c/o- Hester, the coolest knickers I've seen all day.
Speaking of Hester, the idea has been mooted of a collective blog, one that all the Kids can contribute too. I'm quite taken with the idea.
The whole idea of a blog as an interactive space within which we can communicate and ramble is very appealing to me, although I'm sure its an old concept for the more technologically literate amongst us. Hell, I'm still impressed with email!! You never know, we might even get an audience!!
I went to the orchestra last night, they played some Mahler. You know its a bad sign when the programme mentions that the final movement is unsatisfactory, but I thought it was ok.
In truth, the only reason I went was for my cousin. A while ago, the position of principal (actually the only) cor anglais player came up, and she auditioned. Unfortunately, the dumb-arses gave the job to this other guy, who then proceeded to take 7 months off to travel around the world with his girlfriend, and audition for a bunch of other orchestras. While he was away, the NZSO came to their senses, shipped my cousin over from London and gave her his job on a temporary basis, she is listed in the programmes as "long-term contract player", until he returned. Which he now has. Now I know I'm a little biased, but my cousin is The Shit. Not only did she get into the Royal College of Music in London, that people sell organs to get into, but she got a scholarship. She has toured Europe with Bryn Terfel (famous Welsh singer), played in orchestras across the UK, played the LOTR score with Howard Shore, and is generally overflowing with prodigous musical talents. Now this tosser is back to take up his position, the rest of the orchestra don't like him cos hes such a poser, and my poor cousin has been reduced to 3rd oboe, compounded by the fact that she now has to sit next to him when they play. Arse. Hopefully some other deluded orchestra will give this guy a job so my cousin can reclaim what is rightfully hers. Either that or cor anglais guy will have a nasty accident. Maybe I need to have a word to some people....
And to rub salt into the wound, he's got really stupid hair.
Oh the humanity.

Wednesday.
Well all credit to Tim for his computer knowhow etc, but as it transpires the mighty Satellite does not, in fact, have the blaster virus, it is just a bit gammy. It has now been unplugged from the drip, visitors are allowed, and the Notifiable Diseases authorities have been contacted.
Rest assured that there was indeed, sufficient anti-virus thingies installed in said laptop, but now, there are even more.
So it wasn't my fault, I feel it is very important to clear that up.
Its still, however, in the shop, getting everything reinstalled, apparently there has been a bit of a prob with Internet Explorer, so the nice men who speak computer are fixing it.
I'm really starting to miss having the computer around, but not because I've been doing loads of work on it, in the absence of a CD player in my office, I have been using it as a walkman. Maybe SitWoman would be a more appropriate term, but tunes are good, and help you write. Especially really loud ones.
And this is just too cool to pass up.
And Goblin, I've figured out why Hester is a gnome too. Apparently I am an Itinerant Cave Dweller. Bring it.

Funny.

I must admit, I am a little...maybe intimidated is the wrong word, somewhere in between impressed and feeling guilty that I am not doing same, but whatever that word is, I am feeling that in regards to my peeps who are currently kicking some thesis arse.
I myself spend the most part of yesterday cleaning my car, inside and out, polishing the windows etc, so yes, the rain is my fault. Sorry.
Gammy computer has returned to the shop to get fixed AGAIN!! Although it has so far escaped being hiffed out the window (4th floor. Expensive tantrum.)
Heres some fun stuff to waste time, I mean broaden your knowledge.
Go do some work Claire.

And in other news...

The Classic IQ Test

Congratulations, Claire!
Your IQ score is 135 (WTF?)

This number is based on a scientific formula that compares how many questions you answered correctly on the Classic IQ Test relative to others.

Your Intellectual Type is Visionary Philosopher (I have a vision!! Or maybe a hallucination!!!). This means you are highly intelligent (?) and have a powerful mix of skills and insight that can be applied in a variety of different ways. Like Plato, you like to lounge about on Greek Islands drinking ouzo, also like Plato, your exceptional math (one plus two equals hubcaps, divided by golf makes happy, carry the smurf and you get the square verb of pineapple) and verbal skills (duh, verbalish wotsits?) make you very adept at explaining things to others (This is how its fucking done, just fucking do it and stop fucking bothering me you sad little excuse for a life-form)— and at anticipating and predicting patterns (if I drink this whole bottle of scotch, I predict I will fall over). And that's just some of what we know about you from your IQ results.

We are, however, unable to explain why you are such a dumb-arse, the reasons you forget the most basic things, like the names of people you've known for decades, and why it is well after lunch on a Friday and you are yet to acheive more than faffing about on the internet and making compilation cds on your laptop.

Find out more in your personalized 15-page IQ Report. You'll discover:

* Your hidden intellectual strengths
* How your IQ compares to others
* Exercises to improve your IQ
* Complete answers to all the questions
* The real reasons you fell for our cunning tell-you-you're-smarter-than-you-actually-are-so-you'll-give-us-money ploy

...and more! It's ready right now!
(Provided of course you send us an exorbitant amount of money, preferably your credit card numbers, and your first born would be nice too.)

Last time I did an IQ test I scored a measly 126, but that was the one on the telly, and I don't think they were trying to sell me anything.

"Probably the best news my thesis has ever had" - D. A. Searle, 2004

Well this is officially the week that sucks, for many.
There are theses due, there are relationships ending, there are furry friends to be mourned, there are friends leaving us, and there are visitors returning home.
Yes, Tim has gone to Auckland for 5 days, is returning on Wednesday for a whole 3 hours, and is then off on a big plane back to Nova Scotia. Yes, in Canada. Half a world away. Arse.
I'm strangely pragmatic about the entire experience, which is a shock to me more than anything, I'm usually the one with all the half-baked plans, which is why I need Sarah to bring me back to earth in her own unique way. Usually "Fucking sort your shit out you great flake". I'd be completely fucked without her. Yay for Sarahs.
Anyway, its kind of a good feeling, knowing that there may, in fact, be hope for me, and that I'm not necessarily destined for spinsterhood with 43 cats and oversized purple jumpers. Even though the only man I've met in the last five years that I could possibly maybe potentially learn to deal with and won't run out on me after a week or so cos I'm completely fucking crazy is leaving, its nice to know that he exists. One finds comforts in the strangest places. And its nice to finally come across a grain of hope in the train wreck of ones life (sorry about the bad metaphors). Theres a line in "Magnolia" (fine fucking movie if there ever was one) that goes: "We may be finished with the past, but the past is not finished with us". For a long time that was appropriate, but this whole experience of this crazy fucked up beautiful horrible week has taught me that while we are all the sum total of our experiences, it just might be possible to close the door. The person who said "that which does not kill you makes you stronger" had no fucking idea about anything.

The Universe Is Mean.

Without wanting to spend the next few days feeling unduly sorry for oneself, there are still things that must be voiced.
Certain things in ones life, one becomes accustomed to. Those around revel in their bliss, while we have resigned ourselves to the fact that past circumstances beyond our control have placed us outside the candidacy of their romantic joy. And that is fine, because we are blessed beyond measure in other fields.
But when the big mean old universe puts things, or in this case, people, just beyond our reach, it serves to remind us what we don't have. I am a big one for counting my blessings, and I'm happy for the most part with what I have, how could I not be.
However, the last couple of days have been an exercise in sitting through another one of those tests, placed before us to test our strength, that we must endure for some cosmic reason or other.

On the plus side, cos theres always a plus side, its nice to know that there is still hope, and not all the good ones are taken or gay. Its just that maybe all the good ones are off back home to Canada.

And its only Monday. Shit.

Further to Cardinal's history lesson, I've started predicting the future.

2005: Claire becomes youngest ever President of the World Bank. Debt relief in Sub-Saharan Africa suddenly becomes top priority.
Scientists worldwide suddenly realise the stupidity of devoting time and resources to creating pills that make fat people skinny (stop eating!!)and old men hard (its a sign that you are, in fact, past it), and all band together to create low cost safe child immunisations, a reliable contraceptive pill and both a cure and vaccination for the Aids virus. Much joy ensues.
2006: Aliens visit earth to reclaim their emissaries: Jerry Springer, Michael Jackson, Paris Hilton, Paul Holmes, the Bush family and the guy that writes American sitcoms. (except for Scrubs, cos thats cool)
2007: Claire finally figures out how to work her laptop, just in time for it to become obsolete.
2008: Federated States of Micronesia Idol winner Jumbalumba Higolpragopy's version of Celine Dion's "My Heart Will Go On" is voted Worst Ever Song in the History of Songs Ever, Yes Including That One About the G-String.
Franchise declared officially bankrupt.

I could go on, in fact I probably will, but there's that pesky work thing to take care of right now.

I don't know if it is the weather, or something very bad I did in a former life, but I seem to have been cursed with a fly plague in my house.
Now you'd have to search long and hard to find something that I hate more than these little winged messengers of Satan, except of course people that eat with their mouths open and people that try and impress me with how much smarter/richer/more successful/thinner/cooler etc than me they are. Mind you, I haven't yet tried fly spray or a rolled up newspaper on any of those people, so maybe they're all aspects of the same evil.
Anyway, my house is reasonably clean, theres only one boy living here so it doesn't smell too bad, so I'm perplexed as to why the little flying fuckers are so keen to come and hang out here. Its not like they get a good reception.
I think I'm having fly rage.

Things that have brightened up my week:
-sunny afternoons, with no work to go to at the end
- Courtney's new album. Theres a song on it called "All the Drugs". Heehee. To quote Mr Leary, "we can't do any drugs, cos you did them all! We have to wait until you die, and smoke your ashes!!"
- My sister
- Making up own compilation albums on my computer
- Changing the approach of my thesis from a pure IR perspective to an institutional approach, thereby making the next three months a lot less excruiciating.

Soundtrack to kick all Soundtracks Arses: Matrix. Together at last: Ministry, Rage, Rammstein, Rob Zombie, Marilyn Manson and the Deftones. Fucking metal!!!!

On putting things in Perspective

Further to Tuesday's "Fat Ordeal": I conducted a quick survey and the results were not too surprising. 1) that particular nurse is evil and must be destroyed 2) nobody really gives a rats. Although even my dear old Dad was stunned at the accusation. Bless him.
Anyway, I'm officially over it. Besides, there are far worse things than being fat. Like being poor for example. I've really got nothing to complain about. Mind you, I do like, have a job.
Donations to the "Tim is poor and a loser" benevolence fund will be accepted all this week, gifts in the form of either paper money or Coca Cola are preferred.
Now all go back to work.

I'm stunned.
I just got called fat.
By a nurse.
She was really short. (ha!)

I was at student health, as one does, and was reading the little chart that tells one their ideal weight. Given that it didn't take into account such annoying details as build, muscle etc, my ideal weight is apparently 68 kg. Given that at last count (about 6 months ago) I weighed in at 75 kg, I questioned said chart.
Okay, I'm just over 5 foot ten, and unlike some tall people who are just stretched tall people, I am built in proportion to my height. I'm a (can anyone say national average?) 12-14 in clothes, and can easily run up several flights of stairs without having to have my heart restarted, and I'm pretty strong.
Skinny I am not, but neither am I the obscenely overweight monster this old cow made me out to be. So I have decided not to take up bulimia, and instead am going to lobby student health to get a new chart that takes into account muscle and build and lifestyle and the fact that 30 years ago the average model weighed 8% less than the average woman, today its 23%. Media pressure? Fashion?
As for the old chart, I've got a fair idea where that old bat can shove it.

I'm not quite sure if this is for real or not, if its not, its funny, if it is, I'm scared.
Jeff, take note of tag line, and let the copyright mayhem begin!!

Joke time: (c/o Katy)
George W Bush went to a primary school to talk about the war. After
his talk he offered question time. One little boy put up his hand, so George asked him his name.
"Billy."
"And what is your question, Billy?"
"I have three questions. First, why did the USA invade Iraq without the support of the UN? Second, why are you President when Al Gore got
more votes? And third, whatever happened to Osama Bin Laden?"
Just then the bell rang for recess. George Bush informed the kiddies
that they will continue after recess. When they resume George said,
"Okay, where were we? Oh that's right, question time. Who has a question?"
Another little boy put up his hand. George pointed him out and asked him his name.
"Steve"
"And what is your question, Steve?"
"I have five questions. First, why did the USA invade Iraq without the
support of the UN? Second, why are you President when Al Gore got
more votes? Third, whatever happened to Osama Bin Laden? Fourth, why did the recess bell go twenty minutes early? And fifth, what the hell happened to Billy?
Cue hilarity.

I'd just like to point out that I am composing this particular ramble on my brand new shiny blue laptop, Mark II.
Yes, the very first one, while all shiny and blue, was in fact arse, so after making several ill-tempered phone calls to the retailer, and more than one trip in to said retailer while trying to not vent at poor technician who really had no idea that Toshiba has made a pants computer, I got delivered to my office, one brand new computer. Love those couriers who deliver door to door.
Anyway, i've been doing some serious 'net surfing, flicking around blogs and various sites, discovering all sorts of interesting things, such as this, this and the best by far, this.
So, theres really no point to this blog. I just wanted to play on my new computer, and maybe have something to show for the last 3 hours of time-wasting.
Of course, the reason I got a laptop was to write my thesis......

I have just stepped out of the twilight zone.
As we speak, there are four males in my office discussing the benefits of soap vs body wash.
Yes, they are in fact serious.
Gus: "I use Dove, its one third moisturiser and really makes my skin soft"
Andy: "And its just Dove thats done that?"
Dan: "I'm more of a soap kind of guy, but I do like bodywash, its like a special treat. A real luxury"
Hamish:"I'm a real soap guy myself, but it can dry out your skin"
Me: "OH MY FUCKING GOD I CANT BELIEVE THIS IS HAPPENING!!!"
We were discussing men, they of course were attempting to get a woman's perspective on certain things, and I said that I would take Reuben Thorne over Justin Marshall any day. Why? Well Marshall seems more concerned with his poofter hair than anything, while Reuben looks like the kind of chap who could easily build stuff and dig holes, not being too fussed about what might happen to his "do".
Needless to say, the conversation turned to " what do women really want in a man", to which I automatically replied "Viggo": ie man who can build stuff, dig holes, and ride horsies, then come inside, bake a souffle, write a poem and paint a picture, all in a very manly way, while remaining cultured, sophisticated and sexy. Not a freaking man who has a serious discussion about the benefits of soap vs bodywash. Call me antiquated in my views, call me one who wants it all (well der!!), call me Shirley, but I have in my head a vision of perfection.
Leave the sensitive new age types to the other girls. I know what I want.
Just don't know where he is.....

On the Purchase of new toys

Yay. Claire has a new toy. No its not a boy, its a shiny new blue computer, a wee toshiba laptop. Nice. Now all I need to do is figure out how to use the bloody thing. All this technology is a bit beyond me. I'm still trying to come to terms with the fact that theres no floppy disk drive in it. I'm going to have to learn how to use the CD writer, aren't I?
Its all part of the plan though. If I keep this up, I can finish my thesis in the comfort of the Wanaka house, and never have to see anyone again. Choice.