31 December 2008

This is only going to end badly

In an hour, me and Chris are going cycling.

Now, when I go on about my cycling and bike obsession, you may be tempted to think that I'm actually good at cycling. I'm not. Chris is going to find this out very quickly and probably won't be calling me again. Eek!

On the other hand, I might as well look good while I'm doing it, so I bought some waterproof mascara (in brown, due to a lack of concentration on my part, but never mind) and have repainted my nails that got chipped while cleaning the coffee machine at work last night.

I'm tossing up between two jerseys to wear - my red Specialized one (it's red...) or my pink Slipstream one. There's pros and cons on both sides.

Specialized cons: umm, it's Specialized and unless you work at AvantiPlus Cycles, you're guaranteed to hate Specialized... it's a bit tight... it makes my boobs look huge...
Specialized pros: it's red, and I'm convinced wearing red is going to get me laid.

Slipstream cons: I'm going to look a bit retarded if I wear a Slipstream jersey with my helmet, because they match... it makes me look more professional than I am...
Slipstream pros: it fits perfectly, and zips all the way down for easy removal. You know, just in case.

What should I do? Actually, I'm a little dubious about wearing any kind of jersey just in case he rocks up in a tshirt and I look like a noob.

Maybe I'll just text him and say I got sick...

30 December 2008

Red She Said


Spotted in Women's Health magazine:

"On the market? Be a scarlet woman. According to researchers at the University of Rochester in New York, men are more attracted to women in red. Most men, shown pictures of blue-clad and red-clad women, said they'd rather ask the lady in red out and that they'd be more likely to lavish money on her."

Interesting. Maybe this wee morsel is the key to my never-been-asked-out-until-Christmas-2008 predicament. On Jeanie's recommendation ("Rave: Polyvore") I hit up polyvore.com and searched for some red sets. The only problem is, we live on a tiny South Pacific island, so we're forced to make do with stores like Principals.


This was the only really eye-catching red piece I found on their site. And it's a little high-maintenance to drink beer at some guy's house. I guess though, teamed with *gag* tights, and a pretty-but-not-fussy hairdo, I could be on to something. Thoughts? I mean, thoughts past the fact that I'm being way too extreme about this.

I can't help it. This morning, I texted Paul for advice.

"ok, what kind of games is this guy playing? he came to visit me at work last night then texted me straight after saying, pop in for a drink since we're neighbours. um, neighbours? is that all? haha wtf"
Paul: "nah, that sounds alright to me. just a way to get you around and get to know you better :-) he's not likely to invite you around as his soulmate already is he?"
"i was thinking of sleeping with him rather than soulmate... but thanks for the insight... you know how i get"
Paul: "all good. i can tell he's nice by the way he asked you... kinda innocently and not too full on! if he does have an ulterior motive i like the crafty way he's gone about it."
"yes, what a guy hey. he better have an ulterior motive!"
Paul: "he's a guy, so it's likely :-) wear something hot. and don't mention you like fall out boy. you could jeopardise things."
"that's what i like to hear. and don't you worry i will be! yes, i tend to keep that wee personality flaw under my hat."

It's sounding promising so far, right? Paul and Aubrey both alluded to the fact that he's unlikely to be like "come over for sex" at this early stage. So he's already doing better than Donny...

Anyway, guess I should head out and buy every sexy red thing I see. Peace and love, yo.

philosophy: I must have it!

Sigh. So here I am, up at 4:30am, poring over Sephora.com.
As if I have any money left to spend! Still, I can dream, and this is what's filling my sleeping thoughts tonight:




Nom nom. I love red licorice. Not the real stuff, of course - the paltry, sugary excuse for it is much better. I buy - and eat - it in bulk. Yeah, so my teeth are going to fall out before I'm twenty-five, but as long as I can devour my favourite treat until then, I'm happy.

I've read that the smell of whatever you're craving has the same effect as eating. Bingo! I do wonder about the validity of this research, though. I mean, have you ever tried it? Chances are, if you're going to sniff something like chocolate, you're going to eat it. I know I would. I'm kind of keen to test the theory out with my very own "I Love Licorice" set by philosophy.

Will this company ever do me wrong?

Yes, it's the same philosophy that created the superhuman fragrance, Amazing Grace.




If I had one wish (apart from Chris texting me for sex, ha ha) it would be to smell eternally of Amazing Grace. It's that good. You know how, sometimes, you buy a perfume and it's amazing, then eventually the novelty wears off? It happened to me with J.Lo, tommy girl, Dolce & Gabbana Light Blue (though I maintain to this day, it ONLY smells good on Africans like Nyenyezi). Still hasn't happened with Amazing Grace. Even though I spray it on my clothes while they're hanging on the line, myself after a shower, my hair, my carseats... need I continue? You get the picture. My life is filled with Amazing Grace.

To their credit, philosophy also make a line of no-nonsense makeup. It's not quite the frivolous stuff I so enjoy - more staples: black mascara, beyond-perfect foundation, stuff that makes up the makeup kits of the more sensible souls in this world. Their Supernatural mineral blush offering is up there on my favourites - it's like Benefit 10 in that it's a highlighter/contour - blush/bronzer in one. Swoon.

Is it about time that I stopped singing the praises of a company I hope will maybe stumble across this and hire me as a beauty writer? I think so too. Forward-ho, onto more realistic matters.

I applied for the University of Auckland about an hour ago. A strange move, I suppose. I declared my major as Geology - which is a step into the unknown for me, really. Sure, they claim it involves a heap of chemistry, which I hope is true, but I'm just really keen to "rock on with earth sciences". I still wonder what happened to the pen I had that said that on the side...

I'm hoping to chuck some Anthropological Science papers in the mix, too. NOT anthropology - that sort of stuff is too subjective for me. Ever sat through an arts lecture? Nothing ever gets taught, because everyone is too busy throwing their two cents worth in. No, thanks. I'll stick to carbon dating any day of the week.

Interestingly, for undergrad students, Auckland has introduced the General Education scheme - mainly to encourage science geeks like myself to explore the arts. Gag. I admit that I'm a huge Shakespeare freak, but I just don't fancy analysing all the fun out of it. Thank goodness this scheme doesn't apply to oldies like myself.

The secret ulterior motive behind geology is that Ethiopia and the horn of Africa are some of the world's most important archaeological sites. The Laetoli footprints, anyone? "Lucy"? If I get good enough, I could just get my trip funded, and dig up some bones and shit while I'm out there. Rock on.

The footprints at Laetoli: proof that it began in Afrika

It's now 5:04am, and it's weird to think that, about 300m from my bedroom, Chris is getting up to go ride at Riverhead. I haven't even been to sleep yet. Today is going to suck.

29 December 2008

Bayswater Avenue Kiss

Okay, Aubrey - don't get too excited, it hasn't happened yet.

Tonight Chris came to visit me at work. As usual, I didn't recognise him until I saw the bike. I think it's rather a bad habit, but I'm not overly concerned about it for now. I had text messaged him this morning (first text conversation initiation on my part), and not received a reply. As such, I was feeling a little sombre about things, but he pointed out that I had his number wrong. Nice going.

Anyway, he was all cool cool, I think (and hope!) mainly because Mrs Singh was looking at me with this stupid grin on her face. This is the face she gets on whenever he's around, because she knows I heart him. He text messaged me once he was on the ferry home.
"you should pop in for a drink, seeing as you're pretty much my neighbour!"
Seeing as I'm your neighbour? Are you serious? Don't you mean, seeing as I want to sleep with you? Come on man, it's not 1699. Let's just have sex.

Don't get me wrong. I'm good with "friends". That could still work to my advantage with the whole, discount-at-bike-store thing. But I've kind of built up our "ferry romance" now, and it's going to be disappointing for me and my cheering squad (Emma and Aubrey) if nothing comes of it.

Maybe a drink will turn into seven. One never knows.

28 December 2008

That just blew my tiny mind

Yesterday I heard that my sister's former rowing crew member had died.
It's always kind of mindblowing for me when I hear about people dying, even though I know it happens to everyone, and every day.

She killed herself a few months ago. It came up in a particularly grim conversation about suicide, and while I get upset every time this topic comes up, her suicide really struck me. What a fucking waste.

She was my sister's crewmate in the 1999-2000 high school rowing season, and also represented our school in water polo and triathlon (again, with my sister and I). When she reached sixth form, she transferred to fancy Auckland school, King's College, and continued to excel in water polo. She was on the New Zealand secondary school girls' team, so you know. She was kind of a big deal.

From what I understand, she then attended the University of Auckland and had recently been in London with her fiance. Within three weeks of returning, for whatever reason, she killed herself.

Apparently the priest was less than sympathetic of her actions at the funeral. I find that a little inappropriate, but at the same time, I struggle for any reason why this girl would ever want to die. My sister remembers her as a perfectionist who never wanted to let anyone down. I just can't for the life of me see how being this way would drive her to suicide, but obviously something did. What a sucky exit for such an extraordinary person.

It seems overdue now, but I'm sending my best wishes and karma out into the universe for her family, and for her, wherever she is now.

27 December 2008

Sick of it all

Once you've made the big move away from Hamilton, there's only so long you can spend here on a visit before you slowly start to die inside.

I arrived here midday on Christmas Day. It's now almost midnight on December 27th, and it's pretty hard to stop myself packing the car and driving back to Auckland once I've posted this.

Yeah, I had a great Christmas - mainly due to the drinks proposal from Chris, and I loved spending most of Boxing Day with Sally and Karl, but this afternoon, the place has started to drain me.

I spent the evening at Kirby's house, listening uninterestedly to Kirby and Sally excitedly making wishful plans for a visit to Thailand. As if that's ever going to happen.
"You keen, Mim?" they asked. I looked up from the equally boring copy of Cosmopolitan that I was attempting to read.
"Keen for what?" I asked.
"Thailand!" they practically shrieked.
"To be honest, not at all." I shrugged. And that was being kind. I've never understood the attraction to Thailand. Maybe it's because I hate cheap shit, and even moreso, cheap shit that is proudly marketed as cheap shit. Add to the fact that the proposed travelling party is Kirby, Sally, Karl and Travis - all people I adore, but really can't stand the company of as a group. Kirby and Karl are directionally, common sensically, and any other kind of challenged you can think of. Travis thinks he knows everything, but doesn't. Sally does know everything.

There is no way I would ever want to go anywhere with them. They are like their own little family, which is great - but I'm the weird cousin. It would be pretty much akin to hell.

If it's any consolation, this trip will never actually get off the ground, which is all the more reason not to want to be a part of it.

After I left Kirby's (she and Sally had decided to walk to Karl's - literally on the other side of town - drunk), Sally text messaged me, worried that I was upset about something. I think I just miss my flatmates.

Roll on tomorrow... I can't wait to be back in Bayswater.

26 December 2008

Sally's Home!!!


Sally hasn't received a huge amount of publicity from me, largely due to the fact that since before I started my blog, she's been in France, wondering around the place. Okay, tramping from Paris to the Spanish border, but you know.

Sally, with her brother Jack, in Barcelona


She got back on Tuesday! I'm so glad I'm in Hamilton.

Sally is the coolest person EVER. I mentioned her in my "Secrets" post.
"Jen is my best friend, but I literally worship the ground Sally Taylor walks on."

I've known her since I was fourteen years old, and since then she's never ceased to amaze me with her old-personlike wisdom. She's an old soul trapped in a stylish twenty-one year-old's body. Like Alex, she's a history student. Sally is fluent in French and Spanish, and can also work her way around Portuguese. Talented!

Her worldliness comes in part from the number of places she's been to - France, Spain, Latvia, and many other countries in Europe and South America. She also happens to be filled with an abnormal amount of common sense, that I sometimes wish she would share. When I have problems, more often than not, it's Sal that helps me find the answer.

This afternoon I'm going to hang with her. We planned it on Tuesday afternoon, and I've been like a cat on hot coals since then. I actually CAN'T WAIT.


This morning my mum and I hit the "Boxing Day Sales". Every year, these disappoint me. It seems to be because the things I want are never on sale, so I could in effect go out and shop on any other day of the year and spend the same amount. We bumped in Danielle and Alex, which was a highlight.

In another out-of-my-price-range purchase, I bought my new Vodafone phone. It was $400, the same as my helmet, and my Ethiopia savings account is looking worse for wear. I'm stoked, though. Now I can call Harjeet for free in the weekends. A new challenge is going to be keeping tabs on Donny. This is the fourth number I've had in the last year - all in attempts to break free from him. Every time, he gets it and calls me. Damn you, Donny! You will NOT learn of this number!

The rest of you can text my Telecom number if you need it.

Peace.

25 December 2008

V for Victory

Well, it's not that my day got off to a marvellous start, but I feel that I've more than made up for it.

This morning I woke up at 7:42am and had breakfast with Sam. Rex and Sara had already gone home, so it was up to us to bring Christmas spirit to 2/70. Luckily, Sam is a jolly guy, so we had a great time, chatting and eating breakfast.
"It was quite weird, to wake up alone." he said "But you're here!" I felt quite special. I think Sam's last few Christmases have been spent with his ex-girlfriend Libby, who I don't know a lot about, but do wonder if she is kicking herself over their break-up.

I woke up in yesterday's clothes, not having been bothered to get changed when I arrived home from work at midnight. Nice.

Eventually I got on the road to Hamilton. Our plans changed - since my work roster is allowing me time off making coffee until next Monday, I'm staying down here in Hamilton until Sunday. Alright! My mum had txted me at about 8am to remind me to bring the "V for Vendetta" DVD home, that I rented when I was last here.

Just before the Onehunga / Howick-Pakuranga exit (about fifteen minutes' 120km/hr drive from Bayswater), I realised I didn't have it. Can you believe it? Probably, if you know how shot my short-term memory is these days. Anyway, I got off at the exit and took the loop road back onto SH1 and headed back to the North Shore.

As luck would have it, I drove past Chris on Lake Road. He recognised me because I brought Othello home on the bike rack for the holiday.
"hey, you just drove past me! have a good xmas" read the next message on my cellphone. Uh oh.
"where were you? i forgot some stuff."
"outside takapuna grammar."
"hmm, i've driven past there four times now, today."
"are you serious? well, give me a txt in the new year. we'll go out for a drink."

Are you serious?! He totally just asked me out. I don't care how informal it was. Or that it was via text message. Chris asked me out. It's Christmas Day. I'm fucking stoked.

I would text everyone in my phonebook (all five of them) to tell them about my victory, but it's Christmas Day. No-one needs to hear about that. Instead, I'm blogging about it so y'all can bask in my happy glow.

Hands down, best Christmas EVER.

It's Christmas! Go Home!

It's 11:45pm. Christmas Eve. Downtown Auckland.

Why am I stuck in traffic?

Why are there people out in cars, clogging up Quay Street? On
Christmas Eve?

Go home, and go to bed. Don't you people know that Santa doesn't give presents to people that are awake? For goodness sake.

I worked the closing shift at Esquires tonight, which is why I was out. I can't say so much for the other fifty cars in Auckland tonight. One guy came in, drunk. It's Christmas, idiots, not New Years! Get some dignity.

Tonight was a funny evening. There was the drunk guy, some other guy who couldn't afford his coffee (and who left me his number on a paper bag when he left), a ferry captain, and some other miscellaneous lost souls. Granted, a few of these people were on the late sailing to Waiheke, but the rest of them... I have no idea. Take the broke guy, for instance. Saunters in, asks for the cheapest hot thing he can eat, so I prepare him a sausage roll. He wants coffee too. A long black. Only he doesn't have enough money. He's nice enough, not creepy like some of the guys that pass through here, so I just make him one on the house. He sits by himself at a table close to the counter and watches me while I serve the drunk guy and his lovely girlfriend. Later on, when he leaves to catch the Birkenhead ferry, he doesn't do so before leaving a paper bag with "Call me", his name and his number written on it. Clearly, he's all class.

And then there's the ferry captain.
"I'm looking for ways to relieve my stress. I'm drinking coffee. Thinking of starting smoking. And then becoming an alcoholic." I make him a caramel latte, because he doesn't really like coffee. Then he tells me about his girlfriend, who recently left him - his baby in tow. Yikes. I tell him about how Donny left me and scarpered off to India. It's not really the same. He also gives me his number.

I'm doing pretty well. In the last twenty-two years (nearly twenty-three), I've been given four numbers.
1. Donny
2. Chris
3. The broke guy
4. The ferry captain
Curtis gave me his room number the night I met him in Canada, which sounds a lot less classy than it ended up being.

I'm in a happy place.

It's Christmas!

24 December 2008

The Greatest Story Ever Told *cough*


In an apparent attempt to break the record for number of stupid blogs posted in one day, I'm back again. Attacking the mic, or something along those lines...

Due to some momentary lapse of reason (I have them a lot), I thought it would be a stellar idea to brave the Christmas Eve crowds at the Albany "Mega Centre". As previously mentioned, when they named it "mega", they were for real. Finding a park was less drama than expected, and put me in good stead for the rest of the trip.

The main motivation for this trip was to buy a new phone. A Nokia 5310 on Vodafone Supa Prepay, to be exact. That was what I wanted, and all I wanted to leave the mall with. But it was not to be. Of course, my efforts went unrewarded as the stupid Vodafone guy told me they had no stock, and the only store that did was Onehunga. See below for a map. (For easy reference, assume "A" is the Albany mall, and "B" is the Onehunga mall.)


On Christmas Eve? No, thank you.

I asked my stupid Vodafone friend if anywhere in Hamilton had any in stock.
"Onehunga is on the way to Hamilton." he replied. My, what great geography skills you have! But that didn't answer my question, now did it? Turns out they do have one, at Centreplace, Becky's old stomping ground. Naturally, when I tried to call them to reserve it until Boxing Day, I didn't have enough credit on my Telecom mobile. But I refuse to top up, given that hopefully within two days, I will have no use for Telecom credit. Yargh!! Now, I'm pinning my hopes on no-one buying one before I get there. It seems a reasonable hope, but one that will probably be dashed simply because the entire universe seems to be gravitating against me. Maybe it's because I drew a dick on Donny's face on that billboard...

Anyway, I also went to the Life Pharmacy up in Albany to purchase my Bionic Mascara (wow, spending much on myself?). Being the consumer that I am, I was also sold on Smashbox's Halo powder, and bought some of that too. So now, not only do I not have enough petrol money to get home for the holiday, I'm also not going to be able to buy my phone anyway!!

I thought I'd curbed my spending habits. The world makes sense again.

New Mascara?!

Uh oh.

Just when I'd made the decision to buy Smashbox's Bionic Mascara, I get an email from the ever-faithful Sephora email fairy about Bare Escentuals Buxom Lash.  What to do?!


I admit the main motivation for Bionic is that Dazzle Lash hasn't yet arrived the mighty Aotearoa. Lucky for me, I have contacts at MAC, so as soon as that hits our country, I'm all over it like white on rice. I went to the Albany Westfield the other day ("I can't believe how big it is! Even the
rooves are big!" I later exclaimed to Sara, bewildered.) and tried out Bionic. The main drawcard was its lash-lifting effect. Seriously, I had no idea how much Telescopic pulled my lashes down until I wore it on one eye with Bionic on the other. Impressive.

I don't even have to pay for it myself, either. Hadleigh is giving me the money for me to buy it as a Christmas present from him. This is because even after three months of living with me, Hadleigh doesn't actually know what mascara is, or what it's for.

Sweet deal, yo.

But now, along comes Buxom Lash. Did you SEE the wand on that thing?! I'm kind of taken by it. Granted, not a huge fan of Bare Escentuals - mainly because of their monopoly on the foundation market at the moment - but I'm still all woozy over it. What's a girl to do!?

Admittedly, I'm going to have to wait until I hit the States next year to buy Buxom Lash anyway, and I'm unwilling to hold off on my other mascara purchases for that reason. I think, in all honesty, I'm going to end up with three mascaras: Bionic, Dazzle Lash and Buxom Lash. And I don't mind one bit.

A Memory Of What It Felt Like


Wow, not that you can even tell, but this was a collection of lyrics from about fifty songs that at the time seemed appropriate to our situation. Of course now I just seem like a lovesick puppy.

The worst thing of all though was not the months and months of tears, or the spelling mistake, or the fact that the "In Your Hands" page got a bit fucked in the manufacturing process. It was that late one night, when Donny had called me to go visit him for unnamely activities, he told m that he never read the card, only used it for my number.

Fail.

In His Hands


This page was the most disappointing because after printing, the care I took to opacise (is that a word?) the background was lost in a haze of... tan? I don't even know what colour it is, but in the background I'd typed ALL the lyrics to "In Your Hands" by Thrice. What I should have done was changed the colour of the font, but I went with dampening the opacity, and you couldn't really see anything. Sucks, because the crux of the card was really in those words. Never mind though, hey?

Adore


This is my favourite part of the card. It's the inside left-hand side... if that makes sense?

It features lyrics from the Smashing Pumpkins' "Ava Adore", and Rise Against's "Swing Life Away". The photo is one I took myself in Santa Monica last year, from Ocean Avenue looking down on the Pacific Coast Highway.

A Rug's Topography


Say hello to the rug's topography 
It holds quite a lot of interest with your face down on it 
Say hello to the shrinking in your head 
You can't see it but you know its there so don't neglect it

So begins A Perfect Circle's "The Nurse Who Loved Me", from their 2003 offering, Thirteenth Step. Back when Donny and I were close (2004 in this instance), he brought it up often, and so it became the inspiration for the front of the now infamous birthday card I made him this year.

The "rug" was made from a design Kirby created for her "K.E.S" exhibition in 2007. I used it because it's made from the letter "S". Oops, did I just give away Donny's real identity? Anyway, also featured is a spelling mistake. Instead of typing "it's supposed to be a rugs topography", closer inspection reveals that it reads "it's supposed ot be a rugs topography". I didn't actually detect this until a few months after sending it, which still cuts me up a little inside.

23 December 2008

Look what I just bought...


A Christmas Carol

It only really dawned on me just now, after having read Jeanie's "Yuletide Showdown" that it's Christmas time. Sure, I can't go anywhere without hearing my least favourite style of music - carols, and every second customer who bothers to speak to me (past barking their order for coffee at me) asks if I've completed my Christmas shopping (I haven't), but I guess it's proof of my self-absorbed nature that I have mainly been too internally focused to have noticed.

Christmas has never been one of those family occasions for me. Growing up, it was spent with my parents and sister, because we're the only members of our family that live here. Everyone else is spattered across England and Uzbekistan. My parents relocated to the Land of the Long White Cloud in January of 1983, and spent the following five years living six months here, and six months in Coventry, England. I've had one Christmas with my grandma, and none with any other extended family. That's just how we roll.

The last few Christmases don't even register in my memory, really. Ours are so low-key these days. Last year we didn't even have a tree. I probably spent the day on my bike, as I competed in the Surfbreaker Triathlon two days later. The last one I can recall actual details from was 2004, because mum had a glass of champagne and got drunk. I got drunk later in the evening and went home with an old friend, with the intent of sleeping. He had different ideas. I was eighteen years old, and pretty appalled. On Boxing Day, we went on a family clothes shopping expedition of sorts with Donny's family. How times have changed.

This year, my mum and dad are spending Christmas day at 2/70 with me. Rex, Sara and Steph are flitting around the Auckland / Northland areas, visiting family over Christmas and Boxing days, and Sam - well, I haven't actually asked, but one assumes he's having "a quiet one with the iPod" or something to that effect. Originally, I was going to go back to Cowtown for the days surrounding the "birth of baby cheeses", but due to my declining vision and motorway awareness, they're braving SH1 to come and enjoy my 'hood.


Today I visited Bike75. It wasn't the most straightforward experience I've ever had - it took me three attempts and laps of the Sale Street block before I finally got it right, found a park and wondered on in to find Chris. As luck would have it, he wasn't around, but appeared while I was talking to his workmate about my Garmin helmet. He then hung around, offered me directions to work, asked why I hadn't been on the ferry this morning, commented on my neat handwriting, and said he would text me later on. He did, but not to ask me out like I hoped. Instead, he asked if his directions were sufficient, and said he looked forward to calling me when my helmet arrives.

I don't remember a time where I've been this excited about waiting for a boy to call me. Whether this is because usually calls from Donny come between 2 and 4am, and are influenced by ever-increasing amounts of alcohol remains to be seen. I think I'm just a little bit giddy about the whole thing, and for now, I'm rather enjoying it.

Merry Christmas, yo.

22 December 2008

Delerium and Disorder (Hamilton Part II)

I may be just an atom in an ectoplasmic sea, but most of the time I feel like I'm destined for more.

My weekend in Hamilton was mostly wasted, dreaming up cunning plans to cause people heartarche, and bank up some bad karma for myself. Everything came crashing down last night when I heard that some guy had pulled a knife on one of my best friends.

What. The. Fuck.

What is up with these kinds of people? First of all, what are you doing carrying knives around? And then... what could a girl ever do to you that was so bad that it warranted pulling out your knife and threatening her with it? For fuck's sake!

Kirby has this off-the-rails ex-boyfriend named Cody, who was kind of a lost cause when she met, and continues to be so to this day. Anyway, yesterday he was arrested for crashing his car while driving drunk, so Kirby had to go and pick him up and take care of him. I say she "had" to, when really she didn't. But that's Kirby. Pulling people out of the gutter, whether they deserve it or not. Anyway, for whatever reason, Cody's car was left unlocked on the side of the road where he crashed it, and when Kirby left his place, there were some guys rummaging through it, taking whatever pitiful belongings he had left in there. If it's any indication of the life that Cody leads, all they found was a packet of cigarette filters and some obnoxious hip-hop CDs. Whatever, apparently that was all these guys were after.

So Kirby approached them and told them where to go. "I got on some sort of adrenaline kick, or something," she told me later in the night, trembling over a red wine. The situation deteriorated to the extent that one of the guys pulled a knife out of his jeans.
"What, you're going to stab me?!" she taunted him. It was a pretty ridiculous notion on his part, given that the altercation took place at an intersection alongside one of Hamilton's busiest roads. In broad daylight. Pretty soon the guys just walked off, having thrown the CDs at Kirby's head.

Should we really have to deal with this kind of thing happening to our young women?

Kirby had been on her way to work, but when she got there she was pretty well unable to do anything, so her flatmate came and took her to the police station to make a statement. I hate to say it, but this kind of carry-on happens so often in my hometown that I doubt anything will come of it. It's a sad reality of living in half-assed gangland.

Nothing really came of my stupid plan to vandalise Donny's billboards. I couldn't find any and even if I had, I do kind of wonder if doing such a trivial thing would have any sort of butterfly effect on the rest of the world. Writing obnoxious remarks on massive posters of some guy I used to know is not really how I want to be remembered.

I think it's time for me to wake the fuck up and do something good.

21 December 2008

Bored & Extremely Dangerous (Hamilton on a Saturday night)

Yesterday morning when 2/70 emptied out (Rex to go kitesurfing, Sara to help him launch the kite and Sam to watch/run around on the beach) I immediately felt lonely to the extent where I drove home. I had big plans: to visit Kirby, Ritchie, Libby, Becky, pick a bone with Donny...

Of course, due to the fact that to most of these people I'm an "option" rather than a "priority", I haven't seen any of them. Instead, I spent the afternoon with my mum, and went she went to work at 5pm, I went to bed. At about 8:30pm I got up and went about going out to buy some McDonald's for dinner. Yeah, I know.

For whatever reason, I pulled out of the McDonald's exit and felt an uncontrollable urge to go and let down Donny's tyres. I knew where he had plans to be for the night, so I drove there, in a state of derangement (of course, this is retrospective). When I arrived, I felt relieved for him that he wasn't there. I know that had I seen his car, I would have been not only letting down the tyres, but stealing the valve stops. Just to make things that much more difficult.

As I mentioned, he wasn't there, so I drove away quickly and instead went to his house. He wasn't there either, and by this stage I realised how ridiculous I was being, so I drove home and spent the evening watching "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" - on Emma's recommendation. Kind of fitting, considering the circumstances.

I wish I could say I knew what drives me to plan out such malicious acts on someone I claim is "The One". If I knew what the problem was, maybe I could solve it and as such curb my stupid behaviour. But I don't, and I hope that one day soon, someone will. I don't want to be driving around this place like I have a deathwish, hoping in the first instance that I'll find his car, innocently parked somewhere so that I can unleash my unfounded rage upon it, and then in the second instance, hoping that in fact he's somewhere safe, away from harm. It's not normal.

I admit that my plans tonight are not much different. After visiting Danielle, I plan to scour Victoria Street for the University of Waikato billboard featuring Donny and deface it. If it hasn't already been done so, anyway. Did the school check this guy's grades before they decided he was a good ambassador for them? Apparently not, since if they had, they would have discovered that he's a fourth year student still taking second year papers because he's been consistently failing them due to lack of willpower and, well - intelligence. It's not that I think he's stupid, he is absolutely not. He is just in the wrong degree and too much of a fucking bullock head to admit it. Anyway, they chose him because he's a mildly attractive guy of Indian descent, and it makes his school look like it's welcoming of all sorts of people. Whatever.

When he stops calling me at stupid hours of the night, maybe I'll stop my erratic behaviour. Maybe. But tonight I feel like I'm justified. You don't call me at 2am and not expect your pretty billboard to get wrecked, jerk.

20 December 2008

Twitter Updates?!

I joined Twitter mainly because I wanted to subsribe to Lance Armstrong's updates. Of course, I haven't worked out how to do this yet, but I have decided that TWITTER SUCKS because instead of showing MY updates on this page, it's showing them from some guy named Adam who lives in Essex, United Kingdom. Just what I want.

Anyone who knows how to use this bastard of an application is welcome to show me the right way.

Peace.

19 December 2008

A snake in the grass

I've been pretty excited for the last four hours because this morning a wonderful thing happened.

In one of those ever-occuring "now or never" moments, I decided to have a chat to Mr Canaandale. In an odd and happy stroke of fate, I overslept and as such caught the 8:40 into town for my last day of school. So, it seems, did Mr Canaandale. As I hauled the Jamis up the steps, I noticed my "friend" sitting on the bench, without his headphones on. Perfect.

"Are you Chris?" I asked, flashing him an understated smile. As it would happen, Ritchie had it right. High five for Ritchie. Conversation ensued... phone numbers were exchanged... I know! I'm excited too. Actually, he pretty much offered me his number straight after I told him my name (I went with Miriam, rather than Teodora, which is going to put a strain on the friendship I have with Ritchie, for reasons I'll explain later). Eager! It went down pretty well with me, though.

"Bike Shop Ferry Guy" or "Mr Cannondale" is now just "Chris". I'm so excited. It so wasn't a thrill-of-the-chase thing. In the life I created for him in my head before our conversation this morning, he will have burst through the doors of Bike75 this morning when he arrived, and hollered "how do you like me now?!" à la Lance Armstrong (if you know this story, you might find this amusing. If not, don't worry) to his workmates, who would have cheered him on and broken out the champagne. Okay, maybe not, but you know... it's a nice thought.

"You should come visit me at work" Chris reasoned. "It's a lot closer than Ritchie's store." He raises a good point. I mean, I had planned on going anyway, so now that I have an invite, I might just make my way down to Sale Street tomorrow for a wee gander. I feel like I should keep Ritchie in the money though, for his part in my success this morning. I might just buy that Garmin helmet off him after all.

When I arrived at SRA, late of course, I practically danced up the three flights of stairs to my classroom. Apparently my glee was pretty evident. One of the girls in the other class laughed at me as I rifled through my locker happily.
"What are you so happy about this morning?" she laughed. I looked up.
"Really? Is it that obvious? Well, I take the ferry, and I've been stalking this guy on the boat... kind of, and he gave me his number! Ha!" I said, not stopping to take a breath. She laughed, not really understanding. The girls in my class, who hear about "Bike Shop Ferry Guy" most mornings, were all thrilled for me.

Donny Who?

Flag that. I'm going to go riding with Chris this weekend. I'm on that like white on rice. Purrroowl.

17 December 2008

Cause of Death: Driving

Today I am exhausted, but also very happy.

I drove to Hamilton today. Twice. Once to pick up Alex, and again to drop him off. Sound extreme? Yeah, it is a bit, hey. But in the 90 minutes I had in Hamilton this morning, I feel like I achieved a lot.

I visited Ritchie first. Yay! As much I love to pay this guy out, I have to admit he's my most adored Hamilton friend. An added bonus is that the extreme awkwardness there was between Jordan (Ritchie's workmate and my longtime friend) and I before I moved has now worn off. I miss hanging out in bike shops. In Auckland, you have to ride a Pinarello and dress in full-length team issue spandex to hang out in bike shops. That might be the only Hamilton thing I miss. Today I was wearing my last year's Wintec ball dress, a pink studded belt that I thieved from Donny's belt collection earlier in the year, and my polka-dot Chuck Taylors. I wouldn't say I fitted in at Endurance Sport like a round peg, but at least the boys still talk to me like a cyclist. Actually, in typical Ritchie fashion, today he was trying to sell me a track bike. He's long been at me about track racing, raving about its superiority to road racing. This Saturday, I am trying out a track bike for the first time. I've kind of already pinned the next four years on it being a success, so fingers crossed!

Another great thing about Ritchie is that he has a hand in everyone's business. Including Mr Canaandale.
"Chips?" he asked when I explained my latest stalking object.
"Umm, what?"
"Is it Chips? Shaves his arms and legs, plucks his eyebrows?" I felt a bit weird, because the old me would have noticed something like that.
"Well, he rides a Look. American Classic wheels, Dura-Ace cranks." This is the new me. Judging strangers on their bike setup.
"Oh, yeah. That's Chips. I'll give him a call, hook him up with your number."
I laughed nervously.
"You should." I said, hoping it was just loud enough that Jordan could hear. "Tell him to ask me out."
It kind of took a lot of research out of my stalking, but at least now I can use Ritchie as a conversation starter next time Chips actually catches the ferry. See, I've become convinced that he read my blog about him and has since been avoiding me. Highly unlikely - in fact on a continuum of probability that he even knows my blog exists, I'd say it's pretty close to impossible. One never knows these days, though.

Jordan, who features in my memories pretty well as far back as they go, and I had an awkward moment not long before I moved. I made a feeble attempt at a pass at him (out of boredom, more than anything), which didn't exactly go down as I had planned. Luckily for me, the relocation to Auckland provided a window of opportunity for the shame to die down and today, I definitely had the upper hand when I visited. He's now sporting a mohawk, which he patted self-consciously when I quietly asked Ritchie about it. I told him it looked great, which it doesn't really, but word is he has a girlfriend now anyway. She can put the hard word on him for looking like a twat. He's a mechanic, not a metrosexual! Sort it out, Jboy.

It seems a bit rude in retrospect that I would visit the boys before heading to Kirby's house, but it was more a matter of geographical location than any inherent need to see them before her. I bought her some flowers first, just because I'm still secretly glowing about the status comment she left me yesterday (see "Going Through Life Like A Karate Kid"). I only got to hang with her for about fifteen minutes before it was tim to go and pick up Alex, but it was nice all the same.

Alex in tow, I left Cowtown at around 1pm. It can get a bit tedious by yourself, even with Bad Religion as loud as you can tolerate, but as it would happen Alex is one of the most intellectually stimulating people I know. I've known him for about ten years, and for a few of them he was the significant other of Danielle (who, fittingly, is something of a genius in her own right). He's a graduate student of history at the University of Waikato, with the driest sense of humour ever. And for whatever reason, agreed to be my man makeup model today. He entertained me for the two-hour drive back to Parnell, the half-hour it took to conceal his skin to perfection, and then all the way home. He also tolerated my questionable driving. High five for Alex.

I admit that after dropping him off I did a drive-by at Greensboro Street. One never knows.

After that it was time to come BACK to Auckland for the second time in twelve hours. Of course, now I was by myself again, so I drove at 120+km/hr and screamed away with Geoff Rickly (Thursday) for close to two hours.

It's bad for the soul, driving that much in one day. I never want to drive again. I don't even want to look at my car.

Man Makeup!



Hooray for good sports!


Alex and Cam came to SRA today.





16 December 2008

Going Through Life Like A Karate Kid

I love Britney Spears.

When I was thirteen years old, Britney shot to fame with "Hit Me Baby One More Time". It was all we heard for weeks, which was fine because I loved it. I loved Tool's Lateralus, but I also loved Britney. When I was young, I used to think she was a good role model for young girls.

Since then she's made some questionable decisions, but I've always know she was awesome. Tonight a documentary screened about her here in New Zealand. It was pretty... well, as much as I don't want to say this, moving. I just can't even begin to imagine a life like hers. It's a scary thought. The last quote on the show was definitely her most memorable:

"I just go through life like a karate kid."

Sigh.

Some surprisingly cool things happened to me today. Alex agreed to come be my model for "man makeup" tomorrow at SRA. Kirby left me a Facebook comment that made me so happy I nearly cried. Donny posted a photo of himself that I took.

It was ages ago, and I had clean forgotten about it until about ten minutes ago when I saw it. Then I started crying. He posted some other photos too. One of him on a University of Waikato billboard. I don't know about that one. Like, I know I speak highly of him, but he has done some pretty rotten stuff that I won't go into over the years. I get upset about this all the time because it appears to me that I am the only one on the receiving end of his dark side. Bar a few nasty comments about Becky, it seems like he saves the brunt of his disenchantment with the world for me. It's kind of a shame that I love him so much I can't do anything about it.




Just when I was kind of thinking I'd be crossing the road by myself, along came Kirby.

We've been mates for years. Pretty tight for the last maybe eight of those, but of course it hasn't been without its drama. Worth it though. This is far and away the coolest thing anyone has ever said to me. I can't even explain. How can I possibly sit here and complain about anything if I know someone who's willing to post that up on Facebook?

Kirby, you made my day. And not for the first time. Love.

15 December 2008

Wasting Life Away

I feel like all I ever do anymore is quote songs.

Sometimes when I come here to post, all I want to do is copy-paste some lyrics from a song like "In Your Hands" by Thrice. But I mostly try to avoid it, because I want to be all about originality. The greatest compliment I've never received is "you're not like anyone else I know."
More often, I hear "you remind me of my friend." Urgh. Fail.

Imagine the complete emotional overhaul I felt this afternoon when I received a text that said the following:

"Am I loud and clear? Or am I breaking up?"

It could only be from one person. I've not yet replied. I know what the response should be, but in the interest of originality, so far I've refrained. We're still on the same page.


Aside from my dramas, I feel sad because Becky is still going through her own. I wish more than anything that I could look after her, but I really just have no idea what to do. How can you make the bad things go away when you don't even understand them?


Today I bought some paints so I can paint the top of my drawers. I'm pretty excited about. Not that I'm ever going to have time to do it now, with my two jobs. I've never felt busy, in my entire life. Quite often I've had the feeling that I'm on the verge of something incredible, but it never quite gets off the ground.

Tonight a friend asked me if I could airbrush a photo of her. To be honest, I didn't know where to start. In my head I have my ideals of what beauty is, but I in no way wish to offend my friend by digitally adjusting her picture to fit my standards. Isn't that just like... rude? I always feel like a bit of a hypocrite, going to town with PhotoShop on pictures, then looking in the mirror and realising I'm not in a position to be touching up anyone else. I took a photo of myself this afternoon and re-coloured my eyes brown. It's now my Facebook profile picture. I wonder if anyone will notice.

I have a long day tomorrow and I kind of wonder while I'm still up. I'm like, halfway between the gutter and the stars, unconvinced I should even dignify the text I received today with a response.

You are still my charm, you're not just bad luck.

14 December 2008

Retard Flour / Updating my playlist


I've been in Auckland for a month now! Hard to believe, but true. Last night I thought it a good idea to load up my music onto my computer. I mean hey, I (or rather, my mum and dad) shelled out the extra $125 for more RAM, or whatever it is that my music takes up on my computer, so I might as well make the most of it. I took the liberty of raiding Rex's CD collection in the lounge to "broaden my horizons". So now I have old favourites (Bad Religion, Thrice, Rage Against the Machine) mixed up with some Sublime, The Prodigy and Shihad.

Funny though, how while I made a real effort to put less Bad Religion on my iPod, it seems like I've ended up with more. My day just isn't the same if I don't hear "Delerium of Disorder" and I make no apologies for it. Right now I have "Best of You" by the Foo Fighters playing. Sigh. I love this song, and wish I wrote it. I'm pretty sure Dave Grohl was inspired by having sex when he wrote it. I just can't think of anything else as good as sex that would make someone write something this amazing. I know, I'm being vulgar, but that's really all I can think about when I hear this song. When I saw this song live at the Foos show in 2005, I nearly exploded. It was great. Also kind of fitting, because I bumped into Donny while I was leaving the show.

Other songs that have popped up on my new playlist include "Trust" by Thrice. After the birthday-card-for-Donny incident, "Trust" became my new inspiration for my next grand gesture. It was almost a year ago now, that I started rounding up friends who would be willing to set up a band outside his place and perform "Trust" with me. It never really got off the ground, and now I'm sad, because his next birthday is just over a month away, and I'm not doing anything for it. It's like the end of an era.

Notable omissions from this iPod update include Fall-Out Boy (but don't worry Becky, we're still hitting up the show, and their hotel afterwards...) and Greg Graffin. Greg Graffin!? I know, my reason for living. I wish I wasn't serious when I say that, because I know he wouldn't be happy about it. The man is incredible. I'm actually lost for words to describe my respect for him, and I'm at a loss to explain why I don't have the CD here to put on to my computer. Admittedly, I had the intention of lending it to Donny the day I found out he went to India. Never happened.

Greg Graffin: a daily must-hear


A sneaky addition is some songs from Metallica's S&M album. I'm quite aware that this may warrant a "bogan" tag, but hey - I'm from Hamilton. Don't act all surprised now. I actually own a bunch of Metallica albums, but S&M is a stand-out in my books. I relate it to how science always convinces me over flash. Orchestral music, to me, is the most advanced form of music. Sounds surprising to those who have overheard the obnoxious punk and post-hardcore I consider the soundtrack to my life, but it's true. You can imagine then, that when Metallica teamed up with the Michael Kamen-led San Francisco Symphony Orchestra, magic happened. "Devil's Dance", "Master of Puppets" and "Hero of the Day" rate among my favourites from this masterpiece, but the whole thing is basically just one huge mind-blowing experience. I actually shed a few tears when Mr Kamen passed away a few years ago. What a guy.

I tell people that I'm narrow-minded when it comes to music. I think I am - to an extent. Although, I'll make no apologies for saying this - I think the real narrow-minded ones are those who listen to hip-hop and R&B trash. Honestly, what is the attraction? It's all, stock-standard, synthesised drums with identical basslines, with either some guy with no education rapping about "bitches and hoes", or a scantily-clad woman wailing about how she can do better. Well, fuck - if you can, go ahead, and save my ears. Usually the only time this type of music actually contains real melody or substance is when it's "sampled". I will tolerate dub music, but only because it's not so aggravating it makes me want to leap head first into a pit of tar. Go listen to Tool. It's intelligence for the ears.

Staples: Bad Religion's Process of Belief - if only Donny knew how this changed so much for me when he gave it to me, the day I went to Australia with Curtis in 2006
"Dying in New Brunswick" from Waiting by Thursday - I just can't get enough
"Cherub Rock" by the Smashing Pumpkins, from Siamese Dream - hands down, my favourite song of all time. I don't see this changing. Ever.

Additions: The rest of the Siamese Dream album - I don't know how I went without!
"Same in the End" by Sublime - an old favourite revisited
Shihad's "Pacifier" - never actually listened to the lyrics until today. Moving.

Omissions: Cold as the Clay, Greg Graffin's nothing short of incredible folk offering - I feel worse off for it already
"No Sleep Tonight" by The Faders - hits too close to home, I guess!
"Walk Like an Egyptian" by The Bangles - probably time to stop reliving Camp Hoffman memories

I really need to put the pdfs from Donny's birthday card up, so you all know what I'm on about when I "quote" it. I had a moment just now, while listening to the Smashing Pumpkins' "Soma" where I recognised a line I used on the card. It sucked just as much as when I decided to put it on there. I sometimes wonder if I'll ever get over it.

Didn't want to lose you once again
Didn't want to be your friend
Fulfilled a promise made of tin
And crawled back to you

My Stupid Sunday


Where the fuck is all this bad karma coming from, all of a sudden?

Maybe it's because I didn't go meet Donny at the airport, but like, I'm happy I didn't. It was bound to end up badly, especially given that I STILL haven't heard so much as a peep from him. It's clear he has no interest in communication.

Anyway - today my day started crappily when my alarm went off and I didn't want to get up. I know this sounds like me every day, but today I could barely open my eyes. Probably didn't help that I went to bed around 2am and tried to get up at 8am. But whatever, it wasn't happening. At 9am I finally rolled out of bed, did some washing, then went upstairs to complain that I'd lost my copy of Suffer. Within less than a minute, Rex had found it in the CD player, where I left it.

I made a concerted attempt at the land-speed record on my way to the Devonport ferry terminal, to try get on the 12:25pm to Rangitoto Island. Which would have been fine had the dumb bitch ("Tara") doing tickets not fucked up the tickets for the family in front of me. I watched sadly as the last ferry to Rangitoto Island floated away. What a waste of leg speed even Lance Armstrong would have been proud of. I cycled home sadly, and decided to paint my nails instead, since my dreams of running up Rangi had been crushed by "Tara".

Well, turns out this wasn't such a great idea either. It ended up with me dabbing furiously with nail polish remover, our carpet for close to an hour after I spilt pretty well the entire bottle of "I'm Fondue Of You". Seriously, why could it have not been topcoat? Why am I such a spastic? After I dropped said bottle, without thinking I ran out the door in bare feet, drove at close to 100km/hr to the nearest supermarket and bought three bottles of nail polish remover, which I emptied on to the stain.

I'm no longer Fondue of this shade


Luckily for me, it's almost undetectable after my cleaning efforts, but I still fear that my first paycheck from Esquires is going to be spent either paying someone to clean it, or hiring one of those awful RugDoctors from the supermarket. What a disaster.

Rex went to the latest exhibition at the Auckland Museum today - a T. rex named Sue. It's the largest Tyrannosaurus rex ever discovered, and for whatever reason, it's hanging out at our local until January 25. Exciting!!! Well, Rex said it wasn't as good as he'd hoped, but I'm optimistic. $12 to look at a huge dinosaur goes down alright with me. When I was six, I visited the London Museum of Natural History, which was kind of wasted on my six-year-old brain that was still trying to get around tying my shoelaces. Granted, I was an intelligent child (I don't know what happened), but I was six. I don't really remember it THAT well. If any Auckland-based readers wanna come when I go see "Sue", bang me a text!

All in all, it's been a pretty shit day, and I kind of just want to smoke an entire bag of weed. Any takers?

Career woman... of sorts

I have two jobs!

One is weekend work at Takapuna New World. I'm getting a little perturbed with this however as I signed a contract almost a week ago and still haven't received my training so I can start earning. Not impressed.

My new job is at Esquires Coffee House at the ferry terminal in town. It's five nights a week, 5pm until close, which is probably going to leave me incredibly tired for the rest of the time, but I'm so obsessed with money that for the moment I don't care. I start tomorrow.

Both of these jobs are minimum wage. But as I've been living off savings since I moved to Auckland, I don't really care. It's a bit depressing watching my carefully saved Ethiopia fund diminishing just so I can eat each week, and I'm pretty excited now that not only will I be able to eat, I might also not have to dig into the Ethiopia fund to buy my helmet. Things are looking up for me!

Granted, my weekend job now leaves me with no time to explore my new surroundings. Today I was planning on heading to Rangitoto Island, which I still could - it's almost 11am and there's a ferry from Devonport there at 12:25pm. From next weekend on, however, I'm going to be scanning items for people with lives while my minds drifts around the place. Still, at least when I DO have some spare time, I'll know to make the most of it. No more wasting my life away creeping Donny's Facebook page.

There's also the slight issue with all these new commitments of when I'm going to fit my training in. Well, I plan on swimming at Parnell each morning before school, and I guess riding up the Judges Bay Road hill each day is going to be the extent of my bike workouts, for a while. Still, it's better than nothing. When all else fails, I guess I could attempt some late night/early morning sessions in on the magnetic trainer in the garage. Not really the most motivating thing I can think of, but hey. I'm a working woman now.

A sneaky upside to the Esquires job is that I have a feeling Mr Canaandale is going to love me for it. Cyclists love coffee. It's like a given. I'm the exception to this rule - but I just know Mr Canaandale will be visiting me each day after work to get his fix. How convenient. Again, I really don't know why, but it's all more opportunities to stalk him. I'm still trying to figure out what the attraction is.

Either way, watch this space. I'm either going to get fat from spending all my extra money on food, rich from saving, or die from overworking. I can't wait to see which it is.

13 December 2008

Making the most of the sun!


Today was the first Saturday since I moved that I managed to be out of bed and ready for action before midday. I got up at like, 8:20am! Needless to say, I was pretty proud of myself. A little bit disappointed too, because I had intended to get the 8:25am ferry to town to go swimming at Parnell. Somewhere between 1:30am and 8am my cellphone died and as such my alarm didn't go off.

Instead I went about cleaning the bathrooms. I clean a mean bathroom, seriously. If you live in the Auckland area and don't like cleaning bathrooms, bang me a text. I will clean your bathroom to perfection. Anyway, such cleaning requires gloves and preferably a cleaning product that isn't so gummed up with dried cleaner that you can't squeeze any out. And that is how I ended up at Takapuna New World before 9am. It was some sort of small miracle, and for whatever reason, it made sense in my head that I could go out and buy the necessary stuff, clean the bathrooms and still make the 9:25am ferry.

But it was not to be. By the time I got home, it was pretty evident that I was going to have to choose between cleaning and swimming. I attempted to "rush" out the door with my bike to the ferry terminal, but my choice of bag (a Nike messenger bag) wasn't really working out for the ride and when I finally arrived at the terminal, I saw my ferry floating away.

Within minutes, I was back at 2/70, exasperated.
"Today is just not working out for me." I announced firmly. Of course, the darlings I live with all had a laugh when I explained my so far unsuccessful morning. And with that I set upon the bathrooms with my new 3-in-1 scrubbing pad and some Clorox.

Feeling motivated by my spate of cleaning, I then tidied and vaccuumed my room. I stopped short of doing some baking, simply because my cupboard currently contains the following items: a near-empty jar of Nutella, a packet of Vita-Weat crackers and two tins of tinned fish, which I refuse to eat because well, ew. It's fish. I'm going to make a great housewife some day.

Me, ten years from now

Sam appeared shortly afterwards with my Air Force packet. I got pretty excited about it and read it (out loud, no less) while soaking up some rays on our deck. I decided that I've spent far too many Saturdays wasting my life away, and with that I fairly bounded out the door, and to the Devonport ferry terminal.

Within twenty minutes I was splashing around at the Parnell Baths. Now, "splashing around" is a relative term. It was no 8km workout, like what I used to churn out on a twice-daily basis, but I also refrained from performing handstands and other ridiculous gymnastic exercises. For the first 90 minutes, anyway. I get pretty happy in the water, so when I was sufficiently satisfied with having wasted the other swimmer on every lap, I admit I went for a paddle in the play area and may have indulged in a few round-off back handspring double Arabians.

After my swim, I arrived back at the downtown ferry terminal suitably early to spend twenty minutes riding my bike around the viaduct. No wonder everyone in Hamilton complains about living there. It's so shit, and Auckland is so fun. I could probably visit the viaduct every day for the rest of my existence and not get bored. I sometimes forget, when I'm roaming around Parnell with my gossipy makeup school clique, that I live on a beautiful island in the South Pacific. But this afternoon while I appreciated the view of the Waitemata (you can see the little Bayswater boat ramp from here!), I don't remember another time where I've felt so surrounded by water. It's quite a cool feeling.

The ferry trip back to Bayswater was entertaining at the very least, with a guy - presumably on his stag do - dressed in a floral women's bathing costume over his underwear, with "Gay Lord" painted on his arms. Being the only girl on the ferry, I had to have my photo taken with him (I'm hoping to somehow find it on Facebook at some stage, airbrush out my face, and replace it with Holly Hodgkinson's). His friends told me to give him a kiss, and when I didn't, they called me a "stink bitch" when I got off the ferry. Shame.

It's now 4:30pm, and I'm feeling happy with my productive day. Tomorrow: look out Rangitoto Island!

I'm ignoring Lips because they're boring

CHEEKS: Blush, Bronzer

Blush / Sephora's Pick: NARS Blush in Orgasm
My Pick: NARS Blush in Orgasm

Brain twins! Looks like Sephora finally got it right. For those of you that haven't yet tried this, you must. It will change your life. The drawcard for me was that Jennifer Lopez uses this shade. And we all know that I secretly want to be Jennifer Lopez, so you can imagine the first product I ever bought from Sephora was this one. Best applied with a medium-sized blush brush to the cheekbones/apples. Load up your brush, but tap it away! This stuff is loaded with gold speckles and if you don't tap, you look like an idiot. Go buy it!

Bronzer / Sephora's Pick: Benefit Hoola
My Pick: Benefit Hoola
I've known about this product for years but didn't try it until I sneaked some out of Pancakes' makeup bag at camp last year. Hooked! Use it sparingly, unless you're black. Then you can use heaps!! For us fairer-skinned, this stuff is a top-notch contour powder, applied to the lower apples and under the cheekbones in an inwards sweeping motion with an angle brush.

Also worth mentioning: Benefit 10 & Benefit Georgia
10 is great for lazy days, because it's a contour and highlighter in one. Be prepared to blend, but once you're done, it's like instant cheekbones. *swoon* If you're talented enough, you can use the brown shade to give yourself a jaw, too. Georgia is about the most subtle you can get without going bare-faced. It makes a huuuuge difference though - brings dull skin to life, plus it smells wicked good. I use it every day for that reason.

OTHER STUFF: Bath & Body, Fragrance, Moisturiser

Bath & Body / Sephora's Picks: Philosophy Body Cleanser & Moisturiser, Fresh Brown Sugar Body Polish
My Picks: Philosophy Body Cleanser, Palmer's Cocoa Butter Moisturiser, L'Oreal Exfotonic Exfoliant

Philosophy's Amazing Grace just can't be beaten for fragrance. It's like, the fragrance soundtrack to my life. Hopefully, I won't be alive when I'm old, but if I am, I hope I still smell like this. Plus, it's named after Grace, and I love Grace! I'm a sucker for Palmer's though, especially the variety with Shea Butter. Stings like a bitch after shaving, but the smoothness afterwards is incomparable. Even Donny's noticed. And if he tells me I'm smooth, I'm sold. I'm in love with Exfotonic, and have been since I was like, 14. It smells sooo clean, and it's like a perfect treat on the elbows, legs, butt... everything. Sigh.

Fragrance / Sephora's Picks: Philosophy Amazing Grace (for women), Acqua di Gio Pour Homme (for men)
My Picks: Philosophy Amazing Grace (for women), none (for men)

My undying and unwavering love for Amazing Grace is detailed above. I spray it on everything - my hair, my clothes when they're on the line, my dog (okay, not really my dog). For guys, honestly - if they smell faintly of chlorine, then I'm happy. Anything other than that or skin to me is just wrong. I know I always say Donny smells good, but I think that's just because he's Donny, and I just like the fact that half of my clothes still reek a little bit of him. Sigh.

Face Moisturiser / Sephora's Pick: Philosophy Hope in a Jar
My Pick: Neutrogena Oil-Free Moisture for Sensitive Skin

I do love how "Hope in a Jar" rolls off the tongue, but that's about all I love about this moisturiser. It just isn't right for my skin type, which is where Neutrogena comes in. Plus, it's cheap so I can go through it like I do juice and I don't really notice. I keep a bottle everywhere - by my bed, on my vanity, in my swimming bag. It's a staple product.


Well, the night's about halfway gone and my neck is getting sore, so I'm going to commit the ultimate cardinal sin and sleep in my makeup, which is already starting to break out from the "full face corrective" I was given this afternoon at school. You can bet I'll be sorry in the morning.

Eyes - Continued from previous post...

EYES - eyeshadow, mascara, eyeliner, eyebrow enhancer

Eyeshadow / Sephora's Pick: Smashbox Eye Shadow Trio in Head Shot
My Pick: Clinique Color Surge Eye Shadow Duo in Strawberry Fudge

Ew. Again, I've talked about this particular Smashbox product previously and it's not because I love it. I don't think the colours complement eachother, and I struggle to think of a skintone I could use it on. Certainly not mine. The Clinique duo is pretty, if a bit shimmery, and always gets compliments. A bonus is that you can make mistakes undetectable with blending SO easily it's criminal.

Mascara / Sephora's Pick: Dior DiorShow Mascara
My Pick: Napoleon Perdis Long Black Mascara

Sounds unbelievable, but is true: I haven't actually gotten around to testing those two new mascaras I raved about so long ago. This is because Dazzle Lash hasn't yet arrived in New Zealand and... well, I haven't been motivated enough to go to Smashbox yet. DiorShow is incredible, I will give them that. Worth every cent, but I'm afraid Long Black is my baby!

Eyeliner / Sephora's Pick: Sephora Slim Pencil
My Pick: Clinique Brush-On Cream Liner

If I'm starting to sound like a bit of a Clinique whore, it's because I am. The brand bases its marketing appeal on science, so I'm won over almost every time. Not to mention that cream liner is pretty much the greatest invention of all time. I'm a huge fan of mixing up pigments of various houses (Napoleon, MAC, Benefit) with Napoleon's cake eyeliner sealer, but with this Clinique product I don't even have to! It's a rare day when I wear eyeliner, but should the need ever arise, I'm sorted. And, Sephora pencil? Please. People only like it because it's $4.

Eyebrow Enhancer / Sephora's Pick: Anastasia All About Brows Kit
My Pick: Smashbox Brow Tech

I hear great things about the Anastasia kit - including that it contains stencils!! Personally, I'm quite happy with the shape of my brows (most days, anyway), but I bet they work wonders on the less fortunate-browed of the world. I stick with Brow Tech, applied after using a spooly brush to brush the brow hairs downwards, then set with wax once the brows have been combed back into place. Perfection without a price.

Makeup! I'm allowed...

Since everything else I write is grim, self-centred and sarcastic (even pessimistic, one might say), I'm going to change my tune - almost completely, and go with something fun, self-centred, and hopefully helpful... my guide to makeup! Yay.

I'm going to borrow the categories from "Best of Sephora", just because otherwise we could be here all night. Eh, who am I kidding. We will be anyway.

COMPLEXION: Foundation, Tinted Moisturiser, Powder, Primer, Concealer
Foundation / Sephora's Pick:
Bare Escentuals i.d. bareMinerals Foundation SPF 15
My Pick:
Clinique Superbalanced Makeup
Yeah, everyone knows that Bare Escentuals is amazing, but it's just too fucking hard to get hold of over here for a reasonable amount of coin. Big-ups to Leslie Blodgett for the SPF - it's pretty important to have sun protection in your makeup. Admittedly, my personal favourite Clinique doesn't contain it (boo), but I like to make up for it by mixing with Clinique's City Block SPF 50. My one is liquid, gives amazing coverage, and matches my skintone perfectly. It's heavensent.

Tinted Moisturiser / Sephora's Pick: Laura Mercier Tinted Moisturiser
My Pick: None

Boo. Tinted Moisturiser sucks. I've never tried a good one, and I don't think I ever will. It should be made illegal.

Powder / Sephora's Pick: Bare Escentuals Mineral Veil
My Pick: MAC Mineralize SkinFinish Duo

Again, Mineral Veil does conquer all, but MAC is just so much more accessible here in the Land of the Long White. SkinFinish completes my life - the powder is to die for, and the highlighter sculpts like Michelangelo. And the $82 brush the girl sold me with it was well worth not eating for that week, too.

Primer / Sephora's Pick: Smashbox Photo Finish Foundation Primer
My Pick: Benefit That Gal
I've said this before, but I just don't rate the Smashbox primer. I find it akin to what one might expect to applying foundation over the top of an actual oil slick. There must be an art to applying it, but I think things should be user-friendly, and not just to Pat McGrath. I hate this!
That Gal, however, gives a lovely rosy glow, and a nice base to work upon. Priced perhaps a little too steeply, but I'd go without Tank for a bit if I needed some more. Which I do.

Concealer / Sephora's Pick: Bare Escentuals i.d. bareMinerals
My Pick: The Body Shop Concealer Pencil
Sounds crazy that I would recommend something in pencil/crayon form, because normally I avoid them like the plague, but I promise this is different. It should be applied to the back of the hand first, to warm it up, then blended perfectly onto the skin with a (clean!) finger for flawless coverage. My one is a perfect match, and if I'm going for a no-makeup look (ie: never), I wear this on its own. Bare Escentuals? Yawn.

12 December 2008

Garmin-Chipotle... still



So, I've got the jersey. I've ordered the drink bottles. I'm close to putting down a deposit on the helmet. Now I'm being recruited to "join the team".

...

Okay, not the ACTUAL team. You won't find me in Colorado next Spring, burning up hills with Christian Vande Velde and David Millar hanging on my back wheel, or drinking celebratory champagne with the boys in the team bus after Vande Velde becomes the two-time winner of the Giro d'Italia. I wish.

Instead, tonight when I logged onto slipstreamsports.com, I was quite taken by the Garmin-Chipotle Pro Racing Team Argyle Club. To the average mortal, it's a cheap, gimmicky fan club. To me, it's a reason to start working overtime at my pathetic supermarket job to raise the $995 US so I can experience benefits such as discounted shopping online at pearlizumi.com, a 20% discount off my dream helmet, invites to team events, and the big seller - RIDE WITH THE TEAM DAYS. Okay, so I'd have to raise another $3000 to get over to their training base in the first place, but whatever. I'd fit right in. Other bonuses of joining the club include a signed 2009 jersey, two more drink bottles, and a cap. Score.


Yeah, it's a waste of money. But it's an exciting thought!! And one that makes me realise I need a life of my own. No more of this, living vicariously through members of the Garmin-Chipotle Pro Racing Team business. I need to get out there and actually make something of MYSELF.

Here's my current status:

Mood: Unsatisfied, hungry... craving strawberries and as such pondering a late night drive to Foodtown Takapuna
Hair: Straightened to perfection with Sulva's ghd
Living: downstairs at 2/70, which I love but at times wish Endurance Sport was still biking distance so I could visit Ritchie
Training: Null, since my swim across Ngataringa Bay last Sunday
Goals: Not to commit suicide during my course, to actually want to get out of bed and train tomorrow morning
Favourite Product: Benefit Georgia

Possibly, favourite product was an unnecessary addition to the list, but hey - I'm at makeup school. I'm allowed.

Where do I want to be?

Well, to be honest, the United States Olympic Training Centre in Colorado Springs, Colorado is a huge drawcard. A huge drawback being that I'm neither a US citizen, nor eligible, or close to being eligible, for their fully-funded elite training programmes that are hosted out of the high-altitude town. This is a bummer for me. Honestly, I'm a creature of routine, and the time in my life where I felt most balanced was in the months leading up to Athens, where I was in a training facility all of my own - a mixture of Waterworld, Wintec, the University of Waikato, and my own bed. I feel like I would really thrive up there on their thin air.

OTC? Out of the question. Next? Umm, well anywhere - as long as I don't have to work to be able to eat, buy juice, and other "necesseties" - makeup springs to mind. Actually, I'm willing to give up the makeup habit if someone will pay for me to live while I ride bikes. I've tried giving up food - doesn't work out too well for those six-hour days in the saddle. Otherwise I would be quite happy. Someone needs to design a human battery. I've stopped worrying about having wasted "valuable years" on my "career" - look at the guys on my favourite team. Sure, they get paid to ride, and they're kind of making a career out of riding bikes, and my future in bike-riding promises to not be so kind to me, but fuck. I might as well make a go of it. I don't really want to be 30, watching the Olympic Games in (insert Olympic city here, once it's been decided) and telling my husband (cough) "you know, I really could have made it to London." If I'm starting to sound like a broken record, you should try being me for a day. It's like hearing a song you hate ("Irreplaceable" by Beyonce, for example) on repeat from the time you get up until you fall asleep again at the end of the day.

I know that phrase - if it is to be me, it is to be up to me.

I love it, and I think about this every day too. It's like a song on repeat again, but this time, less annoying. I'll go with "Womaniser" by Britney Spears. It's just that I don't know where to start! I'm a good cyclist, and I think I could be a great cyclist, but I really feel that I would benefit from someone who's been there, taking my hand and leading me through it. Yeah, I'm 22, but I'm still a lost little kid. Normally I put this down to the fact that my head was underwater - quite literally - throughout my entire teenage life. I know everything about swimming, but close to zero about competitive cycling. I've faked my way into triathlon. It helped that in the moments when my head was out of the water, it was usually because I was hanging out at triathlons, competing and mingling with who are now some of the world's best (I'm talking the Terenzos, Clarks, and Debbies of the world). It's come with an inflated sense of self, but I guess in cycling, it helps. I say "I guess", because I really am guessing. Like I said, I know nothing about it.

Terenzo: I don't mean to namedrop, but...


You might be thinking, why on earth would you aim for an Olympic berth in a sport you know nothing about? Well, that's kind of it. When I set my sights on an Olympic 400m freestyle gold (so long ago I couldn't even tell you the year), I think I'd raced over the distance once. My best event was the 100m backstroke - and would be for some years - until 2002 I believe, when I had my swansong of sorts at the European Championships. I've still not gone faster in said event. I was very green, and I thought the best way to get through a training session was to hide my swimming coach's jandals when he threw them at me for not completing sets. I was a nightmare. At that time, colour co-ordinating my goggles, cap and swimsuit was more important to me than how fast I could swim 12x400. I guess being this way is good. You can only go up.

I feel like I'm kind of at that stage now with cycling. I know how to race mountain bikes - pretty well, actually, and I'm still in the "if I get my Garmin helmet, I'll become a world champion instantly" mindset. Well, to some extent. I'm better off now, for having been to an Olympics. I know it's not going to be some sort of 40km/hr descent down Easy Street onto the podium. I want to be a pursuiter, and I've never even ridden on a proper velodrome. Or on a track bike. In some sporting circles here in New Zealand, I'm not the most respected girl because of my nature to chop and change sports (swimming, gymnastics, track & field, triathlon...), but I refuse to be held back because of it. I've said before that "all I need to do is win every single race until the Olympics, get selected, then win that too."

So it's not a strategy that Lance Armstrong lives by, but then I'm not Lance Armstrong. I'm a person of extremes (other quotes from myself have included "there's no such thing as too skinny" and "oh, well - I'll just ride my bike to Rotorua and race, if you won't take me") and I'm pretty certain that if I go into this cycling thing with the intention of just squeaking in, that's what I'll do. And then it'll be "hello, Athens" all over again. And I am NOT having another Athens.

You may be wondering why I talk so much about this, and still have done nothing about even testing out a velodrome bike. Well, that's something I keep asking myself. In my illustrious carer of making poor decisions, most of them have been because I didn't think the situation through first. Such examples of this include my decision to leave Otago University, even though I loved it, after one semester in Health Sciences. My "great" idea to bike down that hill in Parnell a few weeks ago. Thinking McDonald's would be good for dinner tonight.

I'm kind of over making crap decisions. If I'm doing this, I'm doing it right, and I WILL WIN. To that end, I think that tomorrow, after my swim at the Parnell Baths, I'm going to call whoever is in charge of North Harbour Cycling Club. London is less than four years away. I need to learn how to ride a bike.

I might buy that helmet, too. One never knows.

Sleeping Beauty (or otherwise)


Is watching people while they sleep creepy or cute?

Personally, I'm on team "cute". It's not like I've done my fair share of sleeping-people-watching, but I totally see the attraction. Donny, for example, was once one of my favourite targets. Back then it was because I loved him so much that I couldn't bear to look away from him, even while he was asleep. Now I claim it's because I forgot what he looked like. This is actually kind of true. In the last few years I've seen him in the street (even sometimes in the day after I've slept at his place) and not recognised him until he's grabbed my arm, or something equally surprising. The last time he slept in my bed, I stayed awake as long as I could, looking at him, but within probably two minutes I'd passed out due to my excessively drunken state.

But anyway, I bring the whole thing up because tonight I was talking to Curtis, and he asked if I would leave my webcam on while I took a nap. Given that Curtis and I have an interesting past - which includes, but is not limited to what was supposed to be a one-night stand in 2005, which ended up stretching out a few years, on and off, and led to a trip to Australia together, and a 17-hour bustrip from Providence, Rhode Island to Toronto, Canada last year for a brief visit - I was a little bit confused as to what his motives were.
"I wish you were being serious." I told him.
"I am." Now, I know that Donny's The One, but I admit that my heart did flutter, albeit momentarily, when he said this. I admitted to indulging in a bit of sleeping-Curtis-watching while we were in Australia.
"Okay," he said "well, I want to watch you." And it now seems weird and creepy, but I let him.
I only ended up being asleep for 8 minutes before I heard Say (better known as Sara) calling out to see if I was home. I felt weird and creepy, and turned the camera off. Curtis began to protest.
"Surely it wasn't that exciting." I said, secretly enjoying the attention.
"Yes it was." he replied.

Odd.

I still sometimes have weird, nightmarish premonitions of Curtis and I when we're old. For some reason, I get completely terrified by the thought that we're going to going to end up married and old. I don't want to be old. People think I ride my bike off jumps I have no hope of landing because of the adrenaline rush? No way. It's because hopefully, if I do it enough, one day I'll die in the process, and as such will be dead before 40. It's just how it goes. And I don't really want to be married to Curtis, either. He's a nice guy and all - good-looking mostly, but until the "I want to watch you sleep" incident tonight, I really didn't think he thought about anyone except himself. Even now, I'm unconvinced. But still. There's something unsettling for me about the parents in Donnie Darko. Whenever I see them, I have that feeling - the one where me and Curtis are old and married.

Donnie Darko stabbing the giant bunny in the eye.
But it's his parents that scare me.


Until recently, I've had grand ideas about marriage. That it's binding, about love, and forever. But it doesn't take a genius to work out that sometimes, especially in this millenium, it's not about any of those things. As such, as I've aged (to the ripe age of 22, no less), I've become more disenchanted with the idea of marrying someone. If I do marry, I want it to be Donny, and I want it to be forever, which I guess is why the Donnie Darko thing freaks me out so much.

Why am I equating marriage with sleeping-people-watching? Because it my opinion and feeling that you have to love someone to want to watch them sleep. I know that in the real world, outside my little head, this isn't always the case, but to me it is. I wouldn't want to watch anyone else in the world, besides Donny, sleeping for that very reason. Given the current state of affairs between the two of us, I'm pretty sure an outlandish statement such as that would go into the "stalking" basket, rather than "cute". Oh well.

I've just realised that the inspiration for Donny's pseudo-identity has been revealed... yes, I named him after Donnie Darko, because it was he who spent hours explaining the theory behind the film to me, after we watched it together one day. Sigh. Even now, the only part I picked up on was "the airplane engine created a wormhole through which he was able to time-travel." Cool, but what about everything else? I like to pretend I know.

That's getting slightly off-topic. I don't think there was any sleeping-people-watching in Donnie Darko.

All things considered, I'm now searching on Facebook for a support group for sleeping-people-watchers like myself. I'm starting to feel creepy.