Sunday 24th September, 2000

It’s Brad, Clay and my one year anniversary today. That’s right – Brad moved in a year ago. We figure we have about 50 years left together as flatmates. Which is pretty cool. I thought Kate B was coming home tonight, but I guess not. Ahh well, I won’t be saying goodbye to her then!

Today we had our flat lunch at the cafe where she works. Me, Clay, Brad and Justin sat in a booth and commented on how nice it was not to have to cook or clean up as she walked past. She punched me. I should have complained to her manager. Then later when she jumped in the booth too, she sat on the end of my scarf and nearly choked me to death. That didn’t impress me much, but lunch did. Any food with lamb in it that’s called “baa baa” is just amusing. So lunch took nearly three hours, all stretched out and leisurely like, twas great.

I’m currently having Napster Angst, because I want the Gatecrasher song that’s on the new gatecrasher ads, but I don’t know waht it’s called, so I’m having to download like all of them. Okay, so that’s not real angst, but still. I wish my car stereo worked properly, instead of making all tapes sound sickly. There’s just a certain uncoolness in lugging along a ghetto blaster if you’re in it for the long haul. Then again, I was never the epitome of cool, so what am I worried about?

I’ve been reading Trainspotting, having dragged it out of Kate’s wardrobe blindly groping around in there (honestly, thiefing from flatmates would be so much easier if they’d keep their rooms tidier!). And of course, it’s written in a Scottish accent, which makes it a bit hard going at first until you’re in the swing of things. Braveheart was on TV tonight, and they were speaking in scottish accents, so I could suddenly see them all shooting up and beating each other senseless. But there were no drugs, which is probably a good thing. It’s very strange hearing friends telling you about their struggles to get into the methadone program, and having the program tell them that they need to be worse off and more addicted before they can help them.

Instead of packing, I’ve been doing little tweaking things like writing myself a new bio. It’s amazing how many things I can think of to do when there’s other things I should be doing. I have an awful suspicion that Justine is only coming to Auckland for a short time, and I won’t be here for that. Hmmm. (There you go again being a celebrity, Jus – just don’t let it swell your head okay?) It’s always nice that someone signs my guestbook .

Okay, bed attempts for me. Oh man, the other night, Tahlullah was being fully human. She was all snuggled into my shoulder and neck, and put her paws out to pull herself in closer to me. Then she was stroking my cheek with her paws and kissing me, little whiskery smelly cat kisses. I figure she’s actually a prince been turned into a cat, and just as soon as I find my golden ball and possibly stop feeding her the cheapest brand of catfood, she’ll turn into a prince, and i’ll be a princess and we’ll live happily ever after. That is unless the prince also scratches at the door when I’m in the bathroom.

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