I Love My Brother: v3984739274

My brother, Karl, is unbelievably cool. His girlfriend posted this picture of them on Facebook. It's so cute.

Out With The Old

I know, I know.

The whole, crapping-on-about-the-new-year thing is getting a bit old.

But I've been thinking for a few days now about how one of my goals this year is to tidy myself up. To that end, I refuse to wear jandals or trackpants before 8pm at night. Arbitrary? Yes. But it goes hand-in-hand with my other endeavours which include dressing better in general. No jandals, except when supermarket shopping (and even then, I'm going to say it's frowned upon). No trackpants outdoors. Dress less like a scruff, less often. Stop tying my hair up. Just, make an effort every day.

Does that seem weird? A makeup artist who is lazily-kempt? Yeah, probably. It's one of my least favourite personality flaws. And it's going to get better.

Weirdly, I came across an article on a New Zealand site earlier about a girl and her love affair with jandals. I'm going against the grain of my generation here, giving jandals the heave-ho. But I think I'm going to have not only better foot health (there's been research to suggest they're bad for your feet, and looking at the state of mine, I'm not going to argue), but more class. Yes.

Anyway, anyway.

I stumbled across this tonight, quite by chance. I've long since stopped looking at the daily "Blogs Of Note", having given up hope of ever being featured the first time I said "fuck". It's weird, because she mentions "church" which is linked... to none other than the official site of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. That's pretty weird, right?

Other weird stuff: Sophie was the most popular girls' name of 2009, in New Zealand. I mean, it's not that weird. I would probably name a baby girl Sophie, too. A nice feature of the list, for both girls and boys, is that New Zealanders don't seem to be buying into the trend that is giving your children stupid names (the noted exception being that couple who called their son 4Real). Names like Ruby, Emma and Charlotte pepper the girls' most popular list, while Jack tops and Thomas rounds out the boys' top ten.

Proud to be a New Zealander? Who, me?

Gaga: The Fallout

I loved my white-blonde, Lady Gaga-reminiscent tresses the way only a Lady Gaga wannabe could.

Unfortunately though, by Christmas, my hair was more reminiscent of... I don't know, copper wire (without the colour, obviously). My hair was about an inch shorter - due to breakage, not a haircut, a million times drier, and more sensitive to everything - water, hair product, being tied up, my hair straightener (okay so that last one was a given but I like my hair to be not only blonde, I like it to be straight). It's time to go, blonde hair.

So on about December 23rd, I bought some hairdye and away I went, expecting a low-key, fades-into-the-background brown. This was not the case. I ended up with quite an ... electric ... shade of red. Red?! Yeah, works for Brigette, and that horrible girl from Paramore. Does not work for me. Still, I braved it for a few days until Boxing Day, which when I bought yet another packet of hairdye - hoping, once again, for low-key brown. Instead, I got black.

People! Do not dye your own hair! It will not end up the way you want it.

Trouble is (apart from looking like an emo, I mean), restoring colour to my stressed tresses has by no means restored any sort of "vitality". No, no. It's even shorter. It's still hydrophobic and hates the straightener. IT STILL FEELS LIKE STRAW! Right now, I'm dressed in a white tshirt, and my hair is literally shedding on to my shirt. I mean, shit, if it was still white, at least no-one would see!

When it comes to hair, you can't win. Don't ever, EVER dye your hair.

The Climb

Some days, I feel about eighty years old.

Not in my mind, obviously - I'd like to think that in the unfortunate event that I reach eighty, I'll know a great deal more than I do now - but in my legs. I live on the third floor of our teeny-tiny, five-person apartment, and when you feel as old as I do, getting up those stairs after a day of lectures that make you want to die (it's that fiction paper! I knew it would be the end of me) is not an easy feat.

Take heed, athletes! Turns out spending your formative years underwater, in a weights room, on a four-inch wide beam and hanging from a pair of uneven bars isn't so great for you once you reach 24 (I know, I'm not 24 yet, but that's kind of past the point). There's being active, and then there's stupidity. I fall into the latter category.

Before Worlds last year, I was putting in fifty-hour training weeks. Every week. For months on end. I then went from full-time training to full-time dancing, whilst under the influence of copious amounts of alcohol, in town. It's not ideal, as I've recently discovered. Your body doesn't forget behaviour like that, people! It remembers! It repays you when you move into a three-storey house!

Admittedly, there are upsides. I'm not sure why, but I've recently (meaning: in the last two days) mastered the art of staying awake all day, and sleeping a little bit at night! It's only taken my whole life. Getting up to live, not work out, at 7am is a strange feeling. So is having inexplicable sore arms that I can no longer stretch because they literally NEVER get warmed up. I haven't exercised in forever.

I'm beginning to wonder if the muscle soreness is in part due to the almost-fatal (that's a self-appointed assessment and may not be all that accurate) fall down the stairs I had two days ago, which I managed to land headfirst. Seriously, landing ANY other way than headfirst would have been hugely preferable. Unfortunately, it was not to be - I not only crashed into the side of my skull, but the rest of my once tiny, now not-so-tiny body landed ON TOP of my head. Yeah, man. I had a pretty extreme fall. Of course, I lost consciousness and gave myself a concussion, carpet burns (including one on the back of my ear, that my hair now sticks to, which is ideal) and possibly some ruptured internal organs. I'm co-ordinated.

I will not let this dampen my year! Concussions go away. Bruises and internal organs heal. So do burnt ears. If there's anything that's going to destroy me, it's going to be that damn fiction paper.

New goal for the year: to successfully climb each flight of stairs every day. I don't like my chances.

Overheard In The Post Office

Asian guy at counter: Umm, it's a gift so I don't want to fill out the customs label.
Post office worker: They won't look at it. Do you look at the label when you receive parcels?
Asian guy: Um, yeah. Pretty much, always.
Post office worker: *stumped look*
Asian guy: *looks away*

The Spelling Bee

You know how I always rave about what a great speller I am, right?

Have you been secretly laughing about how shocking my spelling is on here sometimes? I'm going to put it down to typing. It's not that I actually think "from" is spelt "fom" (as per "I Am Dunedin") or that "odd" is some sort of alternative way of writing "off" (from "xterraplanet"), more that I am a completely retarded typist. So if you see any mistakes like this - or otherwise - tell me!!!

How embarrassing.

The Promised Land

An added extra that I love love LOVE about being back at the University of Otago?

It's an Asian bonanza.

Currently, I'm hiding out in the computer lab that forms part of the University's central library, on an "island" formed from six computers. There are three Asians within gazing distance, including one next to me who is unabashedly laughing at videos on YouTube. Which is something else I love: people (like myself) using university computers for anything other than university work.

That's as well as... condoms on the ground - whether it be on campus, at the octagon, at my apartment building... keep it classy, Dunedin
Leaving my house unlocked
Feeling like I never left, despite not having lived here since 2005
The way some peoples' cellphones work in the library, but not mine
The aroma of chocolate between the hospital and the octagon - thank you, Cadbury factory
My ID card. I look hot - first time ever, and my name is Iris
The Centre for Innovation, opposite St David's lecture theatres. A gross waste of resources never looked so fine

So look forward to posts about all these things and more (including that awful flat on Emily Siedelberg Place. God, I wish someone would just burn that dive to the ground) this year. There's 360 days left of it...

I Am Dunedin (Part II)

Turns out, my memory does in fact suck.

You may be led to believe otherwise, if I've ever recited to you all the car registrations of people I know that I've memorised, the periodic table, or anything else that takes up extra space in my brain I could really use for, I don't know. Passwords?

Yes, you read that right. In the two days since I left Hamilton, I have successfully forgotten nearly every password to every password-enabled site I visit online. Starting with my email. Handy.

Anyway, Dunedin so far is being hailed as a success. The move into my new apartment was stress-free (amazing, considering just about everything else in my life right now causes me immeasurable amounts of stress) - if you ignore the fact that the internet there isn't working. Slight problem, especially when you're me, and your online presence is greater than your real life. Greater in terms of volume, not... greatness.

So that's okay.

I arrived at uni for the first day of Summer 2010 today, and was issued with an ID card that says Iris, not Miriam. We'll take the win. I have a lecture in three hours, and to be honest, as far as I'm concerned, the world is mine.

I no longer live in Hamilton, nor have any intention to keep up with those who do. If you're a Hamiltonite and you're offended by that statement, don't be. You're not the problem.

To that end, my Facebook password has been changed by my mum, who I know will not cave in to any amount of begging (yes, I am already suffering Facebook withdrawal symptoms, and wondering if my latest profile picture - a shot of me with no hair, from 2004 - is really that appropriate. Too late?) and as such, I'm destined to spend the rest of the year Facebook-less.

"I'm not going to lie about it," I said to my mum at the airport. "I have no intentions of coming back." She smiled, knowing she'd heard this story before. In fact, last time I lived here, I went back to Hamilton at every opportunity - ANZAC Day (which is ridiculous, it's only a half-day holiday), Easter, Mid-term... this year, I really don't want to do that.

This year, I am Dunedin.

What's That You Say?

Good idea, Iris. Break two of your new year's resolutions, within an hour of setting them, and in full view of the internet community (and as such, the world?)

For whatever reason, I decided to do a word count of how many times "fuck" has appeared in my blog. Turns out, it's a few too many times for my honest liking. I did, however, come across this wee gem of wisdom.

"I tell people that I'm narrow-minded when it comes to music. I think I am - to an extent. Although, I'll make no apologies for saying this - I think the real narrow-minded ones are those who listen to hip-hop and R&B trash. Honestly, what is the attraction? It's all, stock-standard, synthesised drums with identical basslines, with either some guy with no education rapping about "bitches and hoes", or a scantily-clad woman wailing about how she can do better. Well, fuck - if you can, go ahead, and save my ears."


Anyway, that's quite enough of that. No more referrals to 2009, or sailor mouth.


Over and out.

Formatting Wanted.

God, I really have no idea how to do anything except type in the box and then click "Publish Post".

Especially when it comes to whatever function it is that controls spacing between text. I mean, come on! What is that about? It looks like I did about fifty carriage returns between each paragraph, which I absolutely did not. Aaaaand, the font is about 4pt bigger than what I want!

Can we please get a more stupid-person friendly editor up in here?

Rave / High in Fiber

I know, let's talk about how much I love mascara again! Shall we? Shall we?

Okay.

Imju Fiberwig... brought to you by a well-meaning Nippon who apparently listens a lot more than he lets on.

I don't even remember the first time I heard about Fiberwig, but I remember its claims of "false lash effect" and other such exciting things that every mascara fiend dreams of. From what I now understand, I created such a song and dance about this mascara that it turned up at my house late last year.

I wore it often, and thought to myself, "this really doesn't give me the false lashes I hoped for," I'd been had! Lancome's Cils Design Pro still reigned in my makeup kit. I liked Fiberwig, but I didn't love it. It left my lashes looking silky, sure, and black. But I've had silky and black before, and it didn't need to be imported from Japan.

By chance, I decided Fiberwig would be my weapon of choice for my new year's party. I'm not going to lie. It's changed my life.

Fiberwig is a mascara you cannot use too much of. Seriously. Listen to that advice, and make use of it. Some mascaras are formulated to look best after two coats. Not Fiberwig. Sure, I spent as long applying my mascara to perfection as I normally spend doing foundation (and I'm pretty picky about my foundation application), but the result was quite literally, unbelievable lashes. In fact, I had planned to use falsies. I didn't need to.

Gasp.

Yeah, so do it. If you live in a country where Fiberwig is readily available, go out and buy it immediately. If you don't... hope that one day you find your very own considerate Nippon. Or go here and have it shipped to your door.

Yet another Japanese export worth blogging about it. I cannot wait to go there.

Staring Upward...

It's one of my favourite days of the year today, and that is because today is Aubrey's 20th birthday. Happy birthday!

One clear umbrella, to be used for stargazing in the rain, apparently. Good. Only Aubrey would come up with something this quirky. My birthday (which has recently been relisted on Facebook as December 10, in an attempt the "inevitable" happy birthday messages that overflow the Facebook pages of people with more than five friends. As yet, I've managed to dodge this phenomena) is five weeks away and to the best of my knowledge I'll be spending it in a small room reading more research than my brain has room for.

For once, I can't actually think of something I would like. Take note. This will probably never happen again. Last year, I tried to go swimming at West Wave in Waitakere City, but slipped on the driveway while checking the mail, putting a stop to my swimming dreams not only for that day, but the following six. It eventually healed and only close inspection of what was the wound site displays any evidence of my clumsiness.

Unfortunately for me, the scars I acquired from riding my bike down a bank into a blackberry bush, and falling onto asphalt in an unrelated-but-on-the-same-bike incident, are more obvious. Not that handy, when your new year's resolution is to get so classy that should you get passed by this guy, he might consider stopping to snap a pic. I mean, if you've seen what I tend to get around in, you'll know that at this point in time, it's pretty unlikely. Today, for example, I went shoe shopping in a pair of white Nike running shorts (even though, in reality, it's been almost three months since I even though about running) and a bleach-spotted racer back tank top from Supre.

It's okay. I've got a year, and so twelve issues of Vogue magazine, to sort myself out.

I've enjoyed reading up on the new year's resolutions of others, courtesy of Facebook, in the last 48 hours. They range from staying alive, to "calming down", to marrying a South American man. As I mentioned yesterday, the guys I spent new year's with forgot about theirs. Oops. I might do some Wiki research on alcohol tonight. I'm intrigued to know exactly what it is about it that causes black spots in memory. I have whole nights I'd like back (okay, just one. I am really not as much of a binge drinker as I make out to be), and I definitely know others that do, too.

Speaking of which, time to start upholding the Honour Code. I may have been found in the grass outside my friend's house with a Corona in my hand at 7am, enjoying the early morning 2010 sun, but I'm willing to forgo that if you guys are. Hopefully this year everyone will be seeing a lot less of a drunken, disheveled me in town (well, that's a given considering my plane leaves in about seven hours), hearing a lot less of my sailor mouth, and enjoying a more reserved, modest young Iris who lives as per the rules. That's the goal.

And since this year's first meal was Indian pancakes (they exist) and not a cheeseburger from Wendy's (in fact, since May 1st of last year, I haven't touched a cheeseburger. Go on, be impressed), I'm willing to give the big one a go - no fast food. Can I do it? I'm going to say yes. I successfully gave up the following items of food and drink last year:
- V
- Lift Plus
- Frosty Floats (actually, the fact that I ever liked those things kind of amazes me now.)
- Fanta and L&P
- Cheeseburgers
- Red Licorice
- Big Macs

Ideally, I would have also given up chocolate, french fries, chicken burgers, and two other things, but it just didn't happen.

Actually, have you guys noticed that new year's resolutions always seem to be about restricting ourselves? "I'm going to do less of this" or "eat less of this" or "stop doing this". I'm going to go all, Antoine de Saint-Exupery on you for a bit here, but why do we not have resolutions like, "I"m going to start collecting butterflies" or even "I'm going to start noticing what peoples' voices sound like". Seriously, if you know me in real life, don't do that one. I have a horrible voice, one I'm going to refer to as "scrapy" because it reminds me of an obnoxious door opening. I also pick up fleeting vocal nuances from the people I'm with - at new year's, I swear I sounded Sri Lankan when I got home. A scrapy, obnoxious door-like Sri Lankan, but a Sri Lankan.

To that end, let's make some good ones. Let's be happier than last year. Let's make more out of every situation. Let's suck everything we can out of life!

And stop eating McDonald's. Haha.

Four Hundred And We're Going Fashion

Photo courtesy The Sartorialist


Wow. I just love beautiful people. Look at her! Who in the world can pull off a blazer with a tshirt and a dress that look like they came from Supre? And the movement and light in this photograph is so beautiful and perfect it just makes me want to cry blood.

It goes to show that beautiful people do exist outside the runways at Bryant Park in New York City. This particular girl was spotted in Sydney, Australia.

I finally bought my first pair of heels today. Save for the day following my naming as Waikato Sportswoman of the Year (let that be the first and only break of my new year's resolution to not speak of last year), I don't think I've ever been this excited. That said, I'm hoping that in a few days I'll be jumping for joy at being named a finalist for the Halberg Awards. Buuuut, I'm not going to lie about this. I'm not confident.

This isn't the first, and it won't be the last time I say it, but what we can be confident of is that 2010 is the year for us to make our lives, and the lives of those around us, better. Let's get out there and kick butt.

The Olive Branch

Seems I'm not the only person who didn't really get 2010 rolling with a positive bang.
I'm not going to lie, I had a fantastic new year's night, but started messing things up around 7am. I have friends who forgot to stop smoking at midnight and consequently spent the afternoon chain-smoking - "smoking to our heart's content until tomorrow".

It's okay. Tomorrow, I'm leaving for the University of Otago - a move that's been pegged by myself, friends and family as the one thing that's going to make the most difference in my newly shell-shocked little piece of hell I call life. I'm moving in with a bunch of people I've not yet met, and intending to be referred to not as Miriam but as my newly selected pseudo-identity - Iris.

Yes, it all sounds a bit dramatic. And maybe it is. But I'm more determined right this moment than I've ever been in my entire life to straighten things out, do what's good, and more than anything, to "future-proof" things for myself. In light of events that recently transpired (which I am absolutely not at liberties to discuss) in Hamilton, I came to the conclusion that adopting a new name will aid in my personal disassociation from said events. So, Iris it is. Call me Iris, guys.

The olive branch? Well, it's a leaf really. I'm just a fan of olive branches (while we were in Athens, Theresa and I made our own exclusive range of olive branch jewellery, crafted from the trees in the Olympic Village. Mostly it was wreathes intended to look like those awarded to medallists), and a few years ago, on a completely unrelated note, Curtis apologised to me on my birthday for something. Ever since then, I've told people that for my 20th birthday, Curtis Thom gave me an olive branch.

So let's do it, bitches. Make 2010 our own. It's going to be good!

Let's Get This Started

It's January!

The first!

2010!!!

I hope everyone's new year got off to a terrific start! Mine did. I'm excited about this year, and the fact that with the new year comes new beginnings! Fuck 2009 - I'm all about this year.

Right now, I'm a little embarrassed at the calibre of writing in this post. Start the year as you intend to continue? Uh oh.

Happy birthday Ying-Te, who just turned... 20? So young! Live it up, kiddo.

New Yeah!

It's New Year's Eve! (Again, not according to my blog's timezone, but whatever.)

I'm going to be venturing out, solely so I can show off my newly-perfected Vivian Orth smoky eyes.

The tools?
A lip brush (yeah, sounds bizarre, but once you've done your eye makeup with a lip brush, you won't go back), an eyeliner brush, an angle brush, and an eyeshadow brush.
Other stuff...
Eye primer - I use Bloom, but you might like Napoleon, or something else. Foundation, powder, a nude eyeshadow (the lightest colour in the Prismatic Eyeshadow Quad #13 is a treat, as is the lightest shade from the Revlon ColourStay Quad in Blushed Wines), a black eyeshadow - and I mean black, black cake/liquid/cream/gel liner, black mascara, and the eyebrow enhancer of your choice.

What do I do?
Well, first you're going to prime the skin on your eyelids, foundation and powder them up, and then sort out your eyebrows (strong eyebrows are your friend). Apply the nude shade all over the lid and up to the browbone (there's nothing like nude under the browbone to make you look awake. Except maybe some E, and I don't advocate the use of illicit drugs to improve your appearance). Use your eyeshadow brush for this. Next, create a fine liquid line along the top lash - whether it's with gel, cream, cake, or straight liquid. Just make sure it's fine. Practice makes perfect. You may end up looking like Amy Winehouse the first few times. Don't worry - we've all been there, just get your average practices out of the way before you debut this in public. Depending on how confident you are with your liquid lines, you may like to create "flicks" at the outer corner of your eye, but only do this if you're absolutely sure you can replicate the look on both eyes.

Now, use the lip brush pressed in black eyeshadow - really pack on the shadow, we want it to be BLACK, and apply black eyeshadow carefully to the lid. You must be especially careful not to get carried away - keep the black to the lid only, but use heaps. Make your lids super-black. At the outer corner, follow the natural shape of the eye as a guide to how winged you want to go. The focus of this look is on the black lid, not how far it extends past the corner of your eye, so be careful! Step back from the mirror and take a deep breath before making your decision!
Blacken the lower waterlines (and upper, if you can stand it. It makes me feel sick, so I never do it) using either a pencil or cake liner, then pack on the black shadow with an angle brush. Smudge the tiniest amount of black shadow along the lower lashline using your angle brush, paying judicious attention to the inner corner of the eye - no shadow here looks weird, and too much looks like, well, Adam Lambert.
Finish with the most mascara you've ever applied - but make sure it doesn't clump!

The intensity of the black in this look means the rest of your face should be minimal. Go for a flawless foundation base (best applied post-eyes, simply to avoid dropdown and hence, grey cheeks. Jess Gilby-Todd knows what I'm talking about!), powder, and a bit of bronzer. The best thing I ever learnt off Jerrod Blandino? Always put a touch of pink under your bronzer, to avoid the muddy look. My pick is the pink from Benefit 10, or the lightest pink shade from MAC Mineralize SkinFinish Trio in Smooth Merge. If you know how to contour with bronzer, go for it - otherwise just apply it to the areas the sun would naturally hit. Step back from the mirror frequently, and don't be afraid to run around your house, checking your look under different light. I do it every weekend.

If you're a low-key kinda girl, you can get away with a clear gloss or even lip balm to complete the nude face. Personally, I conceal and powder my lips, and apply a peachy or nude gloss (Chanel Levres Scintillantes in #96 is my personal fave) - but this is an option that requires constant touch ups. Alternatively, ignore everything I just wrote and try Clinique's Full Potential Lips Plump and Shine in Glamour-Full. You won't be disappointed - just remember to lick (daintily and as inconspicuously as possible) your wine glass or flute before drinking from it.

If all else fails, just have a few too many drinks, and a great night!

Happy new year, babes! xo

Figures

OMG, you guys, it's only like, 42 days until the 2010 Vancouver Olympic Winter Games. Time for me to re-learn all my forgotten knowledge about figure skating so I can give accurate criticisms once the fun gets underway.

Since most countries still haven't named their teams, I'm unable to be all "ooh, yeah. Definitely pinning everything on Evan Lysacek" - as much as I'd like to, because I do have an unfathomable obsession with him AND he came out on top at the recent Grand Prix Final in Tokyo.

I'm not going to lie - figures for me are a lot more difficult than gymnastics because of the whole, long/free programme-short programme thing. God, keep it simple already! From what I understand, the short programme is like what gymnastics compulsories used to be - so kinda boring. These routines last 2:50, while the long or free skate is 4:00 for "ladies" and 4:30 for men.

New fave: it's likely that in the coming months you will hear more about Nobunari Oda than you will about anyone else. He's been done in the past for drink-driving (not impressed) but it seems like he's back with a vengeance this season, placing second at the aforementioned Grand Prix and winning the Cup of China. He also placed 7th at the World Figure Skating Championships back in March.

And yup, he's Japanese.

Rugby Sucks

It's been hard for me to grow up in a country where the national sport is rugby. Rugby is ridiculous, and our team, the All Blacks, are the most overpaid, over-marketed, and over-idolised "athletes" ever.

For one thing, they spend a large part of the time sucking. Losing games, losing entire tours, losing the World Cup. Not even making the final of the World Cup, actually. It's acceptable for All Blacks to be on the cover of the New Zealand Herald with beers in their hands. They're supposed to be fucking athletes. My most hated news "headlines"? When an All Black "hurts his ankle/shoulder/pinky finger" in TRAINING and might have to sit out the next training session. Yes, this has been HEADLINE news in New Zealand, when things like "bloodiest day in Israel's history" are relegated to later in the news. For crying out loud.

I was not at all shocked, then, this morning when I read "New Zealand's top ten sporting moments of the decade" and found "All Blacks 2005 season" in number six, surrounding by other stupid team sports like cricket, league, netball and... the... America's Cup?

The most notable omission from the "top ten" was Valerie Vili's dominance of the international shotput world. In 2006 she won the Commonwealth Games title, and since then she's gone on to become World Champion, Olympic Champion and again this year, repeat World Champion. Athletics is a truly global sport, unlike rugby which is only really celebrated in about five countries. Vili's monopoly on shotput is unparalleled by any other New Zealand sportsperson, and it's incredibly disappointing to see her left out of this countdown.

Especially when you consider Scott Dixon's Indy 500 victory is included. Of course, I love Scott, and I think it's exciting that he's become the most successful driver on the circuit, especially because it's held in the US, and traditonally dominated by people who get everything handed to them. But, driving cars is not a sport! It's just DRIVING CARS. I drive my car almost every day! I'm pretty good at it! But I haven't been included on this list.

I agree that Michael Campbell's US Open victory was pretty sweet. But was it really the sole greatest moment in sport this decade? I'm not so convinced.

Umm, another thing? Where is Sarah Ulmer's world record-breaking, beating-an-Australian, greatest moment of the 2004 Olympics cycling gold? She was our national darling, and she didn't even get a look in on this countdown! Pathetic. It's not "almost as bad as" our bronze medal-winning team pursuiters not getting mentioned on the "top ten cycling moments" countdown earlier this year, it's worse! Much, MUCH worse. Olympic GOLD, people! World record! Inspired a slew of female track cyclists who are now coming into their own (namely Alison Shanks, but we now also have a women's pursuit team. Unheard of!).

God, whoever wrote this countdown needs to get a clue. And the All Blacks need to fuck off and die.

Ooh, Artsy

Hongtao Zhang, the World Champion on pommel horse from China. Love this shot.

Nine So Fine?

In keeping with the spirits of going on about the year so far, here's a wee post dedicated to the cool people I loved (and continue to love!) in 2009.

In no particular order...

Luke Pharaoh
Genuine legend. I met Luka during the 48 HOURS of love weekend as he was part of our team, Radioactive Reptiles. His zest for life, love of abbreviations, sushi and Burgerfuel struck a note with me and he's become one of a small number of "faves". Of particular note: his "positive thinking" approach to life. It's something I still haven't really thanked him enough for, but I don't really know how well some of my less inspired training sessions before Worlds would have gone with Luke's little voice in my head reminding me that if you go into town thinking you're going to get a park, you'll get one. And so forth. Other things I love about Luke: the giant smile that separates him from every other drunken guy in town, and his bizarre tshirt collection.

Francesca Murray
Better known as Frankie of Swell Vintage - I am a huge fan. She's remarkably talented (check out her line of handmade vintage jewellery here), friendly, and of course, good-looking. Frankie might just be my favourite person I've never met - we Twitter at each other a lot, and I spent hours poring over her designs. Ah! So clever. 369 fans on Facebook can't be wrong! Another thing I adore about Frankie is the way she speaks - like she just walked out of the classiest decade ever. "Petal" is my personal favourite term of endearment. Ahh, I do love her.

Jhoon Law
Sure, so he told his girlfriend that he thinks I'm a retard and less of a person than him based on the fact that I have a disability, but I'm not going to lie: I would have been in a lot worse shape for Worlds if I didn't spend so much time at the gym swooning over him. God, I am so lame. Fact is, I managed to incorporate training with gazing at him and perfect it to an art, and for a few months there I had a great friend who had the benefit of being extremely good-looking. Now, I'm sure this mention will result in a fresh barrage of angry emails from LMC, but girl, you need to calm down. It's a compliment.

Sophie Dewstow-Wright
She who held the world's greatest 21st birthday party back in March has been a longtime friend (since we were about 14, maybe?) and bringer of happiness and excitement to any situation. Only Sophie looks good hungover. It's a fact. I've had so much fun, and so many exclamation-mark-filled conversations with this girl in my life I don't know where to begin. She's so intelligent it should be illegal, as well as being stupidly good at filmmaking and being cool! Like Luka, Sophie is just excited about life and it's addictive. Number one person I want to keep around for ever and ever.

Thom Horton
Hands up if you're sick of hearing about him? Too bad. He's cool. I don't think I've ever had a conversation with him where I didn't almost wet my pants laughing, but I've actually seen him taking the filmmaking business pretty seriously too, and that's another reason I admire Thom. And in combination with Luke and Sophie? They're like, the dream team.

Danielle Hart
Probably the most undermentioned person here on my blog, she might actually be a genius (her sometimes other half, Alex, is too). Danielle was the original inspiration for my memorisation of Pi to 20 decimal places - however she now claims she's underwhelmed by this. No surprises there, considering she could probably qualify for Mensa. I definitely don't see enough of her, something I'm hoping will change in the new year, what with her working in Milford Sound and me residing in Dunedin. I really feel that in the near future, Danielle will be a major player in the field of climate change (she has a degree in Resource and Environmental Planning, with as yet unrealised dreams of changing the world) as well as being the one who keeps me sane throughout my studies with her unexpected sense of humour. Big fan.

Other major players in 2009
Jono Marshall, Katie Houchen, Bevan Jones (all Radioactive Reptiles and exceptionally talented filmmakers), Malcolm Amarasekera (my old workmate, wannabe stalker, gym training partner), my beyond amazing brothers Karl Poole and Sam Ashby, and Aubrey Paolino (fellow blogger and Camp Hoffman associate, with an unusual alcohol tolerance given her size). Emma Coyle! She knows what I'm talking about.

Chances are, if I drink with you, write on your wall on Facebook, or text you at all hours of the day and night, I love you more than you will ever know.

Peace, love, and a fun-filled new year for everyone!