Give Roger a hug

Which might refer to the dashing Roger Moore - as in the above photo, but really I mean let's all celebrate the return of my computer (Roger) and its joyous reuniting with the external hard drive (Moore).
Looks like it will be another night of staying up too late, oh to have some self restraint and be a morning person.

What price dignity?

The thing about shoe gazing when you walk along the street is that you often notice unpleasantness. Like the human? turd I saw on Moray Place the other week, although you would notice it anyway, it smelt horrendous. The flip side of this is that you sometimes see good stuff. Then you get the tension, do I pick the good item up and look like a vagrant? Or do I walk on by and risk missing out on something real special? And if the good thing is money, how little should you be willing to stoop for? Does it depend on business of the street? If you are likely to be seen by anyone you know? Or does the fiscal incentive outweigh all other concerns?
I'm sad to say, I have realised it is all about the money for me. I was compelled to stop at the side of George Street, in the middle of town, to pick up 10c. Pathetic. But then the next day I felt like it all was panning out. I was walking up Tennyson street, shuffling and staring at the ground as I usually do & lo! A crisp $20 begging to go towards paying for the DVD splurge of the other day. Or the DVD splurge of today (damn you trade me) $10 for the second Persuaders set. I hope Roger Moore will be wearing lots of knitwear, getting back to his modelling roots.
So anyway, we have established my dignity costs approximately 10c if anyone is interested.

Outmoded adjectives

I stayed up too late last night, I was watching ancient television series again. The premise for the episode I was watching was rather funny: a woman was hypnotised, and told to believe she was in love with the main character on the show. Her emotions and pulse were registered and transmitted by a silver locket bestowed upon her by the nefarious enemies of our hero. Of course the hapless woman was told that it came from her "love interest".
Anyway, the way the woman was told she was attracted to the hero was quite hilarious. "Look at this picture. Isn't he handsome?" and the kicker for me - "isn't he MANLY?".
How long has it been since anyone was able to say that word with a straight face? It's so meaningless isn't it? Look at the table, isn't it table like? See the way it is rectangular and has four legs (anything other than that design would be effete). Manly is right up there with calling an action "awefully white of you...old chap". I'm not even sure what characteristics we can glean from it? Resolution? Intelligence? Integrity? Y Chromosome?
Never mind, worked well enough on the character on the show.

I love expanding my word power

When 70s parties happen

evidently people stand around like they are modelling.
Here is a picture from the series UFO, purchased in a weak moment today. Can't wait to see that episode.

Overheard in Dunedin II

A little back story. I walked into the Salvation Army op shop on Princes Street, planning to get me a few good old fashioned bargains, and if I should happen to profit from them on trade me who's to speak of it again? I entered to overhear some of the most deliciously trashy conversations I have heard in a long time. Some woman trying to organise a bicyle because she's lost her license for 6 months, a heated chat about a complaint lodged against one of the staff...well, I was entranced. And then, like manna from heaven, a beautiful argument between staff members. One of whom, a tired and murky looking man, was being admonished by a particularly shrewish woman. "Why did you go out there, I told you to stay here!" "But I was picking up the donations, so no-one would..." "I don't care, you were supposed to stay here and mind the counter. I expect to come back and find you sparkling!"
I'd never seen anyone less likely to sparkle, even under less trying circumstances.

Trouble in the love nest

A shattering stroke of violence disrupted my flat today, murder. Murder most foul. If I were that way inclined I would say murder most fowl, but that might cheepen the post. Our beautiful blue carpet has been marred, one of the cats caught a bird and splayed feathers all down the hallway and through the lounge. Not quite so lovely, eh?
Naturally both animals looked innocent, which lends me to believe they are both guilty as sin about something or other, even if not the bird. And if it were one of them, what was the bird? A sparrow perhaps? It was hard to tell from the feathers - which were rather worse for the wear. How did the cat enter the building, did someone let it in especially? Was it even one of ours? They are pretty lazy, did they just invite friends over for a pot luck? I would not put it past them.

Home time

Really don't want to go, flat is totally foul. Can only imagine what horrendousness will ensue with the flat warming, bunch of people adulating my flatmates no doubt. Everyone is all just so bloody marvellous, while my life is running a spectrum of shades of shit. Its awful, I have been bought up on images of swinging parties from 70s and 80s tv, as well as those diet commercials where suddenly the person has new outfit that they fill to admiration, a lo-cal martini in one hand and a gaggle of admirers around them. How can real life compete when clearly the only way to enjoy a party is to enslave the populus with wit, charm and good looks. If we follow that one to its logical conclusion only one person can enjoy a party at any one time... and that person ought to be me, dash it all.
And no, I cannot possibly believe that my attidude to the world has anything to do with my unpopularity, so don't even bother suggesting it. Alalalala, I am not listening. I don't want to be at work either, especially after being criticised for doing something the wayi was {incorrectly} told to do it. I wonder, will I ever be gruntled? Is that even a word? Will I be spared certain unpleasantnesses that dare not speak their name at the flat? I mean that they dare not speak their name under any circumstances, not just in the flat by the way, but I was too tired to come up with a good way of phrasing it.
Better go and post off my trade me stuff, empire building is wearying work. I glean a certain amount of satisfaction, however, in realising that if you present offal creatively sometimes someone will buy it.

Prepare to be ejected from your seats with this blast from the past

If you are reading this Merepuff, this is for you. I could not believe I found it online, but verily Youtube is a repository of Demis fans, united in the love of that folk music man mountain. My only regret is that no-one has uploaded I Dig You yet. Still, with enthusiasts like those below, it's only a matter of time.

rover1990 (3 days ago) What a lovely voice. Peaceful wishes from Australia.
salkavalka12 (3 days ago) Demis Roussos is a genius one of the best.
KiaOraGurl (5 days ago) after reading all the comments, from all over the world, from all walks of life,from defferent cultures, one thing is very clear, we love Demis, and maybe we are not so defferent after all. greetings from New Zealand
roneycorrea(4 days ago) well KiaOraGurl, i think you are a 100% right..Greetings from Brazil
radiozuiderzee (3 days ago) music makes people come thogether
hbc613 (5 days ago) His a great singer and handsome. I'm Asian women.I love him. I grow up listening him.

You're asian women? Well honey, Whitney is every woman and she could take you down.

This fall

I have noticed a number of people wearing those hideous clown like two colour rugby shorts. I was trying to find you all pictures online, but I realise that no search engine understood the concept clown shorts. I went to the source instead, and found out they are known as harlequin shorts. A short by any other name would look as tacky. Rest assured, my viewing experiences have not been nice.

Must rush home, stop computing, feed my latest fixation

Oh number six! You have my vote. Be seeing you on the small screen shortly.

Party time, excellent

Last night our neighbours had a party, and apparently the neighbourhood was invited. I didn't hear about it until I got home. In fact I was suprised to know there was a party on at all - they seemed quieter than usual. Perhaps Wayne (or Gavin, or Trevor or whatever he is called) was away so he could not regale everyone with stories of his friend who earns lots as a foreman, and handing out cell phone numbers to the birds. Maybe the bint was catatonic so we didn't get the same shrieking giggle. It was polite of them to invite the neighbours, but as my flatmate said, it would have been better if they hadn't so we could legitimately fume.
Plenty to fume about anyway; today I had work for a couple of hours. It did not go particularly well as we had to wait for 3/4 of an hour to get into the building, the returns were poured over the floor, and we had only about an hour to do them all. I think there will be some bitching at work tomorrow when they see the state of the place. Never mind, at least when I was down town I handed on one of my trade me sales. And I got paid for the time I was standing around outside the library.

Eavesdropping in the city

"Oh! I just totally felt like Mary Poppins!"

Here's book I would like to own

This is an interesting read and I admit that I would quite like a copy, although I imagine that I would find it of limited application. I do not have a servant although I guess that I could just have to be extremely rude to shop assistants instead. Then they can go home and vent their anger through spousal abuse I suppose, or string up a cat.
Which, incidentally, was almost a matter of concern at my flat. One of the ever growing family of pet cats disappeared for a reasonable period of time. We wondered if something had befallen it - in my case I wondered if that something was a family with a lifetime supply of Jimbos. Oh well, it has turned up again for our sins, and it may yet strike it lucky on the staircase. The lightbulb blew so this is a golden opportunity for a black feline to trip me up and eat like a king for weeks.

A disease I need never fear

Salt deficiency induced goitre - phew, what a relief!

Bullshit on Bouverie

Went to a housewarming yesterday, nice place, although the trek out to the NEV was a trifle wearying. You forget how far it is to get there, and such a mission to get back again. I was in an indifferent mood, but thought I should give it a chance, it might be the thing to cheer me up.
Unfortunately not even the semi-psychotic angry neighbours were enough to pull me out of my doldrums. The problem with being in a bad frame of mind is that it tends to be self perpetuating. Things that I might have found funny on some occasions compound to make life that much more unbearable. Last night I was stuck listening to people twittering on about fat people, chubby chasers and ugly people in general. I got the impression the overarching theme was "how dare fat people exert or exhibit attraction for people, it's disgusting". Which is really indicative of the kind of blind self assurance that people portray. They, of course, have never had to agonise over how they look being within the socially acceptable spectrum. Clearly they never had to buy a burger knowing that everyone was mentally suggesting that a green salad or dust might be more appropriate. Or the condescending approval should porcine go with the super trim milk. And why is it that they say nothing of people who are frighteningly thin (this is presumably less vomit inducing than someone who is overweight)? In this case it was possibly insensitive, and disingenuous, to shift the issue from sexuality to visual appeal.
So I got treated to hearing someone ragged on as being fat and ugly. Bloody hell, it was hardly roll them in flour and look for the wet spot obesity, but let's allow the party goers some dramatic licence shall we? I suppose, for me, as the resident fat ugly bitch of the flat, it is all very topical. And if I am not considered the fat ugly bitch then in light of the ghastly reactions I provoke from people I have to believe that I am loathsome on the inside and it shows.
As inevitably happens, it was then suggested to me that I should be happy because I have a job - now there's a giggle. A dead end job considered by people of my acquaintance to be mind numbing and in no way as intellectual as their studies. Lets hear it for the chubby retard, struggling on, making it in the community of normal people as best as they can. Maybe if the library doesn't work out I can always launch a career stuffing envelopes or something. It's cop out platitude from people unwilling to admit to themselves that they have it a lot easier & a lot more going for them than I do.
All this deep and meaningful thought to a background of hippy bong drumming and fire dancing? It's a wonder I didn't poison the Feng Shui.

A funny thing happened to me on my way to the computer...

I had planned to post about something else first off today, but events have consipired once more.
So I was minding my own business, walking up the hill to ingratiate myself and freeload on some broadband. I had made it up to walking through the golf course, tra-la-la, and was mooching along at a reasonable pace. I glanced to my right and noticed to husky specimens of the weekend warrior genus but didn't think anything of it until there was the clunk of a golf ball hitting the tree close by. Uh hrrr hrrr hrrr, sorry mate!
I can't decide, did they want to see tubby run? Am I not worth 20 seconds? Could they tell, even from that distance, that I am a complete waste of oxygen? The universe is sending me messages. That my life is worthless is not only apparent to myself, but even to those who don't know me.

Easter

It is Easter Friday and we have all had a day off.
Except of course the dub music which has been valiently polluting my house from my flatmate's room all day. If I wanted to listen to dub, I would switch on radio one and listen to some tosspot blearing through the track lineup of unmitigated shit, I don't want it to stage a home invasion at my flat.
However I did get out of the house so it has not been absolutely relentless. And when I get home I can retaliate with some country and western sleaze I suppose. Or I can drown my sorrows with a creme egg. Which leads nicely to a boring story. I was part of the OMIGODTHESUPERMARKETWILLBESHUTTOMORROWWHATWILLWEDO! rush at New World yesterday when I purchased the aforementioned egg, and I consider it a small triumph that when I met someone I knew I was only part way into my binge food buying expedition. I only clutched a bag of hot cross buns, but they had a basket full of crap. Ha! Now we can pretend I am the fit healthy one...unless of course they spotted me on the way out.
There's something to be said for the anonymity of shopping in a different part of town to where you live.

So what's new?

I have been absent from the blog for a while, partially because my computer is dying. Aue. AUE. Currently it is in the repair shop so I am flitting from house to house, borrowing connections as I go. Also, I have been vein throbbingly pissed off about work, not to mention working early and late.
So, I hear you cry, why are you fucked off with work this time?
We----ell, to continue my proud history of complete incompetence I found I have been doing the claims for undelivered serials incorrectly. A bit of a time waster, but hey, it all gets the same result in the end. I checked with someone about it yesterday. I asked in a self-effacing manner, as I usually do, assuming that I had stuffed it up somehow. There was no implication that the fault was anyone's other than my own so I was unprepared for the vitriolic reation I got. You've already been told all this! etc etc.
Well, I am pretty pathetic and not great at defending myself, so I will have recourse to the haven of all cornered cowards: the internet.
Probably I was told to use letters for gift magazine claims, and printouts subscriptions claims but in my defence the first week I did claims I only did the gift ones, because there was a two week backlog and Christmas ones to deal with. As far as I recall I didn't have a pile of regular subscriptions to do so. And when I was being shown the best way to fold the letters so that they would fit in the envelopes (they are retardedly printed so you can't just fold them in 3) it was only for gift mags. Frankly I don't know what this gash was getting so uppity about anyway - all the magazines were claimed for one way or another.
This is just the latest in a string of examples in which colleagues have got their little digs in. It's really just one or two on mini Hitler trips, probably they feel profoundly inadequate that they are unable to organise enough minority groups to persecute so they will take out their frustrations on me, the new person. It's amazing, if you talk to one department I work in, they would say I am fairly quick on the uptake, ask the other and they would make cry subnormal. The difference in the training in the departments is profound also, as well as the response to mistakes. For instance, I remember getting things wrong in lending services a while after I had started, but the response was unfailingly patient, understanding and not bitchy as I have found where I am now. I wonder perhaps if people have been in their palm grove positions for too long? Have they forgotten what it is like to perform tasks that aren't rote? Will my numerous shortcomings be aired at the meeting scheduled this Tuesday? Should I be more circumspect & delicate about airing my complaints - one never knows who might be reading?
Well, who gives a fuck, I don't need the job and I need life in Dunedin like a bullet in the head. Christ yesterday I was ready to slit my wrists (except that would be ghastly faux teenage behaviour) or emigrate on the strength of the petty anal muscle clenching behaviour of some of the gleet smears in my neighbourhood. Oh, and by the way, I could not give a flying fuck about your cunty amazon orders of Lowest Common Denominator kitten books, or anything else about you for that matter. I wish I had the necessary mechanical skills to clip your brake cables, though I probably would be too lazy to expend the energy bending over to clip them.
More to the point, I wish I handled conflict situations better so I didn't always get shat upon by the biggest arsehole in the room. So fuck you for ruining my weekend. Fuck you very much, motherpeachstone.

Etiquette, one aspect of decorum...

Sometimes you just find a line in wikipedia that makes the search worthwhile. I had thought that no-one used the word decorum any more, but no, it has gone digital. As has propriety, although the latter does not, unfortunately, have a wikipedia entry of its own. Remiss. Who out there is willing to take on the challange?

Bog etiquette

Yeah, so one of the highlights of the day was trying to clean the toilet. Repeat some affirmations, look at it from an angle and think of Mariah Carey...it's not so terrible. What I find particularly disconcerting is the inevitable supply of reading material that winds up in the wee room. (Oh lord, I just want to digress into all the euphemisms, so many, my particular favourite toilet door sign thus far is "Tis Here" and I will save the rest for another occasion). Frankly I don't want to touch it to remove it. Why the hell can't people just hit the metamucil? Though as I live in a vegan household I would not have thought we would have such -err- congestion issues. It's like they are gleefully reconciling themselves to an half hour of wasted time um, eliminating waste. Reading an issue of Deadline is not going to make it any more fruitful and that rag isn't even absorbant.

My god, some households even have book shelves of material. Clearly people who are either gravely inconsiderate, or who have lived with 2 bathrooms their whole lives. Really, people should just get jobs so thy can take a dump on work time using work toilet paper. Then my flat might not degenerate in its periodic toilet paper wars.

Isn't it interesting, in that photo the loose end of the paper is against the wall rather than facing the room. Is it because they wanted to cut back on unnecessary usage?

The plague

I know I say this every time, but I maintain we are entering the final days. Latest proof is the ungodly illness I have been foully struck down with. It's hideous and I blame the government and the influx of dirty students. I had the day off work today which has rather thrown my schedule. Don't worry though, I was unable to sit around doing absolutely nothing so I ended up cleaning floors, torrential nose and all, while the cats looked on and laughed. I got my own back though, if they get underfoot on the stairs they will be trodden upon, and neither of them seem to enjoy my friend the vacuum cleaner.
So now I have reached a regrettable point in the day. I am still unwell but I know if I get a taste for not working there will be no going back, it's going to be mental health days all the time. Do I go back to work? I am not functioning at a terribly high level, but one doesn't need to. Or do I prevent the spread of the plague and face notifying 3 people of my non arrival tomorrow? Clearly I need to consult an oracle about this, and while there are probably hundreds of these on the internet I don't trust any of them. Whatever happened to good old down home augury? The cats would love it too.

Lets never bring back the 1990s ok?

A little something to lighten my mood while I bewail my trade me listings and work tomorrow. Hairy mail is not cutting it any more (tee hee hee)

Oh yeah, that's it, right there

Nothing spells instant hilarity like Dannii Minogue, except maybe...you'll see...

I want me a piece of the retro boogie dance party

I know that a large number of you 2 readers will appreciate the dancing police, the big red cod piece, the empowering dance moves. Myself, I am more concerned that all the funniest videos I think of seem to be male artists. I guess I have featured Samantha Fox, but there is a real lack. I will have to remedy this.

I am also concerned that someone I know is making Kai Si Ming.
Yeah, I know all you children of the 80s know what I am talking about. Bit of mince, bit of chicken noodle soup sachet, bit of rice, carrot discs...shudder.

Make it stop

why do girls love horses?

Break it down with Adam and the Ants!

Why?
Oh why?
Tell me why?
Do girls love..
Horses?
Why?
Oh why?
Tell me why?
Do girls love..
Horses?

Is it cos they're round?
Or they're six feet off the ground?
Is it because they're on top?
Or the clippety clop?

Or maybe it's just like the article in the ODT in which Stacy Gregg explains...
"it's almost a feminist thing - you are taking on the world with your horse. You can't do that with any other animal, it's the power and the scale of horses that's also compelling, that you have this bond with this big, brave, exciting animal."

So just think about that the next time you try to take on the world with your pussy.
I'll certainly bear it in mind when I am bookguarding another vapid installment in the pony stories arsenal.

When you want that message to really make an impact

send it using hairy mail. I guarantee you will get attention.

Is this some kind of joke?

A pox on facebook and all those retarded applications, games and groups that have been spawned by people in the mistaken belief they are doing something other than spamming. Today I got an invite to join a group: "I'll be voting from overseas in NZ's General Election". So, the person was either trying to up their stats, mana, kudos, whatever by inviting many many people to join. Or maybe it was some pointed reminder that I would be stuck here while presumably they are adventuring with their gaggle of admirers. Well I hate you too then.

Oh oh! Please judge me!

Oh joy, performance review time again, and this bout has been rather displeasing to me. You would think they could drum up something nice to say - they like the way I do my hair, learning reasonably quickly, but no. It's a litany of "on track" - how fucking patronising - and oh, you haven't learnt that yet. Doesn't make me want to stay in the job at all, such a shame I am not qualified to do anything. Anyway, extra special shout out to my purported lateness. Which has some validity, but would have more if the people who roll in at the same time as me were also being critisized. I suppose I will have to endure the self congratulatory happiness of the golden children of the floor now.

Arsebiscuit. Have to go home and cook. Sometimes I just wish the cats would succeed in their attempts to break my neck by tripping me on the stairs.

Guess what I watched last night

And I still have not come down, soaring songs like this keep me remembering the beautiful wrestling and cop scenes, the gloriousness of the Kurgan, and of course, king weasel himself crossing (mighty) swords with Freddie Mercury. Awww bless.

Greetings card lists

Phew, after a couple of days thought, and some hours work and I have made several cards! Hooray!
Now I just need to finish the write ups on trade me, and the e-mailing, and the other chores and I can then update this rather lonely blog. For posterity y'know.