In an hour, me and Chris are going cycling.
Now, when I go on about my cycling and bike obsession, you may be tempted to think that I'm actually good at cycling. I'm not. Chris is going to find this out very quickly and probably won't be calling me again. Eek!
On the other hand, I might as well look good while I'm doing it, so I bought some waterproof mascara (in brown, due to a lack of concentration on my part, but never mind) and have repainted my nails that got chipped while cleaning the coffee machine at work last night.
I'm tossing up between two jerseys to wear - my red Specialized one (it's red...) or my pink Slipstream one. There's pros and cons on both sides.
Specialized cons: umm, it's Specialized and unless you work at AvantiPlus Cycles, you're guaranteed to hate Specialized... it's a bit tight... it makes my boobs look huge...
Specialized pros: it's red, and I'm convinced wearing red is going to get me laid.
Slipstream cons: I'm going to look a bit retarded if I wear a Slipstream jersey with my helmet, because they match... it makes me look more professional than I am...
Slipstream pros: it fits perfectly, and zips all the way down for easy removal. You know, just in case.
What should I do? Actually, I'm a little dubious about wearing any kind of jersey just in case he rocks up in a tshirt and I look like a noob.
Maybe I'll just text him and say I got sick...
31 December 2008
30 December 2008
Red She Said
Spotted in Women's Health magazine:
"On the market? Be a scarlet woman. According to researchers at the University of Rochester in New York, men are more attracted to women in red. Most men, shown pictures of blue-clad and red-clad women, said they'd rather ask the lady in red out and that they'd be more likely to lavish money on her."
Interesting. Maybe this wee morsel is the key to my never-been-asked-out-until-Christmas-2008 predicament. On Jeanie's recommendation ("Rave: Polyvore") I hit up polyvore.com and searched for some red sets. The only problem is, we live on a tiny South Pacific island, so we're forced to make do with stores like Principals.
"On the market? Be a scarlet woman. According to researchers at the University of Rochester in New York, men are more attracted to women in red. Most men, shown pictures of blue-clad and red-clad women, said they'd rather ask the lady in red out and that they'd be more likely to lavish money on her."
Interesting. Maybe this wee morsel is the key to my never-been-asked-out-until-Christmas-2008 predicament. On Jeanie's recommendation ("Rave: Polyvore") I hit up polyvore.com and searched for some red sets. The only problem is, we live on a tiny South Pacific island, so we're forced to make do with stores like Principals.
This was the only really eye-catching red piece I found on their site. And it's a little high-maintenance to drink beer at some guy's house. I guess though, teamed with *gag* tights, and a pretty-but-not-fussy hairdo, I could be on to something. Thoughts? I mean, thoughts past the fact that I'm being way too extreme about this.
I can't help it. This morning, I texted Paul for advice.
"ok, what kind of games is this guy playing? he came to visit me at work last night then texted me straight after saying, pop in for a drink since we're neighbours. um, neighbours? is that all? haha wtf"
Paul: "nah, that sounds alright to me. just a way to get you around and get to know you better :-) he's not likely to invite you around as his soulmate already is he?"
"i was thinking of sleeping with him rather than soulmate... but thanks for the insight... you know how i get"
Paul: "all good. i can tell he's nice by the way he asked you... kinda innocently and not too full on! if he does have an ulterior motive i like the crafty way he's gone about it."
"yes, what a guy hey. he better have an ulterior motive!"
Paul: "he's a guy, so it's likely :-) wear something hot. and don't mention you like fall out boy. you could jeopardise things."
"that's what i like to hear. and don't you worry i will be! yes, i tend to keep that wee personality flaw under my hat."
It's sounding promising so far, right? Paul and Aubrey both alluded to the fact that he's unlikely to be like "come over for sex" at this early stage. So he's already doing better than Donny...
Anyway, guess I should head out and buy every sexy red thing I see. Peace and love, yo.
philosophy: I must have it!
Sigh. So here I am, up at 4:30am, poring over Sephora.com.
As if I have any money left to spend! Still, I can dream, and this is what's filling my sleeping thoughts tonight:
As if I have any money left to spend! Still, I can dream, and this is what's filling my sleeping thoughts tonight:
Nom nom. I love red licorice. Not the real stuff, of course - the paltry, sugary excuse for it is much better. I buy - and eat - it in bulk. Yeah, so my teeth are going to fall out before I'm twenty-five, but as long as I can devour my favourite treat until then, I'm happy.
I've read that the smell of whatever you're craving has the same effect as eating. Bingo! I do wonder about the validity of this research, though. I mean, have you ever tried it? Chances are, if you're going to sniff something like chocolate, you're going to eat it. I know I would. I'm kind of keen to test the theory out with my very own "I Love Licorice" set by philosophy.
Will this company ever do me wrong?
Yes, it's the same philosophy that created the superhuman fragrance, Amazing Grace.
If I had one wish (apart from Chris texting me for sex, ha ha) it would be to smell eternally of Amazing Grace. It's that good. You know how, sometimes, you buy a perfume and it's amazing, then eventually the novelty wears off? It happened to me with J.Lo, tommy girl, Dolce & Gabbana Light Blue (though I maintain to this day, it ONLY smells good on Africans like Nyenyezi). Still hasn't happened with Amazing Grace. Even though I spray it on my clothes while they're hanging on the line, myself after a shower, my hair, my carseats... need I continue? You get the picture. My life is filled with Amazing Grace.
To their credit, philosophy also make a line of no-nonsense makeup. It's not quite the frivolous stuff I so enjoy - more staples: black mascara, beyond-perfect foundation, stuff that makes up the makeup kits of the more sensible souls in this world. Their Supernatural mineral blush offering is up there on my favourites - it's like Benefit 10 in that it's a highlighter/contour - blush/bronzer in one. Swoon.
Is it about time that I stopped singing the praises of a company I hope will maybe stumble across this and hire me as a beauty writer? I think so too. Forward-ho, onto more realistic matters.
I applied for the University of Auckland about an hour ago. A strange move, I suppose. I declared my major as Geology - which is a step into the unknown for me, really. Sure, they claim it involves a heap of chemistry, which I hope is true, but I'm just really keen to "rock on with earth sciences". I still wonder what happened to the pen I had that said that on the side...
I'm hoping to chuck some Anthropological Science papers in the mix, too. NOT anthropology - that sort of stuff is too subjective for me. Ever sat through an arts lecture? Nothing ever gets taught, because everyone is too busy throwing their two cents worth in. No, thanks. I'll stick to carbon dating any day of the week.
Interestingly, for undergrad students, Auckland has introduced the General Education scheme - mainly to encourage science geeks like myself to explore the arts. Gag. I admit that I'm a huge Shakespeare freak, but I just don't fancy analysing all the fun out of it. Thank goodness this scheme doesn't apply to oldies like myself.
The secret ulterior motive behind geology is that Ethiopia and the horn of Africa are some of the world's most important archaeological sites. The Laetoli footprints, anyone? "Lucy"? If I get good enough, I could just get my trip funded, and dig up some bones and shit while I'm out there. Rock on.
The footprints at Laetoli: proof that it began in Afrika
It's now 5:04am, and it's weird to think that, about 300m from my bedroom, Chris is getting up to go ride at Riverhead. I haven't even been to sleep yet. Today is going to suck.
29 December 2008
Bayswater Avenue Kiss
Okay, Aubrey - don't get too excited, it hasn't happened yet.
Tonight Chris came to visit me at work. As usual, I didn't recognise him until I saw the bike. I think it's rather a bad habit, but I'm not overly concerned about it for now. I had text messaged him this morning (first text conversation initiation on my part), and not received a reply. As such, I was feeling a little sombre about things, but he pointed out that I had his number wrong. Nice going.
Anyway, he was all cool cool, I think (and hope!) mainly because Mrs Singh was looking at me with this stupid grin on her face. This is the face she gets on whenever he's around, because she knows I heart him. He text messaged me once he was on the ferry home.
"you should pop in for a drink, seeing as you're pretty much my neighbour!"
Seeing as I'm your neighbour? Are you serious? Don't you mean, seeing as I want to sleep with you? Come on man, it's not 1699. Let's just have sex.
Don't get me wrong. I'm good with "friends". That could still work to my advantage with the whole, discount-at-bike-store thing. But I've kind of built up our "ferry romance" now, and it's going to be disappointing for me and my cheering squad (Emma and Aubrey) if nothing comes of it.
Maybe a drink will turn into seven. One never knows.
Tonight Chris came to visit me at work. As usual, I didn't recognise him until I saw the bike. I think it's rather a bad habit, but I'm not overly concerned about it for now. I had text messaged him this morning (first text conversation initiation on my part), and not received a reply. As such, I was feeling a little sombre about things, but he pointed out that I had his number wrong. Nice going.
Anyway, he was all cool cool, I think (and hope!) mainly because Mrs Singh was looking at me with this stupid grin on her face. This is the face she gets on whenever he's around, because she knows I heart him. He text messaged me once he was on the ferry home.
"you should pop in for a drink, seeing as you're pretty much my neighbour!"
Seeing as I'm your neighbour? Are you serious? Don't you mean, seeing as I want to sleep with you? Come on man, it's not 1699. Let's just have sex.
Don't get me wrong. I'm good with "friends". That could still work to my advantage with the whole, discount-at-bike-store thing. But I've kind of built up our "ferry romance" now, and it's going to be disappointing for me and my cheering squad (Emma and Aubrey) if nothing comes of it.
Maybe a drink will turn into seven. One never knows.
28 December 2008
That just blew my tiny mind
Yesterday I heard that my sister's former rowing crew member had died.
It's always kind of mindblowing for me when I hear about people dying, even though I know it happens to everyone, and every day.
She killed herself a few months ago. It came up in a particularly grim conversation about suicide, and while I get upset every time this topic comes up, her suicide really struck me. What a fucking waste.
She was my sister's crewmate in the 1999-2000 high school rowing season, and also represented our school in water polo and triathlon (again, with my sister and I). When she reached sixth form, she transferred to fancy Auckland school, King's College, and continued to excel in water polo. She was on the New Zealand secondary school girls' team, so you know. She was kind of a big deal.
From what I understand, she then attended the University of Auckland and had recently been in London with her fiance. Within three weeks of returning, for whatever reason, she killed herself.
Apparently the priest was less than sympathetic of her actions at the funeral. I find that a little inappropriate, but at the same time, I struggle for any reason why this girl would ever want to die. My sister remembers her as a perfectionist who never wanted to let anyone down. I just can't for the life of me see how being this way would drive her to suicide, but obviously something did. What a sucky exit for such an extraordinary person.
It seems overdue now, but I'm sending my best wishes and karma out into the universe for her family, and for her, wherever she is now.
She killed herself a few months ago. It came up in a particularly grim conversation about suicide, and while I get upset every time this topic comes up, her suicide really struck me. What a fucking waste.
She was my sister's crewmate in the 1999-2000 high school rowing season, and also represented our school in water polo and triathlon (again, with my sister and I). When she reached sixth form, she transferred to fancy Auckland school, King's College, and continued to excel in water polo. She was on the New Zealand secondary school girls' team, so you know. She was kind of a big deal.
From what I understand, she then attended the University of Auckland and had recently been in London with her fiance. Within three weeks of returning, for whatever reason, she killed herself.
Apparently the priest was less than sympathetic of her actions at the funeral. I find that a little inappropriate, but at the same time, I struggle for any reason why this girl would ever want to die. My sister remembers her as a perfectionist who never wanted to let anyone down. I just can't for the life of me see how being this way would drive her to suicide, but obviously something did. What a sucky exit for such an extraordinary person.
It seems overdue now, but I'm sending my best wishes and karma out into the universe for her family, and for her, wherever she is now.
27 December 2008
Sick of it all
Once you've made the big move away from Hamilton, there's only so long you can spend here on a visit before you slowly start to die inside.
I arrived here midday on Christmas Day. It's now almost midnight on December 27th, and it's pretty hard to stop myself packing the car and driving back to Auckland once I've posted this.
Yeah, I had a great Christmas - mainly due to the drinks proposal from Chris, and I loved spending most of Boxing Day with Sally and Karl, but this afternoon, the place has started to drain me.
I spent the evening at Kirby's house, listening uninterestedly to Kirby and Sally excitedly making wishful plans for a visit to Thailand. As if that's ever going to happen.
"You keen, Mim?" they asked. I looked up from the equally boring copy of Cosmopolitan that I was attempting to read.
"Keen for what?" I asked.
"Thailand!" they practically shrieked.
"To be honest, not at all." I shrugged. And that was being kind. I've never understood the attraction to Thailand. Maybe it's because I hate cheap shit, and even moreso, cheap shit that is proudly marketed as cheap shit. Add to the fact that the proposed travelling party is Kirby, Sally, Karl and Travis - all people I adore, but really can't stand the company of as a group. Kirby and Karl are directionally, common sensically, and any other kind of challenged you can think of. Travis thinks he knows everything, but doesn't. Sally does know everything.
There is no way I would ever want to go anywhere with them. They are like their own little family, which is great - but I'm the weird cousin. It would be pretty much akin to hell.
If it's any consolation, this trip will never actually get off the ground, which is all the more reason not to want to be a part of it.
After I left Kirby's (she and Sally had decided to walk to Karl's - literally on the other side of town - drunk), Sally text messaged me, worried that I was upset about something. I think I just miss my flatmates.
Roll on tomorrow... I can't wait to be back in Bayswater.
I arrived here midday on Christmas Day. It's now almost midnight on December 27th, and it's pretty hard to stop myself packing the car and driving back to Auckland once I've posted this.
Yeah, I had a great Christmas - mainly due to the drinks proposal from Chris, and I loved spending most of Boxing Day with Sally and Karl, but this afternoon, the place has started to drain me.
I spent the evening at Kirby's house, listening uninterestedly to Kirby and Sally excitedly making wishful plans for a visit to Thailand. As if that's ever going to happen.
"You keen, Mim?" they asked. I looked up from the equally boring copy of Cosmopolitan that I was attempting to read.
"Keen for what?" I asked.
"Thailand!" they practically shrieked.
"To be honest, not at all." I shrugged. And that was being kind. I've never understood the attraction to Thailand. Maybe it's because I hate cheap shit, and even moreso, cheap shit that is proudly marketed as cheap shit. Add to the fact that the proposed travelling party is Kirby, Sally, Karl and Travis - all people I adore, but really can't stand the company of as a group. Kirby and Karl are directionally, common sensically, and any other kind of challenged you can think of. Travis thinks he knows everything, but doesn't. Sally does know everything.
There is no way I would ever want to go anywhere with them. They are like their own little family, which is great - but I'm the weird cousin. It would be pretty much akin to hell.
If it's any consolation, this trip will never actually get off the ground, which is all the more reason not to want to be a part of it.
After I left Kirby's (she and Sally had decided to walk to Karl's - literally on the other side of town - drunk), Sally text messaged me, worried that I was upset about something. I think I just miss my flatmates.
Roll on tomorrow... I can't wait to be back in Bayswater.
26 December 2008
Sally's Home!!!
Sally hasn't received a huge amount of publicity from me, largely due to the fact that since before I started my blog, she's been in France, wondering around the place. Okay, tramping from Paris to the Spanish border, but you know.
Sally, with her brother Jack, in Barcelona
She got back on Tuesday! I'm so glad I'm in Hamilton.
Sally is the coolest person EVER. I mentioned her in my "Secrets" post.
"Jen is my best friend, but I literally worship the ground Sally Taylor walks on."
I've known her since I was fourteen years old, and since then she's never ceased to amaze me with her old-personlike wisdom. She's an old soul trapped in a stylish twenty-one year-old's body. Like Alex, she's a history student. Sally is fluent in French and Spanish, and can also work her way around Portuguese. Talented!
Her worldliness comes in part from the number of places she's been to - France, Spain, Latvia, and many other countries in Europe and South America. She also happens to be filled with an abnormal amount of common sense, that I sometimes wish she would share. When I have problems, more often than not, it's Sal that helps me find the answer.
This afternoon I'm going to hang with her. We planned it on Tuesday afternoon, and I've been like a cat on hot coals since then. I actually CAN'T WAIT.
This morning my mum and I hit the "Boxing Day Sales". Every year, these disappoint me. It seems to be because the things I want are never on sale, so I could in effect go out and shop on any other day of the year and spend the same amount. We bumped in Danielle and Alex, which was a highlight.
In another out-of-my-price-range purchase, I bought my new Vodafone phone. It was $400, the same as my helmet, and my Ethiopia savings account is looking worse for wear. I'm stoked, though. Now I can call Harjeet for free in the weekends. A new challenge is going to be keeping tabs on Donny. This is the fourth number I've had in the last year - all in attempts to break free from him. Every time, he gets it and calls me. Damn you, Donny! You will NOT learn of this number!
The rest of you can text my Telecom number if you need it.
Peace.
25 December 2008
V for Victory
Well, it's not that my day got off to a marvellous start, but I feel that I've more than made up for it.
This morning I woke up at 7:42am and had breakfast with Sam. Rex and Sara had already gone home, so it was up to us to bring Christmas spirit to 2/70. Luckily, Sam is a jolly guy, so we had a great time, chatting and eating breakfast.
"It was quite weird, to wake up alone." he said "But you're here!" I felt quite special. I think Sam's last few Christmases have been spent with his ex-girlfriend Libby, who I don't know a lot about, but do wonder if she is kicking herself over their break-up.
I woke up in yesterday's clothes, not having been bothered to get changed when I arrived home from work at midnight. Nice.
Eventually I got on the road to Hamilton. Our plans changed - since my work roster is allowing me time off making coffee until next Monday, I'm staying down here in Hamilton until Sunday. Alright! My mum had txted me at about 8am to remind me to bring the "V for Vendetta" DVD home, that I rented when I was last here.
Just before the Onehunga / Howick-Pakuranga exit (about fifteen minutes' 120km/hr drive from Bayswater), I realised I didn't have it. Can you believe it? Probably, if you know how shot my short-term memory is these days. Anyway, I got off at the exit and took the loop road back onto SH1 and headed back to the North Shore.
As luck would have it, I drove past Chris on Lake Road. He recognised me because I brought Othello home on the bike rack for the holiday.
"hey, you just drove past me! have a good xmas" read the next message on my cellphone. Uh oh.
"where were you? i forgot some stuff."
"outside takapuna grammar."
"hmm, i've driven past there four times now, today."
"are you serious? well, give me a txt in the new year. we'll go out for a drink."
Are you serious?! He totally just asked me out. I don't care how informal it was. Or that it was via text message. Chris asked me out. It's Christmas Day. I'm fucking stoked.
I would text everyone in my phonebook (all five of them) to tell them about my victory, but it's Christmas Day. No-one needs to hear about that. Instead, I'm blogging about it so y'all can bask in my happy glow.
Hands down, best Christmas EVER.
This morning I woke up at 7:42am and had breakfast with Sam. Rex and Sara had already gone home, so it was up to us to bring Christmas spirit to 2/70. Luckily, Sam is a jolly guy, so we had a great time, chatting and eating breakfast.
"It was quite weird, to wake up alone." he said "But you're here!" I felt quite special. I think Sam's last few Christmases have been spent with his ex-girlfriend Libby, who I don't know a lot about, but do wonder if she is kicking herself over their break-up.
I woke up in yesterday's clothes, not having been bothered to get changed when I arrived home from work at midnight. Nice.
Eventually I got on the road to Hamilton. Our plans changed - since my work roster is allowing me time off making coffee until next Monday, I'm staying down here in Hamilton until Sunday. Alright! My mum had txted me at about 8am to remind me to bring the "V for Vendetta" DVD home, that I rented when I was last here.
Just before the Onehunga / Howick-Pakuranga exit (about fifteen minutes' 120km/hr drive from Bayswater), I realised I didn't have it. Can you believe it? Probably, if you know how shot my short-term memory is these days. Anyway, I got off at the exit and took the loop road back onto SH1 and headed back to the North Shore.
As luck would have it, I drove past Chris on Lake Road. He recognised me because I brought Othello home on the bike rack for the holiday.
"hey, you just drove past me! have a good xmas" read the next message on my cellphone. Uh oh.
"where were you? i forgot some stuff."
"outside takapuna grammar."
"hmm, i've driven past there four times now, today."
"are you serious? well, give me a txt in the new year. we'll go out for a drink."
Are you serious?! He totally just asked me out. I don't care how informal it was. Or that it was via text message. Chris asked me out. It's Christmas Day. I'm fucking stoked.
I would text everyone in my phonebook (all five of them) to tell them about my victory, but it's Christmas Day. No-one needs to hear about that. Instead, I'm blogging about it so y'all can bask in my happy glow.
Hands down, best Christmas EVER.
It's Christmas! Go Home!
It's 11:45pm. Christmas Eve. Downtown Auckland.
Why am I stuck in traffic?
Why are there people out in cars, clogging up Quay Street? On Christmas Eve?
Why am I stuck in traffic?
Why are there people out in cars, clogging up Quay Street? On Christmas Eve?
Go home, and go to bed. Don't you people know that Santa doesn't give presents to people that are awake? For goodness sake.
I worked the closing shift at Esquires tonight, which is why I was out. I can't say so much for the other fifty cars in Auckland tonight. One guy came in, drunk. It's Christmas, idiots, not New Years! Get some dignity.
Tonight was a funny evening. There was the drunk guy, some other guy who couldn't afford his coffee (and who left me his number on a paper bag when he left), a ferry captain, and some other miscellaneous lost souls. Granted, a few of these people were on the late sailing to Waiheke, but the rest of them... I have no idea. Take the broke guy, for instance. Saunters in, asks for the cheapest hot thing he can eat, so I prepare him a sausage roll. He wants coffee too. A long black. Only he doesn't have enough money. He's nice enough, not creepy like some of the guys that pass through here, so I just make him one on the house. He sits by himself at a table close to the counter and watches me while I serve the drunk guy and his lovely girlfriend. Later on, when he leaves to catch the Birkenhead ferry, he doesn't do so before leaving a paper bag with "Call me", his name and his number written on it. Clearly, he's all class.
And then there's the ferry captain.
"I'm looking for ways to relieve my stress. I'm drinking coffee. Thinking of starting smoking. And then becoming an alcoholic." I make him a caramel latte, because he doesn't really like coffee. Then he tells me about his girlfriend, who recently left him - his baby in tow. Yikes. I tell him about how Donny left me and scarpered off to India. It's not really the same. He also gives me his number.
I'm doing pretty well. In the last twenty-two years (nearly twenty-three), I've been given four numbers.
1. Donny
2. Chris
3. The broke guy
4. The ferry captain
Curtis gave me his room number the night I met him in Canada, which sounds a lot less classy than it ended up being.
I'm in a happy place.
It's Christmas!
I worked the closing shift at Esquires tonight, which is why I was out. I can't say so much for the other fifty cars in Auckland tonight. One guy came in, drunk. It's Christmas, idiots, not New Years! Get some dignity.
Tonight was a funny evening. There was the drunk guy, some other guy who couldn't afford his coffee (and who left me his number on a paper bag when he left), a ferry captain, and some other miscellaneous lost souls. Granted, a few of these people were on the late sailing to Waiheke, but the rest of them... I have no idea. Take the broke guy, for instance. Saunters in, asks for the cheapest hot thing he can eat, so I prepare him a sausage roll. He wants coffee too. A long black. Only he doesn't have enough money. He's nice enough, not creepy like some of the guys that pass through here, so I just make him one on the house. He sits by himself at a table close to the counter and watches me while I serve the drunk guy and his lovely girlfriend. Later on, when he leaves to catch the Birkenhead ferry, he doesn't do so before leaving a paper bag with "Call me", his name and his number written on it. Clearly, he's all class.
And then there's the ferry captain.
"I'm looking for ways to relieve my stress. I'm drinking coffee. Thinking of starting smoking. And then becoming an alcoholic." I make him a caramel latte, because he doesn't really like coffee. Then he tells me about his girlfriend, who recently left him - his baby in tow. Yikes. I tell him about how Donny left me and scarpered off to India. It's not really the same. He also gives me his number.
I'm doing pretty well. In the last twenty-two years (nearly twenty-three), I've been given four numbers.
1. Donny
2. Chris
3. The broke guy
4. The ferry captain
Curtis gave me his room number the night I met him in Canada, which sounds a lot less classy than it ended up being.
I'm in a happy place.
It's Christmas!
24 December 2008
The Greatest Story Ever Told *cough*
In an apparent attempt to break the record for number of stupid blogs posted in one day, I'm back again. Attacking the mic, or something along those lines...
Due to some momentary lapse of reason (I have them a lot), I thought it would be a stellar idea to brave the Christmas Eve crowds at the Albany "Mega Centre". As previously mentioned, when they named it "mega", they were for real. Finding a park was less drama than expected, and put me in good stead for the rest of the trip.
The main motivation for this trip was to buy a new phone. A Nokia 5310 on Vodafone Supa Prepay, to be exact. That was what I wanted, and all I wanted to leave the mall with. But it was not to be. Of course, my efforts went unrewarded as the stupid Vodafone guy told me they had no stock, and the only store that did was Onehunga. See below for a map. (For easy reference, assume "A" is the Albany mall, and "B" is the Onehunga mall.)
On Christmas Eve? No, thank you.
I asked my stupid Vodafone friend if anywhere in Hamilton had any in stock.
"Onehunga is on the way to Hamilton." he replied. My, what great geography skills you have! But that didn't answer my question, now did it? Turns out they do have one, at Centreplace, Becky's old stomping ground. Naturally, when I tried to call them to reserve it until Boxing Day, I didn't have enough credit on my Telecom mobile. But I refuse to top up, given that hopefully within two days, I will have no use for Telecom credit. Yargh!! Now, I'm pinning my hopes on no-one buying one before I get there. It seems a reasonable hope, but one that will probably be dashed simply because the entire universe seems to be gravitating against me. Maybe it's because I drew a dick on Donny's face on that billboard...
Anyway, I also went to the Life Pharmacy up in Albany to purchase my Bionic Mascara (wow, spending much on myself?). Being the consumer that I am, I was also sold on Smashbox's Halo powder, and bought some of that too. So now, not only do I not have enough petrol money to get home for the holiday, I'm also not going to be able to buy my phone anyway!!
I thought I'd curbed my spending habits. The world makes sense again.
New Mascara?!
Uh oh.
Just when I'd made the decision to buy Smashbox's Bionic Mascara, I get an email from the ever-faithful Sephora email fairy about Bare Escentuals Buxom Lash. What to do?!
Just when I'd made the decision to buy Smashbox's Bionic Mascara, I get an email from the ever-faithful Sephora email fairy about Bare Escentuals Buxom Lash. What to do?!
I admit the main motivation for Bionic is that Dazzle Lash hasn't yet arrived the mighty Aotearoa. Lucky for me, I have contacts at MAC, so as soon as that hits our country, I'm all over it like white on rice. I went to the Albany Westfield the other day ("I can't believe how big it is! Even the rooves are big!" I later exclaimed to Sara, bewildered.) and tried out Bionic. The main drawcard was its lash-lifting effect. Seriously, I had no idea how much Telescopic pulled my lashes down until I wore it on one eye with Bionic on the other. Impressive.
I don't even have to pay for it myself, either. Hadleigh is giving me the money for me to buy it as a Christmas present from him. This is because even after three months of living with me, Hadleigh doesn't actually know what mascara is, or what it's for.
Sweet deal, yo.
But now, along comes Buxom Lash. Did you SEE the wand on that thing?! I'm kind of taken by it. Granted, not a huge fan of Bare Escentuals - mainly because of their monopoly on the foundation market at the moment - but I'm still all woozy over it. What's a girl to do!?
Admittedly, I'm going to have to wait until I hit the States next year to buy Buxom Lash anyway, and I'm unwilling to hold off on my other mascara purchases for that reason. I think, in all honesty, I'm going to end up with three mascaras: Bionic, Dazzle Lash and Buxom Lash. And I don't mind one bit.
A Memory Of What It Felt Like
Wow, not that you can even tell, but this was a collection of lyrics from about fifty songs that at the time seemed appropriate to our situation. Of course now I just seem like a lovesick puppy.
The worst thing of all though was not the months and months of tears, or the spelling mistake, or the fact that the "In Your Hands" page got a bit fucked in the manufacturing process. It was that late one night, when Donny had called me to go visit him for unnamely activities, he told m that he never read the card, only used it for my number.
Fail.
In His Hands
This page was the most disappointing because after printing, the care I took to opacise (is that a word?) the background was lost in a haze of... tan? I don't even know what colour it is, but in the background I'd typed ALL the lyrics to "In Your Hands" by Thrice. What I should have done was changed the colour of the font, but I went with dampening the opacity, and you couldn't really see anything. Sucks, because the crux of the card was really in those words. Never mind though, hey?
Adore
This is my favourite part of the card. It's the inside left-hand side... if that makes sense?
It features lyrics from the Smashing Pumpkins' "Ava Adore", and Rise Against's "Swing Life Away". The photo is one I took myself in Santa Monica last year, from Ocean Avenue looking down on the Pacific Coast Highway.
It features lyrics from the Smashing Pumpkins' "Ava Adore", and Rise Against's "Swing Life Away". The photo is one I took myself in Santa Monica last year, from Ocean Avenue looking down on the Pacific Coast Highway.
A Rug's Topography
Say hello to the rug's topography
It holds quite a lot of interest with your face down on it
Say hello to the shrinking in your head
You can't see it but you know its there so don't neglect it
So begins A Perfect Circle's "The Nurse Who Loved Me", from their 2003 offering, Thirteenth Step. Back when Donny and I were close (2004 in this instance), he brought it up often, and so it became the inspiration for the front of the now infamous birthday card I made him this year.
The "rug" was made from a design Kirby created for her "K.E.S" exhibition in 2007. I used it because it's made from the letter "S". Oops, did I just give away Donny's real identity? Anyway, also featured is a spelling mistake. Instead of typing "it's supposed to be a rugs topography", closer inspection reveals that it reads "it's supposed ot be a rugs topography". I didn't actually detect this until a few months after sending it, which still cuts me up a little inside.
The "rug" was made from a design Kirby created for her "K.E.S" exhibition in 2007. I used it because it's made from the letter "S". Oops, did I just give away Donny's real identity? Anyway, also featured is a spelling mistake. Instead of typing "it's supposed to be a rugs topography", closer inspection reveals that it reads "it's supposed ot be a rugs topography". I didn't actually detect this until a few months after sending it, which still cuts me up a little inside.
23 December 2008
A Christmas Carol
It only really dawned on me just now, after having read Jeanie's "Yuletide Showdown" that it's Christmas time. Sure, I can't go anywhere without hearing my least favourite style of music - carols, and every second customer who bothers to speak to me (past barking their order for coffee at me) asks if I've completed my Christmas shopping (I haven't), but I guess it's proof of my self-absorbed nature that I have mainly been too internally focused to have noticed.
Christmas has never been one of those family occasions for me. Growing up, it was spent with my parents and sister, because we're the only members of our family that live here. Everyone else is spattered across England and Uzbekistan. My parents relocated to the Land of the Long White Cloud in January of 1983, and spent the following five years living six months here, and six months in Coventry, England. I've had one Christmas with my grandma, and none with any other extended family. That's just how we roll.
The last few Christmases don't even register in my memory, really. Ours are so low-key these days. Last year we didn't even have a tree. I probably spent the day on my bike, as I competed in the Surfbreaker Triathlon two days later. The last one I can recall actual details from was 2004, because mum had a glass of champagne and got drunk. I got drunk later in the evening and went home with an old friend, with the intent of sleeping. He had different ideas. I was eighteen years old, and pretty appalled. On Boxing Day, we went on a family clothes shopping expedition of sorts with Donny's family. How times have changed.
This year, my mum and dad are spending Christmas day at 2/70 with me. Rex, Sara and Steph are flitting around the Auckland / Northland areas, visiting family over Christmas and Boxing days, and Sam - well, I haven't actually asked, but one assumes he's having "a quiet one with the iPod" or something to that effect. Originally, I was going to go back to Cowtown for the days surrounding the "birth of baby cheeses", but due to my declining vision and motorway awareness, they're braving SH1 to come and enjoy my 'hood.
Today I visited Bike75. It wasn't the most straightforward experience I've ever had - it took me three attempts and laps of the Sale Street block before I finally got it right, found a park and wondered on in to find Chris. As luck would have it, he wasn't around, but appeared while I was talking to his workmate about my Garmin helmet. He then hung around, offered me directions to work, asked why I hadn't been on the ferry this morning, commented on my neat handwriting, and said he would text me later on. He did, but not to ask me out like I hoped. Instead, he asked if his directions were sufficient, and said he looked forward to calling me when my helmet arrives.
I don't remember a time where I've been this excited about waiting for a boy to call me. Whether this is because usually calls from Donny come between 2 and 4am, and are influenced by ever-increasing amounts of alcohol remains to be seen. I think I'm just a little bit giddy about the whole thing, and for now, I'm rather enjoying it.
Merry Christmas, yo.
Christmas has never been one of those family occasions for me. Growing up, it was spent with my parents and sister, because we're the only members of our family that live here. Everyone else is spattered across England and Uzbekistan. My parents relocated to the Land of the Long White Cloud in January of 1983, and spent the following five years living six months here, and six months in Coventry, England. I've had one Christmas with my grandma, and none with any other extended family. That's just how we roll.
The last few Christmases don't even register in my memory, really. Ours are so low-key these days. Last year we didn't even have a tree. I probably spent the day on my bike, as I competed in the Surfbreaker Triathlon two days later. The last one I can recall actual details from was 2004, because mum had a glass of champagne and got drunk. I got drunk later in the evening and went home with an old friend, with the intent of sleeping. He had different ideas. I was eighteen years old, and pretty appalled. On Boxing Day, we went on a family clothes shopping expedition of sorts with Donny's family. How times have changed.
This year, my mum and dad are spending Christmas day at 2/70 with me. Rex, Sara and Steph are flitting around the Auckland / Northland areas, visiting family over Christmas and Boxing days, and Sam - well, I haven't actually asked, but one assumes he's having "a quiet one with the iPod" or something to that effect. Originally, I was going to go back to Cowtown for the days surrounding the "birth of baby cheeses", but due to my declining vision and motorway awareness, they're braving SH1 to come and enjoy my 'hood.
Today I visited Bike75. It wasn't the most straightforward experience I've ever had - it took me three attempts and laps of the Sale Street block before I finally got it right, found a park and wondered on in to find Chris. As luck would have it, he wasn't around, but appeared while I was talking to his workmate about my Garmin helmet. He then hung around, offered me directions to work, asked why I hadn't been on the ferry this morning, commented on my neat handwriting, and said he would text me later on. He did, but not to ask me out like I hoped. Instead, he asked if his directions were sufficient, and said he looked forward to calling me when my helmet arrives.
I don't remember a time where I've been this excited about waiting for a boy to call me. Whether this is because usually calls from Donny come between 2 and 4am, and are influenced by ever-increasing amounts of alcohol remains to be seen. I think I'm just a little bit giddy about the whole thing, and for now, I'm rather enjoying it.
Merry Christmas, yo.
22 December 2008
Delerium and Disorder (Hamilton Part II)
I may be just an atom in an ectoplasmic sea, but most of the time I feel like I'm destined for more.
My weekend in Hamilton was mostly wasted, dreaming up cunning plans to cause people heartarche, and bank up some bad karma for myself. Everything came crashing down last night when I heard that some guy had pulled a knife on one of my best friends.
What. The. Fuck.
What is up with these kinds of people? First of all, what are you doing carrying knives around? And then... what could a girl ever do to you that was so bad that it warranted pulling out your knife and threatening her with it? For fuck's sake!
Kirby has this off-the-rails ex-boyfriend named Cody, who was kind of a lost cause when she met, and continues to be so to this day. Anyway, yesterday he was arrested for crashing his car while driving drunk, so Kirby had to go and pick him up and take care of him. I say she "had" to, when really she didn't. But that's Kirby. Pulling people out of the gutter, whether they deserve it or not. Anyway, for whatever reason, Cody's car was left unlocked on the side of the road where he crashed it, and when Kirby left his place, there were some guys rummaging through it, taking whatever pitiful belongings he had left in there. If it's any indication of the life that Cody leads, all they found was a packet of cigarette filters and some obnoxious hip-hop CDs. Whatever, apparently that was all these guys were after.
So Kirby approached them and told them where to go. "I got on some sort of adrenaline kick, or something," she told me later in the night, trembling over a red wine. The situation deteriorated to the extent that one of the guys pulled a knife out of his jeans.
"What, you're going to stab me?!" she taunted him. It was a pretty ridiculous notion on his part, given that the altercation took place at an intersection alongside one of Hamilton's busiest roads. In broad daylight. Pretty soon the guys just walked off, having thrown the CDs at Kirby's head.
Should we really have to deal with this kind of thing happening to our young women?
Kirby had been on her way to work, but when she got there she was pretty well unable to do anything, so her flatmate came and took her to the police station to make a statement. I hate to say it, but this kind of carry-on happens so often in my hometown that I doubt anything will come of it. It's a sad reality of living in half-assed gangland.
Nothing really came of my stupid plan to vandalise Donny's billboards. I couldn't find any and even if I had, I do kind of wonder if doing such a trivial thing would have any sort of butterfly effect on the rest of the world. Writing obnoxious remarks on massive posters of some guy I used to know is not really how I want to be remembered.
I think it's time for me to wake the fuck up and do something good.
My weekend in Hamilton was mostly wasted, dreaming up cunning plans to cause people heartarche, and bank up some bad karma for myself. Everything came crashing down last night when I heard that some guy had pulled a knife on one of my best friends.
What. The. Fuck.
What is up with these kinds of people? First of all, what are you doing carrying knives around? And then... what could a girl ever do to you that was so bad that it warranted pulling out your knife and threatening her with it? For fuck's sake!
Kirby has this off-the-rails ex-boyfriend named Cody, who was kind of a lost cause when she met, and continues to be so to this day. Anyway, yesterday he was arrested for crashing his car while driving drunk, so Kirby had to go and pick him up and take care of him. I say she "had" to, when really she didn't. But that's Kirby. Pulling people out of the gutter, whether they deserve it or not. Anyway, for whatever reason, Cody's car was left unlocked on the side of the road where he crashed it, and when Kirby left his place, there were some guys rummaging through it, taking whatever pitiful belongings he had left in there. If it's any indication of the life that Cody leads, all they found was a packet of cigarette filters and some obnoxious hip-hop CDs. Whatever, apparently that was all these guys were after.
So Kirby approached them and told them where to go. "I got on some sort of adrenaline kick, or something," she told me later in the night, trembling over a red wine. The situation deteriorated to the extent that one of the guys pulled a knife out of his jeans.
"What, you're going to stab me?!" she taunted him. It was a pretty ridiculous notion on his part, given that the altercation took place at an intersection alongside one of Hamilton's busiest roads. In broad daylight. Pretty soon the guys just walked off, having thrown the CDs at Kirby's head.
Should we really have to deal with this kind of thing happening to our young women?
Kirby had been on her way to work, but when she got there she was pretty well unable to do anything, so her flatmate came and took her to the police station to make a statement. I hate to say it, but this kind of carry-on happens so often in my hometown that I doubt anything will come of it. It's a sad reality of living in half-assed gangland.
Nothing really came of my stupid plan to vandalise Donny's billboards. I couldn't find any and even if I had, I do kind of wonder if doing such a trivial thing would have any sort of butterfly effect on the rest of the world. Writing obnoxious remarks on massive posters of some guy I used to know is not really how I want to be remembered.
I think it's time for me to wake the fuck up and do something good.
21 December 2008
Bored & Extremely Dangerous (Hamilton on a Saturday night)
Yesterday morning when 2/70 emptied out (Rex to go kitesurfing, Sara to help him launch the kite and Sam to watch/run around on the beach) I immediately felt lonely to the extent where I drove home. I had big plans: to visit Kirby, Ritchie, Libby, Becky, pick a bone with Donny...
Of course, due to the fact that to most of these people I'm an "option" rather than a "priority", I haven't seen any of them. Instead, I spent the afternoon with my mum, and went she went to work at 5pm, I went to bed. At about 8:30pm I got up and went about going out to buy some McDonald's for dinner. Yeah, I know.
For whatever reason, I pulled out of the McDonald's exit and felt an uncontrollable urge to go and let down Donny's tyres. I knew where he had plans to be for the night, so I drove there, in a state of derangement (of course, this is retrospective). When I arrived, I felt relieved for him that he wasn't there. I know that had I seen his car, I would have been not only letting down the tyres, but stealing the valve stops. Just to make things that much more difficult.
As I mentioned, he wasn't there, so I drove away quickly and instead went to his house. He wasn't there either, and by this stage I realised how ridiculous I was being, so I drove home and spent the evening watching "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" - on Emma's recommendation. Kind of fitting, considering the circumstances.
I wish I could say I knew what drives me to plan out such malicious acts on someone I claim is "The One". If I knew what the problem was, maybe I could solve it and as such curb my stupid behaviour. But I don't, and I hope that one day soon, someone will. I don't want to be driving around this place like I have a deathwish, hoping in the first instance that I'll find his car, innocently parked somewhere so that I can unleash my unfounded rage upon it, and then in the second instance, hoping that in fact he's somewhere safe, away from harm. It's not normal.
I admit that my plans tonight are not much different. After visiting Danielle, I plan to scour Victoria Street for the University of Waikato billboard featuring Donny and deface it. If it hasn't already been done so, anyway. Did the school check this guy's grades before they decided he was a good ambassador for them? Apparently not, since if they had, they would have discovered that he's a fourth year student still taking second year papers because he's been consistently failing them due to lack of willpower and, well - intelligence. It's not that I think he's stupid, he is absolutely not. He is just in the wrong degree and too much of a fucking bullock head to admit it. Anyway, they chose him because he's a mildly attractive guy of Indian descent, and it makes his school look like it's welcoming of all sorts of people. Whatever.
When he stops calling me at stupid hours of the night, maybe I'll stop my erratic behaviour. Maybe. But tonight I feel like I'm justified. You don't call me at 2am and not expect your pretty billboard to get wrecked, jerk.
Of course, due to the fact that to most of these people I'm an "option" rather than a "priority", I haven't seen any of them. Instead, I spent the afternoon with my mum, and went she went to work at 5pm, I went to bed. At about 8:30pm I got up and went about going out to buy some McDonald's for dinner. Yeah, I know.
For whatever reason, I pulled out of the McDonald's exit and felt an uncontrollable urge to go and let down Donny's tyres. I knew where he had plans to be for the night, so I drove there, in a state of derangement (of course, this is retrospective). When I arrived, I felt relieved for him that he wasn't there. I know that had I seen his car, I would have been not only letting down the tyres, but stealing the valve stops. Just to make things that much more difficult.
As I mentioned, he wasn't there, so I drove away quickly and instead went to his house. He wasn't there either, and by this stage I realised how ridiculous I was being, so I drove home and spent the evening watching "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" - on Emma's recommendation. Kind of fitting, considering the circumstances.
I wish I could say I knew what drives me to plan out such malicious acts on someone I claim is "The One". If I knew what the problem was, maybe I could solve it and as such curb my stupid behaviour. But I don't, and I hope that one day soon, someone will. I don't want to be driving around this place like I have a deathwish, hoping in the first instance that I'll find his car, innocently parked somewhere so that I can unleash my unfounded rage upon it, and then in the second instance, hoping that in fact he's somewhere safe, away from harm. It's not normal.
I admit that my plans tonight are not much different. After visiting Danielle, I plan to scour Victoria Street for the University of Waikato billboard featuring Donny and deface it. If it hasn't already been done so, anyway. Did the school check this guy's grades before they decided he was a good ambassador for them? Apparently not, since if they had, they would have discovered that he's a fourth year student still taking second year papers because he's been consistently failing them due to lack of willpower and, well - intelligence. It's not that I think he's stupid, he is absolutely not. He is just in the wrong degree and too much of a fucking bullock head to admit it. Anyway, they chose him because he's a mildly attractive guy of Indian descent, and it makes his school look like it's welcoming of all sorts of people. Whatever.
When he stops calling me at stupid hours of the night, maybe I'll stop my erratic behaviour. Maybe. But tonight I feel like I'm justified. You don't call me at 2am and not expect your pretty billboard to get wrecked, jerk.
20 December 2008
Twitter Updates?!
I joined Twitter mainly because I wanted to subsribe to Lance Armstrong's updates. Of course, I haven't worked out how to do this yet, but I have decided that TWITTER SUCKS because instead of showing MY updates on this page, it's showing them from some guy named Adam who lives in Essex, United Kingdom. Just what I want.
Anyone who knows how to use this bastard of an application is welcome to show me the right way.
Peace.
Anyone who knows how to use this bastard of an application is welcome to show me the right way.
Peace.
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