Hubris.co.nz

Auckland is always such a city of contrasts. I got to Wellington Airport with much time to spare, so I read the paper cover to cover, perching preacriously on a stupidly slippery stainless steel stool, after surrendering my armchair to an army of annoying angry women who surrounded me and chatted incessantly and loudly. Of course being there early meant my flight was late coming in, and so in a hurray I decided to take a shuttle to my hotel instead of the airport bus. $26 bought me a seat with nine others, a long trip through Grey Lynn past Heather’s house and Canton where I was due for dinner, and I was the last person to be dropped off. Dammit!

But there was no time to fume. The Quadrant’s lobby was stark white and filled with scented candles. I rolled my bag down the long white walkway through the bar area and into a lift that had an embedded TV screen playing Juice. My room was tiny but functional. I discovered to my perverse joy later that I could sit on the toilet, blowdry my hair, drink vodka and watch TV all at the same time. What more could anyone want? A quick shower later, I was in a corporate cab from the Hyatt next door on my way to Kingsland. The sun was setting and reflected in all the shiny new architecture along Symonds Street. It was a beautiful view, but holy fuck, $18 for that distance? That amount would have got me to Greenlane in the olden days!

I grabbed two bottles of wine from Weta Wines, pleased it was still there and still open, and headed to Canton. There were still people at the table I’d booked (bastards!) so I went and stood on the street outside. Bopha came up and left to get cash and wine. Amy & Ross came along and left to get wine. Then came Martina and Heather. Robyn and Heather’s b/f Ben eventually completed our party, since Clay and Nige flaked.

I had been salivating over the prospect of dinner at Canton since I booked my tickets up to Auckland, and while the large group and noise of the place made converastion difficult, the food didn’t disappoint. As usual, I was appointed/appointed myself chief orderer, so with some deference to Martina’s vegetarianism, we had: black bean hapuku, sweet & sour pork, sizzling venison with ginger & spring onions, crispy roast pork, special black chilli chicken, sizzling vegetables and egg noodles with fried veges. YUM! Two people took doggie bags home, and with tea and dim sum and rice and corkage, we each paid $19.25. So good!

Afterwards we were going to go to Ruby for more drinks, but it was too loud, and so we settled on the Kingslander for a couple more bottles of wine. There were television screens EVERYWHERE, it was most distracting. But good to be able to converse. I like my friends. I cabbed back to the hotel eventually, and debated ordering porn from the in-house video system, just because I could, but it was $17.95 per movie, so I settled for watching Wild On: Naked instead. Genius.

The next morning, I set my alarm for 10.30 so I could wake up to meet Heather who was coming to the hotel at 11. We discovered that breakfast stopped being served at 10am, so tragedy of tragedies, we had to go straight for bubbly and cheese. As we sat in the sunny courtyard and I started to burn, we heard someone playing an electric guitar, and the sound bounced off the building next door. Given that Heather’d spotted John Toogood and Phil Knight in the lobby, we were happy to think that it was Shihad playing in our hotel, but it sounded pretty terrible, so maybe it was Grinspoon instead, who were due to be opening for Muse that night.

Once the sun got to be a bit too much, we tried to pay our bill, which took forever (the staff were friendly but not highly competant), and we got changed and went into the spa. Hurray! Yeah, a spa on a hot day after drinking caffiene and alcohol might not be the smartest idea ever, but it was loooooooovely. And then it was quite obviously time for lunch, so we strolled down to the Art Gallery, hoping to have lunch there, but found it was shut. Luckily Rueben at the New Art Gallery was open, so we parked ourselves on one of the balconies there, I had an average lamb salad, Heather had amazing french toast, and we had a totally unnecessary but very happy bottle of Deutz as well. Mmmmmm indulgence! And then just to show that we’re not totally cultureless, we went around the art gallery too. Upstairs was an exhibition called Making Worlds, which was really bloody cool. They had a seven minute animation loop called “City Glow” going on in a darkened room, which I totally could have watched all day. Although it made me feel far too Jessica Simpsony lame and pointless when I saw it was produced by Takashi Murakami and I was like “He did those brightly coloured Louis Vittion prints!”. Like I need to know that.

Eventually Heather and I parted company, and I went back to the hotel for naps and snacks, before KateH came to pick me up in the evening. We went to her beautiful house which is down by the water, and had a few drinks while we waited for the Checks and Grinspoon to get off the stage. Drive-thru burgers from Wendy’s ensured that our timing was perfect to actually get a park by the Waitakere Stadium, and we’d only missed two of Muse’s songs. We’re both so old now that we didn’t mind that at all. When did I stop queuing for things hours before they began? Was it around the same time that my knees started to go? But anyways, the gig was AMAZING. So good. When they played ‘Hysteria’, I had an auralgasm of the kind I hadn’t experienced since Dimmer. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm! Totally matched up to my dirty dream that featured it prominently in it. And we saw Amanda and Darren, which was nice, and left when they turned on the lights. And then we were naughty and had an after-hours spa back at the hotel, which was fantastic for sore feet and knees, especially since it was merely lukewarm. Best Friday EVER!

The next morning was Saturday, and I slept in, loving the bed, before I decided it was time to drag my ass out into the streets. I strolled down to Gloria to have breakfast, where my French toast wasn’t as good as Heather’s, but the coffees were nice and I read the paper cover to cover. Then I got on the link bus to go to the museum, but I started feeling all nostalgic and weird, because of all the memories of the route (which are detailed in ‘Link’ in 101 Stories that I want to tell you of course) and so I decided to just stay on the bus and go all the way around the city. Well, I got off briefly in Ponsonby to buy vodka and bread, but you know what I mean.

Finally it was time for me to meet Martina and David and also Karl at the Queen Street bus stop to go to the Lynfield YMCA for the wrestling. Oh yes. I went west, life is peaceful there. I went west, people had terrible hair. The ride on the 257 was pretty full of nostalgia too, given the two flats I lived in on/off Dominion Road. It was also interesting hearing other people’s stories, like where they lost their virginities. And drinking vodka from a ginger ale bottle made me feel like a fourteen year old again, and who doesn’t like that? We got to Lynfield with some time to spare, so we hunted out food for the boys, and I sang the YMCA song a lot with the actions, and we took this photo in front of the vets. And now I might just revert into a photo montage to sum up the awesomeness of the wrestling, and my brand new boyfriend with a spectacular ginger mullet.

After a cold long wait for the bus, we all started falling asleep on the back seat. Nevertheless, Martina and David came back to my hotel room for a while, and helped me polish off the remaining food and vodka, and I stayed up late watching E! again. Good times.

On Sunday I was expecting to have brunch with Bopha and Clayton, but she was stuck out west somewhere, and Clayton made other plans, so after checking out at 12 and leaving my suitcase with reception, I returned to Gloria to have a very very long breakfast by myself with the Sunday Star Times. Finally it was getting near time to find myself an airport bus, so I went to get my suitcase, and I asked them where the airport bus stop was, and they told me down on Symonds Street. So I rolled my case up to a stop in the hot hot sun, but couldn’t find any markings on it to indicate that the airport bus might stop there. I rang Maxx, and they gave me the number for the airport bus company, and I couldn’t find a human, but it did mention the route, listing the Hyatt which was right next to the Quadrant, so disgruntledly I rolled back up to the Hyatt, and the doorman told me the stop was right in front of the Quadrant. Cheers clever desk staff! So I was hot and stinky and smelly then, and worried that I might not make it to the airport in time, when a shuttle pulled up in front of me and told me he’d drive me to the airport for $15, the same as the bus, since he was going that way anyway. Yay! That shuttle totally redeemed the shuttle in. And so that was the end of my time in Auckland. Very good fun indeed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wednesday July 31

Lending your cellphone to people so that they can use it as an alarm clock is generally unfortunate when it means that they’ll be waking you up at 7am to return it and you’ll be feeling sick as a dog with the first decent hangover you’ve had in ages. I spent $5.80 to get drunk last night. This was made possible by being with four other people at Quiz Night at the AUT pub, two of whom thought that they’d be driving home (well, one did, and the other Bo convinced to stay the night) who nevertheless feel like they should contribute to the camradarie by also buying their rounds. Thanks largely to me, we came third and won a $20 bar tab. Wahoo! So we’ll go back next week to spend it, and so the Quiz host guy can give me more shit. But I dunno if I’ll go with Clay-bo BradC and JeremyO again, because to be perfectly honest, I probably annoyed them by answering too quickly. Oh I’m so smart, I’m so cool, everyone fucking worship me.

But anyways, it was a lot of fun and I bumped into Jonno again, which makes it twice in two days, and I was able to confirm for KateB that actually yes, he does well and truly have a mullet now. After the quiz, and foozeball <!– which actually, i didn’t play, cos I was engrossed in conversation and knees and shoulders touching–>, Jezza went back to his house, and the rest’o us went back to theslab (which is also our team name) to drink so many martinis that we not only ran out of Skky but also Absolut (can I drop in a few more vodka labels in here? there was a question in the Quiz about what kinda liquor Finlandia was. I laughed. That’s my housebrand right there, presuming that I was actually a bar instead of just spending all my parents’ money in them). I also made everyone my special roast potatoes with garlic and peppercorn feta, which I’ve developed a mad fetaish for. Get it? Ha HA. Hehehee I love Bo so much when we’re both on a mad buzz, which is pretty much every evening – we ran around for like half an hour saying “you’d feta not fuck with me”. It was hilarious. Really. And we played Agitation which got nasty and then Leo showed up and was rarking me up which was cool cos normally he doesn’t say much but last night he was all “sheesh, get two drinks in Joanna and she’s all over the show with the abuse”. Leo and I bonded lots over the past weekend smoking spots together and feeling ill at ease when Bo had friends over who were very much not at all like her. Eventually pretty much everyone went to bed and BradC made me a cup of tea like a good gentleman and we hung out for a bit, and then I managed to pour myself into bed.

Hence the hangover this morning, which was more than a little unprofessional, since I was meeting my client for the first time at 10am today. But I needn’t have worried, because she was seriously one of the coolest people i’ve ever met, and now I’m re-energised and excited about my course. Also, it’s been fun talking ethics and trying not to get in fights with people in my classes and stuff like that. I followed Kant, you went Utilitarian, and I guess you won. And I think I learnt some other things too maybe this week, but I could be wrong.

After Haley and I met our client, I went and got Wendys for the hangover and ate it while reading “Fast Food Nation” which I gotta do a book review on for Corporate Communication. It’s the new No Logo, don’t you know? And then I had to skeedaddle to get to work to sit and look pretty and make jokes about Yogi. That lasted til five, but was made much more interesting with emailed gossip flying back and forth, and then passed on to Teri, who just laughed at me. Oh, and I also drew a stunning picture of a stick panda dancing in a bamboo forest and faxed it to KateM. I’m clever and talented. I did actually do some work too, you know.

As soon as I got home from work, i put my pajamas on, cos I was still a little dressed up (ie – wearing my black dress, that none’o you woulda seen cos it’s Posh and none of youse guys are. Actually wait, I distinctly remember wearing it OH MY GOD it would have been exactly today when I had lunch with KateH right after I cleaned out my desk at Foodstuffs ten minutes after I said I wanted to resign on this day last year. YAY! that’s worth another drink. Tomorrow.) and there would have been no point changing into slumier clothes when all I was gonna do was lie on the couch and pretend to not be hungover any more and make more bad jokes about feta to Bo and have her say “oh Jo, you’re so Punny” to me, and feel like we were on our way to becoming Brad&Justin – ie going straight to hell. Are my sentences running away with me? I suspect that they are, eh. Nevermind. (Another interlude while I go to Bo’s room to say “hey, next time we wanna make a pun, we should just growl bearlike at each other” all intervention styles, and then we got talking about Leo and how he was mocking me last night and also how he was worried when I was psuedoyelling at BradC for kicking me out of my own lounge) My point was that when KateM rang me in Shortland Street, I had to put clothes on before agreeing to meet her at Hugo’s Frog Bar for dinner.

(another interuption while I go tell Bo’o the current scandals and gossip. She’s excited that she hopefully will get to put faces to many of the names and stuff on Friday night, but then again, she probably won’t. Also, I picked up a film I’d had sitting in my camera for ages, thinking it’d be photos of my 21st, but no, it’s from Graduation. Excellent.)

Anyways, driving in to meet Kate, I couldn’t find a park anywhere so I went into a dreaded parking building (which ended up costing six dollars, good lord). I had to sit in my car for ages though, cos bFM were playing a new Pluto song, you know, the really rock one that they do in concert lots and Milan’s all glam rockstar screaming at the end and everyone’s panties melt. We chatted lots and stuff, and she said my hair made me look like a punk chick. That’s not really what I was aiming for, but hey, that’s okay. Oh yeah, did I mention that I got my hair done last friday? I might not have. You can go look at the “red” jpgs in my cam dir if you’re interested. After dinner, I was lovely and went back to her office with her to read magazines while she finished her work. I am so rent-a-crowd. She paid me in zinc defender lozenges and gave me a fax that she’d meant to send me, depicting a fat panda with bamboo in its stomach. The fax also said “what does ‘macking on’ mean anyway?” on it, in reference to the contents of the fax I’d sent her. You do the math.

Now I’m at home again, typing away furiously in fingerless gloves but (as evidenced by this journal entry) getting up constantly to tell Bo more things. Bo bo bo. Fuck she’s cool. This isn’t like the honeymoon period either, cos she’s been here since April. We’ve grown into each other. Okay, I gotta go sleep now, so much so that I think I will load this up tomorrow night, cos my net has fucked up cos she was trying to check for phone messages from Leo, but he’s just here now anyways.

Okay, my minute entry starts…. NOW!

Got home at 5am this morning with Nige, Pete and Brad. Convinced boys to stay up til the sun was up drinking gin. Went to bed. Woke up to swear at marketing people calling me at 10.30 on a sunbloodyday. Went back to bed. Woke up around 1.30 to find boys all in lounge watching very odd movie with Charles Gronin from ‘Beethoven’. Movie was followed by odder cartoon. Lunch at Wendys. Retrieved my car from Ponsonby, burnt hands on steering wheel. Came home, talked to Jeremy. Watched TV. Sat down to write CV. Rang Kini instead. Read too much of new favourite website about Eighties Toys, minute up!

“Maybe later – I’ve got creamy goodness in my mouth right now”

Tuesday, June 13th, 2000

Fuck it’s cold! I wish I was back in the Lurve Tent. Yesterday Brad brought home a HEATER from his parents’ house, so I hung two sheets across the lounge to trap in the heat and make it more cosy, and it worked. Me and him and Clayton even all studied together in it to conserve warmth and stuff. It was cool. I actually even learnt a few things, explaining telecom stuff to Clay, which is just as well cos I ended up writing an essay on it today.

Yes, that’s right, I had my (fingers crossed) final exam ever today. And gosh, it was enthralling stuff. Me and Clay and Maree and Brad all wore scarves today, so we looked like a pack of scarfies driving in. No wonder the petrol station attendants laughed at me as I put $5 worth of petrol in the car Or as the attendant did it anyways. One day I will learn for myself!

But yeah, anyways, the xam was okay. I spent a great deal of thinking about Australia and about my upcoming birthday and about Dawson’s Creek and basically anything except the essays I was writing. Afterwards, we all went to London Bar, and I was really annoyed cos drinks were only $2.25 but I had my car so I could only have one drink. And then I started stressing out about money, and the lack of flatmate, and everything, and before you knew it, I was crying in the bathroom, but I guess that makes a nice change from feeling sick, so it was okay. Then we dropped Shirley home, and beat a swifty retreat home too, via Foodtown for wine and Wendys for dinner. Straight into the Lurve Tent, put the heater and TV on, and then Shirley and Jody showed up for Dawson’s.

So that was cool, having lots of people made it even cosier inside the tent. They stayed for Roswell too, so that was good. Actually, it was really weird watching it with a pack of analyzing girls. Kate M was pretty onto it though. And Jody was all like, understanding and shit, it was cool. She was very impressed to see the flat she’d seen so much of in my cd rom. Oooh, that’s right, it’s burnt now and handed in, wahoo! Now I just have a 15% report, and a 40% graphics assignment. Sweet as bro. Oh, and find a flatmate so as to cut down the bills. Maree rang me twice tonight while babysitting. I really really should cut off her privileges. Right now she’s having all the fun and support without the commitment – hang on, that sounds a tad familiar. Why buy the cow when you can sit on the horns for free?

Peter and Kate M were discussing my journal tonight at the bar, cos they’re both sometimes readers. Apparently, Kate M doesn’t like the fact that she gets the M put into her name, but I’ve known Kate B for like 14 years, so she’s been Kate to me for longer. I could call Kate M “Unpopular Kate” out of deference to Popular Kate H, but that’d sound nasty. And there’s already a Hairy Kate, and a Forni-Kate, so yeah, personally I think Kate M is better. Don’t you?

Oh yeah the other thing I did tonight was call up Andee, since she’d rung me yesterday but we hadn’t been able to talk for long since i had to study. Fuck, I love that girl so much! I had an awful lot to catch her up on, as you can imagine. She says the coolest shit, none of this namby pamby being nice like my other friends. Straight to the point, I ended up screeching my head off. She said she thinks Hugh is back in Hammy now – I am so going down there when I get back from Oz (FIVE SLEEPS MUMMY!) Other classic Andee quotes “fuck, Matt is so petty. I should email him!” which makes me laugh, even if it doesn’t you. I should really redo my quotes page in the whole blahblah section, since it’s like a year and a half old now, and not at all fresh and relevant. Boy oh boy it is cold. Wake up little toes! Time to take me to bed!

Saturday 6; Febuary, 1999 – Waitangi Day
When I woke up, I thought I was in bed with Kate. I was wrong. I was in bed with Theresa. I don’t remember her coming home at all, but apparently I woke up and talked to her until she told me to go back to sleep, whereupon I replied “Sweetass Bro” and did so.

Then we had another interesting conversation when Kate jumped on the bed with us.

Theresa: “Kate, did you throw up last night?”

Kate: “No”

Joanna: (giggles)

Theresa: “Joanna, did you throw up last night?”

Joanna: (giggles) “No”

Theresa: “Yes you did, I found your tshirt. Where’s my towel?”

Kate and Joanna: (giggles)

Theresa: “You used it to clean up vomit didn’t you?”

Kate and Joanna: (giggles)

The moral of the story is that Kate drove me home at 8am, and I gave her some nice fluffy towels, cutlery and one of the phones to take home with her. Then I grabbed a big bottle of water and tumbled into bed. I got up again at 12.30pm cos my BED was finally delivered. YAAAAAAAY.

So I looked at the pieces of it for a while and went back to bed, but I couldn’t sleep so I had a really long nauseous shower, got dressed, and decided to assemble the fucker.

God I wish I had a man, and that man had a tool kit. Two hours later, my bed was all in one piece, only the head and footboard are kinda loose. Like, hitting the wall with the slightest movement kind of loose. But I guess that makes it more exciting in a rickety old whorehouse kind of way. Better fill in the form.

So yeah. Later I took a nap on the bed, leaving it wrapped in its plastic shroud. I felt like a piece of meat on a butcher’s counter. That was kinda cool. I felt ill all day. The Wendy’s I got for dinner actually made me feel better. That’s sick and just wrong.

Sunday 31; January, 1999

kate’s the only girl I know who has messier handwriting than me

(copyright jan 31st 1999 by Kate Benton)
Clayton moved in early this morning. I’ve never been inside a truck before, but I have now, after stamping up the ramp. It was really kinda bizzare. I felt like I was in a circus or something.

So yeah, Clayton’s moved in, and he’s pretty cool. Definitely more interesting to talk to than Layton although he’s got a voice which is a whole lot like Dylan’s which is kinda weird. The one thing that annoyed me though is that when I was just sitting in my room, lying down and reading, he kept coming in and talking to me. Ohhhhhh the humanity huh?

Kate and her friend Theresa came over around 1pm and we all went to Wendy’s together, and stole lots and lots of packets of sugar because we have none. I’ve previously stocked up on napkins from there too. Wendys rocks for free stuff. One day I might just take in a bottle and fill it up with tomato sauce. They were waiting to get a call back from a guy about a flat that they wanted in Ponsonby. Eventually they rang him, and were really sad that they didn’t get it. So then we decided we should get really really drunk to de-celebrate. The only problem with that idea though, is that it was a Sunday, and liquorshops and supermarkets etc aren’t allowed to sell alcohol on Sundays, because of stupid stupid laws. So that sucked to our asthma alright. We thought we could ring up all our friends and invite them to a “byo and some for us too please” party, but then we remembered that hey! We don’t actually have any friends. Well, actually we do, but none of them were available. So yeah, that sucked. Eventually, they went to go visit Theresa’s momma, promising to return somehow with stuff to drink. (Man, I felt so fourteen again!)

They came back around seven pm, so I rang up and invited Shirley over as well. We ordered pizza from Pizza Hutt, and since I was feeling rich cos Clayton had given me cash for bond and rent, I forked over the money. Half way through our thin crust half meatlovers half vegetarian, Kate decided to ring up and complain about the crust, to get a free pizza. She told them that it tasted like an Arnotts water cracker biscuit, and from her experiance working at Pizza Hutt, that is not what they should taste like. The woman begrudgingly sent over a regular size, instead of a large. Bitch. Hhahahaha we must already be on Pizza Hutt’s blacklist now. Kate and Theresa were going to flash the delivery boy, but then it was like an old man, so they didn’t.

Anyways, we’d finished the one cask of wine Theresa had been able to scab off her old work, so we decided to go to Newmarket. Well – Kate, Theresa and I did anyways. Shirley and Clayton didn’t want to come, but they said they’d clean up, so that’s more worthy. So we went to Newmarket to play pool, not entirely sure where exactly we were heading, until I spotted the PLANET POOL sign. Kate and I played on a team cos we both suck. We won the first game! I was so proud. Sure, Theresa fucked up and got three of our balls in on one shot (how she managed that, I will never know) . Anyways, we got bored of there, so we went to the Carlton instead and had lots of shakers. The shaker containers were so cool that despite the fact that we were sitting right by the bouncer, we slipped one into Theresa’s bag. The bartender there was so hideous, sticking his tongue out everywhere, and shaking his booty. I use that phrase because that’s how cheesy it was.

So yeah, eventually we went home, and sat around watching some really bad movie with Christopher Lambert in it. Theresa decided she wanted pizza, and after calling some guy at Dial A Dinos three times, he decided he’d send some out to us, even though we’re out of the delivery area. I’m starting to get the feeling that Theresa can talk herself into anything. So yeah, once the pizza arrived and I’d paid for it (again, I was the only one with cash) , we realised we weren’t actually all that hungry, especially since it had jalepenos on it. So oh well. Oh yeah, before we ordered pizza, I’d gone online to send an email from Kate, and found myself being forceably removed (Kate pushed me to the ground then sat on me, completly knocking out all my breath and doing some serious damage) so that Theresa could start messaging everyone on my contact list telling them she was me, and that I was in love with them. MMMmmm. So that was vaguely funny only i was in so much pain it wasn’t actually that cool. What was even more damaging however, is when they’d been sitting on the sofa going “UH OH UH OH UH OH” so I picked up Geri and threw her at them as hard as I could. She hit the wall with a smack, and her legs broke off. AAAAAARrrrrrg. She’s a collector’s item now, too! So yeah, if anyone wants to buy me Ginger Spice merchandise, please do so.

Oh yeah, and about the note – that was Kate trying to terrorize my poor flatmate who was probably traumatized enough by the screams and giggles.