Sunday September 8th, 2002
So my favourite new game to play on Sundays is to find a friend whom you know was more than a little drunk at a big social function and text them to say that there’s a photo of them snogging on the back on the Sunday Star Times. Muhahaha. Sorry.
This morning I had brunch with KateH at BoxHouse. It was choice! We gossiped lots, as per usual, and I replayed for her all the conversations that we’d had on Friday Night that she didn’t remember. The service was lovely and the food was excellent, and so it made for a very enjoyable time all around. But eventually I had to drag myself home. Haley came over in the afternoon, and we actually got a lot of work done – well, we drafted our first press release, and tried to organise other things, and freaked out about how much work we have to do. I’m so craving a time machine that can zap us to the afternoon of November 21st when I have finished my exams and we have handed in our final report and all we have to do is worry about how to wear our hair to the actual show. Not that I’m shallow or anything, oh no.
But of course, no time spent working on our assignment is without at least twice the amount of time gossiping. Haley’s like “Wow, I learn something new about you every Sunday”. Today was intimate details of my sex life, poor girl, oh, and also that I have a website. Hi Haley! Now get back to work.
This evening I did nothing at all. Oh, that’s not strictly true – I talked to KateM on the phone which was super choice cos I hadn’t talked to her in a zillion years. She says the reason that people love me is for my paranoia. I think she’s been smoking crack overseas. Then I watched Buffy and then The A’Team. And now I’ve done the reporting in to our mentor/client, like the good girl I am, and am trying to arrange my day for tomorrow. I can’t remember if I have one interview or two tomorrow. Uh oh. I think it’s just one, and then I have two on Tuesday – hopefully. I guess right now I really should try and plan out some interviewing questions. Dammit, I’m supposed to be in PR, not Journalism! Oh wait, that’s right – us PR people fulfill ALL the media functions while you others are just lazy. Call us the dark arts, will you?
Also tomorrow, I must send out zines. Have I plugged that enough? When you write to me to ask me for one, if you’re especially polite, I may even send out one of my last remaining copies of The Garland Gang cd. I wonder if I still have a page about that. Hmmm, apparently I don’t. Oh well.
And I’ve been stupid, and have been reading your old letters, and I wonder if you’re still out there watching, or what. And did I do something wrong, and is that MY editor’s tread I hear approaching? And just finally, no one calls me verbacious any more. And that sucks.
I did write up how I’m going to Welly, yeah? Yeah I think I did. Which means I’ll have to rearrange my work days to fit that in, and coupled with the fact that I’m interviewing fashion students left right and centre, I’m pretty fucking busy eh. Also tomorrow I must go to the chemist in Mt Eden and plead with them to fill my pill repeat for me even though it was supposed to have expired on the 7th of September – I so don’t wanna have to pay $20 for another prescription. I’m not entirely sure how beneficial it’s been to me – I still have pimples, and I’m still hairy, but maybe less so. And who knows what’s going on in my ovaries. Oh, that
reminds me of amusing critics:
landscribe says: uhm.. i have issues with how your expenditure and income match up.. you eat out lots
Joanna McLeod says: well
Joanna McLeod says: I have an allowance
landscribe says: and you live in auckland.
Joanna McLeod says: plus I work 15 hours a week
Joanna McLeod says: plus I’m good at eating cheaply
Joanna McLeod says: you too can have a lifestyle like me!
landscribe says: i dont have ovary and pill issues.. nor do i like dry martinis… i can only *aspire*
Oh you get my point. Shut up.