Well then hook me up and throw me, baby cakes, cos I like to get hooked...

It is currently six minutes away from 8pm, and I am still at work. Yay for me. I figure I had better do as much work as possible in the next three months, work that I get paid for, because when I get to the US, I'm only allowed to work a set number of hours a week in the department as part of my Graduate Assistantship thingy, and one must find a way to keep oneself in the manner to which one is accustomed.
But the real bastard of it is that there are still a few things I need to do that I won't get paid for, and once I've finished them then I get started on the things I do get paid for, and then get saving said pay.
Does anyone want to buy a car? Its shiny and blue, and goes very fast. I've got the demerit points on my licence to prove it.
I have also been emailing government type people to see if they can give me some money to go to 'merca. There must be a lot of money in this country, and I think that some of it should come to me. I'm quite prepared to work for lots of money, its just that theres not enough hours in the day, what with sleeping, blogging, drinking tea, hot showers etc. So I'll ask pretty much everyone that gives away money if they can share the love with me. Do you think I could register myself as a charity?

I think I'm getting a cold. Arse.

It is 13 days until my birthday. Which means only 9 days until The Party, and 14 days until Star Wars. Oh, what an exciting time.

Argh.

"Ali in the ATF, Ali in the ATF"

"Ain't it a bit racialist, getting only black dogs to sniff out da bombs?"

Man, this guy is a fucking genius.
The people Ali talks to have absolutely no idea that hes taking the piss out of them. He has just asked ATF dog handlers why they don't have get the senior dogs to interview the new recruits, instead of the humans. Perfectly sensible question, if you ask me, cos obviously the dogs would have more relevant questions than the humans, but before we can even query the philosphical ramifications, Ali is asking the dog handler if he has ever smelled a dog's bottom.

And the good thing about this programme is that not only do we get Ali, but also Borat and Bruno.

OK, there is really no purpose whatsoever to this post, just to share with you all how utterly brilliant Ali G and associated characters are.

Bruno has just asked a Christian fundamentalist minister if he wanted a lapdance.

Outstanding.
You all need to go out now and watch some Ali G.

Also, in a google search, I found this.

OK, I'll go now.

Listen to more Concord Dawn and your life will improve

Theres an awful lot of "ohfuckohfuckohfuck" going on at the moment.
I don't think I have properly processed the enormity of Thursday's news, but one thing I am coming to terms with is the amount of stuff I have to do from now until August, and the amount of money I am going to have to earn to even pay for my airfare. Maybe I'll start taking collections. I wonder if there's some people out there that will give me money. I've tried offering a kidney for sale, but I don't seem to have many takers. It works perfectly well!
There has to be money out there somewhere.
Any ideas? Preferably ones that involve me keeping my knickers on.
Suggestions in the box, please.

Start spreading the news, I'm leaving today, I'm gonna be a part of it....

Thats right folks, I'm going to New York.
Oh yeah.
I got an offer. Not just an offer but a BIG FUCK OFF ASSISTANTSHIP PACKAGE WORTH FOURTY THOUSAND US DOLLARS.
Syracuse, New York, to be exact, for a PhD.
Why, you may ask? Because I am awesome. And ridiculously hot. And they love me.
The fact that it helps not to know me is lost on them apparently, because they want me.
THEY WANT ME!!!!
I have to be there in the middle of August, and I have so much to do in the next three months, including pack up my life, get visas, get buckets of money, sell my car, not make myself known to Homeland Security... I don't even know where to begin.

Oh shit. What have I got myself in for?

NEW YORK, BABY!!!!!!

Suck on that, naysayers.

Well at least we're not boring.

Never a dull moment, really.
My poor old mum has fallen over and broken her ankle. Sucks to that. What also sucks is that she lives in a split level house on a hill, where all the essential things like bedroom, kitchen, big fuck-off telly with Sky, are upstairs. I was wondering whether I could install one of those chair-stair-lift things in her house, like in Gremlins, but given how badly that ended in the movie, I am reluctant to. Oh well.

In other news, I have a TA offer from a uni in the US, unfortunately its not my first choice. Which is a nice way of saying its in Redneckville. When I was in Brisbane a couple of weeks ago, a bunch of people I had only just met had a wee intervention to stop me from going there, cos they were convinced that I would hate it. I have until June to make a decision.

Last night Christchurch got completely hammered by the most awesome thunder storm. There was REALLY LOUD (drowning out the telly loud) thunder, and super bright lightening, and buckets of hail and rain, and it was cool. Unfortunately the kittens weren't down with it, and kind of freaked out. I think they're over it though.
It appears that winter has arrived. Its now so cold that I can see my breath inside, its raining sideways, and its about 1 degree. OK, maybe a little more than that, but not much.

Winter is awesome. Oh yeah.

She says that my sentimental side should be held with kid gloves...

I feel like I'm stuck in limbo. Its weird. The last few days I've being going hard out on my work, and I'm a bit blah. It might also be because I think I'm coming down with this nasty cold thats been going around. The good thing about being me, however, is that whenever theres a nasty cold or flu going around, and lesser mortals are laid up for a week or two, Super Claire gets a wee sniffle, a sore throat, feels like arse for maybe two days, and is back to her usual super-ness in no time at all. My immune system could rival Wolverine's skeleton: made of adamantium and virtually unbreakable.
Or it could be that I'M HAVING TO WAIT AND I HATE WAITING AND AM REALLY REALLY CRAP AT IT. Just in case you hadn't guessed.
Little Miss Instant Gratification.
I want to know if I'm going to the university in the US. And I wanna know now!!!!!!
Actually, if its a no, I don't want to know at all, cos then I'll be all depressed and moping and you'll all have to put up with it.
Ah fuck it.

I think its been a few days since I've done this, but are you aware of just how awesome Interpol are? ( the band, although the international police aren't too shabby either. But thats not important right now) Its important that I make it quite clear to you all, and I strongly encourage you to go out now, yes now, dinner can wait, and buy both their records.

Also, this arrived in my inbox this morning. It might take a few minutes to load unless you've got some fancy high-speed loving going on, but tis good. Nice to see so much support for something thats so important.

Go and see Robots. Nike and I had a smashing dinner last night, and went to see it, and goodness gracious me its a bit of a giggle. Random Britney Spears moment as well, which is always funny. The messages in it are good too, perhaps this is further evidence that I think about things too much, but given that children are being raised by the media way more than we ever were, it becomes increasingly important what sort of messages they are recieving. And for this one, the messages are all good and healthy, and the ruthless pursuit of money once again fails to overcome the human (or robot) spirit, and the kid with the hand-me-downs and the blue collar family is the good guy.
I haven't spoiled the plot, don't worry, its a kids movie, forChrissakes, you know whats going to happen.

I was going to go to the gym, but bollocks to that, I'm going to visit my dear old Dad.
Have a super day.
(I'm feeling better already)

I must remember to buy catfood on the way home.

I'm feeling a bit blah today. I think I know why though. I've been sitting at my desk all day, calculating REALLY FUCKING CHEERY statistics, such as number of battle deaths, and average numbers of people that died as a result of combat per month in the Asia Pacific region since 1945. Did you know that over the space of six years, 1.5 million died in South Vietnam because of internal conflict? Thats well before the American war, too. It works out at nearly 24 thousand people a month. One thousand people per month are still dying in West Papua. And thats only since 2000. Since 1989, 64.5 people die a month in Aceh. 5% of the population have died. Name 20 people you know, and pick one.

Maybe it should be making me grateful, because I live in beautiful NZ and don't run the risk of being a statistic of violent conflict.

Or maybe its just the fact that I've been sitting at my wee desk all day, and still haven't heard from Our Friend in America, aka Programme-Running-Guy, as to whether or not I got into the university. If patience is a virtue, then I'm not a particularly virtuous soul. Although apparently chastity is a virtue as well, so HAHAHA!!!!!!

I am considering a rant about the new Pope, but it will have to wait. Its brewing.
I am also considering writing a big blog about the universe and everything in it, but that one will take a while.

Now I must buy catfood.

And Jay: they're pink. With Snoopy on them.

I am Woman, hear me Roar
meow

I have just posted and emailed a bunch of stuff to the last-american-university-I'm-going-to-apply-for. I'm a little nervous. As I wrote to the guy who runs the programme, it is very difficult to plead ones case via electronic medium, additionally I was restrained in that particular form as I presume my usual tactic of "I'm fucking awesome give me bunches of money bitch" probably has limited tenure in academia. So now I am waiting for The Boss Man who is currently MIA in London to get round to writing a letter of recommendation for me, to go with the other two (that hopefully say "Claire is awesome, give her bunches of money you bitches") and then to hear back from programme-running-guy. I wrote a wee letter to go with all the material I sent him, the closing line being "Yours, in anxious anticipation". I attached it all to an email that said something along the lines of "I've done the best job I can trying to sell myself in electronic form, and so all I can do now is drum my fingers nervously on the keyboard awaiting your decision".
Argh.
*drums fingers nervously on the keyboard*

But hey, if that fails, I'm moving my arse to tropical Brisbane to get me some of that Queensland love. And the American university is very near the Canadian border, and although that brings me closer to one of my lifetime goals of scoring a Mountie, I hear it is a bit chilly.
And of course, tropical climates are best for pasty white freckly gingas.

My friend got a PhD on Friday. Well, she got it ages ago, but graduation was on Friday, so I sat there with her mum and step-dad, and clapped and cheered, and snoozed through all the other people. Then, of course, we went out for dinner on Saturday night and needless to say there was drink involved. Bubbles, sauvignon blanc, beer, merlot, feijoa vodka. So Sunday was fun.
Actually Sunday was cool, despite being a bit OverHung, cos I spent about four hours on the sofa watching Buffy on the big screen. The big screen being the living room wall, cos we got ourselves some of that data projector loving, at least until my schoolteacher flatmate has to return it when school goes back in three weeks.
Lots of Buffy time.

Time to get back to work now.
Oh piss.

Update not at all related to anything: apparently our MPs have begun referring to each other as "front bums" in the media.
Now thats classy.

If I get there early will it be the right time?
Our heaven is just waiting so put your hand into mine...

Calling all People With Taste.

There is a festival that goes by the name of "Splendour in the Grass" in Byron Bay in July.

Interpol are playing.

Whos coming with me?

Listen up, bitches!!!

Write this in your diaries.
There will be a party.
It will be on May 14th (probably).
It will be at The Bounty.
It will be awesome (definately).
There will be a theme (to be decided, suggestions in the box).
The choons will be great.
The people will be beautiful (with several notable exceptions. No, not me, I'll be there in all my Patsy-like glory).

The cause.....

.....the second annual "Claire and Dave have mostly the same friends so we may as well combine our birthday parties plus it makes us feel like we have more friends than we actually do" party.

I will be 21. Again.
I'm getting quite good at it now, I really feel like I'm getting the hang of this whole "21" thing. It doesn't help though, that my next birthday will A Big One.

Dave will be 17.

I nominate the following out-of-towners to attend: Stacey, Bianca, Greg, Bridget, Hester and Mr Hester, George...hell, all of Wellington. And Jeff, Michelle, Anna, and Sara. I'm hoping for a 50% strike rate from that list.

You have been warned.

Also, I wrote a very interesting post the other day about all sorts of important stuff that was witty and succinct and politically relevant. Needless to say blogger ate it. Fucky.

Bye now. Essays to mark.

Warning: Superlative overload imminent

Wow. What a freaking rollercoaster.
The last few days have been insane. Man, I love conferences. I have received so much information and met so many awesome people and learnt so many new things and gained so many new friends and drunk so many glasses of wine and become so much more inspired about the work that already I loved.
I met people from Denmark and the US and England and Colombia and Sweden and Australia and Indonesia and East Timor and Cambodia and they were all really cool and inspiring and dedicated to our work and so intelligent and came from all different backgrounds and had really interesting perspectives that were different from my own.

And then once it had finished, I got to spend some time with someone truly awesome and we caught up with Anna and went to a museum and on a boat and wandered around the shops and one of Brisbane’s many casinos and I got to make a new friend who is…oh dear. My superlative function has overheated and consequently shut down. Suffice to say that the Dutch aren’t nearly as bad as Nigel Powers makes out.


Do you think I should tell him about the blog?

Oh, and my paper ruled. Man, I fucking OWNED that panel!

Amusing things my Dad has said recently...

...part one in a new series

"If we can shoot rabbits in rabbit season, and we can shoot ducks in duck season, then why can't we shoot tourists in tourist season?"

Better than looking out the window?

This is cool

Pinched from Martine

Cheers.

Death and the kitten.

Neow, in all her kitteny cuteness, is a vicious murderer. Yep, I saw it with my own blue eyes.
I'm sitting here with my laptop set up on the kitchen bench, pretending to do work (reading blogs and checking emails) and the little monster was playing outside in the sun. I'd look out occasionally and see her flying through the air or hear thumps as she'd launch herself at the playhouse on the lawn and forget to land before she made contact (not the sharpest knife in the drawer). So anyway, all sorts of kitten fun going on there.
Then, she trots inside looking all pleased with herself, comes and sits under my chair. I look closer and theres a couple of black insect legs hanging out of her mouth. OK. Then the little sadist proceeds to open her mouth, let a cicada out, and maul the bloody thing to death, right in front of me. Nice.
So the cicadas doing its chirpy thing, and then the chirps start to get a little drawn out, and rather erratic, until finally, no more. It is an ex-cicada, who shall chirp no more, thanks to my wee niece's wee kitten. Then, she eats it. Whole. Crunchy exoskeleton and all.
The other day when Tash was over and we were talking about cats, we wondered if these cats know just how good they've got it. They play for a few hours, sleep, get cuddles and pats from their people, and then play some more, and eat. But after watching Neow and the cicada, I'm beginning to lose my envy of the cat way of life.
Yay for opposable thumbs.

UPDATE: I've just rescued a beautiful butterfly from the jaws of death, and she's out there again, with another cicada this time I think. The door is now closed, cos theres some presents you just don't want.

Catch up on your sleep girl, when you wear that bodyglove...

Or: Fun with Kittens, the Easter Special
Yes I'm kitten-sitting again, while my sister, her husband and their offspring are off holidaying. The plus side is, they have Sky. The down side is, I don't know how to work it. Its ok though, I figured it out, using a cunning combination of foot-stomping, pouting, yelling at the telly and texting my sister to ask her.
So yay for Sky movies, who are playing an Alien marathon, three times over this weekend. Also, at 6.35 this evening we have the joy that is "The making of Return Of The King". Yay Viggo.
Hopefully I'll have finished this bloody conference paper by then. I'm doing it on Powerpoint, so it looks really flash, so hopefully nobody will notice that I'm talking shit. No, not nervous at all...

In other news, I woke up this morning with a fat lip. Just fat on one side, which is most odd, and not a little funny to look at. I could understand it if I was out last night getting horribly drunk and partying up large, cos thats when all sorts of random injuries occur. But last night me and my mum went to the movies and then out for dinner. Hmm. Go figure.

There is a plague of spiders in this house. Well, if two makes a plague, then we definately have one. Normally two spiders wouldn't concern me, but these are some big fuck-off bastards. Put the tips of your thumb and forefinger together, they were almost that big. And they were jet black too. Scary Shelob styles. Needless to say the little fuckers got the business end of one of my brother-in-law's shoes. Whats really gross is that after I killed the first one I went to bed, and got up the next morning to find Strawberry and Neow mauling its corpse. There were disembodied spider legs all over the place. Ewww.

There is a most inconsiderate fly buzzing around this room. He won't sit still long enough for me to take him out with my combo newspaper/flykiller. Now I need those spiders back.

I have managed to make it to Easter Sunday without eating a single piece of chocolate. Yay for me. I have been eating like a complete bitch recently, and strangely enough, am feeling very fat. Maybe I should finish up this presentation and get my fat arse up and down the hill a few times.
Damn, now I want chocolate.
Shit.

More news as it comes to hand.
And maybe a better post next time.

Its the smiling on the package, its the faces in the sand....

Oh yeah. I am feeling pretty good.
Not like over-the-top peeing my pants good, but a fuck of a lot better than I did a couple of hours ago.
You see, I went to a chiropractor.
I've had a headache, on and off, for about ten years, and its caused by my sore neck (took me a while to figure that out. Not too smart). Sore necks, in fact fucked up necks in general are part of the tribal curse, along with ridiculously long legs, great teeth and being a bit bonkers. So I left it alone, thinking that I'd just have to learn to live with it. Then I realised that was a dumb idea, and that I needed to fix it. I figure, if your necks sore then its probably related to your spine, given that it is, well, your spine.
So I got a referral to a chiropractor, and went to see her today, and after some prodding and bending and poking (not as filthy as it sounds) she concluded that my spine is twisted, both at the top and the bottom.
Which pretty much explains everything that has ever been wrong with me. Physically, that is. It still doesn't explain why I am not Viggo Mortensen's love slave, but we'll just take things one day at a time shall we?

In other news, Spooks was quite sad last night. Zoe got shipped off to Chile cos she got done for killing an undercover cop while on the job, and the government were being all "lets lay the smackdown on MI5" and it was quite sad, especially when Danny had to say goodbye to her, cos hes completely in love with her.
But according to the Spooks site, Danny is about to shuffle off this mortal coil, which is a shame cos hes not to hard to look at.

Anyway, its time to go off to the supermarket now and buy some more tomatoes.
I lead such an interesting life.

My Random ain't so very Random

Hmmm. Sounds a bit like the title of a crap country song. I am in fact referring to dirty ol' Windows Media Player, that on this wee blue friend (my 'pooter) contains a little over one thousand songs, yet seems to play the same one hundred songs. Over and over. So the other day I spent about half an hour skipping forward to the next song. Do you think it helped? Ok, maybe a little bit, but not a whole bunch.

I don't really have too much to blog about.
It could be that I'm just really dull. Lets test this theory. What did I do this weekend?
Well I tidied my bedroom, and mounted some of my photos on some nice black card, and went to my mum's 60th birthday party and was all responsible and sober, and went to my nephews cricket game (auntie of the fucking century, pardon the cricket pun) and yes, I am an old nana.
In my defence, I did go out and get quite drunk on Friday night, and then when I got home from cricket on Saturday I had a wee puke thanks to my hangover. But then, I cleaned the toilet. Dull, but necessary.
Thats a sure-fire way to check the cleanliness of your toilet, to have a ralph in it. And there has been a lot of vomiting in our toilet in the last while, what with drunkeness and hangovers and nasty pukey stomach bugs.
Fascinating, a blog about puke.

I was going to write a list of things that I can do, but I'm a little absentminded recently, so perhaps this can be the first installment in a continuing saga...

Things Claire Can Do.
1) Put my toes in my mouth, should the need arise.
2) Tie a knot in a cherry stalk with my tongue.
3) Cook. I am awesome in the kitchen.
4) Drink scotch
5) Quote entire poems from memory
6) Read ridiculously fast

The flipside being...

Things Claire Can't Do
1) Keep secrets. Most of the time.
2) Shut up.
3) Drink gin.
4) Do number stuff. Like count. Or mathematics.
5) Read music
6) Maintain a solitary train of thought for more than a few minutes.

Stay tuned for updates as they come to hand...

Sorry.

On this day in 1995....

Ten years. I really can't believe it.
Ten years ago today, the most perfect little boy was born. His name was Alexander (funny, still is) and he is my bright beautiful nephew.
So, happy birthday to you Fred, and may your days each be better than the one before.

I would also like to bring to your attention that I am a freaking legend.
Last night Miche came over (albeit an hour or so late) and there was drinking, and gossiping, and mocking, and needless to say, the dirty old Poacher made an appearance. You've really got to love 24 hour pubs, don't you. Theres nothing quite like getting thoroughly boozy on a Monday night, getting to bed at 2.30am, getting up again at 8 and actually MAKING IT TO WORK!!! Hence me being a legend.
It is currently 5.23pm, I am still going strong, and am about to join the whanau for a slap-up dinner in honour of angel-boy's birthday, and today I have taken a class, done buckets of stuff and not thrown up. Not once.
This is a big thing for me, not that I am in the habit of puking, but I really do get the worst hangovers. Back when I was a lass I could drink all night and be fine, and now its payback time. How rude.

Other than that, I got nothing.
Except that you all must run out and purchase the following CDs.
The Veils: "The Runaway Found"
Steve Burns: "Songs for Dustmites"
The Killers: "Hot Fuss"
Interpol: "Turn on the Bright Lights" (and indeed, "Antics")
The Pixies: "Doolittle"
Rammstein: "Sehnsucht" (Ok its old, but fuck its good)

And just like that, shes gone.

And if you're feeling lucky... come and take me home

I bought these kick-arse headphones today, and if you crank up the Deftones it sounds FUCKING AWESOME. Wait, so does the Chemical Brothers! And Shihad! Hmmm. I wonder....

So, what have I been up to?
Gracie, you'll be pleased to know that I did get off the sofa before Wednesday, unfortunately it was to be a bit sick on Tuesday and Wednesday, but I'm much better now. Although I do still have slightly sore stomach muscles.

I have moved offices. Now that I am technically no longer a student I have been banished from the student end of the building and now I get to play with the big kids. Yep, I'm officially staff now, my office is with all the other staff, and even my new ID card says so. Yay for me. Unfortunately, this new status doesn't come with obscene amounts of money, but you can't have everything. Much as you might want everything.

Anna, I will be in Brisbane from March 31st to April 4th. I'll be busy doing conference stuff from 1st-3rd, but as of the end of Sunday (3rd) I am all yours. Also, I think I might need a place to stay that night, so if you know anyone... The university will only book my hotel for the time the conference is on. How rude.
I fly out at 6pm on Monday 4th, so we can hang out and do stuff that day. Are there big parks in Brisbane? Like, Dreamworld styles? Cos that could be cool. Although I see on my itinerary that I have to check in at the airport 2 & 1/2 hours before my flight. TWO AND A HALF HOURS!! Who are they kidding. Thats valuable Anna-catch-up-time they're busting in to. Bastards.

Apparently The Bounty is to be invaded tonight by well-meaning friends armed with booze. So, I must away and prepare our humble home for its guests. A quiet night has been decreed, but we'll have to let you know how that goes.
*ignores sideline shouts of "QUIET NIGHT MY ARSE!!"*

Wizzo, and indeed, Bing bing bang a bang a bang bing bong bing a bing bang a bong Binga bing a bang a bong bong bing bong bing banga bong*

*Prize for who guesses the lyric? No way, too fucking easy.
**Last night, both Luke and Owen Wilson were in my dream. Oh yeah.
***Bowie's Aladdin Sane is a truly mental song. Not quite Laughing Gnome mental, but still. I know you're hearing me.

TTFN

Days like this are sweet...

(I think I may have already used that for a post title, but really, who cares?)

Things I have to do today:

...........

ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NOTHING!!!!!!!!!!!

Last night was the completion of a three year stint at one of the busiest and maddest restaurants in Christchurch, and an eleven year career in hospitality. Phew.
I had grand plans to get horribly drunk and pass out in a pool of my own vomit, but sheer exhaustion limited me to reasonably pissed, and home in bed by 4am. Not too bad, considering how out of practice I am.

This week has been mad.
Finished thesis, people having brain surgery, me finishing work.

The best of all possible outcomes regarding the second, will have to wait for a few months regarding outcome of the first, and I think the third went pretty well, considering.
My ex-boss, the restaurant owner, often used to put on drinks for staff leaving, usually he'd put on $100 and the staff would share it out amongst themselves. Nice, cos it was a way of saying thanks for loyalty, hard work etc.
After three years, what do I get? A handshake, and "thanks Claire, good luck". Perhaps I should wait until I have a reference in my hand before I go dissing people, but still. Thats a bit fucking average.
However, my awesome friends there all got together and bought me a cool present and a beautiful card that says "Smile, you're amongst friends". They got me a really flash bottle of wine, and two beautiful crystal wine glasses, and a shiny silver wine cooler thing. They all wrote on the wooden box the wine and glasses came in, really nice things like "We'll miss you" and "keep in touch" and "get fucked". Wizzo.
So that makes up for the other. Yay for my friends, they rule.

So today, I'm doing as little as possible. I might go and get a bunch of movies and make a Claire shaped indentation in the sofa. I might go and buy some coke to replace Tim's coke that I'm currently drinking. I might have a nap. Who knows?
The most awesome thing is, I don't have to be anywhere or do anything. I am conditioned to think that I have to work tonight, and I have this wee niggle in my brain that I have to run off to work at 6 o'clock, and I'm loving the fact that I'm continually going "Ha! I don't have to go!".
I'm like the goldfish that swims around its tank and goes "Hey look! A plastic castle! Cool!" and then two minutes later swims around again: "Hey look! A plastic castle! Cool!"

First things though, I'd better go and retrieve my car from town.
Right.
Bye now.