ones, isn’t it? I’ll just go with the Hole quote to sum this one up, cos I’ve already wasted too much time: “I want to be the girl with the most cake”. Chur. But actually no, let me change that to say that I’m well happy to pay as much tax as I do, because I want to live in a world where the people who aren’t as well off as I am can still have things like oh you know, housing and healthcare and education…

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now that Annabel has finally received her surprise gift, I can go on and on and on and on about Pluto’s new album Pipe Line Under The Ocean. Holy fucking wow it is good. There’s a bunch of songs on there that can reduce me to tears if I was going to let them, and a bunch of songs – some of them the same – that make me want to shove my hands down the nearest set of panties (probably mine) immediately. Hott hott hott hott hott hott hott. The album came out last Monday, and luckily we got sent a copy at work so I could rip it to my computer, since I’d ordered mine from SmokeCDs.com and they didn’t arrive until Wednesday – which isn’t like a huuuuge delay, and they did make sure that i got them before my mummy’s birthday the next day since I ordered her Fur Patrol’s Collider. Anyway, I can’t recommend this album highly enough. Go get yourself a copy RIGHT NOW. It’s the nearest I’m ever going to come to my perfect fantasy of cloning the band and fucking them all while they play live. Oh yeaaaaaaaaah.

Now, speaking of fantasies, and fucking, and the nearest best thing, last night I went to a Fuckerware party and it was tremendous fun – although I ended up spending a hundred bucks more than I’d intended to. But really, when a vibrator is all shimmery and squirmy and pearly rotating and sixty dollars off, and lights up like a disco ball, how can one resist? It was the most popular purchase, and even though I don’t know the names of most of the girls at the party, it’s like we’ve got our own little club now, inappropriate as that may be to suggest to strangers. And the other thing I bought is on back order, which means I get fun delivered to me at a later date as well, hurray! Also, __ was like “omg, you’re not going to post explicitly about this in your journal are you?” so I reassured her that hey, of course I was, but I’d leave her out of it. As I did.

On a sexless note, hoooo boy I’m looking forward to tomorrow afternoon. Perhaps I will start writing the letter now.

Monday the 15th of July, two thousand and two

At work today, I was running MSN Messenger (cloud_tiare) cos it was on my computer and cos both Teri and Bridget were out of the office and I didn’t have anything to do except answer their phones if they rang (in the morning, I rushed over to answer Teri’s, picked it up and was like “Good morning Communications Office, Teri speaking” before I realised my mistake and I had to go “wait wait wait, sorry, I’m not actually Teri, I meant it was her phone” when the woman on the other end started talking all familiarly) and of course Skew didn’t tell me until I’d made a mad dash across the office for Bridget’s phone that I could just dial her extension on my phone and push 8 to get her call. But anyways, what was my point? Oh yeah, I was talking to Peter on MSN, and he said that there’s a theoretical petition in existence that I should write my journal every day, and so far him and Jane have signed it. And if he’s making up fibs about you again Jane, then I’m sorry, but hey, it’s Peter, and what do you expect? And also, I think you should write about wanking – people will think you’re weirder if they suspect that you don’t do it. And have I got Pete in trouble enough yet?

Anyways, the 13 minutes or so that it took for me to eat a sandwhich sitting outside in the sun froze me to the bone, but at least it was sunshine, right? What else is noteworthy? The fax machine in our office doesn’t like me, and it won’t work, unless i’m alone, in which case it works fine. I think it’s trying to make me look incompetent – and it’s succeeding. But I mastered it while I was alone, and so I resolve never to let it smell my fear again. So yeah, obviously a very productive day all around. I have two days off now, finally, then part two of my induction course on Thursday morning (this time we get a tour around the main part’o the organisation, exciting!) and work on Friday afternoon, then back to tech on Monday. I worked out my time table – it sucks. Well actually, I have no classes earlier that 10am, which is excellent for me, but I will be working 4.5 hours on Wednesdays after class, 2.5 on Thursdays, and then all day fridays. Grr. Still, money is good. I like money. Also today, I got 2/3 of my exam results – a B and a B+, but I have no idea which papers were which, cos they just give you the paper #, not its name, and who ever remembers those? Still I’m pleased, and will be even more pleased if one of those is Persuasive Communication ie: the exam I don’t remember sitting cos I was so doped up. And speaking of which, soon I will find out if my migraines are going to be a reoccuring theme.

OH! OH! OH!!!!!! OH OH OH! That’s the other thing I had to tell you! I got my birthday present from Olivia and s5 in the mail today. They sent me a Vinne’s Tampon Case and Journal! I am in love with Vinnie now, and also o and s5, but then I always loved them anyways. It kicks ass! Clay was like all “ummmmmm. ummmmmmmm. ummmmmmmmm” when he first saw it and I told him it was a coffee table book, but then he picked it up and flicked through it and saw how cool it was. I like talkign about bleeding, and now I get to write about it even more too! Speaking of which, according to my packet, I am one day late. Oh well. I’m all mango enough now to know it’ll be real soon, like tomorrow. Also, isn’t it weird how your period cramps don’t kick in until you go to the bathroom and see that you’re bleeding? Yes, yes it is!

Okay, that’s about it. Hopefully tomorrow I will be all domesticated and clean my room and the lounge and do the dishes and go vege shopping. It’s holidays but all my friends are busy working super duper hard, as per usual, at their jobs and careers. Shucks. So no holiday for me. Bops comes back on Friday – I want her back NOW.

Thursday June 27th

I am so excited! I got my first official letter from an official lawyer complaing about something on Hubris today! At first I thought they was wanting to buy my domain name, but no! You can read about it here. Hehehehe. I am so amused, and proud. I always thought that my first legal problem would be with defemation of character, not product. I will be framing the letter. And also, I have bigger plans, maybe.

Other stuff today? I made a 5th year med student blush. Dr. White asked me if I minded if he sat in on my consultation, and I said that was fine, so he got to listen to me hear about my migraines, and my lack of history with them, and we discussed where I’d been in my pill cycle, and she thinks that it might be because when I started the sugar week, my body reacted cos it wanted more progestron. So if it happens next month again, then we’ll discuss me not taking the sugar pills (yay, no more bleeds! except for like, one a year to clean out my pipes). She gave me a quick examination and said that I had ideal eyes for looking at, so she got the med student to do it too – he took like ten minutes, which was rather uncomfortable. And then I told her that the evil mad attacks’o pain came on when I was masturbating, and she said that was probably due to a lack of oxygen going to my brain while he squirmed. That shouldn’t have amused me as much as it did, but you know, since i’m having to take drastic measures this whole week (no wanking! no drinking!) it’s the small things that count.

In the evening after work I had a top secret meeting, which was kinda interesting, but it means that I have top secret projects that I really should get around to doing sometime, suck. Oh, story from yesterday that I forgot to tell; when KateM and I were sitting in the Korean place, this big guy walked up to our table and leant over. From the way he was looking, I thought he was a friend of hers, so I wasn’t that surprised when he said “Will you marry me?” but she just shook her head and said “no, sorry”. Then he asked me, and I too said “no, sorry”. If only he’d asked me first, I would have, for sure, but who wants to be second best?

Do you think Bops would be upset if she came home and I’d eaten all of her instant oatmeal with apple and cinnamon that she raved about so much that i had to try? I guess she would. Poo.

Oh dear, I just cackled so loud over something i read that if anyone else was home, I would have woken them all up. I’d like to explain but I really can’t without debasing myself. Other things that have entertained me this week is my friend giving me back ‘the slut crown’ and asking me what my first act after my coronation will be. Pah, I’m giving it up. Again. Hmmm, did C 3.0 count if it only lasted like, umm 2 weeks from my decision? Let’s call this C 3.1. Cool.

Thursday June 6th

Bed gets harder and harder to get out of in the mornings as it gets colder and colder. Bopa and I had breakfast in Grafton together, excellently cheap donuts and Atomic coffee before I went to work, a little bit late, but the big boy Bridget wasn’t there anyways, so it didn’t matter. Hmm, I just typed ‘boy’ but I meant boss. I’m a dick. Also, do you know who else is a dick? HORRIBLE MOOCHER GIRL. Grrr. I’m getting veeeeeeeeeery annoyed with our houseguest. Last night I missed a top secret but very important meeting because she had gone out and parked me in, and then I thought she’d come back any minute now, but of course she didn’t. I really need to say something to Bopha about it, but the thing is Clay wants her gone just as much as me, and I really don’t see why I should always have to be the fucking bad guy. Clay should get a fucking spine. Hmm, I was actually in a really good mood until just now too. But maaaaaargh – I mean, it’s fair enough to be pissed off after someone’s been in your house for four weeks without any indication of when they’re going to leave, right? I mean, this is a pretty small apartment.

But anyways, brighter happier notes. Trying to get gossip out of Justin about yourself is like trying to squeeze juice from a nonjuiceable thing, which is funny given how much he’ll tell you about everyone else not pertaining to you. I have things on my mind, semi guilty conscience and stuff, but not really – I feel bad for not being as sweet to someone as he was to me, but according to Justin, it’s all cool, so that’s cool, and yeah, end of story.

My wrists have been really really really clicky lately. I’m sure I heard Natural Ange recommend something for that – Silica maybe? or Zinc? I dunno, but that’s what I should be taking. Also, less wanking would probably help too. And plenty of other things. I should try and find the other poi that Jacinta made me, but I fear it has gone the way of my sneakers and vanished into thin air somewhere in limbo between Auckland and Wellington. Hmm, i keep going to hit tilda funny key cos I use a mac at work, but that doesn’t work here. Anyways. Okay, it’s becoming pretty obvious that i don’t have much to say, so I should talk about my birthday instead.

Hi, I’m turning 22 on the 17th of June. You can find my birthday wishlist here. You should send me stuff – if you email me I will give you my address; who knows, it could be the start of a beautiful friendship (I can give you references on that one). I’m going out for dinner to somewhere cheap and BYO for dinner on my actual birthday – and the best bit is that since Clay will be away then, I don’t have to invite Kara – muhahahah, so it’s just going to be my closest nearest and dearest, cos massive dinner parties are a little scary, and then having a (not hyped) party on the 29th, after exams, to which you’re all invited, assuming that either A) I know you, or B) you know my address and aren’t intimidated by my friends. Cool. My friends aren’t really that scary, even if they are a little protective. Maree came around this evening, and it was lovely to see her, even though she didn’t share her meat (I’ve eaten too much bread today and I’m craving proteins. This could also be related to me being midcycle, I think (and a quick check of the old pillarooni packet confirms it (I hope my previously good blood pressure hasn’t gone up drastically over hte past couple’o weeks))).

You know, if that last sentence had been a maths equation, it would have been fucking hard. Oh and one other thing – I fixed the links on all the pages to my photo directory – it should have always been /cam not /photos.

It’s back to the good old student tradition again whereby you have to miss all your actual lectures to stay at home and write your essays. I mean sure, there are probably more efficient ways for me to work, but i DO have to have frequent breaks. I didn’t do all that posture studying and physiotherapy for nothing, you know. Of course, the stress of the essay exagerates the pain and ache. Arrgh.

I offered Clay $5 to finish my essay for me and he just laughed at me so I offered him head and he said “now you’re speaking my language”. And yet I’m still writing my own essay. I think right now I’d probably give head for a really good arm and back and shoulder and neck massage. I’m worried that I’m going to have too many words and not enough source material for my essay. I’m also worried that amybe I haven’t completely understood the question, so I really should have been one of those typical horrible ‘mature’ students who sit at the front and ask a million fucking annoying questions until someone at the back of the lecture hisses “shut up!” because at least then I’d know that I was on the right track. But I dunno. I’m counting on the fact that my lecturer looks like the guy on the Wendys ads (the NZ Dave, not the dead one) and the fact that Wendys cures my hangovers and somehow those two facts will connect and result in me getting an A.

Eventually after I’d been working so hard I rewarded myself with a really loud orgasm cos it’s fun to be noisy sometimes and plus I thought I was home alone, but then when I went out of my room, Kara was sitting at Clayton’s desk pretending to be studying. She was embarrassed; I wasn’t. Later she asked me how I was and I said “really really excellent thanks” and smiled at her and she blushed. I was annoyed that he’d obviously left a key out for her though, or that she’d climbed in his window. It’d be nice if my house was just for me.

This evening I was watching ‘The Strip’ and feeling ill from eating too much Pad Thai with all the chilli flakes mixed in, when KateM rang my cellie. We yakked and yakked for ages and then I said “hang on, there’s someone at the door – it’s probably Kara again, grr”. So I grudgingly shifted my ass off the couch and found KateM herself standing on my doorstep, laughing her head off. I giggled a lot too. I like suprise visitors! You should all come up and see me some time. Well, assuming you know where I live, that is. And of course, just as long as you’re prepared to run the risk of me walking around the house pretending to be a Greek Goddess/beautiful movie star after a love scene.

Hmmm, when I was talking to Anji on the phone the other day she told me that her friend Gregor had been talking about me and said that he thought I was kinda strange because I’m very openly explicit in my conversation, and reading back through my journal entry today, maybe she’s right. I don’t really have any taboos, cos I figure if people don’t want me to talk about something, they shouldn’t bring it up. Anji said that she’d told him that if it intimidated him he should just tell me to shut up, but he said it was interesting. I guess I’m used to panda-ing to voyers (For example: Jason! we’re like, in the same circle but we’re not close, i find it really interesting that you’re reading me). I like pandas.

Right now I dunno if I should try and focus on my essay again, except I don’t think I’d be able to cos my arms are going numb, or try and sleep, except I drank coke today, or I could read. I wish Buffy reruns were on at 1am instead of 3am, it’d be so much better for me. I guess I have to make it in to my tutorial tomorrow cos our Com Strat is due. Jinan was supposed to be formatting it and doing it up all nice so I haven’t really got anything to worry about, except if she’s not there. I suddenly find myself full of Com Strat theory, which isn’t very helpful when it’s IMC essays that need to be done. Last night when I couldn’t sleep and I couldn’t do my essay either I drafted up a Communication Strategy Plan as a semi joke for someone based on a conversation we’d had at lunch the day before. I kick ass. Really.

KateB’s proposed outfit for me to wear as her bridesmaid: “And I’ll make you wear a high necked, long sleeved apricot coloured crushed velvet minidress with a massive lime green lace bow on the arse, and baggy flesh coloured pantyhose, with white open toed “Kumfs” and a matching white velvet scrunchie for your hair. ” KateB kicks ass too, and so I’m waiting for her to give me the spanking that I apparently deserve.

I couldn’t be bothered rounding up any friends tonight, and I thought my fiance was going to be in town but he’s actually in Raglan, so instead I stayed at home and watched teen movies by myself. Now, that’s not actually as lame as it sounds. Well, okay, maybe it is. But I’ve still enjoyed myself immensely <!– oh yes, I enjoy myself on average  at least twice a day lately, but that’s beside the point –>. But anyways. The whole teen movie thing kinda promoted me into planning to write a disection of my life according to teen movie rules whilst I was watching American Pie, but then I watched Cruel Intentions 2 and it was so terrible and amusing that I lost my plot. It was a porn movie without any porn.

So yeah, afterthat I really can’t be bothered addressing the myths and traditions and all like I planned to. Besides, I think we all know that I’d just be writing it cos right now I have a craving for skin to skin contact that’s not being fulfilled. I want kissing! Dammit, why oh why did I pass my Slut-Stick on? (oh, and think of that like a relay rather than a vibrator please, like fuck I’d give up my purple friend). Although of course the girl that I passed it to fully deserved it and everything, and I’m so NOT calling you a slut, but you know that I do blame you for the fact that no one is putting out for me anymore.

I got approximately two hours sleep last night, and of course I once actually got to sleep, Ben came home and was loud and so i woke up and took ages to get back to sleep, grr. My alarm went off at 7.30am because I was supposed to go to an 8am class, but I realised there was no way that I could make it,so i txted Jinan to say I’d meet her at 10 in our office to finish off our Com Strat assignment and that’s waht I did, although my eyes were barely open. She accused me of being hungover,which wasn’t at all true – I don’t know why I couldn’t sleep last nioght, but eventually i got so bored of tossing and turning I got up and typed ten pages of notes taht I’d taken in three hours at Borders yesterday afternoon. So yeah anyways. We finished our com strat, and then I went to see KateH for the very last time at her current workplace and Cam called me Babe and I swooned and then I came home and slept for another four hours. This evening while I was watching some kind of wonderful, Clay came home very briefly to change his shirt and to bitch about Ben eating his food again (I’ve stuck signs up on the fridge and cupboards with this little ditty penned by Maree and typed by KateH “This is Joanna’s food – if you eat it you are rude – buy your own you lazy ass – you realyl have no class – love kate and Maz” and there’s a list of all my stuff he’s eaten that I want replaced stuck to to the TV, you can call this petty but it’s just fucking ridiculous, especially when his rent isn’t going through either). Anyways, what was I saying about Clay? Oh yeah, he was bitching, he changed, and he was out of the door before he was like “ohh whoops,” and so he came back to hug me, then left again. Heh.