All the people that you've loved they're all bound to leave some keepsakes

Right now I'm feeling a bit strange. I'm not sure if its because I'm going to the city tomorrow and my plans are a bit up in the air, or because I've spent too long sitting at my computer today with no real purpose, or the fact that I'm listening to the Smiths, or the fact that its the end of this year. I'm overly anxious, I always have been. I can't leave well enough alone, because I can't turn my brain off. It goes off at a thousand miles an hour, almost always in the wrong direction, and this is not a good thing.
Right now I'm anxious that Vivek will not be able to meet up with me when I get to NYC, and that the TAN man will be too busy to meet up for a drink, and that I'll be stuck in NYC alone for New Year, and then I'll be thinking about how much fun everyone else is having and it will only increase my misery when in reality I'm likely to meet up with both Vivek and TAN and we'll have a wonderful time and I'll get to see a little bit more of the city, and get a bit drunky, and buy some crappy souvenirs, and despite the fact I don't have a place to stay on Saturday night I will still have fun because if push comes to shove I can store my bag in a locker somewhere or dump it at Vivek's cousin's place and stay up all night partying with people I don't know yet.

This year, wow. We've had a few beauties this year, haven't we.
Speaking for myself, I began the year in the last stages of my Masters degree, proceeded to teach at two universities, present a paper at a conference in Australia, ended the affair I should not have been having but damn it was fun, randomly found out about this university in New York, and ended up here on a full tuition scholarship with a graduate assistantship to boot.

I also finished a career in hospitality I began eleven years previous, which was bittersweet. I still miss the madness, especially in the kitchen, but it was time to move on, and I was in a position to be able to.

I saw the Beastie Boys and the Chemical Brothers in the same day at the Big Day Out, which was coolness personified. The next one is headlined by none other than Iggy and the Stooges, and I would freaking love to see them, especially if they do Search and Destroy. That would rule. I also saw the awesomeness that is Fat Freddy's Drop on my last Saturday in NZ, and thoroughly recommend it to anyone.

I built a really good relationship with my nieces. I had a pretty good one with my nephew, because he's that little bit older, and remembered more of me from before I left the last time, but Sam was just a baby, and Rosie, well she wasn't even a twinkle in her father's eye.

Speaking of her father. My brother in law. This year was pretty extreme as far as my family is concerned. I didn't blog about it at the time, because it wasn't my thing to be talking about, but it's over now, and I feel like I can.
Not that it was about me at all, but the day before you are meant to submit your thesis is not the best day for one's beloved brother in law to be going into surgery to remove a brain tumour the size of a golf ball. Especially when said man is 32 years old, father of three children under ten years old, and a penchant for junk food notwithstanding, really freaking healthy. The guy goes for three hour bike rides. For fun!! Up and down hills!!!
When we found out we had no idea what was happening, he was having violent seizures, but there was no trace of epilepsy or similar, my poor sister had to hold it together for the sake of her children, two of whom were too young to understand, and its hard looking a child in the eye and telling them that daddy was going to be fine when you have absolutely no idea if he will live or die. I was still working in the restaurant at the time, and trying to hold it together there was a struggle at times, one which I lost a couple of times.

When I was trying to put the finishing touches on my thesis for submission while the rest of the family was at the hospital or with the children it really made me think about the important stuff. Have you seen Labyrinth? If not, you should, because it is one of the best movies ever made. All of life's important lessons are in that film.
There is one scene where the heroine Sarah, a sixteen year old Jennifer Connolly, is in a mock up of her bedroom. The evil Goblin King has stolen her baby brother and plans to turn him into a goblin, and Sarah must prevent him. A witchy crone type goblin attempts to distract Sarah with the illusion of her bedroom, and shows her all the treasures of her childhood. Teddy bears, figurines, a shiny gold mini carousel, are all things the witch uses, saying to Sarah "these are the things you want".
In the face of all this temptation to abandon the search for her brother, Sarah has a moment of clarity. She realises the true value of family versus trinkets, and hurls the gold carousel into the mirror, crying "Its all junk".

That scene, better than anything I could come up with, summed up what I felt while sitting in my office that day. My thesis, the quest for money and shiny things, all the material things of this world, are all junk compared to the real wealth one finds in family. Deadlines, possessions, daily stresses, wondering what to have for dinner, what to watch on the telly, whether to buy those new shoes, its all junk when a member of your family is lying on an operating table.
And I think we've all learned from this. I said to my sister that the whole unpleasant business made me think about what we have, and told her that I love her and that I'm so glad I have her for my sister. And we're all stronger for it too. There's the feeling, at any family gathering, that we are lucky, we are so freaking lucky its not funny, to have all of us here together, and luckier still that we can recognise that.

So many people go through their lives without that sort of opportunity. Sure, it was hell, and given the option, no sane person would chose nearly losing a member of their family over an eventless year, but I believe (after many years of hard work) that there is something positive that can come out of almost anything, and out of this experience we are safe in the knowledge that we love each other, that we are important to each other, and that when the excrement hits the air conditioning we've got what it takes to come out on top.
After a month of not knowing what was going on, then brain surgery, then two months of recovery, followed by several more seizures, a benign verdict on the excised tumour, a few hiccoughs with medication, some more MRIs and other scans, we now have a really positive outcome. He is back at work, the nine month scan proved absolutely no regrowth of tumour type matter, and today he cycled over the Crown Range.
I think after its all over, I can say that the entire experience proved what an incredible woman my sister is. She had to hold it all together for her husband and children, and did so with such grace and strength I am constantly amazed. If anything, I think it was more stressful for her than anyone, including her husband, and she handled it like nothing I have ever seen.

So, if I was to pick a person of the year, as the tv stations seem so keen on doing, I would not pick any old celebrity or politician. I pick her.

I hereby nominate my oldest sister as person of the year, for grace under fire, courage through adversity, true selflessness, keeping it together and raising the three coolest kids this world has ever seen.

And with that, I end the blogging of 2005.
I'm off to the city tomorrow, and my computer will be staying here, keeping an eye on you all.
Sunshine, Grace and Apoc, you may well be recieving boozy phonecalls on New Years Eve. Or not. Depends if I lose my phone/lose my friends/lose my marbles.
TAN, I have emailed you my phone number, so please call me tomorrow and we will have scrummy vodka styles.
Tara, I'm sorry I can't be in Paris with you, but one day baby, one day....
All my friends in NZ yes I know you will have New Years 18 hours before me, please be good to the new year before you send it off this way
Flint....I'll see you on January 14th.

I'll be back in 06.

craigslist?

I have a query that isn't addressed by craigslist.org.
Say I call a guy who is driving from Buffalo to NJ tomorrow, and he sounds normal, and says that he will drop me off at a transit station that will get me to Penn Station and from there I can get to Long Island, what is the likelihood of said driver guy turning out to be an axe-wielding homocidal maniac, and of me turning up as inspiration for a future episode of CSI New York?

We lived in Arizona, and the skies always had little fluffy clouds in them, they were long, and clear, there were lots of stars at night...they were the most beautiful skies....

This just in:
- my ride to the city is no longer happening.
- a bus or a train will cost loads.
- I do however have a place to stay, at Moushimi's brother's place who will be in Washington. Party in Long Island!!
- Its nearly 4pm and all I have achieved today is posting a "please drive me to the city" ad on craigslist and eating some Marmite toast.
- Marmite is the bomb.
- I think I will get a bus to the city tomorrow.
- Some people don't realise when they are being ignored.
- The Future Sound of London are one of the greatest electronica groups ever.
- Lonely Planet books are freaking awesome.
- my microwave is really stinky because Sanjukta burnt something in it and made the whole house smell like burning corpses.
- I think I need a nap.
- My exercise ball is rubbish, but my stomach is looking better.
- Duct tape is one of the greatest inventions known to man.
- I think I have temporarily misplaced my blogging mojo.
- Since beginning this post an hour has passed because I got all distracted by calling up my friend and looking up bus fares and train fares and air fares.
- I don't like the way artists will release one version of their song as a single and then put another version on their record without putting the single version on there as well.
- I would like to go to the zoo.

This post sucks. You have been warned.

I have been sewing tonight for one episode of E-ring one episode of Criminal Minds one episode of CSI New York and two and a half episodes of the X Files season 4 and now my shoulders are all sore and tense because I hand sew none of this sewing machine rubbish and I need a shoulder massage where is my imaginary boyfriend when I need him?
I went to Holly's house today because she's in Oh Hi Oh for the holidays and I said I would water her plants (that's pretty funny really, cos I have what gardeners call a brown thumb) and I raided her cds and books because she said I could and came home and listened to Jewel's first album and sang along really loudly to Who will save your soul. I also watered the plants, and the kitchen floor a little bit too. Now my pooter has some more Simon and Garfunkel to get down to and Grant Lee Buffalo and some Smiths too because the Smiths fucking rule no fricking question about that.
My super duper plans for New Years have gone a bit south because it turns out Sanjukta can't make it to the city with me because she has to go to Canada in a couple of weeks and I was a little cross for about 3 seconds and then forgave her because shes such a cool little Indian and we loves her yes we does. But I won't be completely Nigel NoFriends because Vivek will be there (hopefully thats still the plan) and we can trawl the bars hunting down the finest vodka drinks the city has to offer.
Too tired to blog more.
Going nighty nights now.
A better effort imminent. I am considering a Year In Review type thing, because goodness gracious me what a year!!

I can't pretend I don't need to defend some part of me from you...

I was vicously attacked by the broken handle of my teacup, and much blood came out of my finger, and it was all dripping down my arm and looked really impressive, but I'm a bit of a retard today, so I didn't think to photograph it until it looked much better and now I feel a little put out that it doesn't look as impressive.

So yesterday was Christmas day. It rained, and I got quite drunk. I had a good day though, my sneaky flatmates went and bought me presents, when I thought we'd agreed not to do presents, so I felt a bit stinky about that. We went to this anthropology professor's house, and she made lots of lovely food, and there was much wine, and two beautiful dogs and I am such a sucker for dogs so I was happy talking to them. Then we came home and our house was host to several Bangladeshis so there was them to be talked to, and Sanjukta and I drank some more wine and then I went to bed and watched some old Hitchikers Guide to the Galaxy it was pretty cool then I conked out cos I was fairly soused and woke up at 8am dead hungry and thirsty and there were leftover paranthas in the fridge so I ate one with cheese it was odd but good. Much like myself.

And then I slept on and off until after 4pm and managed to squeeze in there the obligatory hangover feed of eggs and tomatoes on toast with loads of Marmite and a few cups of tea and this evening I've been watching telly, some crap magazine style gossip programme and then Crossing Jordan and Las Vegas it was a crossover style thingy, where some extremely spunky guy from Las Vegas was on Crossing Jordan and he snogged Jordan and she had some really cute jammies with ducks on them and then Jordan and Woody were on Las Vegas with hot guy so it was all good a right visual spectacle of hotness. That Jordan's not hard to look at either, she's hot in a smart way and I like that in a woman. My finger hurts, it didn't even when it got cut up, but now it does. Bollocks.
Because I slept all day I am feeling a bit minging at the mo. My teeth are fuzzy and I got dressed at 6.15pm and I really need to have a shower now and try and scrape these colonies of fur off my tooths.
Mmmmm no wonder I am just fighting the boys off with talk like that. They are fair beating down the door to get to me and my hangover death breath and trackpants and scruffy hair and general smelliness.
The hot boy I fancy (a real life one not the hot guy from Las Vegas who I think is going out with that skanky ho from the band formerly known as good before she turned up and now known as the Black Eyed Peas so now I have evidence he has questionable taste in women so sweet, I'm in!) ....um...lost my train of thought.
Yes, hot boy, I can write all sorts of things in here about me being a complete minger because hes away from the internets for a few days and he won't hear about me wallowing in all my hotness and will still fancy me I hope.
Right Claire so far this post blows.
I is going to NYC for some New Year festivities, and I is going to meet up with the TAN man, and the reason I'm publicising this is just in case he turns out to be a psycho serial killer and chops me up into little pieces and posts me home to my mum and dad in small packages, because thats the kind of luck I have. There is also the party to end all parties in Brooklyn apparently, hosted by some ex-Syracuse geography dept folk, and my little Indian friend will be there and we have made some decidedly half-arsed plans to drink martinis in some cool bars. Perhaps TAN can point me in the direction of the cool bars, because I'm bollocksed if I know how to find then, not being particularly cool myself as you may well have guessed.
That Claire, she's many things, but cool has never been one of them. Tall and kind of geeky, but not cool.
Oooooh, speaking of geeky, I got me some grades back today.
PPA 810.2: Research methods for Public Administration - A-
MAX 800: Citizenship and Human Values - A.

And with that little piece of gloating, I'm off to have a shower.

Ok 'fess up.

I got my bear!! Yay!! Thank you!
Someone was clever enough to pick up on my subtle hints.
But what I really want to know is......

Who was it? I really have no idea.
I know who I want it to be from, but unless he was being very cunning, he doesn't know my address, cos I didn't give it.
And as far as people who know my address? Well the mind it doth boggle.
There's one who knows my address who I wish didn't.
There's people at home (NZ) who know it, and who may be the culprit/s (looking pointedly at a certain lovenest in Grafton St...)

This is seriously doing my loaf.
Please tell.

Edit: the nice people at Netflix obviously read blogs, because lo and behold, they now have Black Books, season One, which will be released on January 10th, and which is currently at the top of my queue.
I have but one thing to say: "Don't get judgy with me, Ming the Merciless!!"

There's no aphrodisiac like loneliness, youth, truth, beauty, fame, boredom, red hair, no hair, innocence, awkwardness, impunity, and a picture of you ...

Sunshine said I was pants for not posting.
Ha. I'm getting the natives to speak the lingo!!
Pretty soon they'll be calling up saying lets go out for some kai and going cheers, bro and saying stuff is choice and kia kaha when things get rough, and ka kite when they're leaving and randomly shouting bring back Buck and you're not in Guatemala now Doctor Ropata if the occasion should arise. Photobucket is having a bit of down time at the moment although I think its probably been banished to the time out room cos its not been behaving so nicely recently and refuses to share with the other kids so I'm giving this blogger photo thing a wee go.

If you could cut that skinny Knightley girl out of that photo and replace her with me then I would be happy. I'm a willing volunteer for the Clive/Ioan sandwich.
Actually after the other night's viewing of the Fantastic Four, which completely rules, thanks for asking, I may well have to add Ioan to the list of "men I would leave you for". Perhaps a further viewing of Horatio Hornblower would confirm my diagnosis. Also, Netflix (yay) have the Forsyte Saga, the new one, that he's in, and as soon as I've finished watching The Office (British version, of course) and Yes Minister and Dangermouse and Jeeves and Wooster and all the other things on my list, I will start on that.
The thing that does suck about netflix though is that they don't have Black Books, which I REALLY want to watch. I miss Bernard! I was at Borders the other day and was reminded of that episode where Manny gets a job at the big Borders type bookshop next to Bernard's and the guy tries to get him to cut off his hair and he climbs out the window and gets back to Bernard's, and Bernard's drunk, just for a change, and goes "wash the ceiling, hoover the curtains" and its dead funny. Gee, great story Claire.
See this is how sexy I am. Due to popular demand here I am modelling my brand new top-of-the-range winter jammies, ($12 at Target menswear dept). I also have them in red. Of course.

Now its after 2.30am and its time for lights out, a busy day tomorrow planned, I think I'll have a nap, and maybe watch some daytime telly. There are three Corona's remaining from the dozen I bought on Monday, perhaps I will have them for afternoon tea.

Frightfully sorry...

...but I'm far too busy to blog.
I've got some serious napping to take care of, theres the ceiling that needs staring at for hours on end, theres two dvds from netflix that need watching, theres beer that need to be drunk, sofas to be lain upon, crap telly to be watched, navels to contemplate and excessively long showers to be had.
So you're just going to have to battle through without me for a while.

So this guy comes up to me, his face red like a rose on a thorn bush, like all the colours of a royal flush, and he's peeling off these dollar bills, slapping 'em down...

I would love to write a big fuck-off blog about how I've nearly finished all my work, how I've just got the SPSS component of my exam to do which I have to do on campus because I don't have SPSS on my 'pooter, and how I've written all my citizenship paper except for the intro which I'm doing tomorrow, and how its pretty fucking awesome that I've finished my first semester here and survived relatively unscathed (knock on wood), but seeing as how yesterday I spent 14 hours at my computer and today I've spent about 11 I AM SO FUCKING SICK OF MY COMPUTER that I'm going downstairs now to watch telly and drink vodka.

TTFN.

Right bitches listen up.
Most of you (ie all) will not be getting a Xmas card from me this year. Its not because I don't care (actually it is) its because I bought a pack of twelve and once I'd sent cards to my aunties and uncles and friends back home and friends in Australia (sorry Chad, go to Janine's and share hers) I ran out. I now have one card left, and I'm saving it for that special someone.
Soon as I meet him.....
So, I took a picture of the cards I sent out this year, so you can pretend you are important enough to get one.

Ah, Vincent, how do I love thee, let me count the ways...
Here is what I would have written on the inside:

Dear (your name here)
Happy fucking Christmas.
Smoochies, Claire.

And who says I have no Xmas spirit?!?


Speaking of Xmas spirit, I REALLY FUCKING NEED THIS!!!

Normally when asked what I want for Xmas, I respond with the standard "world peace, end to hunger, European sports car, hot boyfriend who likes to shag" but this year its different. I still want all those things, but I also want this bear.
Whoever buys me this bear will be my number one favourite person for ALL OF JANUARY. Yes, thats right folks, what an offer. Who can refuse the honour of being #1 on Claire's list. And not #1 on her shitlist, which is an entirely different story. Yes, you will be showered with abuse kisses and slaps love and all sorts of pain joy for an entire month!!!
Email me for the address to send the coolest valentine bear to me, and I will love you for an entire month. (buy me the bear)
(unless of course you are an annoying little twat, in which case you can get fucked. But still buy me the bear).

In other news: there is an ice storm. My windows are frozen. Fun. Buy me the bear.
I have just finished my political science paper, and it rules. And by "rules", I of course mean "is complete pants". Buy me the bear.
And now, I have to start this arse munching, bunny killing, flower be-heading, tyre flattening, open mouth eating, puppy kicking, knicker ripping, milk curdling, homophobic, misogynistic, racist, anti-Semitic, red-necked, reactionary, ingrown toenail of an exam.
Pray for me.
And buy me the bear.

I freaking wish....


Thanks Chuck

Finally....

I had a big rant last night about the death penalty and went all Dostoyevsky on your arses, and then realised it was a rant better off over at mine and Gwen's flash new site for such political rants, Some Common Ground.
So all of you toddle off there and have a wee read and pour your vitriol into the comments box.

In keeping with the hideous amounts of work I have to do this week, I'm off now to go out for lunch with my friend.
Ah, I love my life.

Smoochies.

Sphincter says what?

I'm sorry? What did you say, John Howard?
Australia is not a racist nation?

I think we have another nominee for the GW "Delusional World Leaders Hall of Fame".
If Australia has "no underlying racism", then there are gigantic piles of nuclear, biological and chemical weapons lining the streets of Baghdad, inmates at Guantanamo Bay are read bedtime stories by the US army and tucked into bed at night by Condoleeza Rice, Schwarznegger has a PhD in economics, and I'm a middle aged black man.

I mean really, John. This from the country where I learned more racist slurs than any other place I have lived? Where up until the mid 1970s it was still not a crime to kill an Aborigine in some states? Where your houses of government are almost exclusively white, in a country with more ethnic diversity than any place I've seen? Where Pauline Hanson developed a following? Where your government rounds up refugees and places them in concentration camps in the desert? (can you say Woomera?)

Don't get me wrong, I lived there for two years and had a wonderful time (except for when I burnt my hand at work one day, but thats an entirely different story). I have some good friends who are Australian, the lifestyle was great, and there are a gazillion positive things about Australia (cricket team notwithstanding). And I know NZ is far from perfect, despite my usual protestations to the contrary.
But to say that there is not a problem of underlying racism in Australia is equivalent to staring down an oncoming tsunami and claiming that its just a bit of rough weather.

Problems don't go away by denying their existence. I would hope the people who run this world have moved beyond the stage my very small niece is at where she covers her eyes to make things go away.
Problems are resolved by acknowledging them, staring them in the face, understanding them, and addressing them head on.

And here endeth the rant.
Bring it on.

In which dogs are the nicest people there are

This is a photo of a photo of my beloved and departed doggy. I can honestly say, he was one of the nicest most genuine people I have ever met. And I miss him.
I was talking to Apoc via the wonders of google talk (get it you bastards so I can talk shit to you all day and night) and we got talking about dogs, and so I thought I'd share with you the coolest dog ever, who had more personality in his right paw than most people I've met, and didn't let the fact that he was a dog get in the way of being great company and a much loved member of our family.
The great thing about dogs is that they think you're freaking perfect. They couldn't give a rat's arse if you've put ten pounds on, or if your work isn't up to scratch, they just want you home so they can sit at your feet and get pats on the head and chase the cricket ball around the back garden with you and you can take them to the park and they can snuffle around in the dead leaves and eat all sorts of disgusting things and jump on the kids at soccer practice and then come home and put their chin on your knee and look up at you and sigh so you will feed them then they sit beside you all night and in the morning they're so sad to see you go to work and you know that they really mean it. They have no agenda, and their motives are simple and pure.
You are a complete, well rounded and accepted person around your dog.
And for that, I love them.
And now hes chasing cars and smelling other dog's bums in heaven.

This is very confusing

This is what happens in the northern hemisphere in December.
Meanwhile I'm getting emails from my Dad saying how lovely the weather is at home and how the garden looks fantastic and how nice the swimming pool is and how its such a nice warm day and gosh summer in NZ is just smashing.
I am seasonally confused.

Because the fate of the many may depend on a few....

Ohmigodohmigodohmigodohmigodohmigod!!!!!!!
I am already nearly peeing my pants with excitement.
Only six months to go...

All this time...

...I've just been a big ol' four-eyed ginge.
Who knew?

Tuesday morning Yin and Yang

On the upside:
There's a 15cm layer of snow over the world outside my window and everything's pretty.
I just did 35 situps and 25 pressups and a bunch of stretches and feel good.
The spiky kitchen window deathsicle is growing and making good photos.
In two weeks I will be finished all my work and can sleep all day.
Pitt and Outlaw are in love and engaged.
"The Bromley East Roller" is still a fucking rockin' tune.
I have great hair.

On the downside:
All my friends are going home for Christmas and I will be lonely.
I woke up screaming at 4am from a nightmare I can't remember and only had a toy tiger for comfort.

Live through this with me I swear that I will die for you

Yep, its the Hole post. I freaking LOVE Hole. Punk rock, motherfuckers!!! And I believe in sharing my love of things with everybody.
When I was 18 I went to Auckland to my very first Big Day Out because Hole were playing for 50 minutes. And damn, it was worth it. I had to get a second job for the sole purpose of paying for the airfares, because my normal activities in the university summer holidays involved doing sweet FA. But not in the summer of 94-95 (do the math, yes. That's really how old I am.) because that summer I was working in some crappy office in Lyttelton and saving every cent so I could see Hole live.

Yes, I know that in recent years Ms Love has lost it somewhat, what with the drugs, and some more drugs, and losing custody of her child, and getting ripped off by her dodgy accountant, and then some more drugs (step away from the crack pipe, Courtney!) but damn if she didn't make some killer records.

Take the very first Hole record, Pretty on the Inside. The title track is completely Punk, and not in a naff Green Day arsey "oh look we've got spiky hair we must be punk" kind of way, I mean in a screaming until your throat bleeds kind of punk. The good kind. The kind that allows you to channel all your pain and anger and shit and teen angst into one primitive wail. The cleansing kind.

Then of course, we have the second album. The sublime Live Through This. I was recently asked what five albums I couldn't live without, and this is definately one, but not in a "I love this record so much I must listen to it everyday or I'll simply die" kind of way. I mean that this record actually saved my life. OK, so it didn't jump out of the stereo and give me cpr, but I can honestly say that me surviving relatively unscathed through a particularly bleak period of my life has a lot to do with blasting this record so loud I completely shagged the speakers, and taking power from the fact that I could be angry instead of sad, that I could externalise it all and didn't have to take it all on myself, and the simple fact that the person speaking to me from this record sounded a lot like she knew what I was going through. And sometimes thats enough.
And then there's the lyrics. Unfortunately for Miss Courtney, this record was scheduled for release within a few days of her husband committing suicide. And when she sings things like "I made my bed I'll lie in it, I made my bed I'll die in it, I made my bed I'll cry in it" it gives one a little shiver. And her harsh wail on Gutless "You can try to suck me dry, but there's nothing left to suck, just you try to hold me down, come and try to shut me up".
Powerful stuff. Yes, I'm listening to it right now.
Doll Parts: "I want to be the girl with the most cake, I love him so much it just turns to hate, I fake it so real I am beyond fake, someday you will ache like I ache"

Then she got famous because of her dead husband when in reality she should have been famous for her awesome music and in my humblest of humble opinions I think Live Through This is superior to anything Nirvana did, and she made some movies, and got all glammed up but was still punk, and then Hole made Celebrity Skin.
This is a fine fucking record, don't get me wrong, and has some incredibly powerful songs, but it has a different meaning for me. Its the most radio friendly of the three records, I think Pretty on the Inside would probably cause most radios to fall apart, and there are some lyrics on this record that are just fucking amazing.
One of my favourites: Reasons to be Beautiful: "miles and miles of perfect skin, I swear I do I fit right in".
Petals, about the late Kristen Pfaff, former Hole bassist who od'ed three months after Cobain died: "she's the grace of this world, she's too pure, for the likes of this world, this world is a whore"
Playing Your Song: "I had to tell them you were gone, I had to tell them we were wrong, and now they're playing your song, they bought and sold it all its gone, they took it and they built a mall, and now they're playing your song"

And now that its past my bedtime I will leave you with the last word in this deranged fan-post from the lady herself. I'm off to bed now to dream of sweet loving.

Northern Star
And I cry and no one can hear
Inhale
The blinded eyes that see
The chaos
Bring the pitiful to me
Even though I’m wide-awake, I will
& blackest night & I will wait for you
It’s cold in here, there’s no one left
And I wait for you
And nothing stops it happening
And I knew, I’d cherish all my misery alone
And I wait staring at the northern star
I’m afraid it won’t lead me anywhere
He’s so cold, he will ruin the world tonight
All the angels kneel into the northern lights
Kneel into the frozen lights
And they paid, I cry and cry for you
Ghosts that haunt you with their sorrow
I cried cos you were doomed
Praying to the wound that swallows
All that’s cold and cruel
Can you see the trees, charity and gratitude
They run to the pines
It’s black in here, blot out the sun
And run to the pines
Our misery runs wild and free
And I knew, the fire and the ashes of his grave
And I wait staring at the northern star
I’m afraid it won’t lead you very far
He’s so cold, he will win the world tonight
All the angels kneel into the northern lights
Feel their hearts, they’re cold and white
And I want you
And blessed are the broken
And I beg you
No loneliness, no misery is worth you
Oh, tear his heart cold as ice
It’s mine
And I wait, praying to the northern star
I’m afraid it won’t lead you anywhere
He’s so cold, raining on the world tonight
All the angels kneeling to the northern lights
And I pray, begging to the northern star
I’m afraid it won’t lead you anywhere
He’s so cold, he will rule the world tonight
All the angels, kneeling to the northern lights
Kneeling to the frozen lights
Feel their hearts, they’re cold as ice

Practice, practice makes perfect

OK I'm trying really hard to do this retarded presentation for Wednesday that actually has to be ready to go by Monday and really by tomorrow at 2pm because me and my fellow geeks are having a practice run and Marie-Lou wants to bring bacardi and get drunk while we practice our presentations anyway I am trying to get it finished but am doing a completely pants job of it cos I'm really tired and want to go downstairs and cook although I'm only very mildly hungry but I've had a piece of chicken marinating in garlic and feijoa vodka for a few hours and I'm going to grill it and make me some saucy chicken salad action this is a really long sentence time for a rest. Phew.
Today I helped Marie-Lou move into her new house that she bought how grown up and then we ate pizza and then I went home and remembered I had to return a library book so I stomped through the snow to uni and then did my washing and scotchguarded my clogs and made my bed and sewed my pillow case up and had a wee snack and I'm hungry again go figure. Whenever I'm really hungry and getting stuck in to loads of food my mum says "Are you pregnant dear?" cos shes cheeky and I reply "chance would be a fine thing, Elizabeth" cos I'm cheeky too.
So, my presentation is retarded and is only three slides long so far, I am going to cook a chicken salad and it will be the shiznit because I am a fricking domestic goddess and then I'll probably watch Crossing Jordan or maybe 24 and get all blase about not doing my presentation and then maybe have a wee vodka and come back upstairs and piss about on the internet for a bit although nobody will have written anything cos its Saturday night and everybody is out having a life but I'm a graduate student in the last fortnight of semester so have no life until the 19th of December and even then all my friends will go home to their families for Xmas and I'm stuck here being a Christmas orphan loser so I will while away the remaining weekends of my twenties in my red trackpants and slippers eating chicken salad and being a sad cow. OK now it sounds like I'm all morbid and depressed, which I'm not, because quite frankly, how could you be depressed when you're me? Really.
However, I BADLY NEED A WEEKEND IN THE CITY!!!! ANY CITY WILL DO!!!
That New Years party in Brooklyn is looking pretty good right about now, I am in dire need of some serious partying. Martinis, my brown boots, a pretty skirt and lipstick, lots of dancing and many hot boys. Maybe some sightseeing during the day, a stroll through Battery Park, a walk across the Brooklyn Bridge (I heart the Brooklyn Bridge) and some scrummy cafes, maybe a meal at Anthony Bourdain's restaurant (yes, I'm still stalking him, even though Fux cancelled Kitchen Confidential). Yep, I'm definately going to the city for a few days these holidays.
But now, vodka chicken.

As we speak...

...this is what's going on out my bedroom window. Yep, snow. And lots of it.
Its 4.30pm, and I'm going to have a nap.

Party on, Wayne.

I want to be the girl with the most cake, He only loves those things because he loves to see them break, I fake it so real I am beyond fake, Some day you will ache like I ache

This just in: I'm perfect.
Yep, I'm going to be quoting this.

Right. Its 1.22 am, and here is a brief sample of the 2071 words I have written since 5.30pm.

There exists the possibility of a type of reverse regression artefact as a threat to the internal validity of this study. It is conceivable that certain conflicts were selected for a particularly high-profile, ‘aggressive’ or comprehensive conflict management effort because it was extremely violent or prolonged. Such conflicts may have less chance of achieving a peaceful resolution than others.....
This study represents many of the difficulties encountered with social science research, in that many of the variables to be tested are not simply quantifiable, that no control group is available, that no pre-test is practically possible, and that a non-equivalent dependent variable is not available, given the nature of the context in which the treatment occurs. The experiment aims to conduct a multiple regression analysis of the above variables to discern a relationship.

No I didn't read it either.

So I'm sitting here and I notice that its officially Gracie's birthday. I have her phone number. Do you know how tempting it is to call her and sing happy birthday? Except I think she's now in Toronto which is the same time zone as me, and given that its nearly 1.30 am I think that would probably go down like an SS uniform at Prince Harry's costume party.

I went swimming this morning. I am a fish.
This is why Fishboy loves me.

ER was really good tonight, and STOP READING NOW IF YOU DON'T WANT TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENS it looks like from the preview of next week's episode that Luka and Abby finally come to their senses and live together and make babies until Sarah and I come along and they realise their true loves and Luka runs away with me and Abby runs off with Sarah I don't know how Ree will take this but she's fairly understanding I'm sure she'll be fine.

Holy red eye Batman I really need to sleep I have to get up at about 5am (yeah, right!!) to finish my loser proposal for this fucking course so then I can go to class at 9.30 am with proposal in hand and give to the prof and then have class and then meet with him after class so he can tear my proposal to shreds so then I can write a new one before Monday and turn it into a presentation with power point and everything but after my meeting Holly's coming to pick me up and we're going to the supermarket cos I'm running out of food and we need to go to the Chinese shop too cos I'm nearly out of chilli sauce and life without chilli sauce is no life I want to be living also the coconut milk at Wegmans sucks arse so maybe we should go to the Indian shop too and then I can go home and write my proposal again as above but with food and then on Saturday I'm helping Marie-Lou move house and on Sunday having a practice run for presentations. (breathe) Also Marie-Lou wants to get drunk this weekend because her kids are in India but I really don't have time, not for the drinking because there's always time for that I mean the hangover I'm losing it in my old age and can no longer handle the hangover jandal.

Anyone in my home town please go and visit my darling cousin who has had her sinuses regrouted or something. Poor wee possum. Sending love from the fine (cold) state of NY.

I was in class on Wednesday and one of my classmates comes up to me in the break and says "Hey Claire, I love your blog!"
Right, so I should not comment on classes or name professors or go saying what school I go to and maybe stop using my real name cos I don't want to get in big troubles with the uni and get kicked out for badmouthing people and lose funding or whatever and then I'll get deported which sounds pretty good right about now because its summer at home and my sister will have her kids at Dad's house and he'll have the pool going and the beer will be flowing and the BBQ cranked but still I came a long way to be Dr Claire so nobody go around saying Syracuse university will you. Oops.

1.44am. Wake up time in...T-minus 3.16

You never expect the Spanish Inquisition!!!

Sunshine

What blogger would you most like to meet? You!! But I know I'm going to, same with Grace and Gwen and Apoc. Ummm....A really hot one. Chuck sounds like lots of fun, and I think Outlaw would be great too. I might be meeting TAN at New Years, and I'd like to buy Isabel a drink. All the NZ bloggers on my links are friends of mine, so they don't count. (Do you think she'll notice I haven't really answered it?)

Have you ever gotten so lost you were worried you'd never find your way back to civilization? Yes, on a school camp in 4th form, because this stupid cow of a teacher didn't know the difference between a ridge and a slope. It was ok though, because there were about 12 of us, although I did get 12 bee stings. The number of classmates that got lost and the number of bee stings I recieved are completely unrelated.

What job are you going after when you graduate? Queen of the Fucking Universe. I have a mug with that on it that my darling cousin bought me about 11 years ago. I want to work for the World Bank, go and tell them what they're doing wrong. But I also want to go home too, so I'm torn.

Would you kill a loved one for world peace or keep them alive and watch the world destroy itself? (yes I stole this question from a thought provoking blogger because it's a good question) Couldn't do it. A world without my loved ones in it isn't a world I want to live in. Selfish, I know.

Would you marry someone that you didn't love in order to gain citizenship in a country? Hell yes, in fact I had a friend of my brother-in-laws offer me $10 000 to do so. My family would spit tacks though.

Fishboy

What's the difference between a duck? The Bill. And I don't mean a duck's beak, I mean the fine UK police drama.

The Assimilated Negro

have you ever had sex with a guy who's thingamajiggy was as big as that icicle? No, have you?

And I guess also have you ever had sex with a guy who's thingamajiggy melted in warm weather? What! You mean that's not normal?

Gwen

Since I am rather randy be prepared to give good answers!

1. What was the best screw you have ever had? At this bar in Australia, it was called a "Comfortable Screw" and they mixed Southern Comfort in with the vodka and orange, it was yummo.

2. What would you rather, Incredible one night stands or mediocre sex for the rest of your life? When its with the one you love, its rarely mediocre. I heard.

3. What type of farm animal would you screw? Huh? Like I'm going to answer that!

4. What pornstar would you screw? I couldn't actually name one, sorry. A really hot one who had no germs.

5. What male blogger would you screw? Does Viggo have a blog?

6. What female blogger would you screw? Well, you're pretty hot....

7. What male blogger do you think has the most vd? If you could get vd from imaginary sex, then I could answer that.

8. What female blogger do you think has the most vd? Me.

9. What classic monster would you screw (like frankenstein, or dracula?) Definately Dracula, he was well sexy. Hot like FIRE!!

10. What type of fruit would you screw? You're very strange, you know that don't you?.... Lets just say, it wouldn't be an orange.

Dave

Have you ever feared that a flatmate was preparing to eat you? No, but then I wasn't the one whose room they wrapped in roasting foil...

Luther

Have you ever hoped that a flatmate was preparing to eat a flatmate? No, but if your fankle wasn't getting better Lisa and I were going to amputate it and invite everyone around for a spitroast.

Apoc

Do you enjoy KY Jelly and Peanut butter sandwiches? Never tried, but probably.

Do you think I'd look dashing in a dress? Ooooh yes, I have a lovely red number you would look just smashing in.

Would I have to shave my legs? Definately

Would I have to shave my chest? No, you should wax it. Chest stubble = not pretty.

Can you shave my coinpurse? Can I use my big kitchen knife?

What did you think of Ben when you called me in Vancouver and I passed the phone over to him? Very polite, but I couldn't really hear him, lots of noise in the back ground at both ends. I must talk to him again one day. When you and I are drunk we'll give him a wee bell.

Where do the sexiest accents come from, other then from down under? Scotland. Or Croatia.

How many questions am I allowed to ask? Seven more.

What do you think of a North American Winter? Ask me again in February

Would you ever sleep naked with someone just to stay warm? Have done, will likely do so again. Mmmmm. Naked.

Will I ever shut up? I sincerely hope not.

Favourite sexual position? Up against the wall, in a place where its really not appropriate to be doing it. Office bathroom, moving elevator, you know. That type of thing.

When was the last time you peed your pants? Just now.

What was your first pet's name? A blue budgie called Billy. My friend fed him fimo by accident and he died, so while my sisters and I were at school my poor mum spent the entire day going to every pet shop in Christchurch with the dead budgie in a plastic bag, saying "I need a budgie that looks exactly like this one". Bless her, saving our wee childhood innocence of the brutality of mortality for just a little longer.

WWWCD -
What Would Winston Churchill Do? Say something incredibly witty yet scathing.

Flint

how'd you get so pretty? I'm Muhammed Ali.

Grace

What's your biggest wish you have yet to fulfill yet and why? I don't know where to start.

Do you still want to shag Benjamin? No, and I'm not sure I ever really did. He's pretty, but I don't fancy boys prettier than me. Top bloke though, I'd like to buy him a drink.

How heartbroken will you be when I announce Viggo's my baby daddy? In your dreams, sister!

Are you going to flash your boobs at Mardi Gras? Is the Pope Catholic?

If you could change one thing about you, what would it be? My skin. Its too freckly and scarred (as a result of being too freckly and then those freckles/moles turning into nasties and having to get surgically removed). Also, I wish my brain was a bit more ordered, and that I could think of other people a bit more than I instinctively do.

How much do you love the Dave Matthews Band? I'm sensing the correct answer is "Quite a lot".

Do the rich have an obligation to help the poor? Why or why not? As a general rule, yes, because the likelihood of them having had much better opportunities than their poorer counterparts is quite high. But if people are poor cos they're too lazy to get off their fat arses and get a job, then no. And if people are rich because they inherited it or won it, then they have an extra obligation to help the poor. There are different types of rich people: there are those who are rich because they were in the right place at the right time and made the most of an opportunity, then there are those who got rich by shafting everybody else, then those who came across money by good fortune. I'm sure there are many other types of rich people too, but its time for the next question now.

Last time you got laid, was it with a human (alive) or an object (even though I consider men objects, it's not what I mean). It was a real live man. Common decency prevents me from elaborating further.

Have you ever had e-sex (blogger comments aside)? Not yet.

Phone sex? With whom? Why? No, seems like there's Something Really Important Missing.

Coke or Pepsi? Usually neither, but when I'm hungover or extremely tired, I'll occasionally bow to the Dark Master that is the evil Coca Cola.

Toilet paper: over or under? On my bottom, thats where.

Favourite book? Top few? To Kill A Mockingbird, The Ground Beneath Her Feet, Midnight's Children, The English Patient, Foucault's Pendulum, Ordinary People, The Matriarch

Favourite music? Right now: Interpol, Fat Freddy's Drop, Snow Patrol, Phoenix Foundation, Deftones, Chemical Brothers (First two albums, before they got crap), Bomb the Bass, Minuit, Salmonella Dub, St Etienne, Straitjacket Fits, Beastie Boys, White Stripes....

Least favourite blogger (aside from Mike/IAWCC)? That dick that I was arguing with who Ben was arguing with too, the right-wing guy who took issue with my "liberal talking points" ie facts.

Claire

How much do you hate PPA 810.2, Research Methods for Public Administration? More than sand in my knickers, more than stupid people, more than screaming children in supermarkets, more than people who eat with their mouths open, more than people who are mean to dogs, more than period cramps, more than the US Republican Party, more than 80s hair, more than ignorance, more than fundamentalists, more than television advertising, more than ingrown toenails, more than pretentious people, more than Kylie Minogue, Celine Dion, Mariah Carey and J-Ho combined, more than seafood, more than traitors, more than strong winds, more than the media that tells girls they're nothing if they don't subscribe to a particular conception of "pretty", more than Michael Jackson, more than yeast infections, more than barbershop music, more than made for TV Christmas movies, more than the fact I've run out of things that I hate. Ahem. Quite a lot.

Anyone else?

Spiky kitchen window deathsicle

From the Bandwagon Jumping Dept. of Planet Claire, in conjunction with the Ministry of Can't Think Of Anything Interesting To Post I present to you.....

...question time.

Ask me anything. I will probably answer it, and sometimes even honestly.

Here, I'll even show you how its done.
Q: Whose house?
A: Run's house!


Then you can go and check out Borat, who, in response to recent claims by the Kazakh Ministry of We Are Not Amused that the country sue Sacha Baron Cohen, said "I like to state, I have no connection with Mr Cohen, and fully support my government's decision to sue this Jew"

But first, let the Inquisition begin.
Bring on Cardinal Biggles!!

Right bitches, I'm back.

And while I was gone I went to Pennsylvania and had my first American Thanksgiving experience. Its a weird tradition, people come together and cook a turkey the size of a three year old child and eat themselves into a food coma and follow it up with "pie" by which they mean tarts and sweet flans and cakes. And the day after people get up at 5am to go shopping to buy things they really don't need and to fight each other for cheap products which were more than likely made by children in Burma who don't have turkeys to eat.
Anyway, it was nice to be with a family again, even though it wasn't my own, and Kait and I drank every night, which is why I'm saving up my money and buying a house on this street because I'd fit right in.


Reading Pennsylvania is smack bang in the middle of Amish country and I was most upset to come away from my wee holiday without seeing a single Amish person. I'm sure they don't all look like Viggo but I would love a photo of some Amish people. However, I didn't see any, which as it turns out may have been a good thing because apparently they are a bit stinky because they don't use soap or deodorant or toothpaste or listerine or shampoo or perfume or razors or dental floss or any of those useful things we use to smell nice and keep our teeth from not falling out. I would last five minutes in an Amish house because stinky breath is my number one Hate (co-first prize winner with Eating With Mouth Open. I firmly believe all noisy eaters should be taken out back and shot).

So, the drinking. First night we went to this right dive of a bar that was kind of fun and drank beer and that was nice, and the second night Kait's brother-in-law's band was playing at a fire company which is where firemen go to drink but none of them were hot, and the singer of the band embarrassed the crap out of me and I nearly hit him but didn't cos I'm a lady.
And then Kait's friend Salad took a photo of me and I look really fat so I need to get exercising and cutting down on the old booze a wee bit or Greenpeace will come to the beach when I'm swimming and refloat me. However, the day that I go on a diet is the day that hell freezes over that GW says something intelligent that pigs fly that Sarah is not my number one girl that the pope is a single mother from South Auckland that Fat Freddy's suck that Luther is short that Fox is fair and balanced that I am not awesome. So basically, never.

So, in keeping with the season, I ate obscene amounts of food on Thanksgiving, and we went to the first-night-bar again, and I drank scotch because it was cold and I got a bit drunky which was fun.
We also went for a wee walk before the bar after the turkey and before the "pie" and I saw a sign. Not The Sign, nor the Sign O The Times, but a sign nonetheless.

And I took its photo. It was most obliging, as were Ramone and Chet.

Ramone. Big fat grumpy black cat. I heart Ramone.

Chet. He has three legs. I know pretty much all cats have three legs, but the unusual thing about Chet is that he doesn't also have leg number four that all the other cats have. He got shot in the first Gulf War and now sits around the house collecting his veterans benefits.
He's a pretty cool dude, even if he did bite me. Twice.

Back to the booze. Last night was fun because we went to the Ugly Oyster with Kait's "boys" one of which was her ex-boyfriend and long lost twin of our very own Luther and his silly skank of a girlfriend was there (not Luther's, his is most awesome and not in small town USA but is on a boat making the oceans safe for the inevitable global pirate takeover, I mean the ex-boyfriend's) and she hated me because he was loving The Claire and kept trying to talk to me and look at my boobs and ignoring her what a rude bastard. We think he's a dick because he was not very nice to Kait when they were together and was rude to Kait's mum who is the coolest lady in Pennsylvania. Anyway.

Then I drank A Lot Of Bourbon and someone made me do an Irish Car Bomb which is a shot of Baileys dropped in most of a pint of Guiness and you're supposed to chop the entire thing in one go and I couldn't do it and I felt bad because I was the sole representative of my country there and I let the side down but then I snogged a really hot boy called Zane and that made up for it. Zane hearts Claire. And Claire hearts Zane, at least for a little while in a bar last night until fate tore us apart like star-crossed lovers in manner of Shakespearean tragedy or similar. Poor Zane, because he's still in Reading Pennsylvania and I'm in Syracuse New York and long distance relationships never work and it was beautiful while it lasted but we'll always have the Ugly Oyster Bar and our one wee snog.
Now I have snogged boys in two states. Only 48 to go.

And now I'm going to bed.

Thank you for all the nice things you said while I was gone.
Did I miss anything exciting?

Low-atus

Most of the time its pretty cool being me. In fact, its generally awesome.
However, there are rare occasions in which everything comes sneaking up on me and smacks me in the back of the head and completely floors me. Right now is one of those times.
So, I'll be away from the blogosphere for a little while.
I don't know how long for, I never know how long these things will last. Maybe a few days, maybe a few weeks.
I'm going to be fine, I'm getting pretty good at this now, I'm just so tired of it all.
Talk amongst yourselves, and I'll be back.

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

....in T minus 43 minutes.....

ohmigodimsoexcitediloveharryicantwaittoseethedragonsandvoldemortandohgoodnessithinkimgoingtopeemypants

Holy Toilet Hugging Hangover, Batman!!!

I feel like complete arse.
Arse that has been marinated, grilled, chewed up, spat out, jumped up and down on, put through a blender, laid out on a cricket pitch and then steamrolled over.
Booze + Claire = Pain.

We had this hoojimmy at ours last night, people from the university came and talked about that weird space we inhabit between student and faculty, and then there was food, and wine (lots of wine) and after a while we got sick of the talking so I put Fat Freddy's on and there was grooving and then I put some Phoenix Foundation on and there was much rejoicing and then some people went to Harry Potter (you're a wizard, 'Arry!) and some went bowling and Rebecca and I were going to go bowling too but there was much disorganisation and drunkeness and some more wine so we ended up at Taps (pub up the road) where there was beer and darts (at which I completely suck) and foozball (also on the list of "things at which I suck") and its all a blur really.

I have no idea when Sanjukta and I staggered home, but it was pretty darn late!! I have vague recollections of calling Rebecca and shouting at her answerphone "Are you alive!! I'm going home!! Bye!!"

Awoke at 7.30 am, gave consideration to chopping my head off to stop the pain, but decided to go back to sleep instead.
Awoke at 12.30, went down for a cup of tea, went back to bed.
Awoke at about 1.30, went downstairs to puke, went back to bed.
Awoke at about 2.15, went downstairs to puke, sat in the shower for 20 minutes hugging my knees and begging forgiveness, went back to bed. Remembered to turn shower off.
Awoke about 5pm, went downstairs for food, discovered the toilet was blocked. Swore loudly and often. Went to the downstairs neighbours for a wee and ended up borrowing their plunger, as our one is officially crap. Unblocked the toilet. Make a mental note that unblocking toilets while crippingly hungover is on a par with trying to change a baby's nappy while in a similar state. Clean bathroom floor (thankfully only liquid mess, but still pretty gross). Wash hands with scaldingly hot water and about ten pounds of soap. Note tendancy to exaggerate.
5.45 ish, cook big disgusting mess of hash browns, eggs, tomatoes and toast. Mmmm. Fried goodness.
6.15 ish, retire to room in an attempt to do some work, because have been complete write off the whole day. End up reading blogs and listening to Interpol.

Now its 7.15 pm, and perhaps the time has come for me to actually do some of the great fuck off pile of work I have to do before Tuesday.

Arse, I tells ya.

Edit: 7.26pm: realise that at some point during the day I have lost my ability to reconcile past and present tense while blogging hungover.
7.27pm: come to terms with my new disability

Hey, down in splendour, take a bow, blinded in the white light and the crowd, die slowly in your arms, left to lie alone, and save your face of changing colour and your smile of fading colour cos you'll never find another who will give you ever after and you shouldn't have to say goodbye...

So, things that suck. T-groovy is working New Years Eve until 6pm then starts work again at sparrow's fart on New Year's Day.
Arsefeckshitwanktitfuckbollocks.
Oh well, I probably couldn't have afforded a trip to Paris anyway. Still. Fucksticks.

The good news however, is that now I have loads of time to make plans for exciting things to do for New Years. Normally I couldn't give a flying fuck about it, in part because its completely arbitrary because the calendars have been adjusted so much ever since people began measuring years, and in part because the New Year in New Zealand arrives 16 hours before it does here, so I can kind of have two...

Also this year is significant because its the first New Years in FUCKING FOREVER where I'm not working in some mad-busy restaurant being grumpy and sober while all around drunk people are having fun and thinking they're cool when they're really being complete cunts.

So, what should I do?

There's Times Square, a few hours down the road in Manhattan. That could be fun, although probably full of Americans. I could go to Canada and visit Apoc. Apparently I have some distant relatives in Vancouver, but they're probably really boring.

Any bright ideas?
Or in lieu of bright ideas, $2000 to go home would be nice too.

Currently listening to: Straitjacket Fits; "Down in Splendour", as if the title wasn't hint enough.

Breaking news just in....

Has anyone seen this woman?

For she is Person of the week for sending a care package.
Sorry Mr Peter Jackson, you may have a trillion Oscars, but Bridget is in fact the Coolest Person in Wellington (tm) (except for Hester, of course...)

So if you see her walking down the road, please buy her stuff. She likes Japanese food and socks with toes and dogs and yoga and is a vegetarian and has many books and speaks Japanese and Russian and has a law degree and is very clever.

In the last few days I have been averaging 4 or five hours of sleep a night, and so my customary Wednesday afternoon nap turned into about 3 hours of blissful snoozing. So, once I got up I was feeling all scrummy, and not like I was about to kill someone, so I went downstairs for a cup of tea. As one does.

Sitting on the coffee table was a care package Bridget had sent me, containing not only the new Phoenix Foundation album I had been whinging about a few posts ago but a few other goodies as well.

Here is how much Bridget rules.


Some socks with kiwis on them and a crunchie bar and a chocolate fish and the new Phoenix Foundation cd to whose awesomeness I am currently getting down to.

All together now: YAY BRIDGET!!!

I really want to eat the chocolate fish now but I was getting stuck into some jaffas earlier and am worried that if I eat more sweeties I will puke, and I really don't want to waste probably the only chocolate fish in North America.

Heres another reason why its great to be me.

My dressing down matches my trackpants and I'm wearing my moo boots.


Speaking of cows, check this out. Turn the sound up. (Thanks Heq)
I heart cows. Especially Cow Tse-Tung.

And on that note, I'm off to buy some wine, because I'm a raving lush.
Take care now bye bye.

Holy flaming arseholes, Batman

So I was in the shower, washing my hair and drinking some vodka, and a thought came to me.

Sometimes its just so weird, being me.

But I'm in a rather benevolent mood, which may have something to do with the teensy weensy bit of alcomohol I've had to drink because tomorrow at 9am is Research Methods and being overtired and having a little wee baby hangover actually makes that class more enjoyable that is how hellish it is.

And as a result of my rather benevolent mood, I've decided to invite you all to my birthday party. Unless you're mean or stinky, in which case you can piss off.

So, this party. Its in May next year, and it will probably be at my Dad's house, and its a Significant Burpday so there will be cocktails and bar service and champagne and yummy little nibbly things and lots of beautiful people. I want to fill the swimming pool up with one giant cocktail, but Dad said a) no piss off thats a perfectly good swimming pool and b) Claire that is just SOOOOO nouveau riche. I heard about a guy who had a birthday party for his wife and had an ice replica of Michaelangelo's David with vodka coming out of his winkle and waiters in togas and firecracker displays but I'm pretty sure I'm not going to get that.
But thats cool.

And then after my party we can drive up to Kaikoura and go whale-watching and go to Akaroa and play with dolphins and then drive south and stop in Geraldine for a cup of tea and a pie and to see the world's biggest jersey (its in the Guiness Book of records!) and then drive further south and go to Mount Cook/Aoraki and walk up the Huka valley and get stonechips in the windscreen of the car but we won't mind because we will be having so much darn fun. And then we can stay at the Hermitage with the ghosts and then drive to Oamarama and stop by Sailors Cutting and steal a boat and go across the lake through the gorge up to Willow Peak and I can share my childhood memories of waterskiing on a glass-flat lake and barbequeing and my Dad telling the dead horse joke and Ed and his badly cooked eggs and white chocolate and the smell of petrol for the boats and the really scary storm we had that is the reason to this day I am afraid of high winds.

And then we can drive even further south and go through the Lindis Pass and stop at the top and look out across the McKenzie valley cos its a hundred colours of pretty, and then we'll be off to our next stop which is heaven on earth the best place I've ever been Wanaka. And we will have planned ahead so that when we get there the water and heat and spa pool are on and we'll stop at the supermarket and buy loads of yummy veges and wine and cheeses and dolmades and crackers and we'll get to the house and I'll cook up a big feast and we'll sit around the big dining table and share stories about our lives and our favourite teachers at school and the first time we rode our bikes without training wheels and the naughty things we did and got away with and the best concerts we've been to and our favourite songs and the first time we got drunk and we'll laugh so much there are tears running down our faces and then I'll make us all a nice cup of coffee and we'll load the dishwasher and we'll sit on the comfy sofa and watch Black Books and then have a spa and go to bed all full and relaxed and half drunk and delicious.

Then in the morning we'll all pile into the car and go into the town and buy sandwiches and orange juice from the Doughbin and drive up the other side of the lake past Glendu Bay past Treble Cone right up into the Matukituki Valley to the DOC site and we'll walk right up to the bottom of the Rob Roy glacier two hours straight up and we'll get to the top thoroughly exhausted but in the best possible way and we'll get our sammies out and the keas will try to eat them but we'll be cleverer than them cos they're just silly parrots after all, and after we eat the sammies we'll walk down and instead of going back to the house we'll drive up to the Cardrona Hotel and have a beer and some hot chips and toast our feets by the fire and then go back to the house and stop at Tuatara Pizza and get venison and cranberry pizza and brocolli and brie pizza and apricot chicken pizza and a bunch of other flavours and go back to the house and eat our pizza and lie on the floor because its heated and maybe have another spa and when we get up in the morning we'll just lie around the house drinking tea and eating toast and playing scrabble and trivial pursuit and listening to some tunes and maybe sit in the spa some more and look out at the lake over to the Rippon vineyard and to Mount Aspiring and watch the boats coming and going and maybe go into the town and get drunk and walk home singing and making angel wings out of stolen toi toi and then after a few days we'll pile ourselves into the car and head back to sunny Christchurch and get on a plane and the adventure will be over.

Ummmmm.....

You can do a multiple regression with two independent variables and one dependent variable when the dependent variable is on an ordinal scale and the independent variables are measured in a categorical index, can't you?

Get in the kitchen and cook me some pie!!!

You can all start calling me Nigella Lawson, because I am a freaking DOMESTIC GODDESS!!!
We have this thing in my political science class where each week a couple of people are nominated to bring lunch for the whole class. Somehow I let slip that I Can Cook, and so find myself in sole charge of tomorrow's lunch. Which is fine and dandy, but being the perfectionist foody-type person I am, I hate to have pre-made anything. I make everything from scratch, that way I know whats in it. Also, it means I can take the credit for its awesomeness, but thats another story.

So, I have spent about two and half hours of my valuable time (only valuable because I have a research proposal due on Wednesday and readings for tomorrow to do and ten pages of a final paper due next week not because I was going to do anything fun like get drunk or watch telly or talk to my friends or kiss boys or anything) in the kitchen, like the Good Woman that I am.
I made a HUGE pot of chilli, all vegetarian-like because some of my class-mates don't like eating dead things, and its got beans and tomatoes and green peppers and lots of red chilli and just enough garam masala and some onion and some other things that are secret.

Then, I decided that instead of cooking rice or something nice and easy to go with the chilli, I decided that my class needed tortillas.
Incidentally, did you know that flour tortillas and paranthas are virtually indistinguishable? There's your fact for the day, all you need is a few cups of flour, a bit of salt, some oil and warm water, and you have either tasty tortilla action, or Indian flatbread, depending on the occasion.
So, I make up the tortilla mixture (we'll call it tortilla today, because chilli and parantha sounds silly) and started kneading it. And then kept kneading it. And then kneaded it a bit longer. And because it was such a big-arse mixture, it was going to take fricking FOREVER for the gluten to bind, so I stopped and had a wee rest. Then I kneaded some more. (now I have sore stomach muscles, which is a good sign) Then I got sick of playing with the dough, as one does, and decided to cook the little fuckers, whether they liked it or not. They're flour, its not like they're going to stage a mutiny. So, I cut the big fuck-off ball of dough into little tortilla sized pieces all ready to roll, and remembered that I don't have a rolling pin. I do, however, have a jar, which came in very handy. The thing with tortillas though, and especially in cold weather, is that you have to roll them out, and then stretch them, and then roll them again, and then stretch them, and then cook them.
After the first couple, it was all going well, and I began to feel like I was on a roll of sorts, excuse the bad pun. At around tortilla number eight I began to feel the strain, but continued on, knowing that when my classmates got their lunch it would all be worth it. Around tortilla number 14 I was ready to feed my classmates a ball of tortilla dough each. At about tortilla number 17 I began swearing out loud.
I made twenty of the little motherfuckers. TWENTY.

All I can say is that tomorrow in class, if there is a single person who doesn't say "gosh these tortilla are nice, its wonderful to have handmade food" that person will be recieving the patented Claire Smackdown (tm). I don't like to go into details, suffice to say within my "tools of the cooking trade" I have a knife who's blade is nearly a foot long, and which is kept almost surgically sharp.

The good news is that I tasted the chilli and it is Extremely Awesome, so you're all invited to help me eat the leftovers. You have to make your own tortillas though.

EDIT: This just in: Its a hard job keeping everyone happy. I've fixed my links again, in keeping with parochial loyalties. Any more problems please staple them to a frisbee and throw them the way the wind is blowing. They'll get here eventually.

Me and the boy with the aubergine hair travel the world with only three cares; one is of money, two is of time, and three is the tragedy that you are not mine

Dear Man,

For the last dozen or so years I have been told by many people, all of different relationships to me, that you are out there. When I had my heart broken in Australia, I consoled myself with the thought that he wasn't you, he wasn't the one I was looking for, and that this was all part of the journey to get to you. Back in NZ, when Tall, Dark And Handsome But Unfortunately A Complete Twat showed his true colours, I realised that you weren't him. I arrived in America, and thought as an added bonus perhaps I might find you here. So far, no such luck. I have met Emotionally Retarded and Really Hot But A Bit Of A Wanker, thankfully I managed to avoid any sort of involvement with either of them.
(Then there's Nice Guy Who Fancies Me But I Don't Fancy Back, and of course every girl knows Mindbendingly Hot But Taken.)

The last thing I want you to think is that I spend all my time thinking about you, or that I cover my face in make-up every time I leave the house, just in case I see you. I know that you will love me for more than my red hair, incredibly long legs and impressive rack. You'll love the fact that I'm a bit clever, and a bit unpredictable, and that I talk to myself. You won't mind that my nose is wonky from where I broke it, and that I'm a food snob and that I drink too much wine, and that I don't have a flat stomach. You'll agree with me that stupid people should be sterilised, and will completely understand the brilliance of both Fat Freddy's Drop and Interpol.

However, I must confess, Man, that I am beginning to get a little impatient. Its been a while now, and I'm beginning to think that perhaps all those people who told me about you were telling me pork pies.
Sure, I know I'm busy, what with this pesky PhD thing I've got myself involved in, and I know that I'll probably be jumping from one country to another for the next couple of decades, but occasionally when everything goes tits-up it would be nice for someone to be here to listen to me rant in the middle of the night and sometimes in the winter when its cold and dark and I'm bundled up in my bed watching crappy science fiction movies, it would be nice if there was someone to share the scotch with.

I'm just saying, that's all.

Fucksticks

Blogger is being a right cunty bastard and I'm trying to change my profile photo because my head is freaky huge in the one thats there and its creeping me out (who gets creeped out by their own head?) but it keeps telling me the link is broken. Actually its probably photobucket thats being a cunty bastard, or perhaps a bit of a double team cunty bastard action is going on.
Either way it was pissing me off so I thought I'd better stop doing that or I'd get angry and trust me, you wouldn't like me when I'm angry. I don't go green, but I punch things and break things and say many bad words quite loudly and hey I've got red hair so I'm allowed to.

I'm going to New Orleans in February to hang with some blogger chicks and drink my weight in vodka and wine and probably snog some random dude. Hey, if I get enough drinks in me, perhaps I'll snog a random girl as well. Stranger things have happened.

My dumb class got cancelled today, yay!! No, not the one I REALLY hate, just the one thats a bit dumb. I mean, this is a fairly elite school, sure its not Harvard or Yale, but it just out-scored them (and Columbia and NYU and Cornell and Stanford etc, suck it down punk bitches) on pretty much everything in the most recent thing-that-scores-graduate-schools-that-people-wet-selves-over
and its fairly expensive (well they must have money cos they keep giving it to me!!Sweet!!) ....wait, where was I going with this?
Right, fancy pants school, so you would think that graduate level classes have some measure of like, structure, and assessment and things, right?
Well you would think that, BUT YOU WOULD BE WRONG!!!

In this class, which has been going since the end of August, I have had to submit my notes from the weekly readings, and turn up, and theres been vague threats about a final paper, but nothing definate, and ask a few questions in class, and thats about it. Sure, the readings are pretty hard going, and they had the decently to translate Plato and Aristotle into English (don't know about you, but my Ancient Greek is a teensy bit rusty) but thats only added up to a few hours a week. And very few of the classes seem to relate to any of the other classes, and while its all very interesting, I really can't see where its all going.

And that troubles me, because I really want to kick its arse, but I can't kick its arse if I don't even know what its arse looks like, let alone where it is. See, if I get in "Good Academic Standing" (tm) I'll be eligible for a Big Bag of Money to go home next summer (just in time for winter). Also, I have to like, not fail, or I'll lose my student status and then I'll lose my visa and have to go home and while that would be nice I want to go to New Orleans. Also, theres a conference in Calgary, or maybe Ottawa, or perhaps Vancouver... somewhere in Canada next year I want to go to. I would submit a paper, but its all a bit difficult at the moment. Besides, I can't really think of anything interesting. Thats a lie, I can think of plenty of interesting things, but none of them are appropriate for these fullas. OK, Calgary. My bad.
Hours of fun.

Who lives in NYC that loves me? My lovely flatmate has kindly volunteered to go down to Manhattan in December to stalk Anthony Bourdain with me, and we need people to drink with (read: buy us drinks and introduce us to hot men).

I look really nice today. I'm wearing the sexiest blue trackpants, complete with racing stripes down the side that are a wee bit too short for me cos my legs are too long for normal clothes, and grey woolly socks, and a Batman t-shirt.
So freaking hot right now.

I'm quite tall, did you know that? I'm five feet ten and a half, which I converted to centimetres and its a little under 180.
I drink lots of tea. I love it. I'm so English.
My Grandad was born and raised in India. He went back in his early 20s to Calcutta and worked on the river for a few years. Then he got shipwrecked. I'm pretty sure that wasn't on the river in Calcutta though.
I've got very nice teeth, and I've never had braces. Only my wisdom teeth out, which hurt like a motherfucker, and one root canal (because I was so traumatised after the wisdom teeth thing I didn't go back to the dentist for 8 years). That hurt like a motherfucker as well.
I also drink lots of water, but the water here sucks. The water in NZ, well in Christchurch anyway, is literally spring water. The purest in the world, and we use it to wash our cars.
At one point in time I owned 17 pairs of sunglasses. Now I have four, but only brought 2 to the US with me.
I used to work on a bungy jump on a beach in the Greek Islands and got to bungy jump for free. That was pretty cool.
Sometimes I think about having a big political rant about the state of the world but I wouldn't know where to start and it all makes me so angry and depressed that I give up and write dumb shit instead because this blog is kind of a thing like that.
Sometimes I really wish that I was stupid so I didn't understand what I do and then I could accept what I'm told and then I might be happier and I wouldn't know that I didn't know squat and I'd be worried about what shoes to wear and if I had put 5 pounds on and when the new trashy chick-lit book was coming out instead of spending half my life walking around astounded that people accept the shit they accept and they continue to live their lives and think it doesn't matter and don't realise that one person can make a difference and that if you live your life according to how you think life should be you've made a tiny ripple in the world and that ripple will matter and that at the end of the day if you've lived beholden to no one but yourself and the principles of good and true and beauty and knowledge and thinking about making the world a better place for those who are yet to enter it instead of trying to prevent people from being happy in the ways happiness finds them them you've done and people will say good things about you when you've gone and they'll mean it and will be sad and won't sit at your funeral thinking about the groceries they must get on the way home or what to buy cousin Betsy for Christmas they'll be thinking that the world was a better place for having had you in it and sometimes my dad despairs of whats to become of me I'm nearly thirty and I've got no money no job no assets no boyfriend but I've got what I believe in and thats the idea that I can make things better and that I have a gift because I have the opportunity and people would kill for the things I've got and thats why at the end of the day I'm glad I'm not stupid I'm not saying I'm some sort of genius far from it I can be pretty daft sometimes and I had my iq tested once and its no record breaker but its a respectable amount above the average but despite all the knowledge we have and don't want theres the knowledge we do want and can use and so we do these things so we may find our own version of happiness which is to stop ignorance and greed and intolerance and misery and poverty and starvation and suffering so we say thank you for what we have and thank you more for what we can do.

Phew. Did not see that one coming.

One of these things....

I need a new picture for my profile photo, and because I'm in love with myself, I like all of these and need help deciding.

Picture one: saucy yet academic


Picture 2: Glam yet thoughtful


Picture 3: Thoughtful yet playful


Picture 4: You can almost see up my nose.

Votes in the box please.

EDIT: I found this on Green Fairy
Turn sound up, cue hilarity.