A Magnificent Pun

Hello everyone!  To save time, just imagine this is a paragraph containing a creative excuse for not blogging for months, and a promise to blog more frequently.  This will bring me to a grand total of three posts this year which, if you consider me as a penpal from the 1870s, writing from overseas and sending letters by steamship, is not too bad.

Today we have: some photos from Turkey, a brief update on my life, and a magnificent pun. 

Update: This post got long and text-heavy and so the Turkey photos will be in the next post, and that way those of you who are into words can read this one, and those of you who are into pictures can read (?) the other one, and those of you who are just into me in general can read both.

A Magnificent Pun

The other week HB was sick.  He woke up from a night of coughing and tossing and turning, sat up, and took a massive swig from a Coke can that had been sitting on the windowsill for several days.  

Unfortunately the Coke can was full of ants.

Once HB had finished spitting the mouthful of ants out the window, and I'd been suitably sympathetic, I said:

"I guess at least it'll stop you being sick... because now you're full of antibodies!"

HB was less impressed than I anticipated. 

***

I have on my desk a wicker duck, and from time to time I fill him up with candy for the team to eat.  For obvious reasons, his name is Mr Wickerquacker.  

Last week I filled him with mini Bounty bars.

Me, serious face: "I think I might have to leave town for a bit..."

Colleague: "Why?"

Me, delighted: "There is a Bounty on my head!"

And then I put a candy bar on my head and laughed uproariously and then HB said "time for you to do some work" and also "you are not allowed outside any more" and I had to be quiet and do my revenue forecasting.  No one appreciates me.

A Brief Update on My Life

It's still mostly work, except for the part where I was in Turkey, which we shall get to presently. I'm still doing boss stuff, which is just like regular stuff except the problems are more interesting and/or frequent.  

Here are some Boss Problems™ that I have encountered recently:

• Have to go to important meeting. Forget about important meeting, wear t-shirt with a pony on it.
• In important meeting, people keep saying 'EBITDA'.  Is pronounced "Eee-b't-DAAHH" and I don't know what it is*.  Know it is something serious and financials-related but this is the first time I've heard it and I can't stop thinking 'Ee bah gum'.
• We are on a massive deadline and the team will not stop talking about farts (there is no way to make a team stop talking about farts until they are good and ready to stop talking about farts)
• Ask for feedback in team meeting.  Colleague says, accusingly: "You have not filled the duck."  

Which reminds me - see you in another 6 months, have to fill the duck.

*Earnings before interest, tax, depreciation and amortization.  You only find out what amortization is on the day you receive your accounting degree, during your induction into secret accounting society.  I suspect it is the official term for the sacrificial ritual used to appease the spirit of EBITDA**, but am not sure, because am not accountant.

** High Priest: "Oh great EBITDA, please accept the amortizated blood of this humble salesperson as a token of our devotion.  May your spreadsheet be ever in the green."  
Congregation: "May your spreadsheet be ever in the green."

Supermarkets, Nature, Muncle*

*I'm sorry about the formatting, this computer is kind of horrible like that.

Today I leapt cheerily out of bed at 3.30am and drove to Ashburton to count everything in their supermarket. We caught a lift with an Australian competitive lawn bowler and ex-eftpos salesman called Rick, who I swear was trying to chat up my mother ("So, are you a bowls lady then, eh?") and who talked constantly when I wanted to look out the window - but it was nice, because a) I like driving in the dark and b) we passed a house! I love seeing this.

No wait not that I mean we passed a house which was being moved down the road.

I used to live in a flat on the main road through the city, and every so often a house would roll by at 3am, and I'd always go out and watch - the whole procession, from lead car, truck with 'Wide Load' sign and then the house itself (on a truck, in case you were thinking of something like this) -

- with the windows all lit up, and very quietly. Almost magical it is. And then Rick guffaws and says that he was selected for the Canterbury Lawn Bowls team again this year and the magic is kind of gone but whatevs.

Little quiz about my day at the supermarket. Which of these statements is true?

a) there is a brand of hamburger patties called 'Meateors'

b) 'Oceanfish' is a valid catfood flavour

c) when you scan Sunmaid Raisins they show up on your scanner as 'S/M Raisins'

d) packets of marbles now come with a list of '10 Exciting Marbles Games to Play'

e) all of the above?

Scan down for the answer.

'e'

OH SHIT A FLOATING EYE

Nothing else exciting happened except that a packet of juice powder (I have temporarily forgotten the proper word for this) exploded on me in a shower of tropical groove (it's called that) and then all day everything smelt like juice.

Here is a fact about birds.

Did you know that, like most other um animals (maybe plants too? hmm) the way that birds evolve is based on who their predators are? The vast majority of birds have always been eaten I mean 'predated' (real word) by ground-dwelling mammals with crappy eyesight and an excellent sense of smell. That is why most birds nest in trees and fly about; because when they're up there the predators can't reach them except for I guess climbing predators but fuck I am not talking about that. Birds are also, in general, brightly coloured but not very smelly. 'Cause of you know the predators.

Enter New Zealand birds! Back in the day we didn't have any mammals except for a whole lot of seals and sea lions (which apparently were really really populous (and presumably ate, um, not-birds)), so all of our birds were predated I mean eaten by....dun dun dunnn... other birds. Bigger birds.

Cannibirds.

Birds who could fly, and who had excellent eyesight but a crappy sense of smell.

And that, it turns out, is why NZ has stinky, dull brown birds that lay their eggs in the ground.

It's also why they have long poky beaks - so that they can stick their noses beaks into the ground and eat someone else's baby birds.

Nature is interesting, huh?

Speaking of interesting, the most awesome part of this post is about to happen - I am going to tell you about Andrea's dream. I was in it.

Andrea and I were living wild in the desert, having rejected the society of the time in favour of living as outlaws and periodically sweeping into town to conduct a raid. (Here comes the awesome.) The top halves of our bodies were human, but we had dinosaur legs. Robotic dinosaur legs. Robotic dinosaur legs that could transform into motorbikes.

So we would come sweeping into town on our motorbike wheels, then transform back into our dino-centaur selves and lay waste to the town with the giant guns we had mounted on our metal gauntlets. Did I mention we had huge metal gauntlets with guns on them? Because we totally did.

I was going to try and draw this but there's no way my Paint skills could capture it.

Anyway, to thank Andrea for including me in this kickass dream, I'm going to play Muncle! I mentioned this a while back, but didn't get around to it, and she keeps reminding me.

Would you like to play? It's pretty simple, really, I just ask you a question - you know, one of those 'if you could be stuck in a lift with any famous person, living or dead, who would it be' type questions* and then you answer. It's a pretty good ice-breaker for parties.

Ready? Here goes.

Would you rather... fuck your Mum's body with your Uncle's head on it, or your Uncle's body with your Mum's head?

...and that's how you play Muncle!

(Thanks to Mr London Street for introducing me to this dreadful game.)

*Helen Keller is a poor choice

Lapi* is in a stable condition

*I know it's a really unimaginative name - I am not so good at naming inanimate objects. Andrea is. She called her toaster 'Poppy,' which is freakin' awesome


Just got back from 10 hours of stocktake! I think supermarkets play a lot of Coldplay so that people get depressed and want to buy stuff to cheer themselves up.

Here's a story about how I sassed an old man.

OK so quite often when we're stocktaking, shoppers assume that because we're standing about with little scanners we work at the supermarket. Fair enough.

So today an elderly gentleman with a large nose and rheumy eyes toddled over to me and declared in a cantankerous wheeze that there weren't any Ready Salted ETA potato chips. "Pardon?" I said, because I wasn't quite sure I'd heard him (or in fact that he was talking to me). "I said" replied the elderly gentleman, revealing that he had been a crusty old man all along, "there AREN'T ANY READY SALTED ETA POTATO CHIPS!"

"That's interesting." Pause. "I don't work here."

FUCK YOU, OLD DUDE.

Also, a small child (overheard: "Mummy, Mummy!" "Eww, cover your mouth when you cough." "No!") ran around my feet as I scanned things, then asked his mother what "that man" was doing. To be fair, I was wearing a beanie & no makeup, & the child was little. This put me in mind of other times I've been mistaken for a young man, usually when out caroling in my mannish band uniform, with short hair & hat on. ("Go on, dear, give the money to him...oh, to her...to...oooh.")

It also reminded me of the time I got in a fight over a girl. Want to hear the story? Yeah you totally do.

So I was at this party in Paraparaumu (pronounced 'pram') which is, for those who don't know it, a little seaside town about an hour out of Wellington. It was a birthday party, and it ended up lasting for 36 hours; I think I arrived about 8pm Friday and went home at 12pm Sunday (on the train, it was traumatic) and the party was in full swing when I arrived, and really only stopped about 7am Sunday morning. (Actually, the full story of the party would make a ripping yarn, in the style of TLDOML. If you guys are keen for another one of those four-part stories let me know & I'll do it when my laptop's better.)

I didn't know anyone except the host, so I wandered about joining in random conversations and meeting people and making friends and generally enjoying myself. One of the people I met was a girl called Bree. We got along well & ended up sitting outside on some steps having an intense, emotional and very pissed conversation about something which I no longer remember but which meant a lot to both of us at the time, and then a very drunk guy lurched outside, lit up a cigarette, and sat down next to Bree in a very purposeful fashion. To be fair, she had been dancing with him earlier in a fairly shall we say sensual way, but then it was that kind of a party.

Then the drunk guy, who I should probably mention was a huge douche, put his hand on Bree's leg, and 'suggested' that I leave the two of them alone. Bree was pretty drunk, and I didn't want to just toddle off & leave her (the party was in the country, and there were many convenient spots to pop off to for a quick shag, or so I was told) so I said asked her if she wanted me to go. "No," she said, "don't go." The guy glared at me and told me that Bree was fine, and that I really should go. Threatening glare and all. Then Bree made the surprise announcement that actually she wanted to make out with me and not the drunk guy, and launched herself at my face.

The drunk guy reacted to this plot twist with a mixture of disbelief & arousal, and made some noise which was more or less "hurr hurr fnarr fnarr wait til I tell the guys about this threesome I am about to have" then a bit of that noise people make when they're pretending to be French. Alas, he did not realise that he was the only person in the conversation who wasn't thinking "what a douche." I was about to politely ask him to leave when I accidentally smirked and told him to fuck off. Bree echoed this sentiment and added an inappropriate hand gesture, which really helped.

So the drunk guy accused me of cockblocking him. I told him it wasn't my fault that I was hotter than he was.

He punched me in the face! There was a brawl! I had a black eye for the Monday Morning Team Meeting! What a badass.

Good story eh. And that was only one of the 36 hours.


I might have to start a "Next, on Today Is My Birthday*" segment.

Next, on TIMB* - The Longest Party Ever, Part One (and/or This One Time, at Band Camp...Part One, in which I take you from behind on a magical journey through the world of brass banding by recounting my experiences*). Stay tuned. Do not adjust your dial.**


Also, I'm thinking of renaming my blog, but I don't know what to. I had a slogan and everything, but I forgot it. (zach - can you remember what this was? it was maybe in the same conversation as 'sort of but not quite' for sleep500. andrea - I probably told you in a fit of excitement? Or maybe I thought of it when I was talking to you, not zach? man I gotta write shit down, and also not hold private conversations in blog posts.)

Actually now that I've realised the acronym is TIMB* I'm not going to change it at all, I'm just going to start referring to my blog as TIMB*aLand and shout TIMB*er! every time I post.


*the funny ones

**probably just one of those phrases would've been sufficient

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.

Taking Stock

I spent from 5.30am this morning til 2pm stocktaking at a New World near you, and am doing the same tomorrow at a Woolworth's, before going to clean my aunt's house, and then to kickboxing. There is not much punctuation in this post because I am really really tired & quite frankly cba making this readable.

Stocktaking is not exciting but the time passes quite quickly and sometimes interesting things happen (not today). Today I started at 5.30am as I believe I may have mentioned and let me tell you it is really fucking early at that hour, especially when your usual rising time is like 8 and then suddenly somehow it's ten to 6 and you are counting packet upon packet of bacon. At one stage I held 12 kilos of bacon in my arms. I swear the bacon almost killed me. I only had a piece of bread for breakfast because it's kind of obscene to eat anything substantial at 5am unless it is a kebab and you're on your way home from town and/or drunk and I was neither of these. I was just sitting there counting these packets of bacon and being hungry. Then I was relocated to the out-the-back (storehouse) chiller & counted butter for a while and then bam! I rounded a corner in the chiller and there it was. Piles of delicious smallgoods waiting to be counted. So I went back to the bacon. Bacon bacon fucking bacon. Then I counted wine for a bit, and now all I want is wine and bacon.* At the same time. Maybe even in the same glass. I went out for dinner the other night and for dessert I had tiny rockmelon balls suspended in gewurtztraminer jelly and if they can do it with rockmelon then why not with bacon? It would look like this:
On second thought maybe that would be disgusting.

Anyway after I was done with the bacon I went into a walk-in freezer and counted in there for about half an hour, or until I couldn't feel my toes and my fingers were really sore. The guy who was counting in the bay (bit of shelving) next to me said with no little sense of wonder, "I can feel my nose hairs freezing!" I think it's actually your boogers which freeze, in case anyone's interested. (If you actually know what freezes please tell me. Me and the other guy kept sniffing in huge gusts of air just to feel it rush icily up our sinuses.) Was like the Antarctic would be if there were no penguins or polar bears (you're a smart kid, you can just pick the right one) and everyone was counting packets of frozen peas instead of exploring. I was going to write down some witty comments about working in the freezers but the ink in my pen was half frozen (not kidding).

Did manage to note down that lots of cartons of food had DON'T DROP printed on them. I guess maybe it happened a lot for a while there.

Best product slogan of the day: "(Some Toilet Paper) Double Length - It's Twice as Long!" No fucking shit, toilet paper company. What next? "Toilet Paper! Quite Nice To Wipe Your Arse With!" "Toilet Paper! Not Gritty!" "Toilet Paper - It's On A Roll!" Pun.

Sorry, it's been a long day and I am a big fucking grouch. Mainly because I am tired and I totally used to be able to function on barely any sleep and now I can't what is this am I getting old am I no longer cool? I have about ten million bloggable things and most of them are rants but now is not the time. I am talking to several internet people and appear to be being obnoxious whoops. OH WHOOPS. Next thing you know I will be making declarations of love and vomiting on my keyboard and all I want is bacon! and wine.*

Kate bought a jersey last week and she loves it. It is big and green and called Big Green. She just came into my room and told a long story about Big Green and how he nearly got wet and so she ran all the way home. It was like one of my stories. Her boyfriend does not like Big Green. "Do you think I look like a hobo?" she asked him. "No," he said, "it is just that Big Green looks like something a hobo would wear." When I was little my favourite sweater was called Bokko (because he had a house on him) and I wore him all the time. I think all the best sweaters look a little hobo-y. Hobo-ish? Hobo-like? Hobolean? Hobocore? Hobotic? Hobo-erotic? Derelicte. I'm going to bed.

*and a onesie

Job Statistics*

* I drew some graphs in Paint

Today I applied for three jobs and then realised that out of the three, I actually only want one of them. The one that I'm least likely to get. (It's as a recruitment consultant, for interest's sake - the other two are sales jobs which are pretty much identical to the one I just left, except I'd be selling different stuff. One is for health insurance. The other is for freighting. What was I thinking?)

As a result of this, I have developed a (completely unsubstantiated) theory that the more enjoyable a job is, the less likely I am to be offered it.

I have drawn a graph to illustrate my findings (fig. A) - let y be my potential enjoyment of the job, and let x be the likelihood of this job being offered to me.


Here is a bonus graph of how I rate various jobs in terms of fun and money.



Tomorrow I am going to do something productive.

Possibly a proper update

...because most of my posts recently have been about crap.

Ah what a beautiful day to be alive. The sun is shining and the birds are chirping and the bees are buzzing round the huge purple bush they like to buzz round. I'd take a photo if I had a digital camera, it's all very suburban and idyllic. Have spent the morning with the Sunday Star Times and a big pot of coffee...ahhh bliss. Would be nicer if the neighbour wasn't mowing his lawn but I suppose you can't have everything.

I am finally settling back into Chch, the city with the soul of a zombie nun -living at home with Mum & Kate is going well now that we've ironed out most of the little things (to give you an idea of just how little, there was recently a very heated debate about whether the shower curtain gets pushed to the left or to the right side of the shower (it's the LEFT, you FUCKERS)) & realised that we are all adults here, people, so let's behave like it. And now we are, apart from the odd conversation like this:

Me: "Why is my phone charger unplugged?"
Kate: "You plugged it into the plug the radio uses."
Me: "Yes, but I was the only person home, and the radio wasn't on. The radio still isn't on. You're not even using the radio."
Kate: "Well, I wanted to use the radio before, so I unplugged your charger, but then I forgot."
Me: "Couldn't you have moved my charger to another plug?"
Kate: "No! You shouldn't have plugged it in there! That's the radio's plug!"

But then I started calling her 'The Socket Lord' and 'Adolf Plugler' and and now I'm allowed to plug things in wherever I like. As long as I plug the resident appliance back in when I'm done. Maybe I should buy a couple of motherboards...are they called that? Those four-socket things that you attach to your plug. They might be called motherboards or I might have made that up. Hmmm. If they aren't called motherboards, they really should be.

I also need to buy a knife sharpening thing - sharpening block, perhaps - as my family seems to enjoy cutting everything with really dull knifes. I mean knives. What a weird typo to make. But apart from dull knifes and weird routines everything is pretty OK.

Speaking of typos (ooh, segue!) I'm going into a temping agency tomorrow morning because the money is running out and I need to start working again. Lame. However, this will mean I get to do psychometric testing (whee) and typing tests (whee) and Excel tests (crap) and spend some of my day not sitting round the house. I have been doing a lot of gardening - my mother has a great garden, mostly NZ natives and veges and things like that, and I've been really hoeing into the weeding.

Zing!

(I have so been looking for an excuse to make that pun for about the last week.)

Went out last night - first night out in Chch, good Lord - and made some friends! (I think.) Which I sorely need, because my social circle is more of a social four-person blob at the moment, and I miss having readily available drinking buddies. It's quite glum-making to realise that you'd really like to have a beer in the sun but that you have no-one to have it with. Ah well. Friends will come! I should advertise.

I was thinking that I might like to be a real estate agent, after I've worked for 6 months or so (you need a financial cushion to keep you going while you get started, and at the moment all I have is a financial whoopee cushion). You basically get to be your own boss, and the amount of money you make directly reflects the amount of work you put in. That was always one of the things that really annoyed me about salaried jobs - you could be giving it 150%, and the guy next to you is doing a half-assed 75%'er at best, and yet you get paid the same. I mean, sure, you may get promoted sooner, but at the end of the day there's no incentive to really work. Real estate, however...if you do a crappy job, you won't last. if you do an average job, you'll make average money. if you work your ass off, you can make ridiculous amounts of money. Ridiculous amounts! The woman I went and talked to about it said, "You have to like three things to be good at this job - hard work, people, and money." I like people and money, and I'm sure I could get used to the other one.

Mind you, I read an article on the Chatham Islands this morning and now I want to go and live there (town of 200 people, one doctor, one 'constable'...I would start a dinky wee business doing God knows what, and go down to the sea and write a lot. I imagine rent is cheap), which kind of implies I am not very good at this whole deciding-what-to-do-with-my-life business.

I think the problem is that half of me wants to be a rich, high-powered and successful city-dweller who wears a lot of black and accessorizes well, and the other half of me wants to be an eccentric writer living in a cottage by the sea. It'll be interesting to see who wins. I'll keep you updated.

Am cooking tonight! Teriyaki squid. How the fuck do you cook squid? I did not think this through. For those of you who know Chow, I'm trying to recreate that squid I used to eat all the time. I doubt it'll work, but it should be...educational. The lesson will probably be "you don't know how to cook squid."

Anyway, I'm really just rambling on here, and should probably go and do something productive.

Like the Sudoku.

PS I totally cheated on this update thing. I wrote a letter to a friend this morning, and this post is pretty much lifted word-for-word from that letter. It's not laziness, people, it's efficiency. Learn from me.

Four Exciting Things and Three Grumbles

Four Exciting Things

1. My impossibly coloured friend Andrea – wow. I’ve used that phrase several times before and never realised quite how racist it sounds until right now. I’m sorry! It’s based on her blog title, put your pitchfork away. Anyway, that’s not the exciting thing (although I suppose accidental racism is mildly exciting on a slow news day) – the exciting thing is that my impossibly (flesh)coloured friend Andrea has given me a blog award! (Which she will probably now take back.)
Still, I’m excited as have never been given a blog award before! Am going to put it up on my blog as soon as I figure out how to. Thank you, Andrelles! I am finally famous on the Internet.

2. I am visiting Christchurch this weekend – this means I get to see my family, and Andrea, and many other people beside. My plan for the weekend goes like this (I don’t care if you’re not excited, I am). Friday night – arrive at Chch airport, slightly giddy with excitement and pre-boarding call wine. Taxi home and bypass embrace of mother and sister for embrace of fridge (family always have goodies that I never buy for myself). Run around being excited. Go to bed. Saturday morning – Go Christmas shopping with my sister and a couple of my cousins. Begin in very high spirits, and then gradually become annoyed with mall, sister and cousins. Quite possibly end up going home on the bus by myself, laden with bags full of presents, most of which will be for myself. Saturday afternoon – go to Andrea’s for clothes swap party! Feel inadequate at lack of beautiful things to swap, but make up for this by claiming as many nice things as possible. Hang out with Andrea, drink coffee. Saturday night – not sure yet, but it will probably involve drinking and being merry. But not too merry, because on Sunday morning I am going to have brunch with my mother and grandmother. My grandmother will ask a) what I am doing with my life, b) why I am not a published writer yet, c) how band is going and d) what I am doing for Christmas. Then she will be very disappointed in me (because answers are as follows – a) exactly the same as the last time we spoke; b) because I am too lazy, c) I quit band and d) I am not coming home for Christmas) and go on at length about my wasted potential. I will become annoyed, and quite possibly end up going home on the bus by myself. Sunday afternoon – hopefully hang out with Andrea again, complain about grandmother and unfairness of not being able to shout at old people. (I do love my grandmother very much, but she is such a shameless guilt tripper.) Sunday night – go camping with my sister! I’m ridiculously excited about this, despite the fact that I hate nature and can’t work a BBQ. Monday – arse about enjoying day off not working when everyone else is. Go to pub quiz in the evening and do my pub quiz trick (convincing everyone else in my team that their unanimously-agreed-on answer of 'saxophone' is wrong and that actually everyone knows it was the trombone that Adolph Sax invented, then being proven incorrect and ostracised). Tuesday morning – fly home. Go to work. Sulk.

3. Am getting haircut on Thursday! Hair is currently shoulder length and about three shades off black, but come Thursday night it will be in a blonde pixie cut, quite possibly spiked into a little fauxhawk, and various shades of blonde. I used to have a pixie cut about a year ago, and I miss it. This Exciting Thing has a bonus layer of excitement as hair appointment is at 4.30, so I get to skive off work early. (Will say it is a doctor’s appointment.) Told my (younger, Christchurch) sister Kate about this, and she said, “No, you can’t! Long hair is sexy and vibrant! Short hair isn’t. Short hair says, ‘I am trying to be edgy.’” I said, “I do not want to be sexy and vibrant, I want a hairstyle that actually suits me.” Kate: “But men don’t like short hair on women.” …wait, what? Kate used to be an irritatingly devoted feminist (“I’ll never change myself for a man!” “I don’t understand women who sit around at home waiting for their men!” etc.). Then she turned 16, met Horrid Boyfriend, and turned into exactly the sort of little women she used to hate. Huh. Love is weird. (Also irrelevant to haircut.)

4. My job is sales-based, and on top of our salary we get a commission bonus every six months. Mine gets paid tomorrow and it is pretty freakin’ hefty. (Hence impromptu trip to Chch and visit to stupidly expensive hair salon.) I am going to party like a rock star. And then wonder three months later, when all the money is gone, why on earth I didn’t do something sensible with it.


and now, in the interests of symmetry -

Four Grumbles

1. I’m sickish at the moment and have a cough, and from time to time people say things like “Can you stop coughing? It’s really annoying.” “Yeah, I know – painful, too! Oh. Oh, you mean for you. Yeah, that must suck.” I do appreciate that it’s irritating but there’s really nothing I can do about it. (“Can you get some cough medicine or something?” “Sure, but cough medicine makes me vomit. Is that going to be more or less annoying for you, bearing in mind that I will be vomiting in your direction?”)

2. In my ‘pod’ at work (I am still deciding if I am a whale or a pea – given the amount of bagels I have consumed recently I’m leaning towards whale) we have a system where everyone puts in money for coffee, and we buy a thing of coffee, and then every morning a plunger is made, and we all drink the coffee. Doesn’t sound grumble-worthy, does it? Well, the guy who makes the coffee makes it far too strong. I like strong coffee, but we’re talking unbearably bitter here – he just keeps pouring coffee into the plunger. Not only does it render it far less enjoyable, it means we go through coffee about twice as fast as we should, which I resent because I put in money for coffee. Have tried mentioning it and occasionally making the coffee myself, but he just bitches and adds more coffee to the plunger after my initial efforts. Humph.

3. The fax room smells like something has died in it.

4. I am concerned that impending short haircut will highlight chubby face. This is not a new worry, but I did need a fourth grumble and couldn’t think of anything else. Perhaps this is why men don’t like short hair? Haha.

Today's Interesting Things*

*May not actually be interesting.

1. Someone made an anonymous comment on my previous post. Anonymous comments piss me off. Own up!

2. I went to the doctor, and the doctor gave me sleeping pills (v. good) and antidepressants (not so good). Not so good as a) am not depressed and b) what kind of doctor gives sleeping pills to depressed people? What do they think we're going to do with them? Doctor also suggested excellent psychologist she knows, who only costs $140 an hour. Doctor: "Well, you get what you pay for." Strongly suspect that psychologist is a personal friend of doctor, and that they are congratulating each other over a beer as I write this. Have come to the conclusion that it's time for a new doctor.

3. I am in the process of being highly impressed by Sarah Palin. Is this an uncool point of view? I don't like her policies, but I'm very impressed by the way she handles herself in interviews. If she didn't believe such stupid things, I would vote for her. If I was an American. As it is, I am not an American, and I get Helen vs John. Much less exciting. Saw him in an interview on breakfast TV and her was terrible. In my opinion, if you can't stay calm and collected in an interview on breakfast TV you probably shouldn't be allowed to run a country. Ooh, look, I have a political blog.

4. Am beginning to worry that I am becoming poster child for excess - too many nights out drinking and being debauched are beginning to take a moral toll. Because of this, I am going to have a month of being Very Well Behaved (it will be the most boring month I have ever endured - the more that I think about it, the less fun it seems) in October. Obviously this means that I must spend the remaining 5 days of September in a drunken stupor.

6. Workmate and I are going to start a band! He said last weekend after drinking quite a lot of tequila, "Ally, I love you! Let's start a band." Turns out he was serious about the band (but not about the love). He's a very good pianist and arranger, and can also sing. I'm not sure what my contribution is supposed to be. Think is some sort of singer/songwriter/lyricist role. Will be interesting, anyway. And yet another commitment! Because, you know, I don't have anywhere near enough of those.

7. Was talking to business banker today about a company called EMF Something - I was trying to find it in our systems and said, "So it's Elizabeth, Mary, Sally?" (I can't remember the proper military system - I am a constant disappointment. Something Something Sierra?) "No," she said, "F for Freddy. Elizabeth, Mary, Freddy." Pause. "That could be interesting! (dirty chuckle.)" I was shocked! I am never going to do any business banking ever again.

And now, to bed. Have not taken sleeping pill because am afraid will sleep FOREVER and miss work.

Lunchtime!

I went to Cuba to pay the power bill and there was a man with no pants on but I paid it anyway.

also I saw a man wearing dirty white overalls with a white cape on him (it is windy and this looked quite dramatic), and I couldn't tell if he was a painter or a superhero which would, incidentally, make an interesting first sentence of a novel.

I am now out of long rambling sentences.

Work is much the same except now I am in a new 'pod'. Same shit, different pod? And there is a pool night tonight which I am deciding whether or not to go to, as below:

Pros

- I like pool
- I am sometimes quite good at pool
- I could make friends with people from all over the company, therefore giving me more randoms to email during the day and decreasing the amount of time I spend actually working

Cons

- Sometimes I am surprisingly bad at pool
- Neither of my 'security blanket' type workmates are coming, meaning I would run the risk of Awkward Social Moments
- I am liable to get drunk and do something embarrassing
- which will probably involve one of my workmates
- which should maybe be on the Pros list
- and that is why I should probably just go home and watch TV
- but that's boring
- (even though So You Think You Can Dance is on)

...and that's pretty much the way it's been going all day.

Somehow I have become distracted and am looking at photos of someone's hedgehog on Bebo. I don't even know this person, what am I doing? it's a pretty good hedgehog though. Back to work now.