In September (or was it October? It must have been, because it was around the time that Benjamin passed away) I left Waldorf Like You in search of brave new territory to conquer - in other words, LMC scared me off. And since then, I've been gradually building up courage - adding a profile so people know who I am (sure, it doesn't contain my real name, but...), making reference to sites I like, and so on. I still don't follow anyone, though - but it's not because I've forgotten about how cool everyone else is!
Nic and Cabin - my favourite mountain bikers / XTERRA competitors, still at it. Unlike me...
Swell Vintage - Frankie, with whom I now do most of my communicating with via Twitter
Extra Ordinary - Li, who within a week of publishing her first comic online, had more of a cult following than I ever will!
I ♥ Makeup - Shaniya, aka my go-to girl for makeup worries!
T. Rex Faster Than Denver - Tim Wilding. Something of an intermittent blogger, but the things he does write are well worth a read, if you're mountain bike inclined.
New faves (who I am following, but with a different account)
Wipe That Smile Off Your Face - Thom. No more need be said about him.
I'm Bringing Sexyblog - Aubrey.
I Love Doodle - Lim Heng Swee, Threadless designer extraordinaire!
And here's everyone I follow on Twitter! (Follow me here, if you like)
prendo2012 (longtime pal, Tim Prendergast), FashionTV_, USA_Swimming, SwimmingCanada, London2012, joinred, camillaengman, ilovedoodle, Massey_Uni, otago, vanityfairmag, LushLtd, orianthi, Stanford, threadless, jillustration, nzherald, brtour, DoctorGraffin, ignitenz, Sephora, swellvintage, SunShaarne, KelseyPhinney, iheartmakeup, and TaylorPhinney.
Wow, I can't be bothered linking to 26 separate Twitter sites.
Bored on Boxing Day, anyone?
26 December 2009
Box Me Up, Scotty
December 26th is known to me as either the day to avoid town like the plague, or the day to race into full-fledged shopping mode. Last year, it was the latter - I bought my new (now stolen) cellphone, in addition to having bought my Garmin helmet (now sold) just days earlier. I was a big spender.
Today, I'll probably just hit up the supermarket in search of strawberries and no-bake fudge. It's tempting to go swimming at Blue Lake, sans bottle of Coke this time, on account of the glorious day I had there yesterday, but the thought of the Outdoorsman having a sale and most of Tarawera Road being blocked on account of this is just too much to bear. I may end up wallowing in bed all day.
On a "haha" side note... oh, look at that, it's been a year since Sally and Kirby started "planning" their Thailand holiday, and nothing's come of it. What. A. Surprise.
Enjoy Boxing Day, and make the most of your last days in 2009.
Peace and love.
Today, I'll probably just hit up the supermarket in search of strawberries and no-bake fudge. It's tempting to go swimming at Blue Lake, sans bottle of Coke this time, on account of the glorious day I had there yesterday, but the thought of the Outdoorsman having a sale and most of Tarawera Road being blocked on account of this is just too much to bear. I may end up wallowing in bed all day.
On a "haha" side note... oh, look at that, it's been a year since Sally and Kirby started "planning" their Thailand holiday, and nothing's come of it. What. A. Surprise.
Enjoy Boxing Day, and make the most of your last days in 2009.
Peace and love.
25 December 2009
Common Sense
Here's another Google Earth image, this time of a particularly poorly thought-out intersection outside of Tirau. The road which points down in this photo heads to Taupo, while the horizontal road comes from Tirau (left) and goes to Rotorua (right). Now, about 400m out from this intersection, coming from Rotorua, is a series of signs indicating "High Crash Area" and warnings to "Stop". This is on top of rumble lines, as well as stop signs at the intersection itself.
People, do you stop at stop signs? Because you should. I don't care where the stop sign is, or if there's no-one coming. You must always stop at stop signs! If everyone obeyed this simple rule, there would be no need for the excessive signage at this intersection. If everybody just STOPPED where it says STOP, life would go on as normal for the Taupo/Rotorua intersection outside of Tirau.
Please, if you are driving through there, OBEY THE GODDAMN RULES OF THE ROAD. It's not that hard.
Hot Coca-Cola And Other Fun In The Sun
I spent my Christmas day at Blue Lake / Tikitapu in Rotorua.
And what a day it was! On my way there, I stopped for gas in Tirau, which is a strange wee town between Cambridge and Rotorua. There, I spotted an SUV full of Asians in Santa hats. Enjoy! I did.
At Tikitapu, I left a bottle of Coke in my car while I went swimming for about three hours. The highlight of said outing was when I rescued a runaway beach ball for two women playing with it in the shallows. I feel like it's not Christmas unless you make someone else's day. And no-one else was in a position to save their beach ball.
Hot Coke is not high on my list of recommendations. Things like teriyaki chicken sushi, sunscreen, and desserts made by Jess Gilby-Todd are, but not hot Coke. By the time I started drinking it, it was near boiling. Like, as hot as you might take your coffee. It was hot.
What was I even doing drinking Coke? Well, I don't really know. If you're a reader that knows me (outside the blogosphere), you're a reader that probably knows that I hate carbonated drinks, and I especially hate caffeinated, carbonated drinks. So I don't really know why I had a bottle of Coke in the first place. I do weird things.
Anyway, I had a nice, uneventful Christmas day to follow on from my funfilled Christmas eve. I'm enjoying the last days of 2009. Otherwise, what's the point?
Twelve months of fun, love and peace for everyone!!!
Much love.
Image courtesy Google Earth
And what a day it was! On my way there, I stopped for gas in Tirau, which is a strange wee town between Cambridge and Rotorua. There, I spotted an SUV full of Asians in Santa hats. Enjoy! I did.
At Tikitapu, I left a bottle of Coke in my car while I went swimming for about three hours. The highlight of said outing was when I rescued a runaway beach ball for two women playing with it in the shallows. I feel like it's not Christmas unless you make someone else's day. And no-one else was in a position to save their beach ball.
Hot Coke is not high on my list of recommendations. Things like teriyaki chicken sushi, sunscreen, and desserts made by Jess Gilby-Todd are, but not hot Coke. By the time I started drinking it, it was near boiling. Like, as hot as you might take your coffee. It was hot.
What was I even doing drinking Coke? Well, I don't really know. If you're a reader that knows me (outside the blogosphere), you're a reader that probably knows that I hate carbonated drinks, and I especially hate caffeinated, carbonated drinks. So I don't really know why I had a bottle of Coke in the first place. I do weird things.
Anyway, I had a nice, uneventful Christmas day to follow on from my funfilled Christmas eve. I'm enjoying the last days of 2009. Otherwise, what's the point?
Twelve months of fun, love and peace for everyone!!!
Much love.
Tenacious M
On Sunday, during the most cordial conversation we've had in nearly two years, Donny commented on the fact that I still haven't given up on him, despite it having been nearly six years since our fray began (to be fair, it didn't start off this way... we were happy for about 3 and a half of those years). Whether he was impressed by this, or considering a court order, I do not know - but I'm hoping for the best, since I haven't received anything from the Ministry of Justice this week.
He has a point. I like to think I don't give up on things. Sure, I've done my share of fucking around (quitting my job at NZ Post after just two weeks is a pretty good example of this), but in general, I finish things I start. I recall one day - and I'm glad it was only one day - during my Worlds buildup, where I came home and crawled into bed, chewing on my sushi listlessly and wondering if I really wanted to go. In fact, if I'm honest, it was more than that. I didn't want to go. That afternoon was spent trying to convince myself that I did want to go. It took a lot. But I soldiered on, thinking of the glory I assumed would come attached to my world title (namely, Donny). There's been other occasions. I very nearly walked out on makeup school, about six days before graduation. I cried underwater during swim training before I went to Athens. When my leg was healing from surgery, I sometimes went without my splint in favour of wearing heels (those were the days when I could still wear heels, dammit). And perhaps worst of all, I decided running at the NTC final with a snapped tibia was preferable to letting it heal properly and giving me a better following season.
I don't know why Donny is so surprised. I care about triathlon, swimming, makeup, athletics, and heels about one million times less than I care about him. So no, even though sometimes, when you send me horrible texts at 2am with so many curse words and offensive phrases I lose count, I will not give up on you, ever.
Jerk.
He has a point. I like to think I don't give up on things. Sure, I've done my share of fucking around (quitting my job at NZ Post after just two weeks is a pretty good example of this), but in general, I finish things I start. I recall one day - and I'm glad it was only one day - during my Worlds buildup, where I came home and crawled into bed, chewing on my sushi listlessly and wondering if I really wanted to go. In fact, if I'm honest, it was more than that. I didn't want to go. That afternoon was spent trying to convince myself that I did want to go. It took a lot. But I soldiered on, thinking of the glory I assumed would come attached to my world title (namely, Donny). There's been other occasions. I very nearly walked out on makeup school, about six days before graduation. I cried underwater during swim training before I went to Athens. When my leg was healing from surgery, I sometimes went without my splint in favour of wearing heels (those were the days when I could still wear heels, dammit). And perhaps worst of all, I decided running at the NTC final with a snapped tibia was preferable to letting it heal properly and giving me a better following season.
My pre-Athens nightmare
Jerk.
Sun Fest Oh! Nine
Merry Christmas to those readers who celebrate it! I'm pleased to announce it's the first sunny Christmas day we've had in a while where I live, so I'll probably head on down to Tikitapu / Blue Lake soon.
I just took a wee look at my Christmas-time posts from this time last year, and remembered that, oh yes - Christmas 2008 was spent being overly excited about the fact that Mr. Cannondale asked me out on Christmas morning. What a redundant wee affair that turned out to be! Like most things in my life, it was a huge amount of effort with next to no returns. Ah, well. It's settled, then. The rest of my life will be spent thinking only of Donny, and eventually cohabiting with him. Yeah, you read it here first, people. It's going to work out.
Like last year, I woke up this morning by myself, except that today there will be no breakfast with Sam and probably no other human interaction past paying for gas on my way to Rotorua. I'm fine with that - yesterday I spent a happy Christmas Eve getting festive with the Gilby-Todds - we had prawns, ham, lamb, many salads, and lots of fun. And I just can't go past mentioning Jess' incredible dessert. I don't even remember what it was called, but it had raspberries, cherries, cranberries, chocolate... all the good things you can imagine packed into a slice. Or four slices, as the case was with me. Jessica Gilby-Todd is a dessert genius.
I should probably think about leaving some time soon, so enjoy your day, readers!
I just took a wee look at my Christmas-time posts from this time last year, and remembered that, oh yes - Christmas 2008 was spent being overly excited about the fact that Mr. Cannondale asked me out on Christmas morning. What a redundant wee affair that turned out to be! Like most things in my life, it was a huge amount of effort with next to no returns. Ah, well. It's settled, then. The rest of my life will be spent thinking only of Donny, and eventually cohabiting with him. Yeah, you read it here first, people. It's going to work out.
Like last year, I woke up this morning by myself, except that today there will be no breakfast with Sam and probably no other human interaction past paying for gas on my way to Rotorua. I'm fine with that - yesterday I spent a happy Christmas Eve getting festive with the Gilby-Todds - we had prawns, ham, lamb, many salads, and lots of fun. And I just can't go past mentioning Jess' incredible dessert. I don't even remember what it was called, but it had raspberries, cherries, cranberries, chocolate... all the good things you can imagine packed into a slice. Or four slices, as the case was with me. Jessica Gilby-Todd is a dessert genius.
I should probably think about leaving some time soon, so enjoy your day, readers!
Coco Avant Chanel
Have I recently enjoyed a film as much as I enjoyed Coco Avant Chanel today?
It's unlikely.
My my, I have long admired the woman, despite knowing little about her, but the wee gem of a film (which I watched this afternoon in the amazing Lido Cinema in Hamilton, allll alone) really opened my mind to the opportunities that life presents, if we're willing to take them up.
Isn't Audrey Tautou a treat? And wow, even though I would love to say here how much I wish I looked like her, and that I was as talented as her, if anything, her performance as Coco (whose real name was Gabrielle) really inspired me to believe that happiness and success in life has so little to do with what you have, and so much to do with what you make it. The whole, lemons and lemonade thing. Inspiration and perspiration.
If an orphan girl born in the 1880s can blossom and create an empire, then what can we do? Whatever it is that we want. It's not about leading a charmed life, more about leading one we love and make the most of. And whatever we work towards, with all our hearts, will eventually bear the fruits of our labours. The labour of love is always the greatest.
I'm starting to sound a bit silly now, but I suggest you see this film, whether you're a fashion fan or not.
Live the life you love.
It's unlikely.
My my, I have long admired the woman, despite knowing little about her, but the wee gem of a film (which I watched this afternoon in the amazing Lido Cinema in Hamilton, allll alone) really opened my mind to the opportunities that life presents, if we're willing to take them up.
Isn't Audrey Tautou a treat? And wow, even though I would love to say here how much I wish I looked like her, and that I was as talented as her, if anything, her performance as Coco (whose real name was Gabrielle) really inspired me to believe that happiness and success in life has so little to do with what you have, and so much to do with what you make it. The whole, lemons and lemonade thing. Inspiration and perspiration.
If an orphan girl born in the 1880s can blossom and create an empire, then what can we do? Whatever it is that we want. It's not about leading a charmed life, more about leading one we love and make the most of. And whatever we work towards, with all our hearts, will eventually bear the fruits of our labours. The labour of love is always the greatest.
I'm starting to sound a bit silly now, but I suggest you see this film, whether you're a fashion fan or not.
Live the life you love.
Wired World Of Twitter
I'm a hugely flippant and revealing Tweeter. I've been told by a large number of people that I should tone it down a bit (some more gracefully than others... Margi: "you have to imagine that everything you say is something you would be comfortable people hearing in a public space" to LMC "you're disgusting, stop stalking my boyfriend!"). But Twitter's massive reach on the internet machine goes mostly unnoticed to the average Tweeter until well, you google your username. And then you get all, "ooh, should I really have said I hated Greece? That comment about women in Huntly being ugly was a bit off."
I'd just like to confirm that I definitely do not think Huntly women are ugly. In fact, one of the most beautiful girls I know comes from Huntly. It was more a stab at the stupid article in the Waikato Times recently about how Tiger Woods didn't get any extramarital loving while he was there a few years ago. Umm, hello? About half of Woods' alleged mistresses are porn stars. Of course he didn't get it on with farmers' wives. And to be really honest, I don't care about his affairs, or like him any less. I never thought he was man of the year - just a crazy-good golfer. And I'm pretty sure, despite his current absence from the tour, that he still is. I'm sick of the "I slept with Tiger Woods" groups popping up on Facebook, and sick of the constant coverage on gossip sites. Give it a rest, people. It's not like he was canonised.
Wow, that went slightly off-topic.
Point is, am I going to become a more introverted Tweeter? Doubt it. Somewhere out there, people are enjoying my tweets about drunken nights in Hamilton. Sure, some are using them against me, but my advice to them is to fuck off and enjoy your own life. That's all I'm doing.
Peace, love and Christmas fun, friends!!!
I'd just like to confirm that I definitely do not think Huntly women are ugly. In fact, one of the most beautiful girls I know comes from Huntly. It was more a stab at the stupid article in the Waikato Times recently about how Tiger Woods didn't get any extramarital loving while he was there a few years ago. Umm, hello? About half of Woods' alleged mistresses are porn stars. Of course he didn't get it on with farmers' wives. And to be really honest, I don't care about his affairs, or like him any less. I never thought he was man of the year - just a crazy-good golfer. And I'm pretty sure, despite his current absence from the tour, that he still is. I'm sick of the "I slept with Tiger Woods" groups popping up on Facebook, and sick of the constant coverage on gossip sites. Give it a rest, people. It's not like he was canonised.
Wow, that went slightly off-topic.
Point is, am I going to become a more introverted Tweeter? Doubt it. Somewhere out there, people are enjoying my tweets about drunken nights in Hamilton. Sure, some are using them against me, but my advice to them is to fuck off and enjoy your own life. That's all I'm doing.
Peace, love and Christmas fun, friends!!!
24 December 2009
Fourteen Year Olds! They're Just Like Us!
Okay, okay. Koko Tsurumi and Kexin He aren't really fourteen, but they could definitely pass for it. Kexin, the Chinese bars dynamo, is either almost 18 or almost 16, (depending on which files you read, apparently) and Koko has recently turned 18. The pair posed for photos together at the Artistic Gymnastic World Championships in London earlier in the year, during the uneven bars final (where Kexin won and Koko earned a silver).
I didn't quite catch it, but between photos Koko pulls this face that everyone pulls when they're taking photos. It's just so good. Turns out, really small (Kexin is 1.46m tall, and Koko 1.40m) elite gymnasts are actually normal people too! Awww. I just love them.
I didn't quite catch it, but between photos Koko pulls this face that everyone pulls when they're taking photos. It's just so good. Turns out, really small (Kexin is 1.46m tall, and Koko 1.40m) elite gymnasts are actually normal people too! Awww. I just love them.
Time Flies
I got so caught up in reading for and writing that blog that more than an hour went past unnoticed while I did so. Seriously, the last time I looked at the clock it said 12:42am. It's now 2:30am. Good god, I need some sleep.
True To Form
I have, in the last few hours, become obsessed with Pan's Labyrinth. Since Sunday, I've been holding the fort at my parents' Hamilton home by myself, and due to the fact that three of my four friends have flown the coop (Yasmin to Thailand, Sophie to Whangamata, and Thom to Matakana - leaving just Becky, who is a bit worse for wear after some sort of altercation none of us remember on Saturday night) I've spent my time wisely - watching DVDs.
I'm not a person who often hires DVDs, and I guess I can put this down to the fact that until September, I rarely had time to sit down for two hours at once, and since then I've been drunk, at uni, or thinking about Ben (sometimes I actually find myself thinking about him for hours, accomplishing nothing). You can imagine my excitement then when I discovered that it's just $1 per DVD on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. As such, I hired five right away - The Mistress Of Spices, Nóialbinoi, Amélie, Allegria (which is a Cirque du Soleil performance) and A Mighty Heart. And wow, can I just say, Icelandic cinema is highly underrated. Nóialbinoi quite honestly changed my life. You should definitely watch it. Anyway, I got done with those films last night, so returned them today (more on THAT drama shortly) and went about picking new ones. "New" here being a relative term - I've still never seen Girl, Interrupted so I thought I should (no, this has nothing to do with Brittany Murphy's recent demise), Letters From Iwo Jima, Memoirs Of A Geisha, The Hours, and of course, Pan's Labyrinth.
I'd been warned about the eye bottling near the start of Pan's by Rex, my old flatmate, and I'm not going to lie - I covered my face with a blanket while it went on, along with the part where Mercedes fairly cuts open the Captain's face after stabbing the crap out of him (he then summons the energy to keep on living. God, it just reminded me of that Marine asshole in Avatar. I almost stood up and did a victory dance when HE died). I don't know. It was just a bit unsettling. I quite liked the thing at the banquet table with eyes in its palms though - reminded me of something you might see in a Tool video. I liked Pan's. A lot. And I learnt a new literary term - fantastic - from watching it. Yes, turns out that in one sense I'm incorrect in referring to many things (such as my year, up until today) as fantastic! It's a literary term which describes a genre - so to put it into context, Ofelia's world in Pan's is fantastic. That excites me. I want to create a fantastic world for myself, too. I also want a screaming magic root under my bed that requires two drops of blood each day. I would also like a Faun that gives me new challenges each day.
Anyway.
I've noticed I do that "Anyway." thing a bit too much for it to go unreferenced. It's a subconscious thing, one I picked up from reading Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close (a book I do not recommend reading if you lost a loved one in 9/11) by Jonathan Safran Foer, who, kind of unfortunately for him, shares a name with that crazy Australian guy John Safran. Oh, and guess what else? He's a professor in the CREATIVE WRITING PROGRAM AT NYU. Ahh, I'm so conflicted it hurts my small, undeveloped brain.
Nóialbinoi clarified something for me that, once the idea popped into my head, I realised it had been there all along. It's just that the strange little Icelandic film kind of rammed it home like never before. I've long wanted to go to Iceland. You may have even noticed this, what with my constant references to the country, along with posted information you may not have bothered to read about Detifoss, Europe's most powerful waterfall (at least remember the photo! The huge waterfall, with the man standing next to it!? I still wonder what he's doing now). Ooh, Iceland - you seem so exotic, with your enormous fjords, unfathomable language, and neverending state of twilight.
+-+Google+Chrome+24122009+15704+a.m..bmp.jpg)
But whilst watching Nói, I suddenly saw that Iceland seems to the Icelandics as New Zealand does to me - a place to get out of. It's hard for me to explain (which is a problem, because expressing myself using words is what I'm supposed to be good at), but I had a real "wow" moment during the scene where Nói and Íris find Hawaii on the world map. Like I said, I already knew that - how else would I have met Nayuha?
I loved Nói.
I'm not a person who often hires DVDs, and I guess I can put this down to the fact that until September, I rarely had time to sit down for two hours at once, and since then I've been drunk, at uni, or thinking about Ben (sometimes I actually find myself thinking about him for hours, accomplishing nothing). You can imagine my excitement then when I discovered that it's just $1 per DVD on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. As such, I hired five right away - The Mistress Of Spices, Nóialbinoi, Amélie, Allegria (which is a Cirque du Soleil performance) and A Mighty Heart. And wow, can I just say, Icelandic cinema is highly underrated. Nóialbinoi quite honestly changed my life. You should definitely watch it. Anyway, I got done with those films last night, so returned them today (more on THAT drama shortly) and went about picking new ones. "New" here being a relative term - I've still never seen Girl, Interrupted so I thought I should (no, this has nothing to do with Brittany Murphy's recent demise), Letters From Iwo Jima, Memoirs Of A Geisha, The Hours, and of course, Pan's Labyrinth.
I'd been warned about the eye bottling near the start of Pan's by Rex, my old flatmate, and I'm not going to lie - I covered my face with a blanket while it went on, along with the part where Mercedes fairly cuts open the Captain's face after stabbing the crap out of him (he then summons the energy to keep on living. God, it just reminded me of that Marine asshole in Avatar. I almost stood up and did a victory dance when HE died). I don't know. It was just a bit unsettling. I quite liked the thing at the banquet table with eyes in its palms though - reminded me of something you might see in a Tool video. I liked Pan's. A lot. And I learnt a new literary term - fantastic - from watching it. Yes, turns out that in one sense I'm incorrect in referring to many things (such as my year, up until today) as fantastic! It's a literary term which describes a genre - so to put it into context, Ofelia's world in Pan's is fantastic. That excites me. I want to create a fantastic world for myself, too. I also want a screaming magic root under my bed that requires two drops of blood each day. I would also like a Faun that gives me new challenges each day.
Anyway.
I've noticed I do that "Anyway." thing a bit too much for it to go unreferenced. It's a subconscious thing, one I picked up from reading Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close (a book I do not recommend reading if you lost a loved one in 9/11) by Jonathan Safran Foer, who, kind of unfortunately for him, shares a name with that crazy Australian guy John Safran. Oh, and guess what else? He's a professor in the CREATIVE WRITING PROGRAM AT NYU. Ahh, I'm so conflicted it hurts my small, undeveloped brain.
Nóialbinoi clarified something for me that, once the idea popped into my head, I realised it had been there all along. It's just that the strange little Icelandic film kind of rammed it home like never before. I've long wanted to go to Iceland. You may have even noticed this, what with my constant references to the country, along with posted information you may not have bothered to read about Detifoss, Europe's most powerful waterfall (at least remember the photo! The huge waterfall, with the man standing next to it!? I still wonder what he's doing now). Ooh, Iceland - you seem so exotic, with your enormous fjords, unfathomable language, and neverending state of twilight.
+-+Google+Chrome+24122009+15704+a.m..bmp.jpg)
But whilst watching Nói, I suddenly saw that Iceland seems to the Icelandics as New Zealand does to me - a place to get out of. It's hard for me to explain (which is a problem, because expressing myself using words is what I'm supposed to be good at), but I had a real "wow" moment during the scene where Nói and Íris find Hawaii on the world map. Like I said, I already knew that - how else would I have met Nayuha?
I loved Nói.
Now, let me tell you about the fun I had when I went to return my DVDs. I had the intention of returning them, giving Casey a ride to the panelbeaters (some girl backed into her car!), and going home, but instead, I spent no less than three hours in the carpark at the DVD store. Upon returning to my car (less than two minutes after leaving it), it wouldn't start. It was truly bizarre. The engine wasn't even turning. I sat, perplexed, wondering what I could possibly have done to my car. I hadn't left the lights on - it was 1pm! I hadn't left it in gear (I've done that twice, and twice made people come out to "rescue" me - this of course consisting of them sliding my gear stick from D into P), and I hadn't left the "stereo" - a tape deck with an iPod attachment - on. What happened?! I went about calling every Hamilton guy in my cellphone directory, none of whom answered. I almost resorted to calling Donny, but then remembered I would probably have a better shot at fixing a car than he would. I left my car, and wondered around the parking lot for about 50 minutes, making calls, sending texts, generally getting upset about the fact. And all of a sudden, my car was clamped. Yes, my car, that wouldn't start, much less move from its park - got clamped. I was livid, and explained, in varying speeds and tones, to the clamp attendant, my predicament. He didn't seem to care, and charged me the full amount for removing the clamp. Can you believe it? I certainly couldn't, and made sure to sit in my car for the next hour and a half for the AA to come and help me. The problem? My battery had done its dash. Seriously. Done. Its. Dash.
"I can give you a jump," the AA guy told me "but it will only get you to wherever you next turn off your car. It's done." Ah, how ridiculous. I took the jump, drove home and lamented my situation. And so it is that I'm now getting around in my dad's 1991 Nissan Bluebird, in which I'm unable to adjust the seat. Now, my dad is 6 feet tall. I'm 5'2". It's fun times, perching on the edge of that seat.
I am so furious about being charged for that clamping, I could stab someone. But I don't think I will. Just watching it being done on that film freaked me out. I don't know how Clayton Weatherston sleeps at night.
21 December 2009
Fantastico
For some reason during the night last night I switched ends of the bed. I woke up, untucked the covers, put the pillow at the other end, and spent the rest of the night sleeping that way.
WTF.
Anyway, I'm still stumped for the eighth, ninth and tenth days of Christmas. And I'm a little bit bitter because I didn't get seven free drinks in town - I didn't even get one. All I got was some guy telling me he wanted to drown himself.
Today, the nominees for the Halberg Awards were announced and so it was confirmed that I have absolutely no chance at becoming a finalist and as such attending the ceremony. Wanna know who they are?
Nicole Begg, Cath Cheatley, Emma Feathery, Mary Fisher, Paige Hareb, Andrea Hewitt, Hayley Moorwood, Sophie Pascoe, Rebecca Scown, Alison Shanks, Paula Tesoriero, Emma Twigg, Valerie Vili, Sarah Walker, Casey Williams, Monique Williams and me. At a guess they'll narrow it to six, three of whom will no doubt be Valerie, Sophie and Alison. From there I'd go with Sarah, Monique and Casey. Sport Waikato might have got it wrong, but I'm fairly confident the Halberg Trust won't.
My eyes are starting to get patchy so I might just retreat to bed. This whole, twelve days of Christmas thing is rubbish anyway. I hate Christmas.
WTF.
Anyway, I'm still stumped for the eighth, ninth and tenth days of Christmas. And I'm a little bit bitter because I didn't get seven free drinks in town - I didn't even get one. All I got was some guy telling me he wanted to drown himself.
Today, the nominees for the Halberg Awards were announced and so it was confirmed that I have absolutely no chance at becoming a finalist and as such attending the ceremony. Wanna know who they are?
Nicole Begg, Cath Cheatley, Emma Feathery, Mary Fisher, Paige Hareb, Andrea Hewitt, Hayley Moorwood, Sophie Pascoe, Rebecca Scown, Alison Shanks, Paula Tesoriero, Emma Twigg, Valerie Vili, Sarah Walker, Casey Williams, Monique Williams and me. At a guess they'll narrow it to six, three of whom will no doubt be Valerie, Sophie and Alison. From there I'd go with Sarah, Monique and Casey. Sport Waikato might have got it wrong, but I'm fairly confident the Halberg Trust won't.
Alison Shanks with her World Cup gold
The Long Walk Home
Saturday, like every other Saturday I've spent in Hamilton since September, was messy.
Reports from the night include hurling abuse, out of control dancing, running, shrieking, and far too much drinking. It ended with me walking home at 4am in the rain.
So maybe not my best idea yet. Before I was even out of town, I'd been accosted by no less than three people, asked for directions to Firecats (it probably looked like I'd just come from there), and even been offered a ride home from my mother, which I weirdly refused in favour of braving the streets of Hamilton.
Oh, and did I mention that Donny was texting me airy, wannabe philosophical messages about his imminent drowning in the river. Dear God. How am I the one that comes off "crazy" in this relationship? Of course he didn't actually do it, but this didn't stop me fretting for the last 30 minutes of my walk about being charged in relation to his death. Surely there was some way of whoever found him on the river bed reading the messages from me in his phone and coming to the conclusion that I'd driven him to it?
I was upset in town when my "Waikato Sportswoman of the Year" and "Halberg nominee" accolades got me neither free drinks nor congratulations from Donny (mind you, who was I kidding? Most of his texts on the night lamented the fact that he wasted $8 on a kebab he wasn't going to eat. Oh, Hamilton) and it sounds like I took my frustrations out on people I spotted who I "kind of knew" - yes, that includes that guy from the gym I had a crush on earlier in the year - screaming abuse at him for no apparent reason (it may have been that he didn't initially recognise me with my Gaga hair, but that excuse didn't really suit drunken me), another guy who infuriated me by claiming he was friends with Ben, and all night calling the love of Becky's life "Lance Armstrong". To be fair, he does kind of look like him. And I for one would love to be compared to Lance. So I don't know what his problem was...
The moral of the story? I think it's high time for me to clean up my act. It was almost 30 hours ago and I still have sore feet from the walk home, and concerns about Donny's state of mind (although weirdly, we had a civil conversation for a considerable part of yesterday, leaving me perplexed). As of today, any New Years' plans have been tentatively cancelled in favour of hiring a Nintendo64 and playing Zelda for the rest of my time in Hamilton.
What day of Christmas is it today? The TENTH. Oh, man.
Whose idea was this?! I'm really stuck. Maybe later on today...
Reports from the night include hurling abuse, out of control dancing, running, shrieking, and far too much drinking. It ended with me walking home at 4am in the rain.
So maybe not my best idea yet. Before I was even out of town, I'd been accosted by no less than three people, asked for directions to Firecats (it probably looked like I'd just come from there), and even been offered a ride home from my mother, which I weirdly refused in favour of braving the streets of Hamilton.
Oh, and did I mention that Donny was texting me airy, wannabe philosophical messages about his imminent drowning in the river. Dear God. How am I the one that comes off "crazy" in this relationship? Of course he didn't actually do it, but this didn't stop me fretting for the last 30 minutes of my walk about being charged in relation to his death. Surely there was some way of whoever found him on the river bed reading the messages from me in his phone and coming to the conclusion that I'd driven him to it?
I was upset in town when my "Waikato Sportswoman of the Year" and "Halberg nominee" accolades got me neither free drinks nor congratulations from Donny (mind you, who was I kidding? Most of his texts on the night lamented the fact that he wasted $8 on a kebab he wasn't going to eat. Oh, Hamilton) and it sounds like I took my frustrations out on people I spotted who I "kind of knew" - yes, that includes that guy from the gym I had a crush on earlier in the year - screaming abuse at him for no apparent reason (it may have been that he didn't initially recognise me with my Gaga hair, but that excuse didn't really suit drunken me), another guy who infuriated me by claiming he was friends with Ben, and all night calling the love of Becky's life "Lance Armstrong". To be fair, he does kind of look like him. And I for one would love to be compared to Lance. So I don't know what his problem was...
The moral of the story? I think it's high time for me to clean up my act. It was almost 30 hours ago and I still have sore feet from the walk home, and concerns about Donny's state of mind (although weirdly, we had a civil conversation for a considerable part of yesterday, leaving me perplexed). As of today, any New Years' plans have been tentatively cancelled in favour of hiring a Nintendo64 and playing Zelda for the rest of my time in Hamilton.
What day of Christmas is it today? The TENTH. Oh, man.
Whose idea was this?! I'm really stuck. Maybe later on today...
18 December 2009
The Sellout Tour
I arrived in Hamilton yesterday morning, bright and early at about 10:15am. Hello, photo of Donny on the airport wall. Why must you taunt me so?
Immediately upon my arrival home I had an interview with Waikato Times sports reporter Aaron Goile, before being whisked off to Auckland with Yasmin and Anita for dinner with Christina. Phew. We got back at around 12:30am, where I promptly fell asleep. This morning? A Waikato Times photo shoot and meetings with the New Zealand Academy of Sport and Sport Waikato. And tomorrow, I have two Christmas parties to attend!
I'm feeling the love.
My room looks like a bomb hit it, on account of my lack of unpacking. There's tinsel (part of my Saturday night costume), bottles of nail polish, pants, swimming caps and two ripped open bags from Threadless all over the floor, along with two still-packed suitcases. There are three bouquets of flowers in here - the one from Sport Waikato having been groomed to perfection by my mother as the various flowers die. I haven't even seen my dad yet.
And then there's Nane, who was woken last night by some creepy stranger watching her as she slept! OMG. How does shit like this happen? Poor Nane! I would have cried. Miriam does not like this.
I have many things to do before tomorrow. Plan and buy the rest of my Christmas party outfit, welcome bidders on my mountain bike for inspections, attend my mother's work do, sell my bike. Also, hoping for a spare moment to drop in on my favourite family, the Gilby-Todds.
As for the sixth and seventh days of Christmas...
Um, wow. I TOLD you this was going to get progressively harder!
Seven free drinks tomorrow night in town!
Six hugs for six of my favourite people: Mike Todd, Jan Gilby, Tom & Jessica Gilby-Todd, Sophie Dewstow-Wright and Thom Horton
Five punnets of strawberries
Four months in Los Angeles
Three Napoleon Perdis Prismatic Eyeshadow Quads
Two Chanel Hydramax + Active Moisture Creams
and a Donny in a pear tree.
Immediately upon my arrival home I had an interview with Waikato Times sports reporter Aaron Goile, before being whisked off to Auckland with Yasmin and Anita for dinner with Christina. Phew. We got back at around 12:30am, where I promptly fell asleep. This morning? A Waikato Times photo shoot and meetings with the New Zealand Academy of Sport and Sport Waikato. And tomorrow, I have two Christmas parties to attend!
I'm feeling the love.
My room looks like a bomb hit it, on account of my lack of unpacking. There's tinsel (part of my Saturday night costume), bottles of nail polish, pants, swimming caps and two ripped open bags from Threadless all over the floor, along with two still-packed suitcases. There are three bouquets of flowers in here - the one from Sport Waikato having been groomed to perfection by my mother as the various flowers die. I haven't even seen my dad yet.
And then there's Nane, who was woken last night by some creepy stranger watching her as she slept! OMG. How does shit like this happen? Poor Nane! I would have cried. Miriam does not like this.
I have many things to do before tomorrow. Plan and buy the rest of my Christmas party outfit, welcome bidders on my mountain bike for inspections, attend my mother's work do, sell my bike. Also, hoping for a spare moment to drop in on my favourite family, the Gilby-Todds.
As for the sixth and seventh days of Christmas...
Um, wow. I TOLD you this was going to get progressively harder!
Seven free drinks tomorrow night in town!
Six hugs for six of my favourite people: Mike Todd, Jan Gilby, Tom & Jessica Gilby-Todd, Sophie Dewstow-Wright and Thom Horton
Five punnets of strawberries
Four months in Los Angeles
Three Napoleon Perdis Prismatic Eyeshadow Quads
Two Chanel Hydramax + Active Moisture Creams
and a Donny in a pear tree.
16 December 2009
I Just Love It When...
Websites (such as swimnetwork.com) nullify their video links. Good-bye, embed of Kosuke's 100m breaststroke race from Short Course Nationals. Ah well...
Fifth day of Christmas? Ummm, oooh... this is getting tough. Five punnets of strawberries!
Five punnets of strawberries
Four months in Los Angeles
Three Napoleon Perdis Prismatic Eyeshadow Quads
Two Chanel Hydramax + Active Moisture Creams
and a Donny in a pear tree.
Fifth day of Christmas? Ummm, oooh... this is getting tough. Five punnets of strawberries!
Five punnets of strawberries
Four months in Los Angeles
Three Napoleon Perdis Prismatic Eyeshadow Quads
Two Chanel Hydramax + Active Moisture Creams
and a Donny in a pear tree.
Thread-less
I've long been yearning to have my eyebrows threaded by an Indian.
Waxing, to be quite frank, scares the shit out of me. On the eyes, anyway. I mean, I know the likelihood of the therapist dropping searing hot wax on my eyeball is small, but you just never know! And since I've been letting my normally plucked-to-within-an-inch-of-their-lives eyebrows live it up for the last six weeks, now is the perfect time to sort them out.
I first tried to book an appointment at Gloucester Cottage, just outside Christchurch's city centre, but due to late notice (I called yesterday for a booking today), they were unable to help. And anyway, pretty sure the threading would be carried out by a white girl and that's just not what I want. I then discovered 24 Carat Beauty (even the name sounds Bollywood-fabulous) and arranged an appointment at the tiny salon on Colombo Street. It's only costing me $10 (USD7), and the best bit? An Indian is doing it! Yay!
While it's tempting to post "before" and "after" photos - this is just not going to happen. It's bad enough that I've been strolling around the place with out-of-control brows for the last month or two, but actually pointing it out to people so they can be all, "ew!" then "oooh..." kind of scares me. You can, however, expect to see photos of the finished product - ideally, brows a la Priyanka Chopra - in the next few days.
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Hooray for cheap, Indian threading!
Waxing, to be quite frank, scares the shit out of me. On the eyes, anyway. I mean, I know the likelihood of the therapist dropping searing hot wax on my eyeball is small, but you just never know! And since I've been letting my normally plucked-to-within-an-inch-of-their-lives eyebrows live it up for the last six weeks, now is the perfect time to sort them out.
I first tried to book an appointment at Gloucester Cottage, just outside Christchurch's city centre, but due to late notice (I called yesterday for a booking today), they were unable to help. And anyway, pretty sure the threading would be carried out by a white girl and that's just not what I want. I then discovered 24 Carat Beauty (even the name sounds Bollywood-fabulous) and arranged an appointment at the tiny salon on Colombo Street. It's only costing me $10 (USD7), and the best bit? An Indian is doing it! Yay!
While it's tempting to post "before" and "after" photos - this is just not going to happen. It's bad enough that I've been strolling around the place with out-of-control brows for the last month or two, but actually pointing it out to people so they can be all, "ew!" then "oooh..." kind of scares me. You can, however, expect to see photos of the finished product - ideally, brows a la Priyanka Chopra - in the next few days.
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Hooray for cheap, Indian threading!
Baked At 1am
Well, I don't know if it's actually baking if the box from which the ingredients came loudly proclaims "No Bake". But I'm going to say yes. There was some definite microwave action in there.
The cause? Tomorrow is the last day of my Summer paper. We have a Whakamātautau a tuhituhi (writing test) followed by what I'll refer to - probably incorrectly - as a huikai. Māori readers, feel free to correct as necessary. We're going to have a mean feed, anyway. I prepared (or baked) my personal fave - chocolate fudge, and added some M&Ms, just to be tacky.
On a completely unrelated note, here is a stupid photo of me at Denny's the other night. My hair is the same colour as my tshirt, which is my favourite feature of the photo.
Excitement: I'm GOING HOME TOMORROW! I can say that, since it's 1:10am Wednesday and not 9:10pm Tuesday or whatever my Tokyo time might have you believe. I have a newspaper interview (fallout from the Sportswoman of the Year award) and then Yasmin and I are off to Auckland to watch Avatar, which I've been looking forward to for some months now. Bring on tomorrow!!!!
Over and out, Upper East Side.
15 December 2009
The Big Easy
As it happened, reaching 300 posts this year wasn't quite the trial I expected. So far, December has been a particularly newsworthy month, as evidenced by the fact that it's just the 15th today and I'm at 301.
You must ignore the fact that "Summertime" was published this morning - this is because I typed it while at my sister's house in Rolleston last night, where there is no wireless. I also missed the third day of Christmas, which is for the record, three Napoleon Perdis Prismatic Eyeshadow Quads - in #1, #6 and #10.
And what of today? Well, I envision this getting harder each day. What in the world do I want four of? The original songs provides "four calling birds", but I am really just not a bird fan. How about four months in LA next year? November until February would suit me just fine.
Four months in LA
Three Napoleon Perdis Prismatic Eyeshadow Quads
Two Chanel Hydramax + Active Moisture Creams
and a Donny in a pear tree
I had no idea the twelve days of Christmas *really* starts on December 25, and runs until January 5, the day before the Feast of the Epiphany. But whatever. I like my way.
You must ignore the fact that "Summertime" was published this morning - this is because I typed it while at my sister's house in Rolleston last night, where there is no wireless. I also missed the third day of Christmas, which is for the record, three Napoleon Perdis Prismatic Eyeshadow Quads - in #1, #6 and #10.
And what of today? Well, I envision this getting harder each day. What in the world do I want four of? The original songs provides "four calling birds", but I am really just not a bird fan. How about four months in LA next year? November until February would suit me just fine.
Four months in LA
Three Napoleon Perdis Prismatic Eyeshadow Quads
Two Chanel Hydramax + Active Moisture Creams
and a Donny in a pear tree
I had no idea the twelve days of Christmas *really* starts on December 25, and runs until January 5, the day before the Feast of the Epiphany. But whatever. I like my way.
Summertime?
Here I go again, complaining about the weather.
In my hemisphere of the world, December is supposed to be summer. And as a general rule, it is. This morning when I woke up at 6:40am, the sun was out, and it looked to be a beautiful day. And so, when I eventually got ready for my last class of the Summer Session, I got dressed into a square neck, sleeveless top and some teeny tiny shorts.
I can catch some rays during my walk to uni, I thought to myself, braving the chilly southerly breeze in the name of getting my daily vitamin E.
My class was due to start at 1pm, so I retreated to the library to read for an hour beforehand, where I proceeded to freeze. By the time I left, my hands were beginning to display minor signs of cyanosis - which I'll admit, after having had a stroke, is not all that uncommon for me. Once outside, the sunny day had turned grey, and it was beginning to rain.
I continued to get colder and colder throughout the two-hour class, and when it came time to attend our tutorial, it was well and truly a shit day. Freezing wind and rain lashed the campus and my ill thought-out, over-exposed body and feet.
Is it December? Really? It feels like December in Los Angeles, not New Zealand.
Tomorrow's forecast? Marble-sized hailstones. I can't wait.
In my hemisphere of the world, December is supposed to be summer. And as a general rule, it is. This morning when I woke up at 6:40am, the sun was out, and it looked to be a beautiful day. And so, when I eventually got ready for my last class of the Summer Session, I got dressed into a square neck, sleeveless top and some teeny tiny shorts.
I can catch some rays during my walk to uni, I thought to myself, braving the chilly southerly breeze in the name of getting my daily vitamin E.
My class was due to start at 1pm, so I retreated to the library to read for an hour beforehand, where I proceeded to freeze. By the time I left, my hands were beginning to display minor signs of cyanosis - which I'll admit, after having had a stroke, is not all that uncommon for me. Once outside, the sunny day had turned grey, and it was beginning to rain.
I continued to get colder and colder throughout the two-hour class, and when it came time to attend our tutorial, it was well and truly a shit day. Freezing wind and rain lashed the campus and my ill thought-out, over-exposed body and feet.
Is it December? Really? It feels like December in Los Angeles, not New Zealand.
Tomorrow's forecast? Marble-sized hailstones. I can't wait.
14 December 2009
I Knew It!
Confirmed! Ivana Hong did previously train out of GAGE (the Great American Gymnastics Express) in Missouri. Don't know what the hell I'm talking about?
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So I was wrong about the "originally" part, but I just knew Hong was a Fong girl once. Personally, I am afraid of Al Fong like no-one else on the face of the earth. I mean, really... he was pretty much responsible for Julissa Gomez's death, and it's no secret that Christy Henrich expired under his tutelage as well. It's disgusting for me to talk so flippantly about these awful situations, but surely his legal ability to be a coach of gymnastics should be revoked!?
Anyway, the good news is that Ivana is in much safer hands at WOGA (World Olympic Gymnastics Academy) these days, the institution that created my all-time fave, Carly Patterson, as well as Beijing champion Nastia Liukin, and 2009 World Championship runner-up, Rebecca Bross. I now read that Bross can throw a Patterson dismount on beam? Get out, bitch. It's called a Patterson for a reason: it belongs to her. Go make up your own skill.
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So I was wrong about the "originally" part, but I just knew Hong was a Fong girl once. Personally, I am afraid of Al Fong like no-one else on the face of the earth. I mean, really... he was pretty much responsible for Julissa Gomez's death, and it's no secret that Christy Henrich expired under his tutelage as well. It's disgusting for me to talk so flippantly about these awful situations, but surely his legal ability to be a coach of gymnastics should be revoked!?
Anyway, the good news is that Ivana is in much safer hands at WOGA (World Olympic Gymnastics Academy) these days, the institution that created my all-time fave, Carly Patterson, as well as Beijing champion Nastia Liukin, and 2009 World Championship runner-up, Rebecca Bross. I now read that Bross can throw a Patterson dismount on beam? Get out, bitch. It's called a Patterson for a reason: it belongs to her. Go make up your own skill.
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Sunday Morning
Does anyone else get really disappointed when they check PostSecret and it's not up?
I mean, book tour, schmook tour. Give us our PostSecret!
I'm kidding, Frank. Really I am.
Here's some cute kittens from the pet store.
I mean, book tour, schmook tour. Give us our PostSecret!
I'm kidding, Frank. Really I am.
Here's some cute kittens from the pet store.
Bowling For Broken Nails
In order to suck as much as I can out of my Christchurch experience before I return to the town of cows on Thursday, I dragged my flatmate around the place this weekend, playing minigolf (I won) Timezone basketball (I won) and bowling.
You'll notice I didn't menton winning bowling.
I forgot the *real* reason I never go bowling in Hamilton, and that is, not because Donny is a duty manager there, but because I might just be the WORST bowler in the world. This was evident when on my second turn, I managed two consecutive gutter balls. I don't even know what my combined score for two games was, but I'm going to go right ahead and take a shot. Probably around 30. I am that bad at bowling.
To be fair, bowling is not an enjoyable thing to do. Unlike minigolf, at which I am relatively good (this may be in part due to the two years I spent on my high school golf team, but let's keep that under wraps), bowling hurts. It not only chipped half the nail polish off of most of the fingers on my right hand, it's left me with a slightly swollen, red thumb and forefinger, and a sore toe. I dare say that the bowling action also exacerbated my already flaming right rotator cuff tendinitis, too. Can't wait for my swim in the morning!
What a waste of time. I hate bowling.
Twelve days of Christmas? Hmmm, it's day two, and I'm already stumped. After watching Love Actually (should it be Love, Actually? I mean, just based on Hugh Grant's soliloquy at the end: "Love, actually is all around" or is that just a pause, not a comma? Ah, who cares really?) for about the fourteen thousandth time tonight, I'm going to put it out there. Donny: All I want for Christmas is you.
Moving on, I'm going to say two pots of Chanel Hydramax + Active Moisture Cream.
Two pots of Chanel Hydramax + Active Moisture Cream
And a Donny in a pear tree.
You'll notice I didn't menton winning bowling.
I forgot the *real* reason I never go bowling in Hamilton, and that is, not because Donny is a duty manager there, but because I might just be the WORST bowler in the world. This was evident when on my second turn, I managed two consecutive gutter balls. I don't even know what my combined score for two games was, but I'm going to go right ahead and take a shot. Probably around 30. I am that bad at bowling.
To be fair, bowling is not an enjoyable thing to do. Unlike minigolf, at which I am relatively good (this may be in part due to the two years I spent on my high school golf team, but let's keep that under wraps), bowling hurts. It not only chipped half the nail polish off of most of the fingers on my right hand, it's left me with a slightly swollen, red thumb and forefinger, and a sore toe. I dare say that the bowling action also exacerbated my already flaming right rotator cuff tendinitis, too. Can't wait for my swim in the morning!
What a waste of time. I hate bowling.
Twelve days of Christmas? Hmmm, it's day two, and I'm already stumped. After watching Love Actually (should it be Love, Actually? I mean, just based on Hugh Grant's soliloquy at the end: "Love, actually is all around" or is that just a pause, not a comma? Ah, who cares really?) for about the fourteen thousandth time tonight, I'm going to put it out there. Donny: All I want for Christmas is you.
Moving on, I'm going to say two pots of Chanel Hydramax + Active Moisture Cream.
Two pots of Chanel Hydramax + Active Moisture Cream
And a Donny in a pear tree.
13 December 2009
I Love: Koko Tsurumi
I've found another gymnast to add to my list of much-loved Japanese people: Koko Tsurumi.
The 4'7" Tsurumi, out of Tokyo, this year in London became the first Japanese woman to medal at a World Gymnastics Championships since 1966. On watching videos of her performances, it's easy to see why. Koko lacks the difficulty of Chinese superstar He Kexin on bars (but, seriously - tell me who doesn't. That girl is like a magician on the apparatus) but executes her skills with perfection and grace, earning her a silver medal. She was third in the all-around - a few steps on the landing of a tumbling set on floor may have cost her silver, but her other landings on the apparatus were flawless, and reminiscent of a young Carly Patterson in 2004. Granted, Koko is somewhere between Carly and Nastia in terms of grace (Carly being all punch and power, and Nastia looking like she would fit seamlessly into the Bolshoi), but her stuck landings at Worlds this year were laudable.
At last year's Olympic Games in Beijing, China, Koko was a beam finalist, placing eighth (she was sixteen at the time). At Worlds this year she was able to best that by two places, despite a considerable wobble following a flip flop-back aerial series. On beam, like her other apparatus, she is precise and calculated, almost to her detriment - she nearly ran over time, but ignoring the stress involved with hearing the ten-second signal, was able to deliver a flawless dismount.
Unfortunately, Koko was born in an "off" year - meaning her best years will come between Olympic Games. There's nothing to say, however, that she won't be in tip-top form for the 2012 Games in London, (just ask Kosuke Kitajima about the benefits of preparing for a familiar competition venue) and if not then she has a viable shot at the all-around at 2011 Worlds - to be held in Koko's own hometown of Tokyo. Hell, I might even be there by then! (Tokyo, not competing at Worlds...)
What Is This? Paramore Day?
Wow, I am really not a fan of Paramore, ESPECIALLY when they are having a like, "It's Sunday morning! Let's play a whole bunch of Paramore songs in a row on the radio right now!" moment on the radio station, and the other options are U2 and John Mayer.
I'm having an unproductive weekend. Last night, rather than finishing the text I'm reading for my January Summer paper, I watched The Nanny Diaries. Have you seen it? It's utter crap, and I knew it as soon as I started watching. But I watched it anyway. It was that or like, Naked & Funny, which could in fact be the WORST show of all time ever.
Wow, I'm full of bitchiness this morning, aren't I?
Oh, here's something nice: Caroline Evers-Swindell, one half of New Zealand's favourite twin sisters, got married in Taupo yesterday. The Evers-Swindells (the other sister being Georgina) have twice won the Olympic women's double sculls race in rowing, along with a bunch of World titles. They retired earlier in the year, and Georgina got married. Yesterday it was Caroline's turn, and the twins joined a short line of New Zealand athletes who are settling down for the family life. Sarah Ulmer had a sly baby recently, too.
Is it wrong that I'm desperate to hear whether she triple-hyphenates her name to Caroline Evers-Swindell-Meyer? Fingers crossed.
I'm having an unproductive weekend. Last night, rather than finishing the text I'm reading for my January Summer paper, I watched The Nanny Diaries. Have you seen it? It's utter crap, and I knew it as soon as I started watching. But I watched it anyway. It was that or like, Naked & Funny, which could in fact be the WORST show of all time ever.
Wow, I'm full of bitchiness this morning, aren't I?
Oh, here's something nice: Caroline Evers-Swindell, one half of New Zealand's favourite twin sisters, got married in Taupo yesterday. The Evers-Swindells (the other sister being Georgina) have twice won the Olympic women's double sculls race in rowing, along with a bunch of World titles. They retired earlier in the year, and Georgina got married. Yesterday it was Caroline's turn, and the twins joined a short line of New Zealand athletes who are settling down for the family life. Sarah Ulmer had a sly baby recently, too.
Is it wrong that I'm desperate to hear whether she triple-hyphenates her name to Caroline Evers-Swindell-Meyer? Fingers crossed.
12 December 2009
Antonio Berardi Is Too Cool For School
A Milan designer named Antonio Berardi (and one who is associated with trash monster and mega-bitch Megan Fox) apparently recently referred to Lady Gaga's music as "meaningless" and has turned down an opportunity to create a line with her.
Sure. I won't argue with that. I have no idea what any of her songs are about, but I love them anyway, and I love her and her ridiculous outfits. And considering I'd never heard of this guy before I read the aforementioned comments about my idol, I don't think he's in a position to judge.
I'll take Gaga over the Fox-monster any day. Yeuch.
Sure. I won't argue with that. I have no idea what any of her songs are about, but I love them anyway, and I love her and her ridiculous outfits. And considering I'd never heard of this guy before I read the aforementioned comments about my idol, I don't think he's in a position to judge.
I'll take Gaga over the Fox-monster any day. Yeuch.
Tekau Mā Rua Rā
It's December 12! So, Taupo Half-Ironman and the first day of my twelve days of Christmas.
Sound like I'm counting down to Christmas? Na, not really. I'm just bored as hell.
Now, I guess the trick with this is that I have prioritise items in order of things I only want one of, right up to things I want twelve of. You've been led to believe that it's a partridge in a pear tree? Nuh-uh. Here in the Land of the Long White, it's a pukeko in a ponga tree. The idea of which is laughable to us folk, given that the pesky pukeko is a swamp-dwelling hen whose main purpose in life is to be chased by Silvie and I when we run around the lake in Hamilton.
Anyway, I think since I can only have one of whatever I choose for my first day of Christmas, I'm going to have to say... Donny.
*insert photo here*
For reasons of protecting his identity (yeah, he's not *actually* called Donny, as you may have guessed), I can't really go around posting photos of him on my blog until our wedding. Haha.
On an unrelated note, look at this ridiculous status message that Curtis posted yesterday. He is just such a booger.
Five days til home!!!
Sound like I'm counting down to Christmas? Na, not really. I'm just bored as hell.
Now, I guess the trick with this is that I have prioritise items in order of things I only want one of, right up to things I want twelve of. You've been led to believe that it's a partridge in a pear tree? Nuh-uh. Here in the Land of the Long White, it's a pukeko in a ponga tree. The idea of which is laughable to us folk, given that the pesky pukeko is a swamp-dwelling hen whose main purpose in life is to be chased by Silvie and I when we run around the lake in Hamilton.
Anyway, I think since I can only have one of whatever I choose for my first day of Christmas, I'm going to have to say... Donny.
*insert photo here*
For reasons of protecting his identity (yeah, he's not *actually* called Donny, as you may have guessed), I can't really go around posting photos of him on my blog until our wedding. Haha.
On an unrelated note, look at this ridiculous status message that Curtis posted yesterday. He is just such a booger.
Five days til home!!!
11 December 2009
You're A Text From Last Night
Post title courtesy of my flatmate...
Okay, this is the lamest thing I've ever read on tfln.
Okay, this is the lamest thing I've ever read on tfln.
Miriam ftw... Apparently?!
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Right.
So who saw that coming? Certainly not me - in fact, to the extent where I refused to go home for the Awards Dinner because I "knew" Casey would win.
I got a phonecall at about 10:30 last night from Chloe's phone (Chloe runs Parafed Waikato, of which I am longtime member and also a volunteer). I expected her to tell me that Casey had won, but in fact when I answered it I instantly recognised not Chloe's voice, but my mother's.
"You won!" she announced, sounding a bit teary. Oh, dear. Did she cry during my acceptance speech - that she was delivering? It's likely.
Exciting though, right? And maybe even the most left-of-field victory of all time. In yesterday's Waikato Times, more space was dedicated to Casey's achievements than today's one liner about me winning. I'd say the entire audience at the Awards would have had close to no clue who I am, excluding of course my parents and Chloe, and the three other people who they passed the phone around to for me to talk to last night.
My mum emailed me the above photo of my award this morning, and told me that I also had a lovely bouquet waiting for me (which will most likely have wilted and died by the time I get home in six days' time), as well as two separate bouquets from her work. Her best friend Le Vonne, whose husband Roy is the Deputy Editor of the Waikato Times newspaper in Hamilton, was more excited than my own mother, and this morning circulated a congratulatory email around their division at work.
I've been told that on my return, I'm to have an interview with the Times (funny, as upon my return from Worlds they ignored my results). So you must excuse me for my inflated sense of self today.
Peace, love and oversized award plaques!
10 December 2009
Superbabe Has... Well, A Baby
Congratulations to superbabe Gisele Bundchen and her husband Tom Brady, who have today welcomed a little boy into their family. Gisele is one of my favourite models (I'll admit, I have more than a few). I own many of her shoes, and have long tacked photos of her onto my fridge - during my "I want to look like this" phases.
I'm amazed at the number of hot supermodels who are now giving birth and returning to the industry. Damn hotties.
I'm amazed at the number of hot supermodels who are now giving birth and returning to the industry. Damn hotties.
Anchors Aweigh
I'm just one week away from returning home from Summer School today. Excited? You bet. Next Saturday, Becky, Manda and I are going to the Flow Bar Christmas party - free shots for those who dress up in red and green. Now, I'll admit I'm not a Christmas fan, but I just can't resist an opportunity to dress up! To that end I'm buying a teeny tiny new dress (in white, and dyeing it red), using my new MAC Mineralize Eyeshadow Duo in Fresh Green Mix (whoever thought neon green would make for a hot Christmas look?!) and getting amongst it!
Concerns about clubbing in Cowtown? Sure. Donny's bound to be out and about, and abusive as always. The likelihood of crossing paths with LMC is potentially high, as it is with our "mutual friend". But being negative about such chances seems like a waste of energy. After all, I'll be out in my hometown for a night of fun with two of my favourite girls, and whoever else is out for a good time with minimal drama. Hooray!
Concerns about clubbing in Cowtown? Sure. Donny's bound to be out and about, and abusive as always. The likelihood of crossing paths with LMC is potentially high, as it is with our "mutual friend". But being negative about such chances seems like a waste of energy. After all, I'll be out in my hometown for a night of fun with two of my favourite girls, and whoever else is out for a good time with minimal drama. Hooray!
Of course, now my trip home is just a week from now, the days are really dragging their feet. I woke up this morning, thinking (and hoping) it was Friday, but alas, this is not the case. Never mind though. In just six sleeps, I'll be back in Cowtown, looking at the lovely billboards featuring Donny that I've been told now grace the walls of the Hamilton Airport. Good.
Peace and love as always!
Body Beautiful
Bath & Body: Body Cleanser, Body Moisturiser, Exfoliant, Fragrance
Body Cleanser: While I rave about philosophy Amazing Grace ad nauseum, I'm actually going to abandon it in favour of Lush shower gels, simply because they've brought Slammer back, and because it's Christmas time so Snow Fairy fills my showers with happiness and lovely smells every day.
Body Moisturiser: I still say St Ives Advanced Body Moisturiser can't be beat! It's only like, $3.50 here for a massive 532mL container (532mL? Why?) that lasts and lasts, and truly moisturises the driest of skins. Others worth mentioning are Nivea Irresistibly Smooth Body Lotion and Palmers Alpha Hydroxy Skin Smoothing Lotion (it got a mention last year, for "stinging like a bitch after shaving". Still true).
Exfoliant: Ahh, I just can't go past L'Oreal Exfotonic. I freakin LOVE it. Although I have to admit, a pair of exfoliating gloves are a worthwhile investment. They make for hassle-free, mess-free showers and only need to be replaced yearly. Not worth the money: ModelCo Polished Exfoliating Body Scrub. It smells weird, it hardly exfoliates, it's crazy expensive... don't do it.
Fragrance: I've loved many fragrances this year. Viktor & Rolf Flowerbomb, Tommy Hilfiger Dreaming, Boss Orange... but I'm afraid that philosophy Amazing Grace still reigns. Smell it, and you'll understand.
And we're done for another year! Hooray. Okay, how much closer to 300 am I now? I feel like I've been typing all day. Peace and love on Earth, yo.
Body Cleanser: While I rave about philosophy Amazing Grace ad nauseum, I'm actually going to abandon it in favour of Lush shower gels, simply because they've brought Slammer back, and because it's Christmas time so Snow Fairy fills my showers with happiness and lovely smells every day.
Body Moisturiser: I still say St Ives Advanced Body Moisturiser can't be beat! It's only like, $3.50 here for a massive 532mL container (532mL? Why?) that lasts and lasts, and truly moisturises the driest of skins. Others worth mentioning are Nivea Irresistibly Smooth Body Lotion and Palmers Alpha Hydroxy Skin Smoothing Lotion (it got a mention last year, for "stinging like a bitch after shaving". Still true).
Exfoliant: Ahh, I just can't go past L'Oreal Exfotonic. I freakin LOVE it. Although I have to admit, a pair of exfoliating gloves are a worthwhile investment. They make for hassle-free, mess-free showers and only need to be replaced yearly. Not worth the money: ModelCo Polished Exfoliating Body Scrub. It smells weird, it hardly exfoliates, it's crazy expensive... don't do it.
Fragrance: I've loved many fragrances this year. Viktor & Rolf Flowerbomb, Tommy Hilfiger Dreaming, Boss Orange... but I'm afraid that philosophy Amazing Grace still reigns. Smell it, and you'll understand.
Fact: if you buy it for me, I will love you forever.
And The Rest
Eyes: Eyeshadow, Mascara, Eyeliner, Eyebrow Enhancer
Eyeshadow: This is a toughie, because I'm obsessed with the Napoleon Perdis Prismatic Eye Shadow Quad in #6, but it's just not really an everyday combination. #13 is more user-friendly, and I cannot rave enough about the staying power of these shades. I've said it before and I'll say it again - Napoleon is hugely underrated as a cosmetics house. Ridiculously overpriced favourite: Dior 5-Colour Eyeshadow. If you want to buy it for me as a birthday gift, please do.
Mascara: As you may well know, mascara is my life. And I've had many loves. Napoleon's Long Black, L'Oreal Telescopic, Smashbox Bionic... I feel that this year I finally met my match in Lancome Cils Design Pro, which I've mentioned before on many an occasion. Highly commended mascaras include Imju Fiberwig (I managed to acquire some this year: it's fantastic), the aforementioned Long Black and DiorShow Iconic.
Eyebrow Enhancer: I'm sticking with Smashbox Brow Tech. Apply it with a Smashbox Angle Brow Brush (#12) for perfection.
Lips: Lip Gloss, Lip Liner, Lipstick
Lip Gloss: When I was at makeup school, tutors advised us not to spend a lot of money on lip glosses. They're the most used, lost, and lended-out product of the modern makeup bag, so the theory makes sense. It's so difficult though, because the best cosmetic houses make the most gorgeous glosses! My absolute favourite is Chanel Levres Scintillantes, which retails in New Zealand for $51. My favourite trick: buying as many as my bag will hold in duty free stores when travelling. Not really a secret, but definitely good advice for the luxury lip gloss fiend. Others of note: Chanel Aqualumiere Gloss, Lancome Juicy Tube, MAC Lipglass.
Lip Liner: As a general rule, I swear by MAC Lip Pencil as my never-fail. You'd be surprised though: SRA (where I trained) sell generic brand lip pencils - my favourite shade is Strawberry Rose - that work a treat, and provide lasting results. Bloom also make quality lip pencils. My best advice for lip liner? Use it. You'll be surprised at the difference it makes.
Lipstick: I've become a lipstick queen. When I arrived at SRA, I hated lipstick to the extent that I left it completely out of my last year's makeup recommendations list. This year, I don't even know where to start. In terms of colour, my personal go-to is surprising - Chi Chi Trolley Dolly. Applied over concealed, powdered and lined lips, it's lasted through nights of drinking, eating, kissing and still required scrubbing off with a toothbrush at 4am. Don't be fooled by its inherent tackiness. If you know how to use a lipstick, it will serve you well. Chanel Hydrabase Rouge gets my vote across the board - formula, colour, user-friendliness, staying power. I am, and forever will be, a sucker for MAC Lipstick in Ruby Woo. Lipsticks I'm dying to try: NARS Lipstick, and Make Up For Ever Lipstick. Gimme gimme gimme!
Cheeks: Blush, Bronzer
Blush: I feel like I don't even need to put this category in, because I so frequently rave about NARS Blush in Orgasm that it writes itself. So there you have it. MAC Mineralize SkinFinish Trio (a now discontinued limited edition, so I feel quite privileged to own it) gave it a run for its money this year, but it comes out on top, every time. You just can't beat that J Lo glow.
Bronzer: This year I've become a fan of Natio Pressed Powder Bronzer. It's the perfect colour, it blends like a dream, and it's cheap as chips. I understand MAC and NARS also make beautiful bronzers.
Mascara
I've been hanging out for the 2009 Best of Sephora list for some time now, and it just doesn't seem to be surfacing. So, in the tradition of last year, I'm going to put forward my new and improved recommendations.
Here goes...
Complexion: Foundation, Tinted Moisturiser, Primer, Powder, Concealer
Foundation: This honour still belongs to Clinique Superbalanced Makeup. For most of this year, I've been using its closely related cousin, Clinique Even Better Makeup, but Superbalanced is perfecto. Other close calls: Napoleon Perdis China Doll, DiorSkin Sculpt.
Tinted Moisturiser: I take back my last year's comment that tinted moisturiser should be illegal. It was before I discovered MAC Studio Moisture Tint. If you're going for the fresh-faced, "I'm not wearing makeup, I just look fantastic at the gym" look (which I spent several months trying to perfect), Moisture Tint is your new best friend.
Primer: You guessed it: Benefit That Gal. I just can't let this one go. It's like my love affair with Donny, except That Gal treats me well and loves me in return. Other faves: MAC Prep + Prime Skin, Revlon Beyond Natural Smoothing Primer.
Powder: Don't even get me started. Chanel Luminous Matte Powder Makeup is THE greatest product of any sort, ever. I am obsessed. I am just not going to bother recommended anything else. It's not worth it.
Concealer: I'm sticking with my The Body Shop Concealer Pencil. I no longer advocate using the fingers to apply it, however: get yourself a concealer brush (a small, synthetic eyeshadow brush, provided you use it solely for concealer, will work a treat). If there's one brush you absolutely must keep scrupulously clean at all times, it's your concealer brush. No excuses.
Skincare: Face Cleanser, Face Moisturiser, Eye Treatment, Skin Treatment
Cleanser: This year, more than any other year, I've come to realise that happiness prevails over any cleanser for a perfect complexion. If you're stressed, tired, sad, borderline alcoholic, or having a quarter-life crisis, your skin is going to reflect it. Get your life sorted, and your skin will follow. My favourite cleanser this year was YSL Toning and Cleansing Water, but I'm not going to pretend it's something I can afford the upkeep of. For the most part, I get by on Neutrogena Foaming Scrub, and that suits me just fine.
Moisturiser: I need to take a bit of a break here to allow my racing heart to settle down. Again, Chanel comes up trumps. Never in my life have I experienced anything as beautiful and amazing as Chanel Hydramax + Active Serum and its accompanying Active Moisture Cream. It is THE must-have for your "I'm going to take better care of my skin" new year's resolution. It makes sense to invest in the best moisturiser you can - after all, it stays on your skin round the clock.
Here goes...
Complexion: Foundation, Tinted Moisturiser, Primer, Powder, Concealer
Foundation: This honour still belongs to Clinique Superbalanced Makeup. For most of this year, I've been using its closely related cousin, Clinique Even Better Makeup, but Superbalanced is perfecto. Other close calls: Napoleon Perdis China Doll, DiorSkin Sculpt.
Tinted Moisturiser: I take back my last year's comment that tinted moisturiser should be illegal. It was before I discovered MAC Studio Moisture Tint. If you're going for the fresh-faced, "I'm not wearing makeup, I just look fantastic at the gym" look (which I spent several months trying to perfect), Moisture Tint is your new best friend.
Primer: You guessed it: Benefit That Gal. I just can't let this one go. It's like my love affair with Donny, except That Gal treats me well and loves me in return. Other faves: MAC Prep + Prime Skin, Revlon Beyond Natural Smoothing Primer.
Powder: Don't even get me started. Chanel Luminous Matte Powder Makeup is THE greatest product of any sort, ever. I am obsessed. I am just not going to bother recommended anything else. It's not worth it.
Concealer: I'm sticking with my The Body Shop Concealer Pencil. I no longer advocate using the fingers to apply it, however: get yourself a concealer brush (a small, synthetic eyeshadow brush, provided you use it solely for concealer, will work a treat). If there's one brush you absolutely must keep scrupulously clean at all times, it's your concealer brush. No excuses.
Skincare: Face Cleanser, Face Moisturiser, Eye Treatment, Skin Treatment
Cleanser: This year, more than any other year, I've come to realise that happiness prevails over any cleanser for a perfect complexion. If you're stressed, tired, sad, borderline alcoholic, or having a quarter-life crisis, your skin is going to reflect it. Get your life sorted, and your skin will follow. My favourite cleanser this year was YSL Toning and Cleansing Water, but I'm not going to pretend it's something I can afford the upkeep of. For the most part, I get by on Neutrogena Foaming Scrub, and that suits me just fine.
Moisturiser: I need to take a bit of a break here to allow my racing heart to settle down. Again, Chanel comes up trumps. Never in my life have I experienced anything as beautiful and amazing as Chanel Hydramax + Active Serum and its accompanying Active Moisture Cream. It is THE must-have for your "I'm going to take better care of my skin" new year's resolution. It makes sense to invest in the best moisturiser you can - after all, it stays on your skin round the clock.
Eye Treatment: Hmm, well I hate to sound like a broken record but... Chanel Ultra Corrective Eye will actually change your life. Or at the very least, the skin around your eyes. Grace was horrified to find her party-hard lifestyle was catching up with her earlier this year, so she started using samples of this cream from her work, and we were both very pleased with the results. Many makeup artists will tell you that eye cream is unnecessary, but when you see what we do to peoples' eyes for a living, you've got to wonder what these artists are thinking. I'm a convert, and while it's an expensive habit, you can get by on a sample for a surprising amount of time. Use sparingly and reap the results. Trust me.
Skin Treatment: Whatever you do, don't use a cloth mask. Those things are the devil. Dermalogica is the most outrageously priced skincare line on the market, but with good reason. I love their Multivitamin Power Recovery Masque, but I'm equally partial to an inhouse treatment. If you really need, you should splurge. It's not like anyone else is going to do it for you.
9 December 2009
Wii's Good Enough For Kosuke
My late (and great) friend, Kirby Sandford was a longtime stalwart of mental preparation for swimming. I met Kirby at a young age, and we were friends until his incredibly sad passing in 2002. He was, like myself, a disciple of the pool - his favourite events were the 50m and 100m freestyle. Before his death (caused by an almost unbelievable melanoma of the brain lining) he garnered national age-group titles in the shorter distance, and was fourth at Opens in the 100m freestyle in 2001.
Kirby took his swimming so seriously it often hurt. One of my more vivid memories of him (aside from the time we turned up at his house with a homemade mannequin in a wheelbarrow) is from a Waikato Championship meet where I sat silently next to him while he rested his head, eyes closed, on the rail of the bleachers and went about visualising the race he was about to swim. Obviously, his temperament training worked wonders - Kirby was one of the Waikato's most successful swimmers and had he not met his end so early and horribly in life I have little doubt that he would have continued on his path in the sport and become a New Zealand representative if not at Commonwealth Games and World Championships then at the Olympics.
He reminded me of the 2000 Olympic women's 100m breaststroke champion, Megan Quann (now Jendrick). She was so finely tuned psychologically that she could visualise a 100m race, while her coach held a stopwatch, and would often swim within 0.05s of her predicted time in a race.
I've just read that my Japanese hero, Kosuke, used a Nintendo Wii to help him mentally prepare for the Beijing Olympics. Yes, really. You can read about it here. He claims the game Mario and Sonic at the Olympic Games helped him envision the atmosphere in which he would be competing. Keen? I'm overly keen. Any excuse to play video games, and I'm in.
As far as I'm concerned, he can do no wrong.
Kirby took his swimming so seriously it often hurt. One of my more vivid memories of him (aside from the time we turned up at his house with a homemade mannequin in a wheelbarrow) is from a Waikato Championship meet where I sat silently next to him while he rested his head, eyes closed, on the rail of the bleachers and went about visualising the race he was about to swim. Obviously, his temperament training worked wonders - Kirby was one of the Waikato's most successful swimmers and had he not met his end so early and horribly in life I have little doubt that he would have continued on his path in the sport and become a New Zealand representative if not at Commonwealth Games and World Championships then at the Olympics.
He reminded me of the 2000 Olympic women's 100m breaststroke champion, Megan Quann (now Jendrick). She was so finely tuned psychologically that she could visualise a 100m race, while her coach held a stopwatch, and would often swim within 0.05s of her predicted time in a race.
I've just read that my Japanese hero, Kosuke, used a Nintendo Wii to help him mentally prepare for the Beijing Olympics. Yes, really. You can read about it here. He claims the game Mario and Sonic at the Olympic Games helped him envision the atmosphere in which he would be competing. Keen? I'm overly keen. Any excuse to play video games, and I'm in.
As far as I'm concerned, he can do no wrong.
Slam
I've had a great number of "favourites" from Lush in my time. At Christmas time, it's Snow Fairy. I go crazy for American Cream conditioner. Sweet Japanese Girl is my ultimate great skin cleanser, and I've been known to max out on Herbalism, and indulge in Cupcake face mask. Ceridwyn's Cauldron would have to be my favourite bathtime treat, closely followed by Waving Not Drowning, and Sakura. Yep, I'm a bigtime Lush addict.
But five years ago, when I first discovered the aromatic store in Northlands Mall, Christchurch, my original favourite product was Slammer shower gel. I bought about twenty bottles of it before it was, much to my heartache and dismay, discontinued. I mourned my favourite shower gel mercilessly, and eventually found solace in Sonic Death Monkey, Whoosh shower jelly, and in times of financial hardship, Johnson's.
Recently I took to following Lush on Twitter. You can do so here. Imagine my surprise and delight when a tweet popped up making mention of Slammer!
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OMG! It's back?! I rejoiced.
Turns out, Lush have re-released some of their discontinued products under the "Retro Lush" line. It includes not only Slammer but Sonic Death Monkey, Freeze, Recon for hair, Hot Java bath ballistics, and more. Check it out!
With that, I welcome Slammer back into my world with open arms. Sure, I've had to ship it, via Norwich, from the UK for a pretty penny. But it is definitely more than worth it. I cannot WAIT to shower with that sweet sweet fragrance again.
But five years ago, when I first discovered the aromatic store in Northlands Mall, Christchurch, my original favourite product was Slammer shower gel. I bought about twenty bottles of it before it was, much to my heartache and dismay, discontinued. I mourned my favourite shower gel mercilessly, and eventually found solace in Sonic Death Monkey, Whoosh shower jelly, and in times of financial hardship, Johnson's.
Recently I took to following Lush on Twitter. You can do so here. Imagine my surprise and delight when a tweet popped up making mention of Slammer!
+on+Twitter+9122009+22010+p.m..bmp.jpg)
OMG! It's back?! I rejoiced.
Turns out, Lush have re-released some of their discontinued products under the "Retro Lush" line. It includes not only Slammer but Sonic Death Monkey, Freeze, Recon for hair, Hot Java bath ballistics, and more. Check it out!
With that, I welcome Slammer back into my world with open arms. Sure, I've had to ship it, via Norwich, from the UK for a pretty penny. But it is definitely more than worth it. I cannot WAIT to shower with that sweet sweet fragrance again.
I'm thrilled.
The Keratoconjunctivitis Sicca Strikes Back
You may or not remember (depending on how long you've been reading, and how much attention you pay to my ramblings) that I was earlier this year diagnosed with an eye condition called Keratoconjunctivitis Sicca. Since then I've become a slave to eyedrops, using them every night, every morning, after every swim, every makeup removal and so on.
This morning I decided to try smoky eyes a la Viviane Orth as seen on Model Diaries the other night on FashionTV. This required not only liquid liner but about ten times as much black eyeshadow as I'm used to. My eyes freaked out. Not just for the period of time I was wearing the makeup, but also during, and after washing it off.
I feel like I might start crying blood.
It's almost unbelievable how much relief eyedrops can provide. Here's my personal favourite.
This morning I decided to try smoky eyes a la Viviane Orth as seen on Model Diaries the other night on FashionTV. This required not only liquid liner but about ten times as much black eyeshadow as I'm used to. My eyes freaked out. Not just for the period of time I was wearing the makeup, but also during, and after washing it off.
I feel like I might start crying blood.
It's almost unbelievable how much relief eyedrops can provide. Here's my personal favourite.
My already fairly severe eye condition has been exacerbated of late as a result of driving without my glasses. I just don't know where I put them! It's not good.
Recommendations for eyedrops are welcome.
This Would Be More Fantastic If...
Pete Wentz was replaced by D'Arcy Wretzky... other than that, my favourite advertisement this year.
Aubrey, Published
Seems blogging is experiencing something of a resurgence (I had to use that word at some stage, I just LOVE the Carly-Patterson-on-David-Letterman interview when she says "resurgence? I'm sorry, I don't know what that means!" and she's marketed as a straight-A student. Love her!) amongst my crew. First Thom, (well, if I'm being picky then Briar was the first, but I'm fairly certain she hasn't updated her site in more than eighteen months. Curious?) and now the quirky Rhode-Island-cum-Quebec darling that is Aubrey. Visit her here!
Today I have a test worth 40%. It's in 90 minutes and I'm blogging.
Today I have a test worth 40%. It's in 90 minutes and I'm blogging.
8 December 2009
Here's Something I Didn't See Coming
Lady Gaga having a yarn with the Queen of England.
I'm still perplexed as to why the latter is worth $20 when Sir Edmund Hillary and Kate Sheppard are worth $5 and $10 respectively.
The Sonic Recreation Of The End Of The World
I read a ridiculous article on nzherald.co.nz today.
"Kiwis reveal travel loves and loathes" was one of the more pointless things I've read in a while, although I guess the title should have given this away. Nevertheless, I read it and now I feel slightly less intelligent for having done so.
Loathes
Passport photos. Well, duh. You're not even allowed to freakin smile in passport photos, a concept I still don't understand. Is this because smiling changes your face to the extent that when you're tired and grumpy on your way home from Los Angeles that you're absolutely incomparable to your photo? As if. And what happens if you're smiling when you go through customs? Then what? Also, front-on photos don't suit anyone. I'm pretty sure Tyra Banks is the only person to have ever looked good in a passport photo, and I'm even doubtful of that. I think she's hideous, and the fact that she was able to book a job during a flight with her passport photo doesn't register with me. Move along.
Virtually every airport in the country "making some changes". Um, flying domestically isn't exactly considered "travel". And secondly, can you imagine if every airport remained the same as it was when built? Upgrades are necessary. Deal with it, you whiners.
Early morning international flights. Oh my god. Just be grateful you're going overseas!! Personally I think early morning domestic flights are worse. I mean, who wants to get up at 5am for a flight to... Invercargill? At least when you get off the international flight, you're going to be somewhere fun like Singapore or San Francisco. An upshot of early morning flights is that you can get some decent plane sleep in (we all know plane sleep is of the greatest quality, after all) and arrive, slightly more acclimated to the local time zone.
Having to take your laptop out going through security. I'll admit, this does seem ridiculous. What's the point of all those x-ray machines if they can't see through our laptop bags? And sure, Stanford may have just developed batteries in the form of paper (OMG, exciting, I know!!) but to be fair, what are the chances of having a weapon of mass destruction in your CD drive? Still, in the grand scheme of things, unzipping a bag a few times for the sake of not crashing into a huge building in Dubai doesn't really seem worth complaining about. I mean, do you ever think about how annoying it is after you walk away from security? Didn't think so.
Having to "fight" for the armrest. How about shut up? Who cares? Armrests are stupid.
The realisation that you only have one sleep left before you go home. Of course, if you're sleeping on a bench in LAX, it's probably a welcome realisation. But even if you're staying in the Ritz, it's still one night you can get trashed in. One more day you don't have to work...
Hotels and beaches that are nothing like their website picture. Unless you're talking about Kleeforks in England, BEACHES ARE AWESOME. How could you ever claim to "loathe" a beach!?
The "bad hair days" caused by humid holiday spots. Chances are, if you're the type of person to complain about something so ridiculous while vacationing, you're also the type of person that packed their GHD and a power adaptor. Problem solved.
Unpacking and finding your toothpaste, moisturiser or shampoo has leaked. Whenever I travel, I buy that kind of shit when I get there, mainly because my personal hygiene collection takes up a good quarter of my baggage allowance, not to mention the fact that much better shampoos and such can be purchased for a fraction of the price at Wal-Mart. Unless you're a complete retard and didn't pack properly anyway, the extent of spilt toothpaste is negligible. So shhh.
Tipping - why is that porter just hanging around? In the States, waitresses get paid $2 an hour. I challenge you to survive on that wage without tips.
"Kiwis reveal travel loves and loathes" was one of the more pointless things I've read in a while, although I guess the title should have given this away. Nevertheless, I read it and now I feel slightly less intelligent for having done so.
Loathes
Passport photos. Well, duh. You're not even allowed to freakin smile in passport photos, a concept I still don't understand. Is this because smiling changes your face to the extent that when you're tired and grumpy on your way home from Los Angeles that you're absolutely incomparable to your photo? As if. And what happens if you're smiling when you go through customs? Then what? Also, front-on photos don't suit anyone. I'm pretty sure Tyra Banks is the only person to have ever looked good in a passport photo, and I'm even doubtful of that. I think she's hideous, and the fact that she was able to book a job during a flight with her passport photo doesn't register with me. Move along.
Virtually every airport in the country "making some changes". Um, flying domestically isn't exactly considered "travel". And secondly, can you imagine if every airport remained the same as it was when built? Upgrades are necessary. Deal with it, you whiners.
Early morning international flights. Oh my god. Just be grateful you're going overseas!! Personally I think early morning domestic flights are worse. I mean, who wants to get up at 5am for a flight to... Invercargill? At least when you get off the international flight, you're going to be somewhere fun like Singapore or San Francisco. An upshot of early morning flights is that you can get some decent plane sleep in (we all know plane sleep is of the greatest quality, after all) and arrive, slightly more acclimated to the local time zone.
Having to take your laptop out going through security. I'll admit, this does seem ridiculous. What's the point of all those x-ray machines if they can't see through our laptop bags? And sure, Stanford may have just developed batteries in the form of paper (OMG, exciting, I know!!) but to be fair, what are the chances of having a weapon of mass destruction in your CD drive? Still, in the grand scheme of things, unzipping a bag a few times for the sake of not crashing into a huge building in Dubai doesn't really seem worth complaining about. I mean, do you ever think about how annoying it is after you walk away from security? Didn't think so.
Having to "fight" for the armrest. How about shut up? Who cares? Armrests are stupid.
The realisation that you only have one sleep left before you go home. Of course, if you're sleeping on a bench in LAX, it's probably a welcome realisation. But even if you're staying in the Ritz, it's still one night you can get trashed in. One more day you don't have to work...
Hotels and beaches that are nothing like their website picture. Unless you're talking about Kleeforks in England, BEACHES ARE AWESOME. How could you ever claim to "loathe" a beach!?
The "bad hair days" caused by humid holiday spots. Chances are, if you're the type of person to complain about something so ridiculous while vacationing, you're also the type of person that packed their GHD and a power adaptor. Problem solved.
Unpacking and finding your toothpaste, moisturiser or shampoo has leaked. Whenever I travel, I buy that kind of shit when I get there, mainly because my personal hygiene collection takes up a good quarter of my baggage allowance, not to mention the fact that much better shampoos and such can be purchased for a fraction of the price at Wal-Mart. Unless you're a complete retard and didn't pack properly anyway, the extent of spilt toothpaste is negligible. So shhh.
Tipping - why is that porter just hanging around? In the States, waitresses get paid $2 an hour. I challenge you to survive on that wage without tips.
7 December 2009
A Roof Over My Head
Current obsession: watching the progress of the venues for the London Olympics in 2012.
Here's a computer generated image of what the Aquatics Centre is supposed to look like.
Here it is now. So, they're doing okay. There's still 963 days before the Olympics begin. And shit, at least they've got a roof. Anyone remember Athens? I know I do. I was thrilled to not be a backstroker.
Here's a computer generated image of what the Aquatics Centre is supposed to look like.
Here it is now. So, they're doing okay. There's still 963 days before the Olympics begin. And shit, at least they've got a roof. Anyone remember Athens? I know I do. I was thrilled to not be a backstroker.
I'll Treat You Better. When I'm Famous.
It seems I cannot go five minutes without hearing that awful Whatcha Say song by Jason Derulo.
What the fuck is his deal?
"I don't want you to leave me / Though you caught me cheating"
and then
"But when I become a star we'll be living so large / I'll do anything for you"
Right, okay. But until then I'm going to cheat on you, and that's going to be alright with you? Okay? Good.
What a horrible, horrible song. And what a loser!
What the fuck is his deal?
"I don't want you to leave me / Though you caught me cheating"
and then
"But when I become a star we'll be living so large / I'll do anything for you"
Right, okay. But until then I'm going to cheat on you, and that's going to be alright with you? Okay? Good.
What a horrible, horrible song. And what a loser!
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