B A N A N A N A S. Plus or minus an N A

So, if I was going to be Gwen Stefani, which I wouldn’t want to be except that maybe I wouldn’t say no to sleeping with Gavin Rossdale, and I kind of dig the Franz cover of ‘Whatchu waiting for’, plus I think that’d be a good song to add to my workout playlist, I’d say that right now, my shit is B A N A N A S.

+ Smoo said he’d pay me $50 if I took a shit in his mouth. Hahaha awesome. To be fair and contextualise it, he did say that when I warned Bart that if he told me who was going to get kicked off The Amazing Race I would come into his bedroom while he was sleeping and shit in his mouth. I warned Smoo that I have some serious lack-of-fibre issues, although that said, I think eating an avocado for dinner last night was quite a clever thing to do, and it counteracted too much dairy.

I got a parking ticket. For $200. When I was parked outside of my own house, on my own street, in a quiet suburb. I wasn’t on the footpath, or facing the wrong way, or anything like that. I just don’t have a warrant. And the part irony of this is that Smoo’s been keeping his car in the garage cos he didn’t have a warrant either, but now he does, and yet his car was in the garage and mine was on the street, and I got the ticket. Yes, not having a warrant is badwickedevil. However, surely there are better places for parking wardens to hang out?

+ I did however, somehow apparently manage to save $750 on my laptop repairs by the guy at Bond + Bond “calling in a favour” as apparently the problem wasn’t with the power supply but rather that some liquid had got into the computer and corroded the motherboard, or some such happenstance. Of course, if they’d told me that the repair bill was going to be that much, I would have said “but I can buy a new one for a grand” and done that instead. But anyway, I very much snickered a lot at the way that guy on the phone was like “whoever is using the computer needs to keep all liquids well away from it”, all avoiding placing the blame on me, ala Fightclub’s “the dildo, not your dildo”.

-/+ My body is wacksicles. Because I have lost weight around my stomach (you probably can’t tell unless you spend as much time staring at me as I do, in which case I’m both creeped out and a little turned on) my pants are all about the falling-down-ness, but in a case of delicious deep-fried irony, they stay up by virtue of the total and utter lack of gap between my thighs. And now that I finally had a period, Mary-Kate and Ashley are deswelling, and my waist is becoming more and more prominent, and yet my under-boob rolls appear to be growing. It’s like having another set of tits, and it’s very very strange. They shouldn’t be growing. But maybe they just appear to be more prominent because my waist is getting smaller faster. But that’s okay, I can accept that I am a freakshow, and I will not drink Rum with Nate about it too much. Plus, I think I got the left hook last night, when I did a big cardio push and boxing practise at home last night. The bare feet help with the twist.

Snakes on a plane is obviously a cultural phenomenon (and when I say “cultural” I of course mean “what some people on the interweb talk about), and yet I’m having a devil of a time trying to find homes for all the tickets that the delightful KateH sent me. It’s not that people don’t want to come, apparently, it’s just that apparently tonight is the busiest night in Wellington ever. Just to prove my point, check out this list of my friends and their diverse excuses reasons they can’t make it:

  • Anji: Spanish class
  • Brad: crewing for one of the plays at school (more about that later)
  • Chrisana: working
  • Karen: work meeting
  • Kartini: not fond of snakes. I think she’s okay with planes though.
  • Katy: Real Hot Bitches rehersal
  • Lisa B: working
  • Lisa Fur: sick
  • Peti: Packing
  • Sarah-from-work: needs to go hoooooome.
  • Smoo: working
  • Tom: teaching
    I’m actually pretty sure that there’s a secret meeting of the No-Jos club. B A N A N A N A N A S!

    + But to prove that I do actually participate in real culture, last night Karen and I went to see Brad’s solo show at the drama school. There were four people doing their self-written pieces. The first was a guy who told the story of a typical night for a bartender, starting it with puking and needing a pie, and then going back to opening up the bar, and then the after-work drinks. He only played the one character, but it was really good in the “ahaha it’s funny because it’s true…. and maybe I should stop drinking” kind of way. Plus, he took off his shirt and showed his ass and he was built, so he gets bonus points for that. The second piece was about science, and it juxtaposed a high school boy now doing a presentation on atoms and his great grandfather working in the influenza epidemic in 1918. I especially liked the actor’s characterisation of the principal who made the audience clap nervously when he addressed the assembly. Brad’s piece started out comically with voiceovers about the African safari, as he was portraying a guy who sponsors five kids in Africa, which makes chicks think he’s adorable, but it turns out that he’s having some trouble with errections, as his monologued poems displayed. And then it got a lot darker, which was awesome, and also a little perculiar – I mean, Brad’s such a nice guy, and yet he was swearing, and treating people badly, and MASTURBATING ON STAGE. Or at least you know, miming it. Except without the beret. Those crazy wacky actors. The last girl did a more comical piece, which was highly reminiscint of The Nanny Diaries. It worked though because her characterisations were so strong, and because she staged it so well. And yes, so that’s me, at the theatre. Ooh la la.

    I’m shitty about a thousand things at work. This is mostly caused by the fact that I have almost no friends left here, and that sucks cos who likes being left behind, but there’s a hulk’o rage inside me for whomever it was that filled in the sudoku in the newspaper, and whomever it was that ran off with the front section, and whomever it was that decided that the watercooler tasted funny and put it out of action, and anyone who coughs and sneezes and gurgles at me all day, because OH GOD THE PAIN, THE PAIN, THE PAIN of it all.

    + Rockstar tonight! After Snakes of course, with Bart and Blair and Jimmy and some random guy from Anji’s work and his partner. If anyone wants my last double pass, you know what to do.

    My iPod has started to give me occasional electric shocks up the earphones. Huh? How does that work? Can someone explain it to me please?

    + My first Food Baby tomorrow, unless the No-Jos club declare it ain’t so behind my back tonight. I’ll be making lemon pie for it. Which reminds me, I really must start posting some Africany recipes so y’all can do Country Club with me around the world, yes? Yes.

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