Mad Mad Skillz

I'm going through a pretty major omelette phase right now, I can't explain it. When it comes time to eat all I can think about is eggy goodness, and my creative juices just go wild!

Currently I'm sitting here with the post-prandial satisfaction of one who has yet again excelled in the omelette-making stakes. Today's effort consisted of broccoli, spinach, green peppers, sharp cheese, blue cheese, garlic and chilli sauce, complemented by a rasher or two of bacon. Ok, three.

The trick to a good omelette I have recently discovered is to not put any milk in with the eggs when you mix it up. Then, once you have all the ingredients on the omelette, put a lid on it and turn the heat down as low as it can go, and deliciousness shall ensue.

I also must stress the importance of using free-range SPCA/Humane Society approved eggs, because who wants a side order of cruelty in their meal?

This lesson in the culinary arts brought to you by the giant stack of exams I have to grade by midday tomorrow.

I've said it before and I'll say it again.....

I suck at blogging.

Update: Matt, my brother-from-another-mother (and another country...) had a baby. Wee Caleb (thought you'd like that Sarah) is too cute for words, and contrary to his father's opinion, will NOT be playing rugby for England. He will play for NZ. Because I will steal him. Because he is too cute. Its worth noting that today Matt was wearing his NZ rugby jersey, and that Caleb, all of a day old, was eyeing up the mighty silver fern. Good lad!!!

Going to DC tomorrow. Ok, to Maryland tomorrow, to stay with a family friend, then to see some DC sights and museums then J's Gilbert and Sullivan extravaganza...... awesome.

Have to get up 4 hours to finish this fucking paper.
Nighty night.

Because a change is apparently as good as a holiday....



I cut my hair.

Then I straightened it.

So, in the space of a week I have gone from shoulder length blonde curly hair to a short dark straight bob. Fun times.

Also, how much do I look like Alison Janney in that first pic? Quite a lot, methinks...... although that may be the wine talking.

if only I put as much time and effort into my school work as I do my hair....

Remember, remember the fifth of Movember

Movember is here again, beware the handlebars!!!!

The Street signed up for the Aussie one, being a resident of Melbourne-town.
Go and hook a brother up. He has promised all sorts of handlebar goodness.

In other news, I carved my first ever pumpkin last weekend. Of course I couldn't carve a face or anything simple like that, I had to aim high.

So, I carved a butterfly.



Cordell carved a Decepticon logo, that was pretty awesome too.

Next day I woke up blonde and went to bed looking like this
The tattoos were fakes, only for my Fairy GothMother costume.

OK time for CSI now.

Can't blog, too much to do.

erraticism to ensue....

And while you're at it, could SOMEONE please fix the Suck Knob? It appears to be stuck on full.

I know you've heard it all before.....

So much to say....

Sang at Karaoke tonight, it was.... well...... its over. Phew

Carved my very first pumpkin tonight, and might I add, I completely kicked it's arse. Photos to follow.

Party fun-times tomorrow, so lets just see what madness ensues. Hours of fun, no doubt....

Welcome

Grace Lola Robertson, born at midday, 25th of October, 2007.

I have known her mother since I was 12 years old, which was really quite some time ago.....
I have so many good stories about Bee, I can't wait until Gracie gets old enough to hear them!
Things I am going to tell her when her ears are suitably equipped include: stories about the bucket in Amberley, letters from Bolivia, pics of her mother face down on the sofa in Wanaka..... oh too many to share with the internets!

But there is a brand new person in the world and I am very excited about it and its only 49 days until I am home so I can see her.

This blog brought to you by gushing with happiness, and secondary sponsors homesick and joyous news makes a nice change.

Windswept and Interesting



My nephew sent me this vid of Billy Connolly.
I laughed so hard I nearly puked.
One of the bajillion reasons why I love my nephew more than life itself is his comprehensive understanding of the fact that no matter how old you are, how much education you might have, or how sophisticated you might think you are, farts are still funny.

And now you have been educated, you are free to go.

I just stand by and let you fight your secret war

Reasons why I love Thursdays, by Claire.

- CSI
- at approximately 7pm today, I got out of my jammies, had a shower, and got changed into some clean jammies.
- I can do loads of work without feeling like I am working, because I am in my jammies.
- CSI
- No class, so I can work until 9pm and then do nowt.
- Did I mention the jammies?
-Also, there is this programme on CBS....what's it called? Oh yeah...... CSI. Fan geek much?

Also I know that Jorja Fox is leaving but due to events in tonight's episode and spoilers I have read, I refuse to believe the worst.....

These eyes are the eyes of the old

So, what's been going on then?
Well.

Last night, as part of the "reduce insane car insurance premiums by obtaining a New York licence" campaign, I had to sit through probably the dullest evening of my life. At one point I caught myself considering bashing my head against the desk (built for 12 year old kids, btw, with comfort-free plastic chair attached and not remotely suitable for my nearly six feet leggy frame) as to render myself unconscious to make the boredom end.

This officious little man spend the better part of 4 hours saying about 3 things. One: don't lose your little certificate, cos it costs $20 to get a new one. Two: you can book your road test online or on the phone. Three: on your road test, you will have to stop at a stop sign.

Needless to say, the boredom was interrupted only by continuous insults to my intelligence and the nearly 17 years that I have been driving.

Once the pandering to the lowest common denominator was done, he showed us a video. That was probably the highlight of the whole thing.

It was a "don't drink and drive or bad things will happen to you" movie, filmed in an A&E in Baltimore and featured lots of cool gory stuff like some guy whose leg had snapped in half, and shots of brains with stuff leaking out of them. Cool.

Unfortunately, I believe the video achieved a purpose not quite in line with its intended one. I suspect we were supposed to feel sympathy for these teenagers who got pissed and drove their cars and crashed. Yeah.....not so much.

This one kid drank a case of beer and then drove a 4 wheel farm bike into a tree. He bashed his head and had to have loads of surgery and months of rehabilitation and it was all very sad etc. Then, once he had recovered, he was off out with his mates again, drinking beer and riding farm bikes.

Sympathy gauge stuck on zero.

Perhaps this is cruel, but if a person gets deliberately wasted, chooses to drive a car or a farm bike or other vehicle type thing, then fucks themself up, then that is natural selection at work. Right there is Darwin's thesis in action.

If drunk drivers only fucked themselves up, then there would be no problem.
It when they kill other people on the road that the problem arises, when they make driving unsafe for the rest of us.

I wasn't going to drink and drive before I watched the movie, and I still won't drink and drive.
The only thing it achieved was to further reduce my sympathy (what's less than zero?) for the idiots who endanger the rest of us.

When the whole ordeal was over and I had my little certificate in hand, I stopped off at the supermarket and purchased a six pack of Smithwicks (mmmm. delicious Irish beer. I drank some and I didn't drive my car. See? Its that easy.) and a copy of The Greatest Movie Ever Made to celebrate having survived yet another level of US bureaucracy in action.

I can mock him because I am already there



Nicholas, Knicker-less, Nickel-arse....
He's thirty.
I can laugh because I am 31.
Here he is doing his best impression of a turtle, I believe at Il Casa d'Allan.

You're a dork and we loves you.

Ben, I believe you are next?.......

If my sister changes her name her initials will be E.M.O.

Today is indeed an auspicious day!!!
My sister (the next oldest up, me being the youngest) is getting married.
In Punta Arenas. That's in Chile, FYI.

We are going to video-conference it, via the marvels of Skype, so that my other sister, home in NZ, and I can be there digitally.
Holly suggested that we dress up, so I am going to put my party skirt on and go to her house and drink bubbly things. Ahh.... weddings.

So to all those boys who have been friends of mine over the years and have said to me "that sister of yours is a bit hot" I say now: you had your chance lads, and now its gone, for she is about to marry the coolest Chilean boy in the world.

If any of you happen to be partaking in a liquid refreshment this evening, I ask this of you.
First, raise a glass to my sister and her in-an-hour-and-a-half-will-be husband.

Secondly, and on a more poignant note, raise your glass to Shawn and his beloved late wife Lynette on their wedding anniversary, the first since her death.

Thanks.

Seriously. BOB FUCKING DYLAN!!!!!

What I did last night: had one of my life's wishes fulfilled.

Since I was about 14, I think, I have wanted to see Bob Dylan live. Thing is, I never thought I would be able to. One of the downsides to my beautiful South Pacific Island home is that music legends on tour are few and far between. Sometimes they will go to Auckland, or do a really expensive gig at some super-expensive resort in Queenstown, but its not often that we get a chance to see them.

However, now that I am living in New York, these things happen. So, last night I got in the car with some lovely people and we drove to Rochester and I had my little mind blown by the fact that I was sitting listening to BOB FUCKING DYLAN LIVE!!!
The Boy came with us, and confessed that he was more of a fan of the first act (who was awesome too, btw, and I will be buying his records no doubt, thank you Elvis Costello), once Dylan began he turned to me and said "Holy shit. That's Bob fucking Dylan" to which I replied I KNOW!!!!!!!

He played Rainy Day Woman, he played Desolation Row, he played a funked up blues version of Masters of War (and I died a little it was fucking epic) and closed with Blowing in the Wind.

I am still reeling from it. It will be a good few days before I can stop proclaiming BOB FUCKING DYLAN!
People here are decidedly underwhelmed by the prospect of seeing legends live, but for a wee lass from the other side of the world, its kind of a big deal.

Elvis Costello rocked my world too.

The sound of four million people in mourning

Yeah, fucking gutted.
I wanted to watch Richie's interview but stuff was misbehaving. Besides, it would probably just upset me more.

Le sigh.

As long as the French don't win. Or the Aussies. I told my sister that I would support the Springboks to win now, to which she responded that if I were to do so she would no longer communicate with me. So, go Argentina!!! It would be nice to see a non-six nations team take the Cup, and I loves me a good underdog, so Argies makes sense.

Of course, there is a lighter side, albeit not one that results in the men in black bringing home the Cup......
TradeMe: a source of hilarity no matter the occasion.
Hahaha. Choke stuck on full. I reckon that Rokocoko boy might be handy around the house.... perhaps I should put in a bid.
Do you think they would ship them to NY?

7.37am

I have less than 2 hours until my class and no I haven't quite finished the notes on my readings yet because I am a bad person and went to Ithaca last night to see Michael Franti and Spearhead instead of staying at home like a good nerd and doing schoolwork.
However, I am pleased to report that Mr Franti and friends FUCKING ROCKED MY WORLD, having spent most of the gig in the front few rows rocking out leaping up and down waving my hands in the air like I just don't care.
After the concert I declared my need for massive volumes of liquid refreshment in the form of water or similar, to which Paulie responded with the biggest bottle of gatorade one has ever seen. Of course I scoffed at our abilities to consume the entire thing; scoffing which I was gently reminded of about 30 minutes later when the whole thing was gone. Heh.

But now class is rapidly approaching and Sophie is barking and I am in need of more tea and a good hour's worth of last-minute-note-taking so that I don't make a complete arse of myself in front of my class mates.

Also, as it transpires, agricultural policy in developing African countries is more interesting than it sounds. Weird, I know.

Sunday updates

- house and dog sitting again. Much cable and doggie love.

- still recovering from Thursday night's stress. Rumours are doing my loaf.

- can't figure out why I am so tired. Perhaps I have some exotic disease.

- I know I am a sad old nana because given the choice I would rather stay in most nights. See above.

- It turns out that the sainted Sir Thomas More was really rather wrong re: Dick the Shit, and perhaps Dick the Shit was really not that much of a shit after all. My dad will be well disappointed.

- the weather is getting to be so that I can wear my slippers. This brings whole new levels of Happy to my life.

- things are beginning to be ok again, perhaps for the reason that after the twelve car pile up I am more aware of myself and what's going on and am no longer fumbling through in the dark.

- Argentina spanked Ireland today in the rugby, the Irish who were playing like a bunch of guys who had never met each other before, while Argentina proved Henry's claim that a champion team will always beat a team of champions. After the match O'Driscoll pretty much admitted as much.

- I watched Blood Diamond, and am able to admit that while he will never be forgiven for the steaming pile of turd that was Titanic, that DiCaprio boy is one ridiculously good actor.

- I also watched Life, one of NBC's new programmes. Its pretty good, and stars the ginge who was the bad mofo on the new version of the Forsyte Saga.

- my auntie is one of my friends on facebook.

- 73 days to go.

I've got a pain in my sawdust

OK this is just ridiculous.
It is currently t-minus 65 minutes until CSI.

I am supposed to be reading Douglass North's fascinating book "Institutions, Institutional Change and Economic Performance" and taking notes for tomorrow morning's class and packing my bags for a week's house sitting and cooking dinner BUT I CAN'T FUCKING CONCENTRATE ON ANYTHING!!!

Seriously, I don't think I have been this nervous/excited/geeked out about a new season premiere ever. EVER, I TELLS YOU!!!
I went to the supermarket this afternoon to satisfy a craving by buying steak for my dinner, but there is no way I can eat. Butterflies in my stomach....... butterflies.

I wonder why I have become so invested in this programme and these characters? Does it mean that there is something fundamentally missing from my life? Perhaps I identify with them because I see pieces of me, or aspire to share their traits?

Ah, who fucking knows.
All I know is that I have been waiting for this night for four freaking months and it had better not let me down or there will be some serious toy-throwing.

57 minutes.
tick tick tick

In which Claire asks questions

1) Hypothetically speaking, if one was to have a vege-packed omelette for breakfast and Indian food for lunch, does a meal consisting solely of WeetBix constitute a balanced diet?

2) Is it wrong that I am literally counting down the hours until 9pm tomorrow, aka CSI o'clock?

3) Is it possible that I will make it through tonight's game of soccer without breaking something?

4) When will this disgusting muggy grey oppressive weather end?

5) Do you think its bizarre that I am already excitedly plotting a blog-gathering for March next year that will happily coincide with a certain giant music festival?

6) Just how fabulous are cool blog friends?

I've seen love, and I follow the speed in the star-swept night

Over the last couple of weeks I have been having a mini-crisis about how I know far too little about anything, well more specifically far too little about the stuff I am supposed to know buckets about what with being a Graduate Student and all, with the intention being that ultimately I will be an Expert on Matters of Concern but today that doesn't seem to bother me too much, for the following reasons.

- Sophie is delicious and full of snuggles
- I had bruschetta and dolmades for lunch
- Its a lovely sunny day and I sat outside in the back yard under a tree and read for class
- Said reading is approximately 40 pages, compared to the hundreds one usually encounters
- I have just awoken from a 2 hour nap
- The house I am staying in this weekend is very nice.
- I went to the Farmer's Market this morning and bought a supermarket bag half full of tomatoes for $4. If you know how much I adore tomatoes, you will recognise how happy that is likely to make me.
- Sophie and I are about to embark upon a walk in the evening breeze, complete with all the delightful dappled light that tree-lined neighbourhoods provide.

This post brought to you by late summer Saturdays.

I never did mind about the little things

It appears that some of my students have a wee problem with geography. Apparently Tasmania and Tanzania are easily confused.

In other news, I went to the dreaded DMV today and magically (finally) had all the right forms and passed the test and am now a legal beagle in terms of driving my car in the Empire State.

To celebrate, here is a puppy.

Does anyone still read this?

Also, happy Talk Like A Pirate Day. Arrrrrr!!!!

Update o'clock.

Today I wrote cheques, the sum total of which adds up to $361.13. Ouch.

This evening I baked some chocolate chippies. Well, I made the mixture up, which is currently sitting overnight in le fridge, as per instructions. I can't follow a recipe to save my life, so hopefully they won't suck. Hell, if the uncooked mixture is anything to go by, these bikkies will Rock the House. And quite possibly the Casbah, only time will tell.

Next weekend I am on Sophie duty, which entails the following. Stay at a professor's super nice house. Eat their delicious food, drink their delicious wine, and watch their giant cable telly. Get taken out for dinner by said professor's wife, before they take off for the weekend. Play with their cuter-than-cute dog and walk her a few times a day. Get paid for doing so.

On Saturday I made that boy come over and help me sand down the window frames. I am still learning how to be around him again under these new circumstances, but I think it went ok.

I am posting pictures of me because apparently they are worth a thousand words each, which makes this the longest post ever.

In a further contribution to the time wasting extravaganza that is my life, I have recently begun watching The 4400. I know its old news, but I like it so far.

Ok thats enough for you.
Except for this: today I got to snuggle a cute little kitten.
bye.

Cause what doesn't kill us now just makes us better whores

OK sometimes honesty is the best policy.

I have spent the last few months trying to convince myself and anybody who will listen that I completely hated him, that he was a complete twat and every single thing he has ever done is totally inexcusable.
That is exhausting, I can tell you, and I can't keep it up anymore.
So, in an effort to make my life a bit easier, I have tried a different tack.
Of everything in the last six months, this is the only thing I have a measure of control over, so tonight we sat down and I was honest and admitted everything and confessed to trying so hard to hate him because that would have surely made my life easier but it turns out that something doesn't become true dependant on how much we think we wish it to be so. And he explained his part in the whole thing and apologised for some parts and explained others and we talked and laughed and cried and made the beginnings of a peace and now a massive weight has been lifted off my shoulders and I can get on with it all.

I had all sorts of wonderfully philosophical things I was going to write here but then I got talking to Ben about cricket and accents and drinking with the Irish and computer bugs so I got all distracted so now I am going to watch Eureka. I thoroughly recommend it.

She's a brick and I'm drowning slowly

I find myself overcome with an overwhelming Sad.
There are things that I Know in my head and I would swear the truth of them until I fell down, but somehow I cannot make my heart believe in them.

In the general scheme of things it all means very little; there are people out there who are learning how to breathe again in this raw new world, but at 12.38 am at the end of a long Monday at the end of a long desperate tragic broken summer one tends to lose perspective.

I remember everything he said and everything that we were and the wounds we caused and the way we were and I can't help but wish for an alternative outcome of events. She has given me her blessing to return to him should my heart win out over my head but I know that I would always be second to her, that he would only have me because he couldn't have her and I Know in my head that I deserve better than that but that doesn't seem to mean much to the rest of me.

I am a reasonably clever person, you know? I have 3 degrees and a graduate diploma, not to mention the scholarship I am on for my PhD. So what pisses me off no end is that I can't figure this out.
I recognise the context of it all and that context contributed to both my weakness and my inability to properly grieve at the time, but that still doesn't help me to end it all. I should be able to put this behind me, you know? But none of that changed the way we were and what he meant to me and the massive divide between what I know and what I feel.

Fuck this. Time for a beer and some CSI.

Michelle tagged me

1. Are you a bath products girl, a shoe girl or a lingerie girl?
Can I go for option 4? I do have some sexy bitch shoes, but being a good Kiwi chick I am barefoot most of the time. I am severely limited in the saucy knickers department, but that is probably more to do with body image than anything.
So, if I had to pick, I would say bath products. Although all I have in the bathroom is shampoo, conditioner and soap-free body wash.

2. You are stranded on a desert island, you are allowed to take three items, what are they?
Item 1: A large well stocked picnic hamper containing endless supplies of the finest Marlborough sauvignon blanc, loads of cheese and crackers, tomatoes, bocconcini, fresh basil, ciabatta, olive oil and balsamic vinegar, amongst other things.
Item 2: A tent, complete with air conditioning unit, screened porch, a home theatre system, wireless internet, laptop computer, and one of those fancy 2 door fridge freezer units that makes ice.
Item 3: Clive Owen.

3. Are you are Mummy’s girl or a Daddy’s girl?
That depends on who you ask. I am really one of the lucky few who has not one but two awesome parents, who have different strengths, thus I am both.

4. Beatles or Elvis?
Ummm...... Sargent Pepper Beatles and pre-Vegas Elvis. Psychoanalyse that!!!

5. Would you rather be blind or deaf?
Funny, cos I was just thinking about this the other day, and I concluded that while a life without Interpol would initially appear to be a fate worse than death, I think I would choose to retain my sight. Its all academic though, because who gets to choose?

Who shall I tag?

I am weak!!

Yes, I finally caved and joined Facebook.
Laugh it up, Tim.

If you know my real name you can add me as a friend..... as long as I don't think you're a complete twat of course....

Go on.

None Shall Sleep

Requiescat in Pace, Sr Pavarotti



Yeah, this song still gives me goosebumps.
The fact that a person can sing like that blows my mind.

And the prize for best use of a Kate Bush song in a series promo goes to.....



ohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuck

"It is better to keep your mouth closed and let people think you are a fool than to open it and remove all doubt"

Yesterday I went on a trip.
A sort of pilgrimage, if you will.

Fifty minutes the other side of Ithaca is a small town called Elmira. Like so many towns in this part of the world, it has a grand history of industry and wealth; a history which unfortunately hasn't endured.

A significant part of Elmira's history, and perhaps the reason it is most famous, is due to the presence of a family by the name of Langdon. The daughter of the Langdon family, one Olivia Langdon, met a friend of her brother's in 1868, and two years later the couple were married at the Langdon home. The young man in question was one Samuel Clemens, who wrote under the pen-name of Mark Twain.

Every summer for 20 years the Clemens' came to Elmira to stay with the family, and in 1874 Samuel's sister-in-law Susan Crane and her husband Theodore gifted Samuel with a study at Quarry Farm, their farmhouse in the hills surrounding Elmira. It was in this study that such works as Tom Sawyer, Huckleberry Finn and Life on the Mississippi were written.

Those who are lucky enough to have met him will know that my Dad is a bit of a Mark Twain fan. He is legendary within his Rotary Club for his uncanny ability to summon a quote from Mr Clemens for any occasion, so yesterday's mission was a bit of a Dad day. Needless to say, SOMEONE is going to be getting some Mark Twain/Elmira memorabilia for Christmas.
(Rachael, don't tell him, am going for the element of surprise)



I miss my Dad.

There's no 'I' in team...

I has a hangover.
Initially I thought I was going to die, that this just might be the one that does me in. I had composed a text message to my mum telling her it was all over red rover, but then the healing powers of my morning (and by 'morning' I mean '1pm') cup of tea kicked in, and I think I may just pull through.

Not such good news for the loo however, in a cleaning frenzy last night my flatmate managed to break the flushing mechanism, so now we are old school and one has to stick one's hand in the tank and lift the thingy up to make it flush..... all a bit much for an Overhung Saturday.

Now its time for the patented hangover breakfast ("It'll cure what ails ya!!") of fried eggs and tater tots while I lounge around in my sexy trackie pants looking super hot. Phwoar.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!



Warning for the squeamish: bone crushing (literally) sound effects

Less than a month to go!!!

infp

creative, smart, idealist, loner, attracted to sad things, disorganized, avoidant, can be overwhelmed by unpleasant feelings, prone to quitting, prone to feelings of loneliness, ambivalent of the rules, solitary, daydreams about people to maintain a sense of closeness, focus on fantasies, acts without planning, low self confidence, emotionally moody, can feel defective, prone to lateness, likes esoteric things, wounded at the core, feels shame, frequently losing things, prone to sadness, prone to dreaming about a rescuer, disorderly, observer, easily distracted, does not like crowds, can act without thinking, private, can feel uncomfortable around others, familiar with the darkside, hermit, more likely to support marijuana legalization, can sabotage self, likes the rain, sometimes can't control fearful thoughts, prone to crying, prone to regret, attracted to the counter culture, can be submissive, prone to feeling discouraged, frequently second guesses self, not punctual, not always prepared, can feel victimized, prone to confusion, prone to irresponsibility, can be pessimistic

I close my eyes and the room spins. This tiredness is of the variety that makes me think I will never be untired. Its in my bones, I am worn down to the marrow.
But that is only because today is a grey Sunday and school starts tomorrow and that means that the giant sucking chest wound of a summer is over and that makes me think about it all.
I'm also fucked off because fuckhead ambushed me at the BBQ yesterday and was all pathetic and sad and it was the first time I had seen him since he broke my heart and it all came flooding back and now I am having trouble breathing again. My first words to him were "What part of 'I don't want to talk to you' did you not understand?" then I gave myself a little mental high five.
I was going to send him a big email telling him (again) to fuck off, but then Matt pointed out that I should just leave it, because he's not worth the energy.

But I have more blessings than I can count, and I can count very high, and some of them were out in force today when I spent the day with Maggie and we walked with Holly and I came home to my lovely house and pottered about and tried to make sense of the chaos that is my room. There are things in piles now, and other things in the rubbish and recycling bins, and things on shelves and in cupboards where they should be and that makes my mind more organised because if there is order in my external life then there is far more chance of me making sense of the category five hurricane that is my brain. And now is a good time to start making sense of it all because I have to be in class tomorrow and pretend that I know what I am on about.

Haha good luck with that!!!

The Monday update

This morning when I clicked on Stuff, I was greeted with this photo and that made me happy.

Yesterday I went to the laundromat and the man was there clearing the quarters out of all the machines and he did something to the machines I was using so that my washing was free. That made me happy too.

On Friday night I was all settled in watching geeky TV when Matt called to drag me out to Kitty Hoynes where I drank with the Irish for the first time in many years. You think I can drink? Damn, I got nothing on those lads. Nothing, I tells ya. Saturday was fun, in a "Holy shite I think my head might actually fall off" kind of way.

Flatmate is back tonight so yesterday I finally got my shit sorted and organised my room and last night I finally slept in my new bed of awesomeness and it is huge and fantastic and I think I am in love. I want to buy it presents.

This blog is rated O for Awesome

Turns out it IS what you get sometime

Today has been a good day.

I sent an email saying things that needed to be said and then closed the book on something and someone and I know that possibly the book may fall off the shelf and land open on the floor and need more of the story but for now I have fulfilled all my responsibilities and have been true to myself and feel all the better for it.

My dear friends the Expectant Married Couple took me out looking for something I need, and on the way stopped off just for me at the pet shop so I could coo over the puppies and pat the little hamster and talk to the birdies and get my baby animal fix for the day.

The much beloved Tyra came over and we shared stories and emails and thoughts and giggled at the ineptitude and continued idiocy and inability to Get The Point of what I and her have been saying for some time now and while its sad that the person in question remains oblivious to The Point you have to admit its kind of funny and I love that after everything we can share and be friends and she doesn't mind that I am still in my shorts-that-I-sleep-in when she comes over and am all dozy from too little cat-interrupted sleep.

She wrote something that is awesome, its here I suggest you read it.

And the fan is blowing and the borrowed cat is curled up cute and sleeping and I have a Dad who tells me that he is proud of me and that I should be true to myself before anything else, and a Mum who tells me I am strong and tells her friends all about me, and two sisters who are beyond fantastic and so strong and beautiful and the three babies who have no idea how much I love them because their lives are filled with people falling over themselves to love them and a best friend who would do anything I asked of her and the knowledge that there are couches and spare rooms in so many cities all over the world that I am welcome to and a family here that has grown and consolidated over this raw violent blistering car wreck of a summer and the knowledge that we are here and are part of something that will endure beyond graduate school and this town.

Also, I have really pretty hair.
And CSI starts on September 27th, which really isn't that far off.

Buckets of fun right here

The definition, in fact, of a box of fun?
Four chocolate labrador puppies in a box, having been taken to the vets for their puppy shots.

I believe I have mentioned these wee guys before, but having just found the cord that connects camera to computer it was finally time to share their little faces.







This wee guy REALLY wanted to come home with me, I could just tell.












The brothers Morris, at Monday's karaoke extravaganza.
Having met their parents a mere few days earlier, I can safely say that I like the entire family!!
How often does that happen?











Miss Tyra getting down with her bad self.

Turns out she really DOES rock the hizzouse.













Yep, I sang.
Me and Bobby McGee.
It was awesome. If by "awesome" you of course mean "prompted by beer and the lack of people in the bar". Yep.







In other news, I just responded to an email from Fuckhead McDickwad, and am happy to report that I employed the following phrase: "you over-estimate me. I am far from being too good-natured to remain unfriendly forever"
and restrained myself from telling him: "it may in fact be emotionally convenient to look for reasons to dislike you, but right now I don't need to look, seeing as how you are handing them out like condoms at Mardi Gras".

Have I mentioned recently how good it is to be me?

Reason #74 why Stephen Colbert is The Man

Even his icecream is awesome.

Cordell says that I shouldn't be allowed to eat this icecream because it should be for proper Americans, but I say in that case he shouldn't be allowed to eat pavlova and that seemed to do the trick.


Last night I waxed my eyebrows and my skin has rebelled against the waxing ouchies and today has delivered me a zitty treat.
Lovely, thanks skin.


Speaking of deliveries, the Canadian cat I am looking after left a rather stinky delivery in the bath-tub this morning. I suppose I should be grateful he didn't leave it in my bed, but I am still considering designs for a stylish cat-skin winter hat.

And having had my fill of Colbert-flavoured awesomeness, I shall adjourn to my room and let the paint-stripping and sanding continue.
Toodles.

Matthew Good's new song is fab

Yeah, I suck at blogging.
I would like to say that I'm uber busy doing fabulously exciting things, but then I would be lying and then I would have to smack myself and quite frankly I lack the inclination.

Saturday night supper club ended up here on, well.... Saturday night. It was motivation enough for me to get my house at least resembling something other than the aftermath of a category four hurricane. It was lovely and there was a cute baby and lovely salsa and other culinary delights and some awesome company.
Yeah ok, there was wine too.

On Thursday Tyra and I went to collect Felix from the vet where he had his "put a pin in my broken leg so it heals properly" surgery, and while we were waiting there was the opportunity to smooch not only one, but SEVEN Chocolate Labrador puppies. I took photos, of course, but the cord that connects my camera to my computer is somewhere in my room, and Saturday's cleaning/organising mission was restricted to the kitchen and living room.

There's nothing that really tops off a day like a box of squirming puppy love.
And now, because it is Sunday, I shall be downstairs drinking beer with my neighbour, as opposed to Friday night, when I was upstairs drinking beer with my neighbour.

I live in the house of Awesomeness

OK so I has the internets now. Yay.
20 minutes after I got it I broke it, but thanks to some mad skills on my part I fixed it. Nothing at all to do with the phone call to the guy from Time Warner who was no damn use at all.

These days my life consists of tripping over boxes, unpacking boxes, attempting to do some work, hanging out with some Good People and occasionally stripping paint. OK so the paint stripping has been for about 20 minutes this evening, but it still counts.

An online campaign for donations is under construction, but its not for me, its for an unlucky little feline friend who broke his leg. Cat orthapedic surgery is hella expensive, did you know?
Also, do you know if you have to be a real person to have a PayPal account, or can a cat have one? Details and more cute pictures of the invalid to follow

Moving Day

Today me and my peeps are moving. Three houseloads in one day!!!

I may be gone for a few days..... also hte sheer volume of stuff that needs moving may render any muscles I have to be useless until Tuesday, which is when the internets is being connected at my new place.

Toodles, play nicely!

Rainy Monday afternoon, T-Minus 3 days until moving

Things that suck include, but not limited to:
- having one's purse stolen. It is still a pain in my arse.
- going to Social Security.
- waiting at Social Security.
- finally getting to the counter at Social Security and being told that you have to come back with a different piece of paper to get a replacement card.
- going back to Social Security Security some days later with that particular piece of paper, waiting in line, and finally being told by an officious little germ of a man that the piece of paper you were told to bring was in fact the wrong piece of paper and that you need to go back to the university and get a whole other piece of paper completely, despite the fact that I am not even applying for a Social Security card, only trying to get a replacement for the one that was stolen.

Things that are at the time immensely satisfying, but are not recommended for daily activities:
- walking out of the Social Security office and into the hall, jumping up and down and screaming "FUCK" at the top of one's lungs.

Things that do not suck at all, and that in fact may be defined as Completely Awesome:
- Holly and Tyra.
- long lunches sitting outside under the verandah with Holly and Tyra eating cheese and quesadillas and chips and dip and drinking wine and talking for over 2 hours.
- Rainy Monday afternoons.

You heard it here first.

Pony up, bitches!!

Ok so here's the thing.

Some of you may be aware that my beloved Sunshine is soon to be vacating Hollyweird for greener pastures, aka graduate school (cos she is INSANELY clever!!), and that there is a drive of several days on her part required to get from past life to future life.

Of course, an attractive young single woman driving across this country unaccompanied is a recipe for the plot of about a bajillion serial killer movies, and quite frankly we can't be having anyone messing with our Sunshine, can we?
Given that I have the privilege of being invited to join the roadtrip of awesomeness (primarily for my secret serial killer fighting ninja skills of course) I need to come up with airfares to get me from the East Coast to the West Coast, and from somewhere in the middle (consults map.....) back to the East Coast, we needs funds, precious.

Now I need a way that I can somehow come up with $435 (yay for cheaptickets.com) and some petrol money (and some spending money, because unfortunately Vegas is on the way.... Cursed geography!!) in the next couple of weeks that doesn't involve me taking any clothes off, doing anything that my Mum and Dad (and my two big sisters) would frown upon, or selling any vital organs. Or any of my stuff (which is a moot point really, because the sum total of my stuff is about $3.75).

I am not convinced that an online plea for donations will work, given that I doubt I have the volume of readers to generate enough to get me a bus ticket downtown, but I am sure the few that I have are very clever and full of lucrative ideas.
Conditions are: Nothing illegal, naked or remotely naughty, or that involves waking up in a bathtub full of ice with a mysterious surgical scar on my side.
Yes, Grimshaw, the conditions apply to you too. I know how your filthy Canadian mind works.

Stuff You Should Be Listening To

Interpol's new album is called Our Love To Admire and its fucking awesome, you all need to go and buy it now or be forever known as a knobrash with questionable taste in music.

It has been decreed.

What we do round here to pass the time

Fellow survivors of Blogchella '07 may remember the mighty red Target chairs.....
Well unfortunately the one I had didn't quite live up to Target's stellar reputation as the source of all that is quality and durable. Last night while sitting on my $4.99 deckchair at the inaugural Supper Club meeting; in a battle between gravity and structural fortitude my chair broke, right underneath me. Completely the fault of shoddy workmanship, and not remotely to do with the rather impressive size of my bottom, to be sure....
Anyway, Cordell (hereafter known as the Ideas Man) suggested that instead of merely tossing the broken chair into the rubbish, we pay homage to the gods of outdoor furniture, and set that motherfucker alight. Being the not-particularly-closeted pyromaniac that I am, how could I resist such an offer?

So here now, I present to you what happens when a group of highly educated people are let loose with beer and fire.






Mmmmm, the scent of burning synthetic fabrics lingers....

News just to hand....

Transformers: Greatest movie ever made.

Giant alien robots: check.
Stuff blowing up: check.
Fighter jets: check.
Hot guys*: check.
Car chases: check.
Cute dog: check.
Government conspiracies: check.
Absence of confusing and complicated plot that hurts brain: check.
Did I mention the giant alien robots? check.

*Josh Duhamel please leave Fergie. She is scary and looks like a man. I am much prettier.

Yet again, a picture is worth a thousand words.....


At least one of my faithful readers knows who I mean.

Read this now

Ok, thats all I've got for today.
However, yesterday I went to Philadelphia (for about 20 minutes, the trip took 12 hours) and on the way back ended up in New Jersey. Don't ask.

Seriously, read this. Too funny.

There's a light at each end of this tunnel you shout

In the last few days I have been at the lake with some friends trying to relax and figure out how to deal with this whole thing and when I think about it I can't breathe.
I have had the breath knocked out of me.

Its not just this, its everything in the last few months, one thing after another and it keeps coming: on Saturday I will be attending a memorial service for a vibrant young woman who mere days ago was celebrating a birthday and who was very dear to some who are dear to me.

But this whole thing.....I really don't know where to begin. I know in my head that the only way through to the other side of this is right through but I don't know what the first step is.
I hear Inara's voice in my head saying "this is just a moment in time, stand aside and let it happen" but if I could stand aside I would.
I want to crawl into bed and wake up when its all better, when I can breathe again.

I wonder if Maggie knows how much she has helped me in the last few days?

Am hopefully I will have something vaguely amusing and less self-pitying soon. If that fails, pretty pictures of the lake where I was over the weekend will follow. And more Maggie, of course.

What becomes of the broken hearted?.....

I am so tired, I feel like I have nothing left. I don't know how I am going to deal with this.
I have nothing left in me.

I thought after M died I had run out of tears to cry, thinking of those children without their Dad in their lives, but a couple of hours ago I discovered a whole new source. I only barely cried when I was robbed, I was so afraid and so angry, but today I've gone past anger, and I just feel empty.

The man of my dreams is now just that: in my dreams.
And now I must mourn again, for the loss of an idea, an opportunity, the possibility that this could be my chance to love, and be loved in return.

I am so tired.

Rent a flat above a shop, cut your hair and get a job


I sent this photo to the Man of my Dreams last night, just in case he has forgotten what I look like.
Do you like my new glasses? They kind of look a bit like Charlie's, I think.

My room, last night. Yay for a camera built into my computer.









Lindsey, aka "Whorebag" sent me a parcel today from Michigan..... a replacement drawstring stripy backpack with a unicorn on it, just like the one that got nicked the other day. Yay for her.
PS I'm allowed to call her that, cos thats what she calls me.

Samara, Costa Rica, March 2007.

















Sing it Ben!!!


Ben and Karen's place, December 2006.

















After this encounter, I have decided that giraffes have moved up a few notches on my list of favourite animals.


Orana Park, Christchurch, January 2007.
















If you have seen the Narnia movie you may recognise this landscape. Or not. Whatevs.


Castle Hill, January 2007.






Right now I am feeling an interesting mix of virtuous and totally knackered. Yesterday I drywalled for 6 hours ( quote: God made you tall, so you could drywall!!) and today I did my pilates thing and my gym thing. Muscles go ouchies!!
Is 6.50pm too early to go to bed?

This post brought to you by the maxim that a picture is worth a thousand words.

See the great white stars over Battery Park

I can't believe I'm about to say this..... but I'm bored with the internet!!!
There are some great blogs out there, don't get me wrong (and you know who you are!), but a lot of the other sites I read are boring me.

I need some new things to read.
I need some things to read that make me go "Ooooh, I want to go and read that".

Help me Obi Wan Kenobi.

Edit: I just managed to spend a little over an hour uploading my pics to panoramio. Soon they will be visible on Google Earth and you can see the prettiness of some of the places I've been, but until then you will have to sign in and add me as a friend. Clairenz, as per usual. Go on.

There is only one kind of dance: the Robot.
And the Robo Boogie.
Oh, yes. Two kinds of dances

Because I know that this is the place to go for all your entertainment information, here is some exciting news, just to hand.
Anyone in the US, watch Conan O'Brien tonight because Flight of the Conchords will be on.

This one time, I stuck a moustache on Bret McKenzie made out of gaffer tape.
I am famous.

News re: replacemant stuff, subpoenas, district attorneys and other such fascinating events to be reported when I am not so fucking sick of talking about it. Ok? Cool.

Its not paranoia if the universe really is out to get you

I think the suck knob is stuck on 11.
Seriously, just when I think I've got the hang of the last shitty thing that happened in my world, here comes another one!!!
Welcome to the Pity Party.

Thursday night, my girl Rebecca and I are out to dinner to celebrate the completion of her MA. Go her.
Burritos, followed by a trip over the road for an after dinner drink, then a quick stop off at the shop so I can buy some milk for my morning cuppa before we head back to mine so she can get in her car, evening finished.
Nice plan, don't you think? Thwarted plan, however.

Thwarted by two fucking little cunts who decided that it would be a really good idea to pull a gun on us and steal our stuff. Now where I come from, we don't really have many guns. The cops don't carry them, in general they are few and far between.

In this fine country however, its a person's constitutional right to carry a gun, thus enabling the scum of humanity to shove one in my face, steal my bag and scare seven shades of shit out of me and my friend.
The pro-gun people have clearly never had a punk arse kid point one at their face.

We went straight to the cops, and spent the next 3 & 1/2 hours at the cop shop downtown, making statements, identifying one of the little fuckers, and generally trying not to lose our shit.

I lost my purse, which a friend bought for me in Melbourne one birthday and my niece had stuck a Spongebob sticker on so I would think of her whenever I saw it.
I lost my cell phone, with God knows how many numbers on it, video from Coachella, and sweet text messages from the object of my affections.
I lost my Swiss Army knife which my best friend bought for me 6 years ago as a gift when I was off to Europe.
I lost my glasses, my fucking $450 Oakley glasses that I am completely fucked without given that reading is both my work and my play, and am now reduced to wearing my old ones that fall off my face and are of an old prescription, so I can't read for long before the headache comes.
I lost my sunglasses that were freaking awesome and suited me like no pair I'd found before.
I lost my super awesome stripy bag that I bought for Coachella and that was the perfect size.
I lost all the shit that was in my wallet, not only credit and bank cards, but the access to my NZ bank accounts, my health and prescripotion insurance cards, my AirNZ airpoints card and a free pass to the Koru Lounge for next time I'm stuck in an airpoint, my student ID, my social security card, my international student emergency card, my video rental cards, my library card, my NZ drivers licence.
I lost my keys including the key rings I had bought in Toronto and Costa Rica, my house keys for both old and new apartments, for my offices at the university and the filing cabinets.
I lost a set of keys belonging to the object of my affections, including his bike lock, keys to his house, his car, his offices at 2 universities.

Basically a whole list of shit that is absolutely worthless to anyone but me.

And now I'm sitting in my house too fucking scared to go anywhere cos right across the road is where I had a gun in my face. And I'm not scared of ANYTHING!!! (except submarines. And dolls. But nothing else)

The detective who took our statements was most apologetic that he wasn't allowed to give me ten minutes alone in the room with the guy we identified as the punk arse fucker with the gun. We like that detective.

I hope your weekend is better than mine.

Sans phone

Due to circumstances beyond my control I am phone-less, and as such have lost everyone's numbers.
So, if I like you, please email me your number to (mynamehere)nz AT gee mail DOT com so that when I get a new one I can call you and you can tell me nice things.
Ta.

Stop this day and night with me and you shall possess the origin of all poems

All the things I want to say have already been said, but by people far better equipped to make ordinary words into something beautiful, people like Emily Dickinson and ee cummings and I'm scared to say them out loud because that makes it real and if it all goes bad then the words are out there and I can't get them back and they will taunt me with their presence.
Trying to be fair is really fucking difficult when you are a spoilt attention seeking princess. I want to scream and stomp my foot and say all these things but they would make things worse and I would regret that forever but attempting to rein in one's baser instincts is a challenge at times.
To say one's piece and be heard is frightening and motivates one's insecurities so badly: did you hear that part, do you remember what I said, do you believe me? I say so much and so much of it is complete shite one needs to be able to say certain things in underlined bold type italicised 34 point flashing red and yellow font.

Also, I watched The Notebook and I cried like a little kid with a skinned knee. Good stuff.

Snap, Crackle, Pop

I have just come from the chiropractor, where my neck was contorted in all sorts of ways and made several rather cringe-inducing hearty cracks, and for the first time in about 2 weeks, I no longer have a headache.
Happiness abounds.

Vroom Vroom!!!!

I have been driving. Not too much of a feat, you may claim, especially for those of you who do so on a daily basis. Me, however? Well, at home I drive on a daily basis. Since I have lived in this upside country, I have been chaffeured around like Lady Muck pretty much since I got here.
But a couple of weeks ago I popped my "driving in the US on aka the wrong side of the road" cherry by driving an astonishing 3 blocks, and yesterday I drove from my current house to my new house many times, shifting my flatmate's stuff, and then to the co-op and back again, and today the tables really have turned because I am driving one person to the airport and another to the train station. On the motorway. Argh. I figure if I can survive the Auckland motorway I can survive pretty much anything though. We'll see.

Quote of the day goes to my girl Rebecca, for this beaut:
In a discussion with Lisa about the astonishingly poor levels of snoggable people in this town:
"It's like a vegetarian buffet, you're looking for fresh meat and it's all tofu"

BOOM!!!

About 15 minutes ago the weather got really funky.
It was stinky hot and generally quite disgusting, then all of a sudden the skies darkened, to a collection of deep angry blues and greys.
Then the thunder came, it began as a rumble and within no time at all was cracking overhead, drowning out whatever conversations may have been going on. Meanwhile, the temperature dropped dramatically, perhaps 10 degrees C in as many minutes.
Now the rain has come; thick, serious rain that doesn't just wet, it soaks anything and everything. Its running down from the drains like someone has turned 20 garden hoses on full and set them on the roof of my house, just above my bedroom window.
And then, just like that, it departs. The thunder has receded to a rumble again, the rain is a few trickles and the lightening is merely a glow. Thankfully the temperature has remained at a sensible level, so that those of us ill-equipped to deal with anything over 25 degrees are able to return to the world of the living.
I would say four seasons in one day, but this town has only 2 seasons. Three feet of snow and below-freezing temperatures; and brain-meltingly hot. Yay, then, for the infrequent and short-lived thunder storms.

London, quiet down I need to make a sound

I have a headache.
Not just your regular run of the mill headache either, on the scale of headaches with 1 being a mild twinge and 10 being a "please someone pass me the power drill I need to drill many holes in my head so I can let the hyperactive axe-wielding homocidal maniac who is running around inside my skull out" this one certainly measures around 8, maybe even 8 & 1/2.
This one certainly qualifies as a "right cunt of a headache".
Seriously. I've had it for at least a week now, and I know its because I am stressed and anxious and when I am stressed and anxious I hold lots of tension in my shoulders and neck which causes lots of pain in my head because chiropractically I am a pretzel.
The suck-knob is turned up well high. Who wants to buy me a massage?

By way of distraction, here are the next ten songs that come up on my iTunes:

1) M.I.A.: "Bucky Done Gun"
2) Morrissey: "The More You Ignore Me, the Closer I Get"
3) Midnight Oil: "The Power and the Passion"
4) Depeche Mode: "Waiting for the Night"
5) Blur: "Tender"
6) Interpol: "A Time to Be So Small"
7) Throwing Muses: "Bright Yellow Gun"
8) The Clash: "Bankrobber"
9) Powderfinger: "These Days"
10) The Decemberists: "When the War Came"

In other news; it is looking good for those of us who are still reeling from the OMFGPLZNO of the CSI finale..... ok mainly me...... check the cast list for the fall preview.
*launches into "I will survive"....changing it from "I" to "she".....

You wanna know why can't sleep unless I've got a belly full of wine?
You show up in time for a bad time

Today I had to get up BEFORE MIDDAY. And tomorrow I have a meeting at 11am. Oh, the humanity.

I am on a mission.
I know I keep saying it, but this time I mean it.
My plan: to go to the gym loads and drink WAY LESS booze and get all fit so that I'm a smokin' hottie with a fantastic stomach and a pert bottom.
That way, if this whole relationship thing goes south, then at least I can feel fabulously hot and rub his face in it and go "look at all the hotness you are missing out on".
Cos I'm really growed up like that.
Also, getting skinny and smokin' is an admirable goal for the summer, on its own. Plus, my sister and I are going to co-motivate each other to lay off the wine and the junk food and be all exercisey and healthy. In keeping with that, today I ran for a whole 20 minutes on the treadmill (yeah, not so flash, but its the first time I've been to the gym for months) and then did another 20 on the total body cross-training machine thingy (thats its technical name, you see).

Ok my 11am meeting is in 9 hours, and I still have 82 variables left to code before then. Piss.

Inaction is a weapon of mass destruction

Things I tried in attempts to get rid of this headache I woke up with (and no, I didn't get drunk last night)
- drinking lots of water
- stretches (because headaches usually come from my neck which is a bit fragged)
- a cup of tea
- aspirin
- a nap
- chocolate

Things that actually worked to get rid of my headache
- beer
- lying on the sofa watching CSI

In other news, my Dad gets double quote of the day award today for these gems:

(1) re: my current love life situation and the messiness thereof: "Love, you'll have more trouble with men than you will with anything else in your life".

(2) re: the catering plans for my vegetarian sister's upcoming wedding and his suggestion that there be a meat option available to those who would want it: "I am just concerned that if there is no meat someone might kill one of the guests and eat him or her and that might detract from the occasion".