whoops bro

Ok so last night with the help of my friend Samurai X and a bottle of merlot I fell off the not-doing-stupid-things wagon. We were talking online and I decided that it was a good idea to purge myself of those deep secrets which have long been giving me mental indigestion - in this analogy I am an emotional bulimic - and because he is a good friend, Samurai X did not say 'no don't do it,' just checked that I was doing it right. Obviously I knew the idea was a bad one (most of my ideas are) but, being the tenacious lunatic that I am, I wasn't going to let that stop me. Most of the resulting emails were just oh-you-have-been-such-a-good-friend-over-the-years ones to old Wellington cronies. Not all of them, though! Some were just to reveal hidden emoooootions secrets.

Andrea, who told me not to do this, will now be saying, "Oh, Ally, you didn't." I did. I totally did. I know you are not angry, just disappointed. Yes. I am disappointed in me too although also I am finding it really funny. I am not a responsible citizen! Let us laugh about it later.

On the plus side, if I am tortured I no longer have any secrets to reveal!


Three Beautiful Things

1. Last week I wanted to wear my robot necklace and it was nowhere to be found, which was strange as I remembered shoving it in my handbag. I grumbled a bit, resolved to have a proper look later, and went out without it. As I was outside my house waiting for my ride, I noticed the robot necklace dangling from a tree branch. It had obviously been wound around the branch and left there to hang until I noticed it. I asked Mum and Kate about it but they knew nothing! What had happened was this: it must have fallen out of my bag as I scrabbled for my house key, and then a passerby picked it up from the sidewalk and hung it on the tree for me to find. My faith in humanity is just a little bit restored! (Still have a headache though.)

2. Received a flier for a Mother's Day Christian event, which seems to be enticing people into the ranks of the saved by giving them free things. The flier says, "Live Music - Free Gift for Mum's Day - Face Painting for Kids - Free Soft Drink - Bouncy Castle - Free Candy Floss - Free Popcorn." Then there is a blurb which is full of heavenly exclamation marks. Then there is the following sentence, which is my favourite. "You'll love the music, the free food, the atmosphere and the presence of God." Presumably God is coming for all the free stuff, although maybe he's just a sucker for a good bouncy castle. I am being a little mocking about it but hey, it's nice of them to put on the event. (I will not be attending.)

3. Am not sick! Mum and Kate both are and I am not. Obviously this means I have some kind of superhuman immune system. (Please do not remind me of this comment when I get sick next week.) Mum's cold (not swine flu) is quite satisfying because when Kate got sick, Mum refused to be sympathetic and instead said things like, "You should have eaten your kiwifruit!" and "This is why you should occasionally eat a vegetable!" Where are your vegetables now, Mother?

Here is a secret. I have staved off many a cold with it. It is 'drink lemon, honey & ginger drinks.' That's it. Don't, however, try to be clever with them: the other day I wanted a coffee but needed a lemon & honey. The answer seemed simple! But it was really gross. Totally don't make that. I know, I know, you wouldn't, but only 'cause I test these things out first. I do this for you, people.

Also I have an appointment with a recruitment agency for tomorrow because I am sick of scanning catfood for minimum wage. It is mental that I am doing this shitty job. I decided this while I was counting my 145th packet of Chewy Caramel Tim Tams, listening to the man next to me counting under his breath in Chinese (you'd think this would be less annoying than someone counting out loud in English, but surprisingly it isn't).

Did you know that there's a confectionery company whose slogan is "making the world a better licorice place?" LAAAAZY. Guess we're just lucky it wasn't "It's a small licorice world after all" or "oh what a beautiful licorice morning" or "love is all you need licorice."

At least I was helpful yesterday. A random shopper mistook me for a supermarketeer or whatever you call people who work at the supermarket, and asked me where the salad dressings were. I said, "Aisle Seven." (Who knows? They could have been.)

I am officially done with getting up at 5am & counting bacon with "you gotta FIGHT / for your RIGHT / to PAAAARTAAAY" stuck in my head.

In other news - this is actual news - am doing the 48hour film festival this weekend. If you don't know what it is that's what Google is for the official website is here. In summary, you write & shoot a short film in 48 hours. It starts tomorrow at 7pm (my time, obviously) so there will be a blogless couple of days. Just sayin', so that you don't think I'm dead or something.

Filth Mansion is a bitchin' band name.

Beyond your Wildest Dreams*

*depending, of course, on what you dream about

Well, readers, you've asked your questions. I've thought long and hard about them (get your mind out of the gutter, you pervert.) And now, finally, the moment you've all been waiting for...America has voted! Sorry. Have been watching American Idol. No wait, hear me out, there is a valid reason. I am also slightly pissed. (That's the reason.)

Anyway, here are the answers to your questions! The questions you asked me a post ago, not the ones that keep you awake at 3am staring at the ceiling in terror. I don't know the answers to those ones. Wow, being drunk really does give me an over-inflated sense of my own comic value. I apologise in advance for the (inevitable) fact that a lot of this post will not be anywhere near as funny as I'm going to think it is. It's still funnier than your mother. (See?)

Who do you secretly admire but feel ashamed of admiring? (Andrea)
Oh man...I was going to go on about pop starlets and the like, but then I remembered something worse. A while back in the paper there was an article about how intellectually & physically disabled people were always getting a bum deal from us normal people. (Sorry, but it's the most concise way to put it.) One of the examples cited was of a woman with - oh dear I don't remember but it affected how she looked - riding her bike along the footpath. A man backing his car out of his driveway shouted after her, "Hey, retard, get off the footpath!" and instantly became Public Enemy Number One but you know what? He probably didn't even know she was disabled. He was probably just shouting at her because riding your bike on the footpath is not only unsafe and unwise and (I think) slightly illegal but let's be honest it is also pretty retarded. And I kind of admire that man for shouting 'retard' at someone when, although he may or may not have known that they were actually retarded, saw that they were doing a retarded thing and called them out on it. And I'm kind of ashamed about that, because it reveals (or even perhaps highlights) the politically incorrect bigot in me.

What IS an underbelly? (Brooke)
It's the bit under your belly. Duh. I don't even know why you even bothered asking that. You could've used the thirty seconds it took to sign in, type that, and do the world verification to, uh, save a child in Africa. I don't know how exactly - what am I, Gandhi? - but I'm pretty sure you could've.

In other news, I seem to be getting more and more offensive. Interesting fact cleverly inserted to distract you from my increasingly abhorrent comments - did you know that Scientists recently did a study where they took a group of seriously ill people and asked religious people to pray for some of them? The patients with people praying for them recovered faster and better than those who didn't. Science says prayer works; Science says positive energy exists. Science feels nowhere near as guilty as I do about all that negative energy I've fired at people over the years.

How do you deal with the shame of washing your hair in the shower and then forgetting to remove the strands of hair from the plug-hole before another person uses the shower? (sleep500)
Excellent question there, sleep500! I would like to answer your question with a question - what does 'sleep500' refer to? So far all I've come up with is a) a really dull olympic sport or b) partial description of the biggest bed in the world. However, let's get back to the issue at hand.

As you may know, my hair is far too short for the shower-hair-thing to be an issue for me, so I called in an expert. I know she's an expert, because she deals with in-shower hair fallout on a daily basis and with one of the following methods. 1) use strands of hair to make pattern on wall of shower, leave for next person to admire; 2) leave hair in plughole until plughole blocks, then deny it the two events are related; 3) take hair out of shower then drop it in toilet with intention of flushing it away, then forget to flush it, causing next person intending to use the toilet to think there is a FUCKING HUGE SPIDER IN IT. I asked said expert sleep500's question and they said "What's the shame? Why is it shameful?" So I guess that answers that.

If you were to dye your hair any colour, what colour would you dye it and why? (Holly)
White-blonde, a la Agyness Deyn or however she spells it. (By the way, did you know she used to have a perfectly normal name until she went to a numerologist (or something like that) who worked out the perfect letters for her name to have, in order for her to gain success? I should go to one of those people.) I've dyed my hair a lot, and white-blonde is the only colour that won't take. It goes ginger. Which is a shame because as a blonde I'd look all Scandinavian and cute! Either that or like the lead singer of My Chemical Romance and hey, people fancy him so it's win-win.

What's the silliest thing you have ever done? (Holly)
Asking me to pick the silliest thing I've ever done is like asking an artist to pick his favourite work - there are so many, and they're all such triumphs of the genre that it's just ridiculous to make me choose. It would feel like favouritism, and all my slightly-less-silly-but-still-ridiculously-embarrassing deeds would gang up on me and reveal themselves at a dinner party in revenge.

- PC or Mac? (Holly)
PC, but if I was given a Mac I'm pretty sure I could function with that too. This is not something I feel strongly about, putting me firmly in the 10% of humanity who are still cool. Or heathens, depending on how you feel about it. I should have done this when I was more soberer.

- Milk, white or dark chocolate? (Holly)
Dark. Badass. 'Nough said.

Inspired by the fact that I am "now running on reserve battery power," how would you spend your last 10 minutes on the internet? As in, you have 10 minutes before the internet goes offline forever. (Jenny)
Emailing physical contact details to all of my online friends, and hoping that they were using their last 10 minutes to check their emails.

Would you rather... not be anatomically correct (think barbie and ken) or have no face? (Jenny)
Difficult question! I would be not-anatomically-correct, but either of those would really suck. Thank God for genitals. And faces. And the combin- OK NEXT QUESTION PLZ

Would you rather... have 3 tiny eyes or have one massive eye? (Jenny)
Totally 3 tiny eyes. One big eye would just make you look like a freak. (The backup punchline to that one was, "People are always telling me I need to gain perspective.")

What would you eat for your last meal ever (be that before the electric chair, known nuclear meltdown, euthanasia or other cheerful end of life scenario)? 3 courses only, no cheating! (Baglady)
Excellent question, Baglady! (No, really.) I have actually thought about this before, but now I can't remember what my eventual answer was so I have to think about it all over again. Thanks for that. I would probably spend so bloody long deciding on the last meal that they'd execute me while I was still in the "I like chicken...but then, I always have chicken" stage.
Entree would be a half portion of Eggs Benedict, with eggs poached hard, ham off the bone & Bearnaise instead of Hollandaise sauce. On an English muffin. Main course would be an enormous rare steak, perfectly done, with a mushroom sauce & maybe fries also. Yeah totally fries, with aioli. Dessert would be dry vodka martinis (because after all, who wants to die sober?) and perhaps a little creme brulee, if one has room. God damn it now I'm hungry.

Favorite drink? (Anon)
Completely depends on the circumstances (apart from non-alcoholic, which is always coffee or blue slushit, haha, amusing typo, slushie). Favourite summer drink is moscato or sangria (shut up, 'pretentious' is just a word that people with no taste use to describe delicious things (you're not funny you're just drunk shut up)). Favourite cocktail is a Paradiso Margarita (tequila, cream, passionfruit, vanilla liqueur, sweet & sour, a couple other things, ice) that the Mexican Cafe make - I'm still kinda sad I left there under a cloud because I miss that margarita. I also really like merlot. Favourite drink above all others: vodka, preferably in martini form.

What would you name a daughter? A son? (Brooke)
I have no idea about a daughter. Perhaps Juliet, perhaps Alex, perhaps Clytemnestra. Who would know, really. Definitely Alexander for a son, then Max & Zach as backup options (i.e. if partner/nemesis/dog is called Alexander). Middle name for either gender definitely Tarquin. Best name ever.

What colour do you think your aura would be? (Brooke)
I don't know anything about what the various colours of auras (does 'aura' gain an s in the plural form? what a geeky thing to ask but still, if you know, please tell me because it will bug me, although not enough to actually make me look it up myself)). But I'm not going to look up the meanings (I really shouldn't start a sentence with 'but'- GO AWAY GRAMMAR NAZI NOW IS NOT YOUR TIME TO SHINE) because I feel that would defeat the purpose. I see my aura as a mixture of red, purple and blue, with a bit of yellow here & there.

How do you feel about polka dots? (Brooke)
Completely depends on how they're worn & who's wearing them - I have a couple of polka dot items of clothing that I like, but in general they look weird on me. Andrea looks lovely in polka dots, but then Andrea has Style, whereas I just have Is That Clean? and that's not quite the same.

Hodgins' beard: yucky or kinda cute? (Brooke)
Sorry, but it's not great. I'm not a huge fan of beards in general. I fail to see the evolutionary advantage. I mean, mustaches are dashing, entertaining, hard to spell and an excellent makeshift granary but a beard? Seriously? The best I can come up with is that it keeps your chin warm.

Which of the following would you take on a desert island (or an island made of dessert): Book? CD? Foodstuff (assuming it was magical and you could live on it forever)? Article of clothing? (Andrea)
Book would be an ever-expanding blank notebook with a pen attached to it. If it had to be pre-written, as it were, then I'd take something impressive - then, whenever I was at a dinner party (post-rescue) I could impress people by reciting the entirety of War & Peace from memory. Not Harry Bloody Potter. Maybe Robinson Crusoe, for inspiration. CD would be something classical, maybe Chopin piano sonatas (or whatever it was that he wrote a lot of for piano) or perhaps Bach preludes & fugues. Foodstuff would be tins of Watties Big Eat, because they contain all of the food groups in one can but, more importantly, you can make a raft out of the empty cans (lashed together with bits of War & Peace). In this scenario I would have a can opener. As if by magic. Article of clothing would definitely be kimono - breezy on a hot day, blanket in the winter, makes a comfy hammock, keep things in the sleeves, hang yourself from the belt when you go mad from drinking sea-water.

Also, would you save your family or some possession if there was a house-fire, bearing in mind that your possessions probably don't have legs while your family probably do? (Andrea)
Um...morality dictates that I should probably check my family were OK before saving my laptop, photo albums, Miss Bear and makeup. What? You don't want those cute firemen to see you all sooty & panda-eyed.

Ooh, and what's your clothing wishlist for winter? (Andrea)
It is depressingly long, but the essentials ('your 'top picks' for winter!') are as follows:
- perfect black trench coat that only exists in my mind
- fitted midthigh length red cashmere/wool blend jacket that goes with nothing in my wardrobe but which I covet regardless
- ten billion cardigans & jerseys & other warm shit you need in winter
- boots, and those black leather 'statement heels' that look like the person wearing them should be shouting sexual things at you in German whilst holding a whip between their buttocks
- sorry I'm still trying to get that image out of my head
- black wool gloves to replace the ones I lost, sorry I said that about the whip between the buttocks
- strapless bra (not really seasonal item but required all the same)

What is the worst possible crime that you could commit only armed with one cubic metre of Jelly? (Joshy)
Excellent question, Joshy! Several options. The first and most obvious one would fall under the broad classification of 'public lewdness.' I'll leave the rest to your imagination. Getting more creative, now: a cubic metre is a fair amount of Jelly (why the capital? Is it special magical Jelly? Because that, like, totally gives me a new set of options) and you could do a lot with it. You could probably suffocate someone with that, if you dumped it on their head while they were sleeping (assuming they didn't struggle much, and the jelly retained its cubic shape and didn't just squdge off the bed onto the floor). But we must consider - is murder really the single worst crime? No, my friends, it is not. And that is why I have reached the conclusion that the worst possible crime you could commit with a cubic metre of Jelly is to install it in a public gallery and call it Modern Art.

JUST A GRAPH PEOPLE

Let y be alcohol consumed. Let x be shit talked. It has been an interesting night! (But only for me.)

In Which I Party

I should probably advise you, dear readers, that this is a Blunk (drunk blog) and may therefore make even less sense than normal. Just be glad I'm spelling things right.

Christchurch is looking up! I went out with a couple of old friends and made about ten million billion (read: four) new ones. I went out for a lunchtime drink with my impossibly coloured friend, who told me many hilarious stories, none of which I can recount here because they'd embarrass her and she actually reads this sometimes, but it put me in the mood for Goin' Out. I got home, and my mother and sister (both of whom I love dearly) were sitting on the couch watching something crappy and looking bored.

Mum: "Oh, (your aunt) has invited us round for a BBQ!" (Note: this happens bi-weekly at the least.) "Do you want to come?"
Kate (sister): "We could go and get (insert name of crappy DVD here)."
Me: "I'm going to get dressed up and Go Out!"

So I did. I went for a casual beer and then I went to a party because I wasn't ready to go home yet, and I met many (ok, four) interesting people. It was My First Night Out Since Wellington (God, sounds like something of First Date Post-Divorce magnitude) and it was good! People liked my hair and people liked my cardigan and I was a happy puppy.

Hopefully this good night is but the first of many.

Ooh. Drunk. Going to go to sleep now.

PS: Did you know that if you Google 'enormous banana,' my blog is the first site to pop up? I think this is the crowning achievement of my life so far.

Election Commentary

Warning: this is a pretty dull post, even though I do get a bit drunk in the middle.

I would like to kick off my blow-by-blow election coverage with a quote, but I can't remember how it goes. It's something along the lines of how Americans line up for hours to vote and cry when their new president is elected, whereas New Zealanders sleep in, have brunch and go, "oh, I think there's something I've got to do today."

It is probably a bad thing that I am more excited about the new range of saucepans from Tefal than I am about our election. So far the saucepan ad has been better viewing than anything I've seen on the election coverage (although John Campbell did say "There's not a bugger there!" about the Labour party, um, party and I was mildly scandalised). He was right though, there wasn't a bugger there apart from the chubby political reporter, who is one of the lucky ones who's at a major party party. (Poor old Sia Aston's stuck in the NZ First camp.)


7.30 - 8

Mike McRoberts is excited because he's hanging out with the Greens, and they have (vegetarian) pizza. Cue jokes about lack of blue vegetables. John Campbell (who shall henceforth be referred to as JC) is excited about the graphs and charts and things that he's going to be referring to throughout the night. Crossing now to Tristram Thingy, who has the job of standing outside Helen Clark's house and waiting to see if she comes out. He is excited about Helen's architecture. "Is it a villa?" "I think technically it's a bungalow." Another reporter is now 'marvelling' (her word, not mine) about John Key's shrubbery. The box hedges, to be precise. "Not a flaw in any of them...the last person to go into the house was carrying ten pizzas, so things are obviously ratcheting up."

Obviously.

So these saucepans from Tefal (slogan: 'Ideas you Can't Live Without') are pretty cool, although I can live (and am in fact living) without them. It's a set of about six saucepans of varying sizes, with one detachable handle that fits onto all of them - allowing you to stack them neatly in the cupboard like, you know, bowls, rather than having to create an architectural oddity that attempts to defy the laws of space and time, and falls over (or, as we architects say, 'loses structural integrity') every time you open the kitchen cupboard. If I needed saucepans, I would buy these ones.

Ok, that's enough about saucepans, back to the election!

Oh. Nothing has happened.


8-8.30

A whopping 5% of votes have come in. I have bought some beer. JC has said 'bugger' again.

Reporter currently having the most fun: a tie between Mike McRoberts, who seems to have caught the rather peppy vibe in the Green camp, and the reporter dedicated to Act, who has just declared with no little satisfaction that the Act party party is "just round the corner from his house" and that he can walk home afterwards.

Went out last night (don't worry, you're not missing any exciting election news, just that Steven Parker, at the Maori party party, is a Noddy No-Mates (thank you, JC)) with workmates & ended up having a really fun night. (I thought that story was going to be more exciting when I started it.)

One of the reporters is waving a fish. I'm not sure why. It's a flounder. Perhaps it is a political metaphor? JC has just said "he's such a big man" about an immensely fat MP, and then tried to fix it by saying "it's a huge electorate, he works very hard."

Back to the increasingly excited Tristram outside Helen's house! Tristram is fast becoming my favourite reporter for his remarkable tenacity and powers of observation. "First of all we had an Indian gentleman who parked and then walked to the front door with a large box...he was delivering home-made samosas and savouries. Shortly after that we had...boxes and boxes of all manner of salads. Fruit salads...I saw some mango in there." JC, blatantly lying- "We look forward to coming back to you later in the evening."


8.30-9

I have eaten beans on toast and undone the button on my pants. Speaking of eating -"One way we can tell the difference between the parties is what they eat on election night. I think we should have a competition and try to tell which one is which!" Nice to know JC is as bored as I am. The election would probably be more interesting if I were drunk. Have decided to play the Bill & Ben Party Election Night Drinking Game. (http://www.throng.co.nz/pulp-sport/the-bill-ben-party-election-night-drinking-game) Have been to the supermarket - up to 30% of votes in. Still nothing exciting happening.


9-9.30

JC: "It is proving to be a fascinating evening." LIE. They are talking about John Key's "state of the art hedge" again. National are in the lead. I am wondering if perhaps I should have voted. I am also playing the drinking game in earnest and may be slightly tipsy.

OK so the election is boring. Oh God JC has just said 'bugger' again and now I have to consume my vessel. It looks rather like the Maori Party supporters have been doing the same - while all of the other party parties are rather restrained affairs, with sit-down dinners and small jazz groups, every time they cross to the Maori Party party a group of supporters jump up and down hooting. Everyone keeps saying 'fascinating.'


9.30-10

64% of votes counted. National still in the lead, but much prattle from JC about how the big urban electorates haven't come in yet and these are normally Labour strongholds yada yada. The Maori Party are winning Maori seats - no-one is surprised. JC has just interrupted the Maori Party co-leader because he saw a taxi - "These are live pictures of a Corporate cab! This is very exciting, we haven't seen one of these all evening! We believe John Key is inside." A couple of minutes later - "I always get excited when I see a corporate cab." The Maori Party co-leader has been apologised to & we are back to the boring prattle.

Oh, only about 46% of the votes have been counted, the others are just 'in.' This is going to go on bloody forever. Feel like I should watch election as part of being a responsible citizen, which is ridiculous as I didn't even vote as part of being a responsible citizen. Perhaps I am trying to influence the election with the power of my MIND.

Reporter currently having the most fun: a tie between the younger one hanging out with the Maori Party, who looks a bit pissed, and the one minding the Act party, who was just caught unaware he was live on air and is now asking random questions about whether or not Bob Dylan would vote for Act. Also looks a bit pissed.


10-10.30

I am now completely sick of the election. Why am I watching this? I am tired. Maybe I should have a nap and come back for the end.

Ooh, Winston Peters appears to be disbanding his party! (Due to lack of interest.) He is giving quite the gracious speech. "It's not about winning or losing in parliament, it's about winning as a country...those people who voted for NZ First, your cause is not over...I have nothing but gratitude for the support that we've had, and the work that we've done." Inspiring, but...kind of sad. And, in places, slightly nonsensical - "Others will pick up the cudgels in the future...including ourselves."

Would now be totally anticlimactic if they did get in.


10.30-11

Insanely bored. I could never be a political commentator. Haven't seen any of the reporters in ages, is all serious political musings, interviews and the like. Even JC appears to be taking things semi-seriously. Maybe this would be more interesting if I knew more about politics. We are now listening to someone rather old and codgerish whose name I didn't catch and who appears to have made his way into Parliament. Made this point to friend I am talking to online, and he said "Actually he is making some very insightful comments." Well, I guess I am just uneducated then.

Am trying to explain the election to VB. This would be easier if a) I knew more about it and b) he wasn't drunk.

Looks like National will be the major political party in power. This means basically nothing to me on a day-to-day basis, but it does annoy me - I just don't like the National leader. He comes across as rather spineless and too meek to lead a country into the future. Also, he's not a good public speaker - the last time I saw him on TV was in a breakfast TV interview, and the interviewer bullied him mercilessly, and he stammered and avoided the question. I think people have voted for the 'change' buzzword and tax cuts. Which is fair enough - the current party has been in for 9 years, and will probably be back in in 3. I have had enough politics for one evening - I am going to watch the leaders' speeches and go to bed.

(Apologies for dull and increasingly cranky commentary.)

BLUNK

(It's a drunk blog.)

I am at a friend's place, hitting the wine like it was a red-headed stepchild.
Life gets stranger by the day. Someone is now officially IN LOVE with me, and I need to do something about this (I feel some ass-kicking may be in order).
-I have a temp job in an office- I believe I mentioned this-
and fuck blog I am going back to vino (vedi, veni, vino).
Promise to do a proper update tomorrow.
You know, with real news and stuff.