Poker Night (and some stuff about vampires)

Today, I learnt discovered CREATED strikethrough! I am really excited so sorry about all the fascinating lame ways I will show off this new skill of mine.

Anyway, I am thinking of having a Poker Night poker night at my house in the next month or so, depending on when the IRD decide to give me some taxxx back and/or when I get a job. Everyone is invited! This is primarily directed at people who live in Christchurch, but if those further afield want to fly themselves over here then I'm not about to stand in the way of that.

The International Poker Tournament poker night (Oh my God, who taught me to use strikethrough? this knowledge is not safe in my hands) will be let's say about the end of April. $5 buy-in, winner takes all, and it will of course be the so-hot-right-now Texas Hold 'em. That is my favourite kind of poker, because I'm so trendy! Also because it is the only kind of poker I know how to play.

BYO: whiskey, cigars, $5.

Here are the rules guidelines House Rules:

strikethrough rocks!

Rule 1: Dress nice. (That means pants are strongly recommended compulsory before 10pm. (Or, you know, skirts for the ladies (or any men who want to wear them, my poker night supports alternative lifestyle choices.))
Rule 2: Absolutely no singing of Poker Face
Rule 3: Absolutely no singing of Poker Face.
Rule 4: I am an exception to Rules 2 & 3 because sometimes I have poor impulse control
Rule 4a: Doesn't matter if you're a crappy poker player. You'll be drunk anyway. All you really have to know is always bet a lot. It makes people think you're a High Roller, and High Rollers are cool. Take James Bond, for instance. Did he look at his 2/7 offsuit and fold? No, no he did not. He made a pithy remark, and then he bet. (Betted?)

Obviously, the exception is aces. Never bet on aces. Also if you have a pair of something that's not good either. We're not playing Happy Families. Poker is a game for grown-ups.

Rule 5: If you are caught cheating, I will shoot you. If you are not caught cheating, you will probably win. Your call.

So if after all that anybody still wants to come, or, you know, feels obliged by the bonds of friendship, flick me a txt or leave a comment or something. One of those things. Or an email. Some form of communication. Please. I'm so lonely.

In Other News:

- I am going to start a music movement called 'Outie' which will be the antithesis of 'Indie'. Think Spice Girls on crack wearing Hammer Pants and covering Cotton-Eye Joe or something like that. Alternatively, think My Chemical Romance in drag singing barbershop. Ah, fame! How it stings the nostrils. Or perhaps that is the cocaine I'm just not sure any more. Perhaps I am going Proper Mad? I have an ex-boyfriend who was about as mental as I am, give or take a little, and every so often he would look at me in wide-eyed concern and say, "Ally, I am afraid I'm going Proper Mad. Will you tell me if I go Proper Mad? As in Batshit Fucking Insane?" "Yes, dear."

- Do you think that if we lived in an all-vampire society, people would just wander about naked? I ask this because I was talking to a friend about why we don't all just be naked, and he said something along the lines of "because most people are gross and it gets cold all the time." However, all vampires seem to be attractive, and don't feel the cold (? I made that up assume that's the case), so maybe they'd just all wander round in the nuddy. Guess we'll never know.

- Why are all vampires attractive, anyway? Just once I'd like to read a story about a vampire who was a bit chubby and had bad breath and sat in his room all day playing online games. Oh wait no I wouldn't, I'd rather read about gorgeous and slightly fey aristocratic vampires. Guess I just answered my own question, there. Also, if you were a vampire (where did this tangent come from?) picking someone to vampirise 'turn' you'd probably pick someone cute. I mean, they're going to be hanging round for all of eternity looking like that. Do you really want to spend eternity with someone who picks lint out of their belly button? No, I didn't think so.

- In the early stages of my parents' relationship, my father collected and saved his belly-button lint with the intention of using it to stuff a pillow, which he would then present to my mother as a token of his love. For some reason he never finished it, but apparently he amassed a sizeable lint stockpile before abandoning the project. And you wondered why I turned out so weird.

Not shown: The Sex Pistols

Jenny, Holly and I spent quiz night tonight drawing pictograms (maybe) of some of our favourite (maybe) bands. (We came last equal in the quiz, but that is unrelated.) Here are four of the best. If you appreciate them - and only if you appreciate them - you might be lucky enough to get four more tomorrow. Haha. You totally know I'm going to post them anyway. Suckers. I really don't know why you keep reading this.

Can you guess them all? The one with the doors (ha ha, no, not The Doors the doors, funny guy, you'll see it when you scroll down... you impatient fucker (might as well swear, this post is beyond saving (you'll see why (it has to do with Willie Nelson)))) is actually two bands. First person to get them all wins a Prize.

1.Haha. I don't know why that one works, but it does. And no, they're not you marvelling at my mad Paint skillz and wondering how ever do I manage to do it. Because there's not even a band called that.


2.
Where are they? What are they doing? Oh yeah, consider that shark jumped. (Is it obvious that I don't really know when it's appropriate to say 'jump the shark?') Thanks to Jenny for the original concept! The Paint skillz are all my own.

3.
Hint: Not Penis Admiral.

4.



Ahh double doors do you get it do you get it!? Two bands. Two doors. Get both bands to win. Thanks again to Jenny, for her conceptual concept...


5.Geek meets emo meets kind of cute, really. Just quietly, this one's my favourite.

Arctic Angels > A1

I've spent all day with Caught in the Middle stuck in my head. The A1 version. Don't get on youtube and look it up, you'll be sorry, even though it's described as 'A1's classic song...'

Remember A1? They were a boy band, back when that kind of thing was cool. They wore white a lot. I liked the earnest-looking one with the undercut (I always liked the earnest-looking one with the undercut) who sung all the high parts (am I actually a gay man?). They did a tacktastic cover of Take On Me. Go on, go and watch it. You won't regret it. They may be kidding, but I suspect they're not.

There was a brief period of respite about lunchtime when Caught in the Middle was replaced by Keane's A Bad Dream (quite good compared to A1 really, go and look it up if you like feeling horribly depressed), but then in the afternoon A1 made a comeback! In stark contrast to their actual musical career.

While both of the above are going on my list of Worst Songs to have Stuck in your Head, neither has managed to beat my personal choice for Worst Song to have Stuck in your Head (Ever), Hole in the Ground.

Oh, you don't know Hole in the Ground? Here it is, go and have a look. You won't regret it! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZGk4AKOwJbc


Obviously I haven't done very much today. I went to 'Memories Coffee & Quilt' (it's a cafe that also sells quilting supplies, what did you think?) with a friend this morning and very nearly bought the bits and pieces to make a little handbag out of fabric, but then I remembered what happens when I start projects. I throw myself into the project with full enthusiasm, for a whole afternoon. Then I stuff the half-finished project under a bed. Then, six months later, I throw it out. So there will be no bag project.

To make up for this hugely pointless post, here is a picture of Arctic Angels. Besides being the name of Alaska's leading female dance troupe, Arctic Angels are tiny sea creatures that live under the Arctic ice. Aren't they cute? Like pimped out Sea Monkeys.



Aww. Nay'cha.

Sick Day

Sick days frustrate me. Half of me is going YAY NO WORK YAY but the other half of me feels disgusting and wants to sit on the couch all day, which seems to be the plan at the moment. I hate spoiling a perfectly good day off work by feeling like crawling back to bed.

This sick day is a bit out of the ordinary - usually when I'm sick I go to work all week as per usual, getting worse by the day, in some sort of weird wartime mentality. The inevitable result of this is that I get properly sick and have to spend the weekend (and usually some of the next week as well) in bed, feeling rotten. So Monday and Tuesday this week (it is Wednesday) I felt under the weather (colleague: "You look like shit! Go home!") and woke up this morning feeling functional but still shitty, so took day off.

The downside is that I am going to have HEAPS to do tomorrow. Just thinking about it makes me tiii-red. I guess it's probably better to do 2 days' worth of work in one day, feeling 100%, than 2 days' worth of work in 2 days, feeling 40%. I think. I feel a bit guilty about not going into work because it would've been physically possible for me to go but I really have to get over that! Work will not implode without me, and I am far too busy at the moment to get sick. Do you believe me? I believe me.

Gah! Every time I flick the TV onto the music channel something by Liam Finn is playing. Think TV is cursed. Also think Liam Finn is the musical equivalent of sponge cake. Generic and in no way groundbreaking, yet people are impressed out of all proportion. Also they both annoy me with their weird textures (harmonically speaking in the case of LF (but not in the case of SC)).

Perhaps I will cook something. At the moment my list of Achievements For The Day goes 'got up, made coffee, wrote blog, will possibly have shower later' and I feel like I should add to it because I am WASTING THIS BEAUTIFUL DAY.

EDIT: I can now add to my list of achievements 'dropped half a carrot behind the fridge.' Fuck. Think will just leave it there and hope it doesn't start to smell. It will be a nice surprise for the people who next live in this house, or perhaps we will rediscover it when we move out. It will be the kitchen equivalent of leaving a $5 note in your jeans, forgetting about it, and finding it next time you wear them. A little present to yourself! A little present made of mouldy carrot. Oh dear.

The Injustice of Life

I would just like to say that I could be in Wellington right now, drinking nice wine and flirting with beautiful people.

I am in Nelson. Doing the vacuuming.

This is not fair.

It is also entirely my own fault. This rankles.

I keep having awful visions of myself, with makeup and nice clothes on for the first time in WEEKS (okay, a week and a half), sitting in the Hawthorne Lounge and drinking something tall and alcoholic. It creases me.

Today, I conquered vibrato. I have not been able to play with vibrato, ever, and out of sheer boredom I was fucking around seeing what noises my trumpet can make (I do a very good horse noise, actually, but that's beside the point) and then all of a sudden I was doing vibrato! This is very exciting as it means that when at band Dave makes the hand motion that means 'more vibrato', I can actually add vibrato, rather than just sitting there trying to look like someone who is adding vibrato.

I am very proud of myself.

Trumpet Superstar

I am not one, but I wish I was. Although not in a hugoesque way. Have been playing The Force of Destiny repeatedly (wish I'd not been an idiot and brought some more music. in a grammatically structured way.)

Why are harrowgate toffees called that?

Today I got a job. Working in a vineyard. Cutting root stock. Expect post about how bored I was and hore sore my hand is and how I kept cutting my fingers. But, you know, it's money and money allows me to a) have something to fall back on when I return to Wellington, rather than have to survive on bread and constantly panic about money, and b) go to Wellington this weekend on an overnight trip for a variety of reasons ranging from the mundane (pick up music, hairwax) and the bizarre (take underage percussionist from Napier out drinking). I am SICK of vineyard work and I haven't even started yet.
It starts at eight in the morning. This is a ridiculous hour to be doing anything except sleeping. I might start getting up early and writing before work, otherwise my star chart will remain unstarred FOREVER (this is not the ideal outcome.)

Speaking of which, I should go and do some writing now, allowing me to watch Kung Fu Hustle when it comes on at half eight.

Is this what a harrowgate tastes like?