Hubris.co.nz

The next week was spent in visits to the hospital, in which I’d cry almost every single time, so I spent more time fetching coffee from the miles-away main building and hauling it through the long tunnel to the Grace Neil building than I did actually sitting with Oma. She’d had another stroke, and possibly a heart attack, and she’d fractured her ankle and had pneumonia as a result from falling out of bed and being there all night with the window open, so she was unable to talk. Sometimes when we showed up she’d try to sit up, and sometimes she could squeeze our hands, and often she’d give signs that she recognised us – she appeared to laugh when I commented on how soft her hands felt, but the doctors talked to Mum and Diz about palliative care options. Cousin Andrea flew down from Auckland for the day to see Oma, and Cousin Jacinta came over from Sydney. It was no longer a question of if Oma would die, but rather when. Having watched Granny make herself stay alive until her sons came back from overseas to see her last year, I wondered what Oma was staying alive for. Fiesty Dutch lady that she was, every time I thought about how frustrated she would have been at her lack of ability to communicate I had to go and hide in the bathroom. Anji was wonderful, touching me and shielding me and talking to Oma when I could think of little to say.

Meanwhile at work, we’d all shifted in to the offices in the other building, so people were doubling up on computers, or “working from home”. Because of the lack of computer access, I went to see Oma in the mornings and then go to work and cry. Lots of people were stressed out about various things, and it was so hot, and I was really upset about Oma, and at the same time I was paranoid about other things (*), and that made me feel like I did when Granny was dying and I was just worried about the flights I’d booked to Auckland to go and see *IV, and fuck, it just made me feel like such a stupid bitch. I felt useless because I’d cry on the phone to Mum and feel bad about it because she was under enough stress as it was. I felt useless because I couldn’t talk the brave talk like Anji, and I felt stupid for feeling stupid. Plus, with the heat and the increased stress, I stopped going to the gym, and was eating pretty badly too, and that took effect really fast on making my moods even worse.

On Thursday 22 December, we were told that if we’d finished all our work, and if we didn’t mind being on call the next day, we could leave at lunchtime. Me and some of my workmates went to the Brewery Bar for very mediocre food, pinot gris, lots of wind and hot hot sun, where despite the liberal application of olay complete, I got burnt. I hadn’t been to see Oma that morning because Anji was going to take me at in 6pm in after work. I didn’t want to go in by myself because I’m just so bad at hospitals and Oma’d become much more unresponsive. we had a couple of bottles of wine, and then Anita guiltripped Dave into give me a ride home. They stayed for a cup of tea, and Anita and I gossiped, and then they left. I cleaned the house, hung Xmas decorations and lights, and cursed fate for thwarting various stalkerness. All that kind of stupid every day blah blah blah stuff.

Jacinta, if you wanna skip this bit, please do so.

Mum had said she was going to be at the hospital until 6. Anji and I got there around 7pm. Oma looked much worse than she had the day before. Her skin was yellow-tinged, one eye was open, and so was her mouth. After saying hello to her, Anji sent me out of the room. I composed myself, and went back in. We couldn’t tell if she was breathing or not. It really didn’t seem like it. There’s a question I never want to have to wait ten minutes at the nurses’ station to ask again “Is my grandmother still alive?” Of course, I won’t ever have to. Then the nurse got called away while I was talking to her. Finally, another nurse came along, and she went in to check for us,while Anji and I waited in the hall. Oma had passed away. Passed away? She was dead. Ever the considerate hostess, she’d waited until she was alone. Anji called Mum. Helpfully, I’d left my phone at home. Then I cried even more because all I could think was how much it felt like the Buffy episode ‘The Body’, now to the angles that focus on the medical professional’s shoulders, and how I was just in a stupid singlet, and I was all sunburnt and la la la, that’s not what is dignified at times like that, so I put my shrug back on.

The nurses had moved Oma onto her back and closed her eyes, so Anji and I sat down in her room to wait for everyone else. To me, that was the important part, because I was still a little upset that Mum and my aunt had decided that Oma was a lapsed enough Catholic that she probably wouldn’t have wanted the last rites. I’m not a religious person at all, but I guess I lean towards religion around death – like how I loved the presbyterian service at Granny’s funeral, so I had wished that she’d had it, although of course, it wasn’t my choice. But we sat with the body, and while it wasn’t for three days, I think it was wake-enough. Another one of the nurses came in to hug us and apologise for how we’d had to find her like that, which I thought was incredibly sweet. I have so much respect and gratitude to the nursing staff – they all seemed like really great people.

My aunt Diz and uncle John arrived before Mum, and when Diz started crying it set Anji off. Diz was like “Jacinta said that by hook or by crook Oma would get us all together to see us at Xmas” and that seemed entirely appropriate. Mum and Neil showed up, and then Karen, and there was much switching of seats, and fussing around, and there was hugging and joking and laughing. Oma’s death wasn’t sudden, and while she died alone, she had seen and recognised her family around her in the days leading up to her death, and I know that she felt loved. I’m incredibly relieved that she never had to move out of her house into a home, because she didn’t want that, and I’m (selfishly?) relieved that it wasn’t a long drawn out process for her death. She was greatly loved, and she’ll be greatly missed. I feel really stupid (again) because I wish that I had the words to describe her, or to memorialise her. Mum asked one of us to speak at her funeral, so I did, just like I did at Opa’s, but just like at Opa’s, I didn’t write anything down so I can’t share it with you. Instead, to really remember Oma, I think you should just go and click this link, becuase I think this is how she’d like to be remembered – always the ultimate hostess.

Oma, May 20 1920 – December 22 2005.

Oma’s sick again. She’s in hospital now with gall stones, but on Saturday she was still at home, so on Saturday morning Anji and I set out to visit her. However, we had to go and pick up Karen from a house that was not her own first, which was annoying but was also an endless source of amusement – at least to me and Anji, because Karen was getting more than a little sick of our jokes. I was extremely overtired, and more than a little hungover, so we did the drive-through thing, so then I was hyped up on caffiene. Ethel’s getting on a bit in years so we took her up to Ngaio to swap her for Mum’s car, which has the additional bonus of a CD player. We played Led Zepplin and I waved my arms around a lot like I was Bonzo. Eventually someone suggested to me that I only talk in rhyming couplets, and so I did (*). For like half an hour until we got to Oma’s, and then for a while then when I wasn’t talking directly to her (language and hearing miscommunications would have just made that way too hard). I suggested to my aunt that she might like to take the opportunity of us being there to go out and have some time to herself, which she did – which meant we had to stay for ages. Anji was great, talking up a storm. I was less so. When Aunt Diz got back though, she said that Oma had totally perked up and that we’d worked like a tonic on her. A tonic with gin, perhaps? It had been quite amusing to hear Oma telling us that Diz had been bullying her (much like it’s hilarious when Mum complains about Oma complaining about Mum not returning her phonecalls). Oma was also very very big with telling us old stories, which was great. I could have done without the whole “this is how much you guys are getting in my will when I die” speech though.

On the way back from Paraparaumu we made a short but scary stop in Coastlands for something to eat, and we all pretended to be Britney Spears with frappe type drinks from Muffin Break. I dazzled Anji and Karen with my amazing grasp of geography, managing to figure out a much quicker way out of the mall through the cinema. We went back up to Ngaio and Anji picked up Ethel while I absconded with the car and took Karen home. Then it was nap time, finally.

Later, Miss Lisa Fur picked me up for our hott bear-cub planning date, otherwise known as seeing The Phoenix Foundation with SJD at the Opera House. While we were waiting the long time before the show started, we played the “who knows more people here?” game. Because of the number of musicians present, we made it that you’d had to have at least talked to the person in the flesh for them to count. I only managed four – Mr and Mrs Noizy, Sam Scott and Nato. Umm, not to name drop or anything. But while I AM namedropping, I’ll say that we were sitting by the door to backstage, and sometime during the Phoenix Foundation, someone that I think was SJD came and collapsed in the seat next to me, talked to someone behind me for a while and then sat there texting away for a couple of songs before leaving again. Not cool. The light was really distracting. That said, the Phoenix Foundation was unbelievably excellent. I think I am now a huge fan of sit-down gigs, and large scale production values, and comedy lead teams and cute home movies with adorable kids and and and oh yeah so good. Yes. Fantastic. I think it’s one of my top three gigs’o the year, along with Nick Cave and the Straitjacket Fits. Ohhhhh yeah.

On Sunday, since my parents were at Toast Martinborough and the car was still at our house, I drove all the way around the Miramar peninsula, starting at the old Navy base or whatever it is, and then all the way up to Owhiro Bay and back through Brooklyn. It was really nice to be playing party mix CDs really loud and singing along, and it was sunny despite the wind, and just really great time to myself. Then I grocery-shopped, which wasn’t nearly so interesting, but had to be done. And that was the weekend, with a little laundry thrown in there as well. I am a party animal. At least I got home late on Friday night *), because I am a spaz. Today I am really tired, just for a change, although going to the gym has perked up my mood (who’da thunk it?), and tonight I am going to Serenity again with Lisa, and my mother who needs a healthy chunk of escapism right about now, I reckon.

I’ve been consuming media like crazy lately, and maybe I haven’t told you about it, so here goes:

Ohh, I haven’t made a public update for a while now, so I guess I really should do that (and if you’re the couple of people who are on level 1 who haven’t commented or introduced yourself to me and therefore haven’t got the upgrade, maybe that’s something for you to think about…).

So Jo, what’s been happening? Well Jo, that’s a good question. Boy you’re hot right now (as opposed to being SHRN), you could do with a shower, but that’d be the third one of the day, and that would just be silly. So sweaty and smelly it will be instead. Tonight I worked late, sort of, being a model for some kind of training programme that our company is doing. On Tuesday I got to do voicework for it. Exciting times. Other than work, and the gym (haha, I know! Crazy!), annnnnnnnnnnnnd umm that’s it. Woo! But there are social activities scheduled, honest, like Atomic on Saturday, and hanging with Brad before he moves to Whakatane for the summer (he sent me a text the other day that said “As an exercise for a class we had to create a two minute item that would be performed at our funeral. I did a choreographed dance in a bear suit. Brilliant.” Brilliant!), and SERENITY!!!!!! on Tuesday, and going to the Phoenix Foundation with Miss Lisa Rat Pony, and and umm oh, trying to think of a spunky costume based on the Loveboat theme of our Xmas party (I’m thinking maybe an entertainer? That way I can still look glam and hott and yet still be a team player. Wahoo. Work’s been full of all kinds of dodgy conversations lately (“which workmate would you sleep with?” – my response was “who gets paid the most?” but I was told that wasn’t a valid answer), so that keeps me very amused. As do of course my various actual work projects, naturally.

Okay, let’s try to talk about things that aren’t work-related, so that I don’t seem like such a sellout. Ummmmmmmmmmm.

Umm…

Ummm…….

There’s angst. There’s always angst. This is just the stupid giggly crush type thing, that comes and goes, and my little mousewheel of pessimism and optimism spins around and around. Today I think I am being pessimistic, but given the ache in my gut and lower back, and how I wanted to start crying when ‘I could have lied’ spun up on my iPod, I know that’s just because I am due for a bleed, so I’m not concerned. Mostly I’m just wondering when I’m going to get some clean clothes and do my laundry and that crap. Wahoo! Exciting! At least I had Brad’s text message in here to make it interesting. Please insert your helpful Loveboat tips here, keeping in mind what I look like (so I’m not going to be a bikini-wearing sunbather). Now I am going to go and redo my links page. Wahoo.

When I sat down and thought about a date to have my belated birthday party on, I texted the three people that form the core of my friendships in Wellington, to make sure that they’d all be free that night, and to reserve them in advance.

On Saturday afternoon, I got a call from one of them saying that he’d had to go to Auckland, and therefore wouldn’t be coming. Okay, two out of three is fine, and I was more concerned for his welfare. Then later, the second one called me, and said that surprisingly enough, complications had come up with something that was bound to get complicated anyway, and so he wouldn’t be coming. Righto. I’m aware that I’m being very much less than supportive here, and that makes me a bad friend, but when I hear through my SISTER about another friend being ***, when my sister doesn’t even know that girl, I get more than a little shitty. And this isn’t about the *** friend, it’s about the inevitable feeling of being replaced (ie: it’s all about ME. And also about the vicious circle of me becoming more pissy and less pleasant and therefore less desireable as a friend). At 9.30pm when no one had showed up and Anji and I had tired of taking photos of each other’s boobs (we were both in corsets, making us go “kaboinga”),

I decided that if the third person from that original trio didn’t show, I would move back to Auckland.

But then at 10pm there was a big rush and everyone (excpet for Karen) arrived within ten minutes of each other, of course. And then it was choice, and mostly very civilised, except for setting off fireworks in the backyard and forgetting that there’s a grannyflat with a very nice nurse called Eve who lives under us. Here’s a photo that doesn’t feature my boobs – or in fact, me at all:

Karen stumbled in very drunk very late and so I made up a bed for her in the study, and Al and Korina were the last to leave around 2.30am. I had a really good time, although someday someone’s really going to have to teach Joel that when you say “oh and this is my workmate”, the correct thing to say is not “but you don’t do any work, Jo, you just post on your site all day long”. Nevermind. There’s glitter on my sheets and also on Sebastian from my very good imitation of a pirate (everyone said I needed an eye patch – I said “I’m a good fighter and I’ve managed to avoid getting poked in the eye”). Miss Lisa Fur and I got to exchange Knowing Looks about something else too, and that was very amusing.

There’s also oh so much mess now. How can fifteen people trash a house so much? It just doesn’t make sense. And cleaning is something I’m pretty much very very over right about now, given that on Thursday night I broke into Mummy & Daddy’s house (oh okay, I used Karen’s key) and cleaned their kitchen and lounge for them as a nice surprise cos Mum’s been very stressed out lately. She rang me today and was very grateful, so yay, good times. And then I cleaned lots on Saturday to get ready for the drinks. Our house looked fabulous, by the way, with fairy lights and candles everywhere. Very civilised. It functions very well as a house for entertaining in, which is great even if my couches are so comfy that Al fell asleep for hours on one. So instead of cleaning yesterday, Anji and I camped out on the couches after a hearty lunch, eating leftover food (there’s still chocolate crackles and garlic bread and wedges if you’re interested, but sixty something jelly shots have been shot) and watching the last five episodes of Buffy Season VII, both of us crying our little eyes out over ‘Chosen’, of course. Keeping it spoiler-free, it’s the final speech that kicks back in as a flashback, with Buffy walking around in her living room wearing a fancy blouse that I can’t figure out if I love or hate, and then the girl with the bat and oh oh the tears they bucket out at that point, every single time I watch it.

I had a long conversation last night with Miss Fur about how dorky I am, in terms of how much trashy television I watch, and the Buffy obsession, and the reading of tabloids, but she says that my dorkiness could be endearing. Hmmm.

EDIT: Here’s another picture of me that Anji must have taken at the party and I rully like it. Please note the partial throwing of goats.

Mostly I like to bitch and moan about my own life, and only use links to other things on my site or my friends, to show you how cool/deep/SHRN/So No Longer Hott Right Now/whatever I am, because that’s what I think the interweb needs – fewer links. But today I’m going to spend a paragraph talking about Critic’s drug rape story. And no, I’m not going to take this opportunity to talk about how Salient uses comic sans non ironically, so you can see that this is like, totally serious. The scandalous article in question is actually really quite good. Sure, it’s vaguely stomach churning, but come on – I’ve read at least three books by Brett Easton Ellis that are much much much worse. Not to mention Blindness or an assortment of other Nobel Prize for Literature winners. When I was at Debate, for our first issue we published a guide to safety, which the International Student Coordinator type person loved, but we got no other feedback on. Cosmo seems to run a drug rape story every other month, as do squillions of other magazines, but they really are all the same, and with anything that’s all samey, you stop paying attention. The Critic piece is different. I think it was valid, and justified. Just because within student media rape is sometimes described as “surprise sex” (thanks to letter writers) doesn’t mean that it’s not understood to be a real issue. And Holly was certainly very very articulate in defending the article, as the media links from Critic’s weblog will show you, if you care. Thank god it wasn’t someone from Craccum trying to justify themselves (and not just because this way there were pictures of Shiny Shiny all over the news from the ad on the page). I think we all (by which I mean me) remember Honest Colin’s mumbleness.

Of course, all that said, as the woman from Rape Crisis pointed out, drug rape may be all the hot topic right now, but the big issue generally is still alcohol.

On a completely new subject, tonight is Go Out Drinking Night. Hurrah! Okay, that was a bad topic juxtaposition, but you know that it was intentional. It’s 24 Hour Party People tonight, hurrah. Before that there are leaving drinks at work for one of the many computer people who all have the same name. I wonder what his replacement will be like. Hopefully oggleworthy, although of course, after a conversation with Anne I have given up on all boys ever. In fact, I was tempted to call our quiz team last night “Death to the Y Chromosone” but then I couldn’t remember which were boys and which were girls. I think I remember Xander saying “your double Xs don’t look too bad in that dress either” to Willow (when of course they did, because Anya’s bridesmaid dresses were pretty hidi), but I’d like to think that everything I learnt about science didn’t actually come from a Buffy episode, so we went with “The McLeod” instead. Anji was going for “The McLeod’s Daughters” but I was like NO NO NO NO NO. We got 7/10 in Sports. Huh? What the hell? That was our average score for every round. We NEVER get that high in Sport. Very very strange. Nevermind.

Oh yes, but tonight. I need a new outfit. I always wear the same thing to Indigo it seems. Could a bar be bored of my boobs? Surely not. But there must be a new way to showcase them. Surely? Surely? Yeah. There, I mentioned boobs. That’ll be a good steady stream of shots for you all. Err, that’s shots as in drinking shots. Not photos. Thanks to Heather for being the only one to come up with any things for my drinking game, by the way. I hate the rest of you and I’ve flicked you all back to level one. Oh no wait, I haven’t cos I am lazy.

Work has become more amusing with the advent of having colleague (singular, and still spelt wrong, probably) on my MSN list. I am still loving being over with the young’n hips. I’m also doing more work that I’ve done before too. I have create a new style guide for us, compiling three together. Comic sans for Africa, I say! Oh no wait, no I don’t. Speaking of MSN, can I get a great big BOO HISS for Martha for putting a photo of the winner of Rockstar: INXS on her site without a cut, or hiding it or anything? AAAAAAAArgh. Stupid Internet.

Social plans for the week: 24 Hour Party People tonight, Home & Away omnibus on Sunday for Alf’s 60th, perhaps Jess’s picnic in the park. Coming up: Brad in some child’s play (I have been promised people in animal costumes), and also Brad in drag for his Caberet show. Hurrah! Also: I really must get my act together and plan my birthday party for some time.

Hott news!

Hott food: Pods.

Oh how I love pods. If I ever find out who did the copywriting on the box, I will be proposing marriage. I just want people to get out of the kitchen so I can go and get a glass of milk without the inevitable strange looks that grownups drinking milk generally get. Also a hott food trend: whatever the goat cheese from a great cheeseboard was that I ate on Saturday night at a very pleasent if floorbound gathering I was at.

Hott fashion: Morrocan bead necklaces, turquoise singlet bras, and boobs boobs boobs.

Except not all together. Well, maybe. On Saturday night, Katy had to assure me many times that I didn’t look like white trash. Actually, she never said that I didn’t look like white trash, because she just said that I looked hott – so maybe I could still be white trash? It was probably a bad idea trying to match my eyeshadow to my bra, but I don’t care!

Hott TV: Rockstar: INXS, NZ Idol, The O.C Season One.

Every week I love Rockstar a little more. I’m wondering though why they haven’t done any U2 songs, and I’m thinking it’s because of a HUGE BIG FEUD between INXS and U2. Except that I’ve just this minute remembered that ‘Stuck in a moment’ is apparently about Michael. Oh well, there goes that theory then. Or does it? Meanwhile on Idol, I am drawn in by Steven’s shiny shiny hair, and continuously repulsed by the Merkin, and disappointed in Nik and Teresa. On Saturday night before we went out to Lisa’s (Not Lisa’s, though!), Katy and I watched the first couple of episodes, and then I watched a couple more. So much more betterer than season two! Also hott: getting texts from people I leant my Buffy DVDs to going “Oh my god! Angel’s EVIL!”. Not so hott: people that I leant Angel DVDs to lending them to their friends, who then absconded with them to Australia, probably. Telling me that they will be replaced though is back on the hott list.

Hott way to kill time at work

Move to a new office. Have them give you a morning tea and a string of compliments last week. Be let in on a secret club in response to a scandal. Have workmates set off stinkbombs. Spend the day trying to reconcile transcripts with clips of Michael Hurst talking about Macbeth. Eat too many pods.

Hott personal trend: Agreeing with people when they try to insult you

This one is lots of fun, and incredibly disarming.

Hott entertainment trend: taking Dave over to my parents’ house in an attempt to save their marriage

Thanks to him, Mum can use the computer again. In the meantime I got drunk. Just for a change.

Hott shopping trend: everything in sight, but especially headphones, rechargeable batteries, groceries, hotel rooms, lip gloss, salt scrub and corona.

Every fortnight I seem to spend most of my pay packet in one go. I’m sure that’s probably a bad thing.

Hott sex life

:
Sigh. I suppose that’s what the rechargeable batteries are for.

Hott SRHNness: Still me.

So there.

Hott edits: Reasons why I haven’t posted lately

I was kind of busy. On a completely unrelated note:
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Okay, time for you to step up to the plate and confess: which of you has been feeding me castor oil as I sleep? Every morning for the past week about half way through my shower I have been hit with crippling stomach cramps that have me rushing to dry myself so I can make it to the toilet, and it’s making me run at least ten minutes late every day. And the pain still hangs around for about an hour after I get to work. What the fuck? Yes my diet could probably use more fruit and veges and fibre, and less liquor. But that’s not new. So I would like to know exactly what’s going on please. When I was watching Big Brother Uncut earlier this week and Michelle was talking about getting a colonoscopy I was almost tempted, just cos I’d like to clear this shit the fuck out. Heh.

Being sick at work (besides the stomach pains I have a cough coming on) means that I do more surfing than I probably should, and I have discovered that Llew seems to be making logical arguments on every single page in the whole wide web that allows comments. I don’t know how you manage it, but I like your style. I just tend to shake my head in disgust or yell out “fuck, you’re a fucking cock monkey” when I come across nasty opinions that I disagree with, unless they’re on NZM, in which case I can rest assured that there’s at least a handfull of people I know who will also be thinking what I’m thinking – and will generally provide the stats to prove my points.

Speaking of stupid people saying stupid things, I have a phrase that I tend to use in regards to annoying people who aren’t hideously ugly – “she couldn’t whine if she had my cock in her mouth”. I wonder if it’s possible to write asinine entries whilst taking mildly dirty photos in order to attract more attention (To which I could of course say: I don’t know, but I’m sure going to try it!)?

Other things that have had my attention this past week have included communities dedicated to discussing NZ Idol and the related craziness and viewability of the vagina (and all the way up through her nostrisl, it seems) of the Ginger Whinger, communities of consisting of me and Robyn arguing about our Internet boyfriend(*). And then of course there was that attempted rolling that my former boss also wrote about. Ha ha losers, suck it. Wait, that didn’t sound like I was telling Amanda to suck it, did it? No of course it didn’t, you were smart and followed the link and knew she was on the same wave length as me.

On Wednesday night I saw House of Wax. Paris Hilton gets killed in it. There’s some choice special effects. There’s characters from ‘The Gilmore Girls’ getting their comeuppance for adultry. There’s characters from ‘Dawson’s Creek’ getting their smack on. It’s a Dark Castle film, so if you like that sort of thing, you might like it. It’s gross out gory. Next week I’m going to The Island although I’m already convinced that it’s a crime to put Ewan and Scarlett into jump suits. Jump suits! Why, for the love of god? Why not let him get his cock out and let her boobies be splendid?

As far as weekend plans go, there is much couch & Sebastian loving scheduled. I also plan on making pancakes. As I just said to KateH in an email “I used to make pancakes aaaaaaaaall the time at Garland, cos I could pour one, go answer an ICQ message from Thomas, flip it, reply, pour one etc and the timing was really great, but then of course the Skank happened, and we bought clayton a waffle iron, I went vegan, and then Ben III set my pancake pan on fire and ruined it so I stopped making them. But I discovered that Anji has a really good frying pan for them, so I’m off on a pancake trip again.” Another winning combination is a my George Foreman grill and Beehive honey-smoked streaky bacon.

Other weekend plans include watching ‘Veronica Mars’ tonight because Heather Havrilesky from salon.com rates it, and because Willow is going to be in it later. Plus, Anji just got back from Samoa last night, so she hasn’t had time to catch up on previous episodes of ‘Top Model’ yet. Okay, I’m totally a Havrilesky groupie, I’ll admit it, I have no problem with that. What I find more disturbing is the amount of time that I’ve spent lately on whedonesque.com. But I do plan on leaving the house tomorrow, oh yes indeedy, to catch up with Jessie. And to meet Miss Ratpony, perhaps, although I worry that she might think that I am a dick in real life. It’s been a while since I met any new people from corrosponding with them online, the Wellingtonista aside.

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.

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!