I Moved, But These Cool Kids Didn't

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?

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.

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.

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.

My pre-Athens nightmare

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.

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!

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.

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!!!

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.

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.

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.

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.

Alison Shanks with her World Cup gold

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.

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...

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?

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.