Gee thanks

Ah, another New Years Eve, a splendid occasion when I can look back on the past year's shittiness and anticipate another twelve months of the same stretching before me. I'm not sure that I will do anything to mark the occasion. Well, not much beyond what I have already done, go to drinks with work people. All pleasant enough until we began discussing the film Children of Men. Limited babies, right, sure enough leads to the state of affairs in China where the birth rate of boys is greater than that of girls. Fine, cue heart rending story of foetuses flushed away. All I could remark was that it made a refreshing change from the man drought. To which someone responded something about my particular suffering. Well I think we are all the poorer for the existence of such a retarded concept. For me 'Man Drought' is right up there with 'Shoe Fetish' for sheer overworked inaninity. And I really do relish being told exactly where I fit into the scheme of things, that is, fat drab.
Perhaps I can find solace in the fact that the people who were screaming at me when I walked up the hill (naturally from the safety of their car) were't making specific slurs. It was more a wordless grunt. Maybe I should even be flattered there was none of the usual fat ugly bitch comments.

At last

Someone finally ID'd me when I was buying a bottle of wine. It has been ages since that happened, I was beginning to feel persecuted in fact.

Betrayal at Krondor

Can't actually tell you what the plot is, I keep skipping through the plot development so I can level up. Or not as the case may be. I seem to be at an impasse.
But I am thrilled to find out that when I make it through this, there is a sequel.

It is very peculiar finding out news nearly a decade after the event. So much for having my finger on the pulse.

If you're happy with a nappy then you're in for fun

Naughty of me to link directly to another site's photo, but hey, the traffic here is low and I'm into sharing and enjoying. And wondering about stylists.

Breakfast of champions

This morning, a chocolate or two. As far as I can tell it is still the season of gluttony. They were roses chocolates, one of them was a Hazelnut Praline. I think that is what they are called. I had the sudden notion that these are the pave settings of the chocolate world. Not a hell of a lot of the defining ingredient, all ground up and mushed into a coarsely textured centre. I could stretch the analogy further and suggest that as they were Roses chocolates they equate with cubic zirconia jewellery. The manufacturer probably used assissted hazelnut and hazelnut shell, not the actual nuts. Which could explain the significant grit factor.

Still, how wonderfully decadent.

Do I dare to eat a peach?

Yes, and it was quite delicious.

The dream

Killing a lot of people, many of whom I knew, because they were all turning into zombies. That's what I dreamt the other night. This morning I woke up at 6 something, and I can't help but wonder if this was because I had reached a particularly interesting point in my spree? If only I remembered more of my dreams for long enough to tell people about them. Like the one I had about a friend cuddling Marc Ellis's baby.


Funnily enough all my dreams seem to be horrors.

Grrrrarrrg

Yes, work was just getting a bit much for me today. Holiday period and I thought there would not be so much to do, but lordy how that bookguard rolled in. I have not even made a dent in the piles that were set aside for me to do, and not even a look at the enclosures, single sewn hinge tape and the minor mends awaiting my ministrations. It was awash with holds, simultaneously mind numbing and time consuming. By the time I left this afternoon (late again) I couldn't actually string a sentence together properly. I can only imagine what it would have been like without a tape deck.
Today I was luxuriating in some bogan sounds, particularly the joy of early Metallica. I'm not sure that is the best music for book guarding situations however, I find I need the uplift of something more radioesque and overproduced. Or the gleeful filth of a John Waters film soundtrack. I'd forgotten what a treasure the chicken grabber song is.

The Notebook

Heaven help me I am trapped in a room in which this ghastly movie is being played. The main female character is a screamer, the story is loathsome and the framing narrative set in a rest home makes me feel ill.

Not everyone feels the same way though, here is a review from IMDB

An old man in a nursing home reads a story to an old woman each day. The story he reads follows two young lovers named Allie Hamilton and Noah Calhoun. They met one evening at a carnival many years ago. Allie's parents separate Noah and Allie. They disapprove of Noah's lack of wealth, and move Allie away. After waiting for Noah to write her for several years, Allie meets and becomes engaged to a handsome young soldier named Lon. In a local newspaper, Noah's picture catches Allie's eye. He is standing in front of a fully restored, 200 year old home. The article is filled with praise for his accomplishments. Allie's heart nearly bursts. The last time she saw this house it was a rotted decaying shamble. She stood enfolded in Noah's arms in the great entryway and listened to his plans to buy and restore this house. Just the way she wanted it. With her love for Noah still alive, the picture pulls at her heart. She has to go back, see if Noah is okay, and tell him about her marriage. They both think the echo deep in their hearts, the one that has lasted all these years, is not shared by the other. The cry they could not stifle. It wasn't over for me.

Thanks Dontee, that was beautiful. Particularly the last lines.
Hilariously one of the plot key phrases on the database entry is "lost trousers". Must have been a figural element for someone then.

Just so none of you have to go through the same horror as I do I have added a spoiler. Highlight below to see the movie ending cut to the chase.


You guessed it, the couple in the rest home are the young lovers Allie and Noah in advanced decrepitude. She remembers who he is in a rare moment of clarity & vomitously they die together, comfortably in their sleep. Unlikely and nary a skerrick of stray faeces anywhere. I feel cheated.

Oh yes, I now have mad skillz

I have just received a complement on my pavlova I made for Christmas.
On an unrelated note, or at least a tangentially connected thread of review. I have just been looking at old threads on Something Awful where I was stunned by a short comment in the celebrity section. Neil Gaiman's daughter sucks at giving blowjobs. This is wrong on so many levels. She is not a celebrity, doesn't even warrant an identity and lets not get started on the terrible opportunity to pun. This may be a back handed complement, only the other day a thread I saw on there started out querying why "fat chicks" love wicked, and degenerated into gobble gobble gobble.
Yeah, it always seems like the threads advertised at the side bar are pretty phobic on that site. I get the impression of a bunch of people who feel pretty cool, much like those using p2p music sharing programmes. Somehow goondom, or collecting music negates the inherent nerdiness of using computers all day.

Surely not that many cool people can exist, all at one time? Totally explodes the notion of reincarnation doesn't it?

God bless us every one

Something to warm the cockles, or even the sub-cockle regions.

I am having a special special day in Alexandra. At present the conversation has turned to sports and injustice with liberal mentions of pooh packing. The mind boggles does it not? Needless to say I do not feel like I have a lot to input into this conversation. But rest assured my little cabbages, I am gathering sweet boring stories with which to regale you all later.

Anyway, I hope you all make it through the day. Sometimes I feel like Jesus was born just to make my life a misery, albeit an overstuffed and socialised misery.

Hello! I'm right here!

I wonder if I can harness this power? I can be at an event, converse with people, and yet the very next day they ask me if I was there or not. Case point, after the work function. There is an ugly photo of me for goodness sake, but still they wonder if I went out with them. I had previously thought that my method of social survival was trying to make people laugh. I figured that not being ornamental I should sing for my supper. But this news opens up realms of possibility. I can just sidle on into an event, clean up the olives, quaff the beer or fancy wine, and sidle out with no-one the wiser. Wall dancing, flagrant and shameless displays? Everyone will just assume that it was some more memorable character at the party. Fantastic.

Oh yeah, and someone should eliminate the Personalised Plates ads.

Now this is what I am talking about

You wanted to know what I meant by winged anus? Well, here you go:



Watch out little car! Speed like the wind (oops tee hee hee)

Move over Waldronville

Ho Ho HO!

OMG Check out her butt, she's like one of those rapper's girlfriends

Check out these puppies.
Cancel Christmas now, they definitively prove that there is no god.

Empire building

So time consuming, so bad. Look at me. No, probably don't even imagine looking at me. But I am hovering over my trade me listings wondering why more people haven't bid on my fabulous stuff. Its 2 something in the morning and I start work at 8.30. Fie! For shame!

Water cooler gossip

Nope, not much to be had at the Library Christmas party, though there was some serious rug cutting later on, always mindful of the lumbago. Things were enlivened by the youth contingent having drinking games in the kitchen, fueled by a bucket of punch. Punch recipes have changed very little as far as I can see, but this version was much classier than most I've had. Smirnoff and something called Wipeout (prophetic?) juice and fruit salad. Not tinned fruit salad, freshly made. A number of people were very merry on wine, and mercifully not a karaeoke number to be heard. At least I don't think there was. I got the start time wrong and was late, even for my imaginary start time.
Afterwards several people went into town, I thought I was rather brave going along as well since graduation was on. I went to 10 bar, watched some funny dancing and lamented the shameful misuse of C & C music factory samples in bad pop dance music. Escaped from there as quickly as possible and checked out Carousel. I will always be inclined to call it Casserole now since someone forgot the name and went with that. Just like Alibi will be pronounced Aleebee.
The taxi queues were phenomenal so I was glad I could just walk home unnoticed. Why would anyone notice a derilict sloping up the hill when there was so much tacktastic dress on display? Glassons, you have a lot to answer for.

I still believe...do you?

The sliced in footage of Timmy thrusting and gyrating is relentless. As are the fan sites. All other treats - like the very young Keifer Sutherland - are so many cherries on top the mammoth Studmuffin Capello.

I can feel it coming in the air tonight, oh lord

The work Christmas function. The proper one (the gig last night could have stood in, there were so many library workers there). We'll see if I fare better at this event, but the heavy Karaeoke element has just about got me broken out in hives. Its BYO so maybe some messiness will occur? How I long for some entertainment, and how tragic it is I seek it among work colleagues.

Special interlocking hugs

Ahhh, the sweet feeling of being put in one's place. You start to thinking that maybe you aren't a complete waste of time, space and precious oxygen and then something happens to force the realisation that no, actually no-one gives a fuck. And yes, oxygen is precious. I had to do Christmas shopping today and there were a lot of large people heavy breathing in this warm weather. Oxygen, I dare say, was at a premium.
I went to see a couple of bands last night at the dirty old Crown, how nice to be back there. It was like a reunion or something, though a bit frightening, as if Dunedin has been in stasis.
As usual I was the gooseberry in the mutually masturbatory love-in circle jerk taking place in the "scene". A scene redolent with people of such breathtaking and daring non-conformity that my tiny conservative mind was thrown into turmoil. Just how much recycling can go on there? And is it like after soccer matches, where all players shake hands with one another at some point, except the scene requires special rubs?
From what I can see the potential for cross pollination is awesome and the mutual affirmation of hotness parties receive must be both a consolation and a solace, especially after the disappointing rugby world cup results. I figure once you are in the scene, you need never be alone again. Those of you who have had the misfortune of reading Sharon Green books will know what I am talking about. Do I show my age? Lets just say if we could build a computer graph like on the L Word the results could be startling and unfathomable.
Anyway, the Futurians were great, even better than I remembered, and I got to catch up with some people I had not seen in ages. This pleased me even if they didn't give a rats arse. I even managed to find someone who is more socially inept than me, although unfathomably they seem to have more success socially. I expect it is a matter of persistance and trying, while I get bored of it when so often people bore or repel me. Sometimes both. It would have been funny to watch us waiting for someone else to say something entertaining. It transpires that I am better at coping with the awkward silences. Booyah.
I can't help but observe and realise that really, for all their brown-nosing and self congratulatory chatter, most people are just as loathsome as I am. A negative retake of Byronic satire - they're no better than me. Secretly, in arrogant moments, I think that they are worse. Unfortunately I usually get a dose of reality at that point. Casual cruelty is the worst kind; dismissal at the first whiff of something better coming along. How terrible to not even merit concerted bitchiness. Well, I know my place, and it is not in the pantheon of local gods.

Something in the air?

An odd conincidence: I saw this in this weeks Photoshop Phriday

Vindicated

I was debating with someone about the song "Have you seen her" and they pooh-poohed my claims that MC Hammer had done a version. Nu-uhh, I'm right (even if it was originally the Chi-lites).
Been short of topics to post on lately, I have been running late for days. No matter what I do I seem to be ever further behind schedule. It does not help that I hover over my trade me listings at every opportunity. Well, I can't entertain, so let the words of the master take you there.

ah yeah, I'm glad I put this tape in,
I'm just gon' cruise down the road,
look at the stars in the sky,
and drift off into the sweet memorys that I have,
of a love that my heart has been searching for,
for so long, and I know somewhere,
If I keep searching, that love I'll find,
the picture grows clearer and clearer,
from the back to the front of my mind,
and like love, a love I know I'll have,
the girl that I want, she'll be mine, she'll be fly, and it'll last,

I see her face and I can't let go,
she's in my dreams and my heart, so let me know,
(have you seen her?)
have you seen her?,
(tell me have you seen her?)
I'm looking for that love,
she's a thought and a vision in my memory,
I haven't met her, but tell me where could she be,
(have you seen her?)
have you seen her?,
(tell me have you seen her?)
I'm looking for that special love,
(love, oh love, love is a feeling that I need)
love is a feeling that the Hammer definetly needs,
(please be mine)
baby be mine,
(I need your love to make it)
I need your love to make it,
so why don't you be mine,
the search is going on,
from coast to coast,
a women for the man, who's propping the most,
(have you seen her?)
have you seen her?,
(tell me have you seen her?)
my heart is beating strong,
this love cannot be wrong,
I need her and I want her, so come on to my home,
(have you seen her?)
have you seen her?,
(tell me have you seen her?)
I'm a keep looking,
at the movies, in my car, on my stero,
at a game of Different World or the Cosby Show,
(have you seen her?)
have you seen her?,
(tell me have you seen her?)
yo veo, tell me what's up,
at the track, at the club, or out buying dub,
if you've seen her, then I'll have her, cause I'm in love,
(have you seen her?)
have you seen her?,
(tell me have you seen her?)
my heart is hurting so bad,
(love, oh love, love is a feeling that I need)
love is a feeling that I know I need,
(please be mine)
be mine baby,
(I need your love to make it)
I need your love to make it,
why don't you be mine,
(baby, be mine)
where could she be?,
at the store around the corner,
or wondering at night,
or chilling with another brother holding the mic,
(have you seen her?)
have you seen her?,
(tell me have you seen her?)
Hammer, you know I'm looking,
calling all my friends all around the place,
Guy, Lavertte, or my homey Rob Base,
(have you seen her?)
have you seen her?,
(tell me have you seen her?)
if you've peeped her out, tell me,
yo, veo on the phone,
Ted, Dre, or Ed Lover,
Fab Five, homeys won't you help a young brother,
(have you seen her?)
have you seen her?,
(tell me have you seen her?)
I got a picture in my mind,
the thought is so clear of the love I need here,
like D-B magic, and why don't you appear,
(have you seen her?)
oh baby, why don't you appear,
(tell me have you seen her?)
I can see yo' face,
I'm seeing her face, again and again,
come knocking at my door, and you know I'll let you in,
(have you seen her?)
have you seen her?,
(tell me have you seen her?)
oh, my sweet love,
searching 'round the world, what more can I say?,
the girl is hard to see like an unseen VJ,
(have you seen her? tell me have you seen her? have you seen her?)

Tha'ssum NASTY lyrics, and don't blame the misspelling on me, I just cut and pasted it.

Auction this day! Auction this night!

Though I was up far too late playing playstation last night I managed to be up early enough to check my sales - 6 people are now watching the fedora, but the bids remain at $5.50. Someone will get a bargain unless we all close our eyes, cross our fingers and shout "I believe in fairies". But not Faries, Wizards and Gifts. Thats horrible, and I always mean to complain to the council about that bloody bubble machine they have going. This isn't Shooters for goodness sakes. All I have to do is come up with a decent sounding skin allergy and I will be away laughing.

Breaking news yesterday was that the Bubble had Burst. Stay tuned for unwanted updates on timeframes, weight and distinguishing features (although I didn't think babies had any). If I get them, so do you. So there.

What a precious and fragile thing life is

Alas, my new friends and I have been torn asunder. They were toenails, and they have been cast into the council rubbish sack. I will always remember our special times together, and laugh like a drain at the nay sayers who said "They're too big, they could not possibly be human toe nails" Let us all draw a lesson from the nails that could, keep following your dreams and you will grow strong and true.
In the mean time, I am wishing that those beautiful bastards out there would bid on my trade me auctions. I am congenitally averse to giving people bargains.

Fine, I will stop the amateur dramatics

I'm still not sure what it is on our couch, but on actually inspecting them properly they seem too large to be nail clippings. The absolute horror of that statement is almost too much, my mind is pulsing. Not even counting the shekels I might get on Trade Me is calming down. No chance of soothing music, I am finally trying to get my speakers and CD player fixed. Next step the broken standard lamp.
Should clean up but the internet is compelling, this is why I had to stop the auctions in the first place.
I am also tempted to play some sweet playstation, but that is pretty sad. The game I am playing is embarrassingly clunky, and slow. I also have that little direction problem so I can't start back into it until the living room is empty. You'd think I'd be more skilled, what with all the careful placing of stuff I do every day, but no...

A conversation

Hey, that's some pretty sexist television we got tonight, well, the stuff that is not just pandering. Campbell Live and his hard hitting surveys of what New Zealanders look up on Google (Rugby and Paris Hilton, bleugh), followed by a sycophantic interview with the creators of Bebo. What, you had so many broadcasting and media companies beating at your door to get a piece of the 40 million viewers? Thats wonderful. I'm sure the tie-in will benefit everyone. Do your kids use Bebo? Finally a sycophantic interview with Dustin Hoffman, doesn't look a day over 60, really.
But I'm so glad you agree with me about Deal or No Deal. I glanced across the room and I noticed you were cringing too. Jeremy Cordett trying to come across educated by torturing an ancient Rome analogy (well, I suppose it was a brutal society. The bevy of 26 postie plus catalogue beauties waving and smiling as they tried to walk in unison towards the camera. And that grotty little upstart who tried to out-matey the show's host. You and I were both appalled, and if I had not beaten you to it I know you would have hit the power switch too. Yes, though you come across tough I think you are really quite sensitive, brittle even. You are layered and 3 dimensional, a rounded personality. Such inanity depresses you also, which is one of the reasons I have valued the moments we've shared. I had some reservations when I first met you, but I'm becoming more sympathetic. Maybe you are making me a better, kinder person too.
Too often we don't express our finer feelings. Well no longer. Right now, in front of my 2 blog readers I'm saying it. Thank-you giant toe nail clipping, thanks for being a friend. I have the feeling you are here to stay so I can look forward to many more special couch times.

Halfway house

I realised yesterday that my flat has turned into a bloody drop-in centre. Got home from work and saw that the back door had been left wide open. Good one guys, you're just lucky I have nothing worth taking. Later on that evening I found a pile of toenail clippings sitting on the couch. It was truely foulsome, but I left them there in a passive aggressive frenzy of sharing the pain. If no-one notices them I am going to start casually sliding the topic into conversation. Oh yes, me and the toenail clippings, we're watching tv together. Its really special. I've never known anyone who is such a good listener. We could talk for hours.
Other option is for the cat to eat them, but I do not think that will happen, she is too busy screeching about nothing in particular.

The empire on which the sun never rises

Trade Me. I remember why I stopped listing items a while ago. It was because I was getting annoyed with people asking silly questions and expecting bargain basement prices so they could sell stuff on at their boutique stores. And being slack about payment. But most of all it was because of the shocking lack of interest my GLORIOUS 1970s gear received. Things are moving slowly at present, much as in every other aspect of my life. Everything is so utterly depressing. All my friends moving away. All 3 of them that is. Living with younger flatmates who are already more confident and able than I ever will be, or perhaps that is the advantage of not yet realising how futile it all is. Undiplomatic as it is, I often wish my parents had been sterilised. How fortunate I am to have been born in an era with unprecedented opportunities to moan. Online, I could vlog, blog or podcast my own special blend of disgruntlement. The jury is out on whether that is any better or worse than using online resources to create wish-fulfilment fiction. I guess before the internet people had moaning hotlines, before that Party lines, and maybe before that they clustered around the radio listening to someone moaning. Lord Haw Haw perhaps. The creative might have tried a few 12 bar blues. Still earlier and they could just libel each other in the paper; what fantastic fun that must have been!
Maybe I need a diversion off-line. One that I can manage even though the early starts I am enduring just compounds my bad moods. So, how about bringing back coded messages in the personals columns in the ODT. The thrill of trying to break the code and get the gossip will liven up my days no end. I may live vicariously because lord knows nothing ever happens to me, except the occasional shouted insult enlivening my walk home. That's usually someone driving by. I can generally hold in my pedestrian rage even in the face of bad Dunedin driving.
Presumably driving in larger cities is of a higher standard than that in Dunedin, so that is one reason to try to get out of here. But then, wouldn't I just be moving to become even more boring and insignificant elsewhere? Is it possible? Could I be more of a depresso hermit than I already am? It's this kind of thought that makes me wish I could be part of a colonising power. Can't make it at home? Go and be superior to another race even while you don't measure up to your own society.

Vroooooooooooom

It all just happened so fast. One minute I was feeding the magazine covers through the glue machine and the next American Hot Rod was making sweet sweet love to the bottom roller. Inseparable. We had to shut down the operations to disentangle the two & I now have to salvage the magazine by making a new cover for it. It was pretty funny, although it made cleaning up a bit more difficult. Yeah, so if you see a rather unglamorous looking Hot Rod on display you know who is responsible.

On the edge of oblivion and all the world is Babylon...

I find that there are some songs I only need to listen to the first few bars of, and I am instantly amused. A little bit more by Dr Hook for instance, and pretty much anything by Wang Chung. Did you get the title reference? Yes, a clever acknowledgement of their party time classic "Everybody Have Fun Tonight (everybody Wang Chung Tonite)". I recall reading a Real Groove article some years ago. Some pompous mutt was reviewing the latest NIN album, the Fragile at that time I suppose. He was talking about how he had created a music video for the tracks in his head. He was mentally playing it as he strutted down K road, in all liklihood a tinny whine emitted from his Ipod headphones as he posed. Can one pose while in motion?
Today as I walked to work listening to Wang Chung I could not but wish that I had facilities to make my own music video for it. I have not done the choreography or anything, but I planned to have a team of dancers in pastel toned shell suits, with particularly pithy lyrics printed on them a la Wham's Wake Me Up (before you go-go) T-shirts.

Hurry up, dammit

I have just listed some stuff on trade me. Not up to my best blurb standard, but I have to try to get rid of some of this crap. There it is, waiting for attention, and no-one has even looked at any of the glorious items. Philistines! Tight fisted pillocks! Idiots! Well, I knew that the public didn't understand already, so I don;t know why I would be surprised by this.

Time to stop fixating, better go and do something else.

Yeah, another brilliant day

Another fairly quiet day and evening, visited people then reached that crisis point, what to do next? Several factors contributed to my decision to disappear. Proposed venue (kareoke bar) and stylish costume changes among them. Lord knows I don't intend to wind up hanging out with people better looking than me all the time, but it always happens. Probably because there are not many people who aren't & they have the same ambition as I do.
So here we get the "Oh but people think you're funny/clever/sop" commments as if that will ever garner as much respect as looks do. I'd rather remove myself from the situation than be ignored, maybe occasionally thrown a pity remark from bystanders. If you can't be fabulous, go home & that goes doubly for people who can't escape their thoughts for long enough to cheerful and funloving.
Fantastic, so I head off with a little therapeutic Laid Back & decide to check out the possibility of moving to the UK to work; there is that skilled worker visa you can apply for...Guess what, turns out that even to an organisation that knows nothing about me, I am an unskilled oaf. What exactly was the point in a qualification or two at university & busting a gut being nice to mongs to get a job? Take a pay cut to improve oneself then find that, sorry, you aren't going to be taught anything worthwhile after all, but we like your enthusiasm for learning. Attempt to clap your hands and miss as you repeat, yay, you're a really hard trier, thats really good (patronising raised note).
No prospects, no sign of a millionaire benefactor, no reason to get out of bed in the morning. This just caps it all off. I'll never be able to leave my low wage job while management can fuck off any time they like. Imagine, covering books for the rest of my life & never actually getting taught what I thought I was being hired to do. So much for being sure to be able to scrape together enough points to get the hell away from this shithole. No, I am destined to be one of those poor bastards who stays in the same small town all their lives while acquaintances jet off to foreign climes then return for lifestyle choices, like to raise their repulsive children.
Knowing my luck I'll end up being the cleaner, wiping sputum, pus and shit all around the marble surfaces, except I am not even qualified to do that. No doubt I would have to enrol in another damn Polytech training course. Imagine a room of people cleaning with prescribed products in the prescribed way, dropping like flies from OOS. Perhaps Europe and the States will have need of my 'Janitorial Magic' tm, and mysteriously put a check box for 50 points for it. Its the same old situation, the usual people are rewarded, given opportunities for being good looking and having type A personalities. Presumably the rest of us are the bulwark of strong dowdy reserved people from which such flaming acheivement is launched. The simple folk who keep the country ticking over, never do anything of note and breed husks of cars in the yard. How fortunate we can all enjoy things like regional rugby and live our lives vicariously. Perhaps religion will feature because there is nothing in existance that makes life worth living, so wheel out the imaginary.
Hang on... don't missionaries and ministers get relaxed entry regulations... Is this the beginning of a brilliant and Macchiavellian scheme?

Divine, the most beautiful woman in the world

Hmmmm

I was sure that there would be some major Christmas events going on in Dunedin, like a Christmas in the Park. It seems I was wrong. Yesterday the civic Christmas tree was ceremonially lit up, and the flying anuses have reappeared along George and Princes streets, but there is no mention of a carols in the park event. Checking out the Coca Cola Christmas in the Park site I see mentions of Auckland and Christchurch extravaganzas. Other centres miss out, such a shame. Perhaps as a nation we have to finally admit to ourselves that we just don't have enough celebrities to sustain the heady festive bunfight. It was ridiculous, a community could guage their relative importance by who was sent down to MC the event. Auckland got Shortland Street actors, Wellington politicians or something, Dunedin got Nick Eynon, several years after his fifteen minutes. Who is he? I hear you cry my little cabbages. Well, I don't know either and I don't care. Both he and the good folk of Dunedin can heave a sigh of relief because he is not coming here.

We do get a Christmas in the Pa though, but I may not be in town, I might be experiencing the many splendours of Alexandra.

The next door neighbours are screaming. See, they are getting frazzled already too.

All you ex-Dunedinites

should be jealous, look what is on offer for New Year's Eve:

Mark Laughton Motors - New Year’s Eve Concert

Dunedin’s New Year’s Eve celebrations are as unique as the city itself and the Dunedin City Council and sponsor Mark Laughton Motors have great plans to once again see the New Year in in style.

Starting at 7pm with a motley crew of family entertainment, face painters and balloon artists, the upper Octagon will host local band Catgut and Steel featuring Anna Bowen and her puppet fiddler. Good quality street theatre, the Community Express Train, along with food stalls, games and activities for children, will ensure continuous entertainment until 9.30pm.

From 9.30, the Oxo Cuban Collective will dazzle the crowds with the ultimate ''All Ages Gig''.

A new stage in the lower Octagon will mean that you can get closer to the action than ever before, and see the performance from almost any angle! Some of the greatest Dunedin talent and rising stars have worked together for months to produce a set that will have everyone dancing in the streets.

This year the Oxo Cubans Collective will expand to take in the exciting talents of the University of Otago’s Contemporary Rock Course led by Graeme Downes (formerly of the Verlaines) and will also feature former Pink Floyd bassist Rob Bruce, who now lives in Dunedin.

Stay for the countdown to mid-night and be rewarded with a spectacular firework display to herald in the new year.

Now what were we saying about musical legacies? Where is Peter Chin in this line-up? How can I escape? And just how long have the Oxo Cubans been a collective?

Just wait 'til I dig out what is on for Dunedin's Christmas in the Park

Just peachy

It's Saturday, and whats on the agenda? Cleaning up the shithole that is the flat. The kitchen is just sumptuous, and don't dwell on the toilet where there has been a terrible case of bad entry angle. Just what I really love on my day off from work, after a really boring & crappy week. Screw human rights, bring back slavery.

Oh no

We made it through the horror that was Movember (largely unscathed at the library), and Rocktober barely blipped onto my radar. But I have just realised, I can't watch TV or listen to the radio from here on in, because I might be subjected to Christmas advertising, or worse still, Christmas songs. Now how will I drown out the voices in my head?

A question for the public

I have been surveying people lately - can anyone think of any songs the band KISS did other than Crazy Nights and I Was Made For Loving You?

So far we have someone suggesting "Shandy" no, I don't know that one either.

Why does anyone care about Kiss then? hmmm? Riddle me that

A link

I love reading notes other people leave in books; the next logical step is reading other people's mail.

Psycho

I was desperate to escape the chemical stench in my flat so I went out to find something to do. The cat first tried to kill me by getting underfoot, as it always does, on the stairs. Stupid animal, if I collapse on top of it it is not going to survive. Then it decided it would be a fun game to follow me as I went to see if anything exciting was going on in the neighbourhood. Well, there were exciting things going on, but I didn't know any of the people in the flats. So I ended up taking the cat for a walk. I think I lost her about Brown street, and as I unfortunately failed to find anything interesting, I bet her home. How sad is that? At least I don't have a pink collar.
Anyway, i wonder if the cat tries to trip me on the stairs because she knows she could eat my carcass for weeks?

Smells

Smells BAAADDDD like a lynx factory exploded in my flat. Not even the Prophet Song is taking my mind off it.

Revelations

Sometimes I wonder about what people tell me in passing - why reveal so much in such seemingly small comments? I wonder if they tell me things because I pose no threat; no matter what happens I am more pathetic than they could ever be, so it is harmless telling me minutiae.
Well, at any rate, I have ended my day with lowered social standing, but much to contemplate.

Wasting time

About 7 minutes until the opening begins. I worked half an hour late and then skulked on through to the newly freed up computers - people do like to leave on time here. I am beginning to wonder if I would have been better just to go home and catch up on sleep, which is really indicative of how boring I am.
But if I do not go to the opening, I will never look at the exhibition at all even though it is in the same building. It's just one of those things, like not visiting people who live around the corner.
It appears the exodus is occuring. I must prepare myself for forced chit chat and the glow of pride I may feel when I recognise one of the supports I made.

Sharing

Sharing workspaces is the devil. I can't stand having to put up with other people's crap, the giant jotter pads that take up most the space, just small enough to leave an uneven surface. The "pamper me" anti rsi crap that also takes up space. The twee ornaments. It makes me very angry, in a different way to how I get angry about my own crap.
Today, for instane, I not only had to remove all that OOS paraphanalia, I had to give up the chair. Evidently no-one gives a flying continental about my impending back problems.
Bah! I should not talk to anyone in the morning, I am never in a good mood.

When I am king

Christmas music will be banned in public places except on the 24th and 25th of December, and that is a major concession. I don't care what you do in the privacy of your own home, but I don't want to be passively killed by your damn Christmas cheer.
Its bad enough having to see the creepy christmas window paintings around the civic centre/ library. I mean, on our front doors Santa and Rudolph are giving each other the glad eye. And they have been doing so since mid November.
Why doesn't the council just cut to the chase and not take the bloody decorations down if they love Christmas so much? That's really put Dunedin on the map.

Gossip folks

The 5th floor where I currently work is abuzz. One of the staff members is due to become a father any day now. Well that sounds stupid, as soon as she is knocked up your a father of a sort, aren't you? So suffice to say the sprog is due. Overdue. Tardy even.
I work in a place dominated by female employees, many of them with children old enough so that they have forgotten just how repulsive babies really are. So you will not be suprised to find that they are voracious in their desire to hear more about the imminent bundle of joy. It's bad enough just overhearing it.
I rather feel sorry for the guy actually, he can't even get a phone call without being harangued, and every morning he must hear "Oh, what, you're here again" variations ad nauseum. I fear one day he might snap and do someone an injury - who could be that patient in the face of such repetitive jocularity?
Clearly, the way to be popular in a workplace is to get baking that family.
Am I buying into the fascination by posting?
Will I begin updates with (as someone I know put it) the bubble has/ has not burst?

Kulcha (not the band)

Just puttin' the word out that there is an opening on the 3rd floor tomorrow. 5.30 I think. I wondered how exclusive it was because there are actual invites and they say RSVP. You will be wondering how I got my grimy cheap hands on one? It comes to me automatically because I work in the bindery. Some of the black things the books are resting upon, they carry my grubby fingerprints. Honestly, the number of marks I leave when taping and book guarding books, I am certain that in the future someone will be able to harvest my DNA and recreate me. Only it will not be like me, because it will not have been formed with the same beautiful and twisted life experiences that make me the dried up shrivelled husk of an individual I am today.

Just keeps rollin' along

In honour of our recent visitation, I bring you Kamahl.



He performed in Dunedin on Tuesday, all the classics including the perennial favourite 'Old Man River'. I particularly like this photo, taken from his official website (riddled with typos), even though he is not wearing his more flamboyant kaftans or nehru jackets. I like this picture because it is of Kamahl and Johnny Farnam.

It's like an Ocker overload.

Quiz master

I have been doing well lately, and I just have to gloat. I have won some sumptuous quiz prizes recently, including chocolates and wine. I hear talk of another quiz tomorrow night. Perhaps I shall go; if I don't win I can always say its about supporting charity; but really, its all about me perpetuating my champagne lifestyle on a thriftee budget. Maybe one day I will graduate to buying raffle tickets even though I don't want silly string or puzzles. Vouchers are appreciated though.

Anyway, time for me to go; duty calls. I shall drivel on more shortly.

You should all be pleased I did not moan about the awful day I had today...aaah a sweet reprieve.

King

King Oath.
See the vespa formation, see how No Doubt and other bands stole it from the ultra cool Australian band with the awesome fringes. Experience the interpretive dance! Break out the black socks and slip 'em on under tan dockers! Take a moment to enjoy the beach volleyball scene - Panoramic! I'm not even going to go into the piggyback riding, add your own damn captions. Suffice to say, isn't it funny how the lead singer always seems to think that they are God's gift. This guy, rather like Adam Levigne from Maroon 5, just can't wait to slip into something a little more scanty.
Moving right along.
Feel the passion and sing along with the chorus, thoughtfully made simple for the masses. All together now!

200 posts calls for HOT GOSSIP & Kenny Everett

Can't you just imagine them all standing on their marked spots, until someone shouts ok guys! Gyrate! Ah, Kenny, RIP

Space 1999

On my viewing schedule for this weekend, the first series of Space 1999. I am fully prepared to be thrilled. As thrilled as I will be by my DVD of Randall and Hopkirk Deceased. I just wish that the library would acquire more of this classic science fiction and well, BBC, material. My knowledge of american tv from the same era is patchy, but I expect they had some great stuff as well.
So Dunedinites, get to it, start writing suggestions. You all want to see:
-Robin of Sherwood/Robin Hood
-The Tomorrow People
-The Persuaders
-The Professionals
-The Avengers
-Space 1999
-Buck Rogers
-Randall and Hopkirk Deceased
-Blake's 7
-Adam Adamant
-Edge of Darkness
and maybe we should get Voyagers! from stateside. If we have to forgo some episodes of the Gilmore Girls, I'm OK with that.

Just in, Justin

A colleague has gone to Auckland to watch Justin Timberlake gyrate on stage. I was compelled to post about it for two reasons: so I could use the word colleague and sound like I was professional, and so I could post this picture.

Grammar nazis unite

On the cover of a Douglas Kennedy book I was bookguarding yesterday:
one of the "most compulsive novels I have read" - this from a book review in a respected paper. Great, an OCD tome.
Clearly society is in decline if that is the praise puff piece that made it to the cover.

You'll always find me next to the snacks at parties

As a result I get stuck in the most hideous conversations. Last night I was at a studio opening. Natually I did not know many people there, but there was someone with an amazing tartan country and western shirt, and ample refreshments. After drifting for an hour or so, happy in my own vacantness I was accosted and introduced to someone I have been avoiding meeting for, well, years. You may feel like you know people because you have seen them around forever, but once the magic of the formal introduction has taken place youare stuck. Whenever they see you they might come up and strike up a conversation.
So I did the polite thing and conversed with them, not wanting to let on too much about myself. Oh no, my life is utterly tedious, in a rather finite tone. They did not get the hint and tried to jolly me along with a "Everyone has something exciting" line, then launched into some discourse about how it is religion or morality that stops people having the exciting lives they might have. Patently ridiculous, especially in a society like New Zealand. How many of you all think about the afterlife when deciding to do or not do something? Its all about social conformity & repercussions. I was delighted when someone else came up and began talking, so I could switch my attentions to eavesdropping on the exciting dramas everyone is making up.
Then I heard the dreaded mention of my name from those vile, vile lips and I had to rush from the building because I could not endure more inanity from someone I instinctively recoil from. Besides, the numbers were thining out and my hovering over the snack bar was becoming more obvious.

CAUTION

Take me anywhere twice

Once to apologise profusely.
I really put my foot in it yesterday, albeit in a kind of amusing way. One of my flatmates had a friend over, and somehow the conversation turned to comics. The guest, apparently, is a comic artist and I made some blisteringly throwaway remark about the awful cartoons in the critic, thinking of the efforts I have seen from a few years back. Before I had finished saying it I thought - oh no, that was stupid, Dunedin is a small place, where would you be published - and sure enough the guest draws cartoons for the critic. I can only be thankful that whatever evil being prompted me to start with that can of worms didn't make me go too far into it.

But I stand by my statement - the old cartoons in the critic were bloody terrible.

So I am currently in the process of rationalising my lapse in manners. I've only got one piece of leverage; said guest, a couple of days ago lavishly slagged of Melissa Joan Hart for having a bung eye. That's my defect dammit, and I take offence for the clan! So consider us even.

And possibly sew my mouth shut, no good ever comes of me talking.

Advertising

I am being affronted by a facebook ad, telling me I can fit those skinny jeans? Um, NO! Especially not if it wants me to wear them with stillettos.

Boom!

I included extra information at the bottom - like the related lyrics. How does Cliff Richard's Mistletoe and Wine relate to this? Unless it is a song we would also like to forget

Yo back up now and give a brother room
The fuse is lit and Im about to go boom
Mercy mercy mercy me
My life is a cage but on stage Im free
Hyped up syched up ready for wilin
Standing in a crowd of girls like an island
I see the one I wanna sic come here cutie
I flip em around and then I work that booty
Work the body work work the body
Slow down girl youre bout to hurt somebody
Oh and yo lets get just one thing clear
Theres only one reason why I came here
Ya really done want me to tig-a-tig-a-tig-a tell ya wassup (go)
Ya really done want me to tig-a-tig-a-tig-a tell ya wassup (go)
Ya really done want me to tig-a-tig-a-tig-a tell ya wassup (go)
I came here tonight to hear the crowd go

Chorus:
Boom! shake-shake-shake the room
Boom! shake-shake-shake the room
Boom! shake-shake-shake the room
Tic-tic-tic-tic boom!

Well yo are yall ready for me yet
(pump it up prince)
Well yo are yall ready for me yet
(pump it up prince)
Well yo are yall ready for me yet
(pump it up prince)
Well here I go here I go here I here I go
Yo
Dance in the aisles when the prince steps to it
The rhyme is a football yall and I went and threw it
Out in the crowd and yo it was a good throw
How do I know? because the crowd went hoooo
In response to the way that I was kicking it
Smooth and individual
Rhymes always original
Like the dr. jekyl man and this is my hyde side
I am the driver and youre on a rap ride
So fellas (yeah)
Are yall wit me (yeah)
I said fellas (yeah)
Are yall wit me (yeah)
Why dont you tell the girls what yall wanna do
Ya wanna ooh-ahh-ahh-ahh-ahh--ooooh
Thats right yo and Im in the flow
So pump up the volume along with the tempo
I want everybody in the house to know
I came here tonight to hear the crowd go

Chorus

Pump it pump it come on now
Repeat 5x

Yeah, come on now

Chorus

Here I go
The the f-f-f-f-fresh p-p-p-prince is who I am
So tell my mother that I never wrote a whack jam
But some times I get n-nervous and start to stutter
And I f-fumble every word for word I utter
So I just try to ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-chill
But it gets worse-a but worse-a but-but-but worse still
I need the c-c-c-crowd to k-k-k-kick into it
They help me calm down and I can get through it
So higher higher
Get ya hands to the ceiling
Let it go yall dont fight the feeling
Mic in a strangle hold sweat pourin
And like jordan yo Im scoring
Yeah thats right yall and I am in the flow
So pump up the volume along with the tempo
Many have died tryin to stop my show
I came here tonight to here the crowd go

Chorus


* Will Smith lyricsFresh Prince of Bel-air
* Just The Two of Us
* Men in Black
* Miami
* Wild Wild West

* related lyrics
Cliff Richard
+ Mistletoe & Wine
* David Guetta
+ Just A Little More Love (Wally Lopez Mix)
* Michael Jackson
+ Heal The World
* Boney M.
+ Brown Girl in The Ring
* Black Crowes
+ Thorn in My Pride
* Wyclef Jean
+ Perfect Gentleman
* Bob The Builder
+ Mambo no 5

Affirmation is good

you post the most redundant little thing, and there is a triumphant message "your post was successful!" Well, thanks very much.
I fought my way through the flames and rescued the cooking - perfectly done, I was possibly communing with the yam hive mind.
When it's sunny I usually feel like I must achieve lots of things; nice day, light, could go places. Instead I was working & in a totally vitriolic mood, a distressingly common combo lately. Resurfacing on facebook does not improve my frame of mind...damn photogenic people & their fantabulous lives. All going places, been lots of places, even down to the ethnicity guide; bloody exotic flowers listing every skerrick of international blood that they might have, unto the 72nd generation. Its terribly embarrassing to say I'm a boring old New Zealander. I can't even get into that bullshit "I have Irish ancestry, and English, and Scottish - who'd of thought, they all argued so much" schtick... there is something hideous about turning oneself into a veritable U.N. or at least commonwealth; where presumably ones ancesters passed the peace pipe and staged a love-in. How having multicultural relations garners one such credibility I don't know; yay you, you done good. I feel the mellow sun of Greece just looking at the pallor of your 64th Athenian skin. Oh! Your great great uncle Monty once went on a hunting trip and he was carried by natives? No wonder you have such natural rhythm. I expect you are an excellent shot too.
Of course, there is the revulsion of the hundreds of friends people seem to have on facebook. I almost begin to feel unpopular, couldn't possibly be any problem with my personality...I'm just exclusive. I'm also a reductionist, and I diminish where other people talk things up. I'm not good at mutual admiration societies either.
Looking into the crystal ball, I see an amazing future of crap for myself, with these marketable skills.
I book guarded a book on karma today, I wonder what I did in a past life?
Much as I would like to say I was Aleister Crowley my personality and the 1000 or so other claimants make that one unlikely. How about Keith Richards? He might as well be already dead.

Apathy rul

Its been a pretty warm day here in Dunedin, well warm by our standards. So warm that I even thought about changing to a summe coat, and as I heaved myself up the hill, no coat at all. I quickly dismissed that idea as being indecent. People like myself ought to stay shrouded.
Before I get really launched into a maundering story I suppose I should check on the vegetables I am roasting downstairs. Don't cry too much if I incinerate the house,you'll know I brought the flames upon myself.

Puff pieces and tragedy

I was reading the back of a biography on Elizabeth I today, and one unfortunate writer said something like "a touching portrait that is unforgettable and very touching". Thats some hard hitting journalism right there, thanks A.L.Rowse.

The tragedy?

Robert Jordan, cut down, hesitate to say in his prime though

Cuts both ways, chop suey etc etc

The important thing to remember when using the mighty electric guillotine is that, while you are never able to chop your fingers off, you are able to crush them. It happened once apparently, only the bindery manager described it as more of an "explosion". Watch out for some messy typing in the future then.

Custodial Services

Its been a while since I posted, work, school work and other forms of domestic servitude have been getting me down. Little of interest happens to me, and I am not always energetic enough to make stuff up. I have had a whole weekend off, to catch up on things like posting here, and I have done pretty much nothing, except buy christas presents (scary down town) and throw out some stuff, but not nearly enough.
So, maybe everyone should e-mail their tales of adventure and life; I'll escape my subsitance vicariously.

Oh, actually, I threw a jug of water at the cat, that was funny.

Lazy sunday afternoon

There's something about sunny afternoons in Dunedin. It doesn't matter what the actual temperature is, but if there is there merest hint of sun everyone will be out pretending to sunbathe in their backyards or on their rooves, listening to music. Our neighbours had a real smorgasboard. One was rocking the Linkin Park, another blaring Queen, and so on. Down town I noticed a flat full of students drinking beer on the roof and proudly playing The Gambler. They presumably thought this was cool and ironic - I guess you have to let people figure out for themselves how hackneyed it is. Sometimes the stuff they are playing ironically is goo too - you hear things you might not have thought of in years. Its just terribly aging to think that they are listening to it and laughing in the way you would listen to your parents music and think 'DAGGY'.
How I have longed to use that term.
So it is a nice day out there and the good folks are out there washing their cars. I am inside procrastinating about my assignment instead. I've done my dash outside, I just about overheated walking home in the hat and coat I was wearing. Sun burn you understand. Maybe one day I will really freak people out and wear clothes that show snippets of my pasty white skin. Or maybe not, I have my pride.

Lets do the time warp again

---

Imagine this is me walking down the magical hallway of time distortion. In mummy wrappings.

---

Its taken grit and determination, but I have actually done some work on my assignment this evening. I was pretty damn pissed off to find that I can make it up on the computer and just e-mail it, nooo, I have to make a physical scrapbook. Which really makes all my scanning redundant unless I can get a colour printer somewhere. Perfect end to a rather bad day really. It was destined to be crap though; I knew that as soon as I left for work five minutes earlier than yesterday...but arrived at the same late time as the day before. You better believe I was pissed off. From then on in it was stuff up after stuff up. Its enough to make one want to throw it all in, but then again I see equivalent incompetancy on a daily basis & those people don't kill themselves, so maybe its all relative.
Anyway I just had to point out to everyone that something strange was going on with the time around my house, over and above the missing fifteen minutes in my room. And the 5 hours we've gained by the oven clock.
...hang on, the airforce is trying to get me to join, but the jokes on them, especially if they set me to signalling down jets. I'd get the perspective wrong with my bung eye kicking back, maxing relaxing or just chilling. Kicking it like Tae Bo even. Keeping people wondering. I don't know what part of the armed forces I would join if I were forced to, but I do know that my bar brawling signiture move would be creeping up on people and smashing glass bottles over their head.

Scanning for gold

I have been trying to work on my assignment, so I have scanned a lot of examples of book design and typography. Well not that many, it takes a while to scan & there is always the pesky shadow caused by the spine.
Anyway, I am fielding suggestions, yet again, if anyone has any amazing examples of good or bad book layout.

i could never get into scrapbooking as a hobby, as soon as I set my hand to a picture the inverse midas touch hits.

Like I said, I'd rather stick my head in the sand

I have been thinking of romance novel ideas, but this image dried them up in short order. Image with thanks to Kura, fellow afficionado of the overblown romance cover.

RN to post! to post!

I'd rather stick my head in the sand

Anyone read this book?






Anne Enright has been named the winner of 2007 Man Booker Prize for her novel The Gathering a bleak story of a dysfunctional Irish family.

Very good book I'm sure, but the same thing that prevents me from watching drama stops me from reading it. I just don't want to know about any more misery, thanks. All my pity is lavished on myself.

Besides, I can't take the book seriously now that I have seen Master Goblin created an important, nay, seminal list featuring it.

I do wonder why the hell people insist on putting their reviews and lists up on Amazon. More often than not they are less use than a cats flux, and an excuse to grandstand. Get a blog why don't you? And if they are good reviews the reviewer should be paid. Don't get me started on those monkeys who make advertisements for corporations as an "in" to a design career, or the spaniels who provide free entertainment on youtube (so companies don't even have to provide the material to the viewers, how cheap is that)?


Yes yes yes, I am sure I am oversimplifying the matter, but I simply must vent after a day of keeping my less pleasant opinions to myself.

Discharge/discourse

I have been vascillating between the lounge downstairs and my room. Misleading statement that, it makes it sound like we have a downstairs lounge, from which the rumpus room is annexed, and the upstairs lounge etc etc. Anyway, I left the tv going because I was confident I would not become entangled with the internet. I just ducked down there again to hear a conversation on Good Morning about discharges. They always tackle the glamour phisiological problems don't they?
Anyway, I was actually going to remark on something I noticed a few weeks ago. I don't know if the phenomena is seasonal or related to the world cup. As I was traipsing through Robin Hood park, I noticed that the rugby goal posts have been taken down. Was this a sign of the utter despair felt around the country? Or part of a conspiricy to further weaken our game play from a grass roots level? I like to imagine the groundskeeper heading out after the match with France, tears streaming down his face, ramming the posts with the ride on lawnmower until they were broken, all the while screaming something about betrayal.

A new order of kitchen responsibilities

What a month of whinging and moaning I have had. All I can say, people - it's tough to be passive aggressive. I try so hard to state what I want, why and all this in a reasonable manner, but it winds up me backpeddling and initial demands backtrack to whimpering miniscule request with all the compromise on my part. Kitchen politics for instance. I start out with the self righteous, "I should not have to clean other people's nutricious snack and lunch dishes when I don't make multi pot efforts during the day saving explosive cooking for dinners". Then I think, well, I have left a bit of a mess in the lounge because all my stuff is exploding out of my too small room. Then I revert to "But when I bake or make non-communal things I clean my own mess up" which flips to wondering if I have maybe left something inadvertantly, a bad transgression if I am making something with dairy products (I have vegan flatmates).
Anyway, yesterday I had done a load of dishes in the ten minutes before work. I find out today that this was noted, but that it is expected that people do ALL the dishes when they do some. I have never noticed this occurring, unless the dishes all get done and then more appear immediately afterwards. Usually not rinsed or stacked neatly. And lets not begin to talk about the hair clippings on the bench.
Come to think of it, I never do all the dishes. I have my things I refuse to do - cups with teabags in them, pots with burnt stuff on them (unless I did the flambe)... and increasingly pots and pans from baroque creations throughout the day. I need a rule of thumb - one pot, non viscous material, will clean. 2 pots with creamy substance - definitely not. Its rather like my feeling about sick days though; I feel disadvantaged by not having taken sick days when other people have many paid days off. In the case of the dishes - here we have this marvellous policy whereby flatmates do dishes even if they were lunch dishes, or private cook ups - and I am not taking full advantage of it.
I bet my lunch dishes would not get done.
So whats a passive agressive person to do? Suck it up and then post about it, obviously.

Once, twice three times a...

Once again I am in a foul mood, as I have been inconvenienced for the third time the past week or so. I do not like being asked to turn up places when the person who requests my attendance does not have the courtesty to show up on time, or at all. Do they think I enjoy rushing places after work? Or that I don't have other things that I could be doing? What really pisses me off is that I cancelled other activities on all the occasions only to be stood up. It really shows a lack of respect - especially when the culprits can bestir themselves to meet other, 'important' people on time. Sor-reee doesn't cut it.

How very degrading it is too.

Hooray and up she rises

Its a scary thought, but as of next week I will have to be up and functioning before 8.30 am. I am not happy at the propspect, which just goes to show I probably need the harsh discipline and cold water of a sailor's life to whip me into shape.

Heart and Soul pt IV

Remember kids, the higher the hair, the closer to god.

I could keep posting these indefinitely, but I will not be reduced to live or anime versions. So that wraps up todays session. Perhaps tomorrow Heart of Soul songs?

Heart and Soul pt III

The 80's revival starts here!
I have to remark, hair styling technology was at its zenith in 1987. The singers hair (and earrings) is amazing.

Heart and Soul pt II

I bet you thought it was going to be T'pau. Don't worry, thats coming up. I really enjoy the intensity of the keyboard mini-solo in this one. Bom bom bom bom! A special shout out to the drummer in the On the Mat costume. Love it.

Heart and Soul

Some nice hair, nice dancing, nice bum chin...its the first in my new series of cliched song titles! If I were that bepermed lady, I would not be looking so happy.

Sucked back into the internet ghetto

It used to be ILE back in the day, but I broke the cycle. Only, now I wonder if the cycle will begin again - this blog, a fresh new identity on Kiwiblogblog and an empty piece of blog real estate there. When will it all end?

My wordpress name is pretty cool, I wish I had signed up for trade me using it.

This is my last day at lending services. Very quiet, where is everybody? Oh well, now I can think about the NIN song that I just got stuck in my head.

THIS IS OUTRAGEOUS...OUTRAGEOUSLY HILARIOUS

The Tutts

are playing at Arc tonight, along with Motorcade. I am conspiciously, or unconspiciously absent. Who would I see out - the same people, or maybe new people being feted by the new crowds there. Presumably everyone has this sense of dissociation; some might call it teen angst. How pathetic to have never gotten past the Megadeth t-shirt clutching "Its just me and my cheesy poof & no-one understands my tortured soul" phase. Clearly I need to move onto some more positive music, like the exuberance and joie de vivre of Def Leppard at their most overproduced.

Anyway I have been doing schoolwork. I also went out for dinner, a bewdiful celebration of my time in Lending Services. I will miss the people I have been working with, and eventually the I will miss the interaction with the public I guess. Just like I almost miss the weirdos that came into the video store. Good stories you see. I will probably have to get creative now, make stuff up. Steal other people's party pieces. Don't be suprised if you hear me spieling your favourite narrative - with a couple of names shifted & maybe a location transposition to Oamaru.

Or perhaps on the other side, in the palm groves, I will be inspired by the bedouin tribes and pull an E.M.Hull. The dizzying heights of the 5th floor may give me scandal such as I have never dreamed of, that has not already been thoroughly raked over by the resident staff mongers. If management had any concern for staff morale they would employ single men to keep the workers happy in their speculation, or their dalliance. None of us are really like librarians, of course, not all staid & some are really really hip, y'know? Fun fun fun all the time! Just like everyone I know who is in a fairly sedate job. I guess no-one wants to admit to the world that they are actually pretty boring, and no-one has to while there are conversations about men to be had. MMmmm MMMmmmmm can't wait to get me some of that sweet essentialist dialogue, generalisations here I come. The only thing more vomit inducing are the people who experience something and become the voice of authority on that subject immediately. Usually on the matter of drug use, vice, and the workings of the male mind & then we are all subjected to stories ad nauseum casting the teller in the light of expert and link to the underworld/ reincarnation of Kinsey. By implication the rest of us are novices, acolytes at the knee of brilliance. I hate being told things I already know.

But then I get to wondering - do men have these silly conversations too? I suddenly understand the impulse that brought us the crossdressing school comedies in the 80, where (insert gender ambiguous name here) would accently be enrolled as a boy/girl, become best friends with person of opposite gender who is unware of the switcheroo, and eventually reveal their true identity in a stenchdraft of hormones. So so very bad, but would't you just love to be a fly on the wall. I'd rather be a freemason though.

Hell, I'm having a tantrum. I hate everything. I even hate being complimented, it makes me suspicious. What a nasty piece of work I must be.

Ever get the feeling you've been used?

Lately I have had a few interactions which have made me wonder about the motives of the people I am talking with. The conversations can be simultaneously "pleasant" and ostensibly good natured, but I get the impression that the other person is getting their jollies at my expence. I am possibly being paranoid, and maybe they expect me to be as amused as they evidently are, but its all very disconcerting. No, I don't particularly like some of the people you are so keen for me to catch up with, no I do not enjoy the sarcasm, and yes I'm thrilled for you that you are in such demand. Can we talk about some Hollywood trivia now? I'm uncomfortable being the foil for your socially ept & vivacious persona.
I suppose dealing with it on a regular basis might provide the impetus I need to get out of Dunedin

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH

Stinky the cat was howling outside my room again this morning. Not a nice way to wake up, her screaming.

Jihad...of terror!

Outside the cat is screaming blue murder and throwing her dense, furry body at my bedroom door. I don't know what she wants, or why she is pestering me. Some kind of abandonment complex I suppose.
I am celebrating her stupidity in impact font, reminiscent of the tedious dull thud of her against the door. Impact, so often used to make photos into instant posters, is also appropriate as the (un)official caturday font.
I am mixing up the font colours for the hell of it, because I thought that my blog was looking a bit tasteful.
My mastery would be complete if I knew how to specify the leading of a body of text
So, in the name of Dunedin Pooh Bum brown please send your solutions to me, so I can make more noxious posts like this one. It will distract me from looking up more pictures from Dune.

Me and the cat, we're waiting

I have the horrible feeling that this is going to look horrendous.

No assignments today

I have other plans. Plans that involve David McCallum and Joanna Lumley. Maybe some popcorn. A cup of tea perhaps. A rush of nostalgia and molecular bonding with the couch. Envy me O public, for I shall soon be watching a classic. Can you guess it?

All irregularities will be handled by the forces controlling each dimension. Transuranic, heavy elements may not be used where there is life. Medium atomic weights are available: Gold, Lead, Copper, Jet, Diamond, Radium, Sapphire, Silver and Steel.

Sapphire and Steel have been assigned.

If I could embed sound I would have something suitably mystical in the background of this post. You"ll just have to use your imaginations, probably honed by 70's and 80's science fiction like mine.

Eyes burning!

Its been too long since I really shocked the public with a nice juicy image & lo somethingawful.com provided. Thank them, not me, for resurrecting the companion photo to Kyle Maclachlan. David Lynch, you are a sick sick man.

How do you say obsessive in Klingon?

Playstation

So today I was supposed to be doing assignments - hey, there is still an hour and a half of monday left, something might get done - but it has been spent at the twin altars of housekeeping and playstation. I am currently playing a game called Champions of Norrath or something equally testosterone, sci fi and manly sounding. You just know it is loosely based on Dungeons and Dragons. I've run into a few difficulties at the moment as the playstation or the disc has stopped working. There are compatibility issues and all round refusals to load. Who knows, maybe the television is staging an intervention. I'm glad I got to have the pleasure of killing the giant ant AND the giant spider though. I don't feel so bad about missing the rest of the game. I don't even mind the characters constant whinging "not enough mana" because he sounds like an exasperated Richard E. Grant, and is called Schultz.
I find it a little disturbing that I just talked about mana. Simultaneously geeky, and honouring Paul Holmes.

The neighbours child is crying

And all I can think is, stop snivelling or I'll give you something to snivel about. Harsh.

Just what I like to do on my day off

Dishes.
I now regret that we did not make the investment in some luxe dishwash like Palmolive, I could have been soaking in it, and smelt all feminine and purty. Isn't palmolive a funny brand name, the motive must have been to put as many natural words together as possible. Try to have them vaguely biblical, and with connotations of sunshine and pina coladas. Or ouzo. Doing the dishes in a bikini and some pink rubber gloves while a bunch of Adoni? Adonises? look on, peeling the grapes in anticipation of your joining them poolside on the banana loungers.
Sunlight, on the other hand, if they tried to capture tropical feel, failed. Its more of a domestic kind of branding, watery light through panes of semidetached villas, or appartments. Chintzy curtains are called for, and some scrubby looking flowers in window boxes.

Raabing one out

Meh

I have been silent for an uncharacterstically long period of time. What can I say? I got troubles. Computer troubles, life troubles, wardrobe troubles, work troubles, school troubles. Because I know you Fleetwood Mac fans are waiting for this... I think I'm in trouble. doo doo de doo doo doo doo wah wah wah wah. I also have difficulties actually typing anything without lapsing into lyrics.
Anyway, computer troubles - my trusty old pack pony computer has officially died. It no longer recognises that it has a hard drive at all, instead of just not recognising that it has an "o" key. This is a pity, because it was the computer I used to download delicious quantities of the music I was ashamed to purchase, lend or borrow from the library. Lucky I regularly leeched everything from it, but a shame nonetheless. Now I will have to rethink my music aquisition strategy.
Life troubles. Life is boring and monotonous and then you die alone. Ian Wishart exists and is published. I am in Dunedin, surrounded by people who think that they are shit hot & swan through life. You know, the individuals who can confidently expect jobs, romance and excitement because everyone thinks they are attractive. The kind of cunts who will say things like "but people think you're (funny, interesting, nice, similar mundane adjective)" when confronted with their privileged position in society. They completely sidestep the issue - ordinary people are not even entitled to have expectations, let alone have them rebuffed. There's a kind of casual cruelty in their passing mentions of successes and acclaim; here's a whole world of positive reinforcement, thrills and happiness - and you can't have it you fat ugly drab.
What pisses me off the most is when they account themselves among the rest of society - oh, but I'm so unattractive, and I had working class parents. I tell ya, I can't wait until old age ravages 'em all. Age, the great leveller. Everyone looks the same when they are old, men and women.
Work troubles. I have to get up in the morning. But really, at least they pay me, even if I am not being taught anything new and exciting & am terminally bored.
School troubles. It is there, I do the work and I don't see the point. I don't think I am stupid, but it is like I am constitutionally incapable of getting a mark that reflects my deistic nature. Of course I won't draw any conclusions from that. Still, I am hoping for a god from the machine for my typesetting assignment. Even the subject will be making you all quiver with excitement. Believe me, the page spreads are even better than you could dream of.
At this point I suppose there should be some kind of blessing counting. I've got one - that man who was wearing three stripers at the Crown last night. He was totally peachy. Danced like Salome too.

Shooting fish

So Britney has lost custody of the kids. To K.Fed. Disturbing. Too easy to make jokes. So I will just fervently hope he does not start them on music careers as a way of bonding.



Apropos of misguided career choices, Michael Murphy's dad should have taken him on more accountant work experience days. We don't want him squandering any more celluloid & if he had a viable career option other than entertainment, he might stop.

Mmm mmm mmm thas jus' crayzee

BBC is a good source of entertainment when I am trying to ignore filthy episodes of TV from that excrement peddler, that siphilitic lesion, that panderer to the LCD Joss Whedon. Here's a tip Joss, circumlocution and twee humour get really tired to anyone who is not part of your target market of subnormals.
Actually, I guess I know some normal people who like the shows, but I still don't get it. Anyway. Bad religion, cougar hunting, and creepy stone heads all featured in my news fix. Thanks Beeb.

Queering the pitch, up the khyber, Jack Palancing

When looking up the phrase My cup runneth over I wound up at a dictionary of idiom. Naturally I started browsing, because otherwise I would have to do something useful. Eventually I wound up at:

A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush

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It isn't until the 19th century that we find the phrase in its currently used form. The earliest I've located is in a US newspaper The Huron Reflector, from January 1833:

But few persons, so prone are we to grasp at the shadow at the expense of the substance, bear in mind the good old adage, 'A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.'

This refers to the phrase as old. How long the current version predates 1833 isn't clear, but variations of the phrase have been known for centuries. The earliest English version of the proverb is from the Bible and was translated into English in Wycliffe's version in 1382, although Latin texts have it from the 13th century:

Ecclesiastes IX - A living dog is better than a dead lion.

Alternatives that explicitly mention birds in hand come later. The earliest of those is in Hugh Rhodes' The boke of nurture or schoole of good maners, circa 1530:

A byrd in hand - is worth ten flye at large.

John Heywood, the 16th century collector of proverbs, recorded another version in his ambitiously titled A dialogue conteinyng the nomber in effect of all the prouerbes in the Englishe tongue, 1546:

Better one byrde in hande than ten in the wood.

The Bird in Hand was adopted as a pub name in the UK in the Middle Ages and there are still many pubs of that name there. This refers back to mediaeval falconry where a bird in the hand (the falcon) was certainly worth more than two in the bush (the prey).

The term bird in hand must have been known in the USA by 1734, as that is the date when a small town in Pennsylvania was founded with that name.

---

Aside from concerns about inflation - how come a bird in the hand is worth only one in the bush now? It also reminded me of a wag's remark - One in the hand is worth two in Kate Bush. Shame on them.

Did you feel that too?

Last night we experienced an earthquake, which I promptly forgot about until it was mentioned to me this afternoon. There was a small tsunami as well, evidently, but it obviously did not hit us. Its good to know that the warning networks are in place and we will all be given ample notice in the event of an international superdisaster. I'm horrified to think I may be left behind in the looting that would ensue.
The other thing I noticed today was a distressing misuse of runneth. As in the stupid blackboard outside Etrusco. Feeling the pinch? Let your cup runneth over which makes no sense to me, because I always regarded runneth and -eth as an oldfashioned substitution for the suffix s, used only for third person singular conjugations of verbs. And only on special ye olde occasions at that. Does let your cup runneth over qualify for that? Sure, the cup does the runneth, but you let it. Or are they saying let in the "I'm putting this out to the universe sense"? These are some tough questions but I am still unhappy about the phrase.
Besides, runneth is not something you just let happen and definitely not at a restaurant. Basically the only phrase in which the word sounds natural is that old saw "my cup runneth over". Restaurants re not known for overfilling vessels and it would be pretty stupid to just keep pouring. Overabundance is messy, and frequently sticky and unpleasant.
I looked it up in a dicionary and I was pleased to see the definition. It had a real mechanical sound to it, and I heard a mechanical voicebox reading it in my mind. I have more than enough for my needs. Oh fine I'll admit it. I heard Stephen Hawking saying it.
Then I got frustrated, because I heard a pop song the other day with a ridiculous misuse of the word thee and now I can't remember what it was. It was on C4, so I've got a limited playlist to choose from. Reader submissions required so I can get medieval on the bad grammar perps.

10 minutes to go

And I am wasting my time (and yours) with a count down.
FREEDOM! The Weekend is upon me!

Brushes with celebrity

Someone who looks a little like Rolf Harris just walked past me in the library.
I feel gratitude to him, for livening up an interminable afternoon

Hasselhoff

I may be reaching saturation point for David Hasselhoff today. First I received a Knight Rider annual as a belated birthday present, and then I read this snippet about his career plans. I am particularly distressed by the thought that his daughters may be turned into pop stars also. Well, I guess we'll see how well they do here and in the states, but they will undoubtedly be a smash in Germany.
Incidentally, I just have to remark upon the kind of artists that make it big in New Zealand, often before making it in other parts of the world. Ben Harper, Jack Johnson, that Rocco De Luca chap. Stoner surfie music seems to get us every time, especially when it is really really boring. For Shame! We should not be encouraging rugbyhead date rapists to strum their guitars. Pah!
Lucky, time to move. Moving will ensure that I do not type myself into a still bigger hole.

Carnivale

I always feel a deep sense of emptiness when I finish watching a good TV series, and I have just finished the second season of Carnivale. I will always feel affection for that show, if only because I can titter every time I say managament referring to the powers taht be at the library. The other show I can say that about is Little Britain - which made returning copies of the magazine "The Lady" a joy.

Done gone rapture

There's something strange going on in town today - no-one has come into the library at all. Whenever there is a marked lack of people about I assume that armageddon is occuring, the chosen have been beamed up by Jesus and I await the coming of the antichrist.

Show yourself foul being!

Can't wait for the whore of Babylon, I bet it is either Britney Spears or Lindsay Lohan, with Fergie in the running too.

Gunther! Samantha! OMG!

I first discovered Gunther when searching for Fabio tracks online. Along with Randy Savage they have produced some pretty damn titanic bad albums. You can read about them here. Alternately you can experience a double whammy. Gunther and Samantha Fox. Together, in one ridiculously over sexed video.
While I was looking for it, I found a frightening review. I like to think it refers to Fabio the male model, but even if it does not the use of the genre "Epic Metal" pleases me greatly.



Look at them all. Complete Eurotrash with fiddler moustache and mullet. Special mention goes to the dog pile of people with severe lace chafing.

I'm getting ahead of myself.

This is all topsy turvey - but I want post number 150 to be REALLY REALLY special. So stay tuned for an update on this one
************************************************************************************
I think I made 150 ROOLLY SPECIAL so I can rest proud in the knowledge of a job well done. What a shame it was to the detriment of other chores that needed doing - school work, *ahem* business correspondence and catching up on general email business. I'm also trying to upload a whole lot of CDs so I don't need to own them any more. By hook or by crook I am determined to evacuate more than one pathway through my room. Its going slowly, but not as slowly as it was this afternoon when my computer was trying to explain to me that I did not have a disk drive at all.
But anyway, I am currently agonising over the right way to open a formal letter, and close it without sounding obsequious or downright dull. Who's got nifty solutions? I know damn well you're all a lot more professional than I am, so I shall be on tenterhooks until I get an influx of email.
What a shame these letters aren't speeches, in which case I could just write something about Jesus, God and America and perhaps the bald eagle to cover all my bases.

I think we used to have a Samantha Fox poster from an RTR magazine

Here's something to educate the young 'uns anyway.

A slightly delayed reaction

Bu I finally got to open a birthday present today. You will all be jealous. Well, you ought to be.





















Deep Breath...

Oh, those teenagers

I had made a solemn vow to myself that I would try to be out of public duties at the library by the time the teen section moved up to the AV floor. In spite of all my moaning and whinging about the bad interview I've done it! Hoorah! Goodbye public! Goodbye quibbles over extended loan charges! Goodbye unfortunate reminders of my uncouth accent in the guise of saucy foreigners! Goodbye triumphal return stats & goodbye to a very nice bunch of people (though we will still be in the same building). Goodbye weirdo public...and I'll miss you most of all flasher.

Children of the Stones is getting pretty exciting now

and I am waiting for the Dunedin villagers to gather round my flat and start singing in unusual discordant harmonies, a song about choosing a candidate for the Cargill Ward. It would take some pretty heavy duty supernatural intervention to convince me to vote for any of the candidates I have seen thus far.

Well, that elicited a reaction

I was reinforcing and mending a whole load of large print westerns today. Often readers will leave their mark on the book, intials, circling the fifth letter on the first paragraph of the first page, a special symbol. Usually fairly benign, even if misguided: we get multiple copies of the same book, and editions that may have differing covers and titles depending on country of origin.
Sometimes a book will inspire a special reaction. Like the Rolling Stone magazine cover of Billy-Joe Armstrong on which someone scrawled "Sexy Biotch". Today, leafing through the books I found someone had been roused by "Black Jo of the Pecos" by Jeff Blaine. The reaction was swift and negative. Pure Rubbish. Don't bother reading it.
I had to rip out and replace the page, which is now housed in the Bindery Annals.

Going through the motions

Its nice to see Britney Spears [Shitney Smears] is back on the conversation agenda; so all those people getting married out there, make sure her name is at the top of the topics list on the reverse of the table name cards. I have not seen her new video, but it was described to me in lurid detail with particular reference to her trashy bikini outfit, and dancing. I believe the phrase "Lazily gyrating" was used, which I think is just brilliant. I immediately thought of her half heartedly swingig on a pole in front of a bored audience, while carrying out a conversation on post dance activities with a friend, off stage. "Yeah, I'll just finish up here and we can pick up 3 crates of bacardi breezers and maybe some archer's aqua schnapps. I really like the citris one, it makes my spew really invigorating and Sean Preston thinks it tickles.
I perused some sites with opinion on Britney's new look, but was sidetracked by the names of people posting. I wish I'd thought of calling myself Piglet Baldwin, though I would never make the typo or the statement "Koncking me out with those American thighs".
I suppose if I thought I looked good I'd dress as trashily as Britney, but thats another post entirely.
So Britney's dance was lacklustre, without the joie de vivre evident in say, Madonna humping her boom box. Cursory, bored, out of it?
I too was going through the motions today, but I was not lazily gyrating. You better believe that if I were gyrating it would be with frenetic enthusiasm. No, I had a job interview. I had a job interview, being interviewed by people who have interviewed me about five times before, and never given me a job. I get to wondering what the point is, and what is wrong with me but I will withhold the sustained bitch session until I know I definitely did not get the job.